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A pained squeak echoed through the darkness.
“You are an embarrassment to the Kuonji family, Makoto.” The strong, calloused hand of his father squeezed down on the fragile body of the Chiropmon held inside it. The bat’s eyes gazed down at the young boy, no longer with a look of fear, but with pained acceptance. This was his true fate.
“You have disobeyed me for long enough. I will take your pathetic little friend for good this time.” The brown haired man turned on his heel, beginning to walk forward into the inky blackness.
His vision turned into a shimmering, distorted soup. His cries and screams were lost to the darkness surrounding him and his father. His fists pounded the floor with zero purchase. As he attempted to crawl, the distance between the two never seemed to grow any closer. He flexed his hand. No square light became visible on it. No matter how hard he tried. No E-pulse at the ready to save the both of them this time.
The man looked back for the final time, his hair swaying slightly as he did.
“You should feel lucky you found any friends with that stupid group.” A hideously twisted grin came upon the man’s features.
“You’re sick, and twisted. You’re annoying, and you’re worthless. You’re not even worth the muck that goes on the shoes of the people outside of Shangri-La. I’m not going to give you access to the Kuonji industries anymore. All of it will go to your brother. Enjoy the rest of your pitiful life.” The hand flexed, squeezing the bat once more, but it didn’t stop. It kept going, and going, until the bat was completely wrung out between the man’s fingers. One crack, two cracks, until Chiropmon’s head finally went pop in a splash of crimson.
***
Air tore into Makoto’s lungs, scratching his dry throat like a set of claws. His sweat slicked hand came upon his chest while it heaved in the next set of breaths. That same hand acted as the only light source in the room. The glowing yellow square of his e-pulse shining. While he saw nothing but a black void beyond his hand, it was the kind of darkness that comforted him. It was the darkness he was used to. The darkness of his room. The words of his father soon faded away into that rhythmic sound of waves crashing and steel gently creaking. It was a sound that he had long since come to accept as a part of his new life. It was very different from the pure silence of his bedroom back in Shangri-La.
His outstretched, shaking hand found his Sapotoma, bringing the glowing egg closer to himself. Thankfully, the Sapotoma's brightness settings had been calibrated and didn't sear his eyeballs upon lighting up. The time was three in the morning.
The Hour of the Ox as it was called. The time when spirits were their most virulent. The time when only the most dreadful black magic rituals were performed.
“Makoto…”
The boy stiffened on the spot, moving the egg beside and gazing at his loyal partner. Chiropmon's slitted eyes gazed back at him. “I heard you talking in your sleep…” the bat whispered, keeping his voice to the same level of quietness as the ambient noises. Heat flooded his cheeks so intensely, he knew it had to be visible in the gloom. The weight of Chiropmon's gaze pinned him in place, only allowing him to curl inward, pulling his knees up to his chest. Chiropmon's gaze acted like a spotlight, fixing on his flushed cheeks, shaking, wet hands and every tiny tremor of his torso.
“Chiro-”
The moment Makoto opened his mouth to speak, his arid throat blocked it. A small cough wracked his frame. It was like a rose bush was growing its way through his throat, stabbing and pricking every time he even attempted to talk. His hands slid himself off of his futon, his loose, yellow pajamas following him down to the floor. He took a hold of Chiropmon like a child clutching their favorite teddy bear. It was dark, but he couldn't turn on any lights. Anywhere he couldn't see, Chiropmon would act as his eyes. He had descended the staircase to the main floor numerous times, but there was always the worry that one step would squeak obnoxiously loud.
The cold concrete of the main floor bit into his bare feet. The silhouettes of the various appliances and furniture morphed into silent predators in the night ready to jump out and eat him. A sudden, animalistic roar tore through the silence, his skin nearly leaping from his frame. Chiropmon remained still in his grip, unbothered. That was until the sound echoed again and Makoto could recognize it as the ‘beast’ Reina snoring from her bedroom. Only then, did the glowing square on his hand calm down once more.
“Reina-chan…” he chided in his mind, swishing his head left to right as if she could somehow see it. The sound of Kyo snoring in the background preceding Reina was like the squeak of a mouse compared to a lion's roar. The absence of Tomoro's signature fog horn snore didn't even occur to his tired mind yet. However, Chiropmon made immediate note of it.
“I don't hear Tomoro, Makoto-san.” Chiropmon whispered up to his companion. Makoto smiled as a huff came from his lips. If Reina was bad, Tomoro turned it up to eleven. His eyes narrowed in on the sink, and the cabinet. The rest of the Glowing Dawn’s various sleeping noises turned into static in his head.
Upon approaching the sink, the thought crawled into his mind to simply drink straight from the tap like some kind of animal. No cup, no evidence and no having to lie about what he had been doing so early in the morning. Proper manners drilled into him by both Kyo and his days at Shangri-La eventually won out, and his hand reached for the cabinet, and then the glass. Chