Chapter Text
The first thing he hears is the sound of beeping. It rings in his ears, drilling into his skull and making the other noises around him turn into nothing but static as he flutters his eyes open to bright lights burning into retinas and forcing him to squeeze them shut with a little huffing noise as he tried to move his arm, only to feel a sharp tug on his hand, preventing him from doing so.
Brows furrowing at the pain that blossoms from his hand, he tries again, and inhales sharply when the pain comes back, nearly choking on his own spit when he pulls too hard, whatever that had been in his hand dislodging and he feels something tearing at his skin like ripping off a big, fat bandage. On instinct, he jolts upwards, sitting up abruptly with a cry while cradling his hand towards him, eyes burning as his vision, already blurry from the lack of his glasses, which frankly didn't help anyway, gets blurrier. "Fuck," he chokes out the curse, voice wavering, hoarse as if he'd been screaming for hours, fingers sliding across his hand to feel the slight flap of his skin and hole, as well as the inflamed sight of where he'd just torn whatever had been on it.
Despite his blurry vision, he tries to look, unable to make out anything other than the reddening of his skin, and his breath comes out blotchy, heaving little pants as if he's run a marathon, as sensation returns to him slowly, all of his senses but one. The beeping in his ears. The itchy fabric on his arms and legs. The pain in his hand. When he lifts his head, the world is a mess of colors that blur together but, they are colors that he recognizes, for the most part. White. Soft blue. If he looks down at himself, there's more of that blue, but slightly greenish, maybe teal, if he had to guess. Hospital patient scrubs. He'd seen his fair share of them, blurry and otherwise, with his frequent trips to the local hospital, but what would he possibly be doing in there?
He wasn't sick, from what he knew, at least apart from what he already had which Asuka had insisted didn't mean he was sick, but different somehow. Tomoro thinks he was trying to make him feel better. Letting him believe it worked was far less of a hassle than enduring his optimistic world view that, while encouraging, only grated on Tomoro's nerves sometimes. It wasn't as if he'd never seen how much stress he caused his parents, how the bills had piled up and his brother muttered under his breath how he was too much only to turn around and act like nothing was the matter when Tomoro asked.
Sure, over time it had become less of an issue, because he too began to realize the importance of keeping things to himself, but somewhere in his heart, he feels contempt, a white hot rage that threatens to boil over when Asuka tries to treat him with kid gloves, bursting out of him without a second's hesitation because it wasn't fucking fair.
Lots of good that did him, in the long run. He'd always known his emotions were dangerous, he's seen it with his own eyes too many times to count, but even pushing everything down doesn't erase his anger, the fury that burns his blood, and now he'd gone and done it, killing Asuka because he couldn't fucking keep it together and now he was well and truly alone. No parents. No brother. He had no one—
"We'll be your friends from now on!"
Iron bursts in his mouth like he's bitten into a fleshy glob of the stuff and Tomoro swallows his spit when his saliva pools in his mouth, shoulders hunching up to his ears. Who the fuck did those people think they were? His friends? After what happened? Had they gone insane? Who in their right mind would accept such a ridiculous notion from a group of people who didn't give a damn about the fact that someone was dead? And to act like he was being unreasonable? This had to be a joke. A cruel prank. There was no way this was actually happening. He was having a nightmare and soon, he'd wake up and Asuka would apologize for being late again and scold Tomoro for not eating his broccoli and—"Tomoro!" A squeaky, high pitched voice echoes, followed by the sudden whoosh and clattering of what Tomoro assumes to be curtains being drawn.
His head snaps up, bristling as he turns his gaze to the source of the sound, body freezing at the sight of someone in front of him. They are a blurred mess, as is everything else, but he can tell, at the very least, that they have blond hair and tanned skin, and there's a green thing on them, their shoulder maybe, but considering the familiar voice that had squawked at his name…
Ugh. It's that… thing. Gecko..mon? Or whatever?
Ever since that green lizard thing came out of his Sapotama, Tomoro is certain things have only been worse for him. Those Glowing Dawn people called it a digimon and even his brother had shouted that humans were no match for them before—before—No, stop thinking about that. Whatever Gecko—or what's its face was, Tomoro couldn't muster up the energy to care. That thing had led him on a wild goose chase claiming to know how to find Hitomi's e-pulse, whatever that meant, and thanks to it, Asuka was gone, and he was all by himself. What right did it have to be happy with him? God, he fucking hates AIs. "See, I told you that your partner was awake. Go on." This voice is gruffer than the gecko lizard's, and Tomoro lets out a grunt when the green thing flies off the person and crashes into his arms. It scrambles off when Tomoro tenses and stands across from him.
He hears a chair screeching a little, and turns his head as the person who brought the gecko lizard over sits down. "Tenma Tomoro," they say his name softly, though a gruff undertone coats it, "I hope you've had a nice rest? That was quite a nasty tumble you took back at the slums. One more week and you'd have been transferred to the World Union Hospital."
Everything this person was saying was going in one ear and out the other. His hand is still curled tight to his chest. His head's started to pound since that stupid lizard yelled his name out, now curled up a little too close for comfort. "Who are you?" He rasps the words out, swallowing as they cut at his throat on the way to his mouth. "What am I doing here? What fall are you talking about?" Questions spill out of him, each one making it harder and harder to say the next one as a tickle crawls up the back of his throat and he clears it, trying to swallow the saliva in his mouth.
"Ah, of course, you've only just recently gotten your digimon, haven't you?" The person hums, and Tomoro jerks when they turn to grab at something and holds it out. "Here, water. A proper conversation can't be had if you struggle to speak." He stares down at the blurry glass. He can't see anything that would indicate the water's been tampered with, and this did seem like some sort of private hospital, but he can't see anything at all at the moment, so why should he trust whatever this person was giving him? "Suspicious? Not to worry, this is water. I'll even drink some if you want." His head lifts, and though he can't see, he stares at the person before him, who chuckles and brings the water towards themselves.
When they drink it, offering the cup back, Tomoro finally uncurls his hands to take it and bring it to his mouth. It's cool, and when it slides down his throat, the sting is less than when he'd talk. "Now then," the person starts, "I believe I haven't yet introduced myself, have I? My name is Klay Arslan, head of Tactics, a Cleaner organization who apprehend bounties that the Ministry give us—people who birth digimon and do not hand them over and go on to commit crimes instead."
"I didn't commit any," he grouses, hearing Arslan chuckle.
"No, you didn't, but the Ministry still wants us to investigate those who birth one regardless, which you have done yourself. Now, standard practice says that we take your digimon away and let you get a new Sapotama in the mail, telling you that it was simply a glitch and nothing more, but if you wish to stay with your partner, then you have the secondary option of becoming one of us—a Cleaner—"
"And what, take orders?" He scoffs. As if he wanted to be bossed around by people for no reason just for their benefit. What was even in it for him? He didn't have anything else going for him anymore. His parents were gone. He hasn't heard from his grandfather in years. His brother was never going to come back. Tomoro should cut his losses and wallow in the slums until he rots away. That was the only thing he was good for.
Again, Arslan chuckles, and Tomoro thinks he's starting to hate the man's laugh. What did he find so funny? And why was it at Tomoro's expense? God, he fucking hated adults. "Now, now, you didn't even let me finish. Though I'm sure you have…mixed feelings about your partner digimon, as he's told me—" because of course the stupid lizard was telling random people Tomoro's business. Why should he be caring for it again? Really, all it was bringing to his life was trouble. He should let Arslan take it and send him on his way. "—but as I understand it, you've just suffered a loss with the cold hearting of your brother, have you not?"
Cold heart? The hell in the world was that? And how did Arslan know about Asuka's death? How did he know that it was recent? How—"Judging by your expression, I'll assume that you're quite new to what's going on, which I expected given how recent Gekkomon's birth was." Ah, so it was Geckomon? "Cold heart is when a person's e-pulse has been completely devoured by a digimon, leaving them to be frozen over." So back then was…? "The victim is kept in a comatose state, unable to speak, eat, or do any daily bodily functions but they are alive." Fat good that did him then. He'd seen Asuka fall with his own two eyes, screaming for his brother before nearly suffering the same fate with that damn wolf thing, even if he was just in a vegetative state, a fall from that height would, it would—
"But, we've found that so long as the e-pulse is brought back to the individual, the chance of restoring them is high."
So? Bringing Asuka back from that state wouldn't mean anything if he was already dead. "Fat good that does Asuka now," he grouses, "I saw him fall, I heard him crash into the river, he's—" the word gets caught in his throat, and try as he might, Tomoro cannot find it in himself to push it out into existence, spluttering over himself. "He's—Asuka is—what happened back there—"
"I think, what you're looking for, is that your dear brother is in fact, alive, yes?"
Tomoro's head whips towards Arslan hard enough he hears his neck crack. A laugh bubbles out from his throat before he can stop it. Alive? Alive? That was absurd. Completely preposterous. There was no way Asuka could be alive. "That can't—stop taking me for a fool—"
"But, your digimon should be enough proof that even the impossible can happen, don't you think?" He freezes at the words, turning his head towards the green blob curled up at the foot of the bed, staring up at him, so he thinks. This thing was a real, sentient creature. It talks and it has a personality and it came out of Tomoro's Sapotama like something out of a fucking television show. But you can't just… a fall from that height—"If you can't believe my words," Arslan starts, and Tomoro thinks he can hear the smile in his voice when he says his next words.
"Then, perhaps you'd like to accompany me to see for yourself?"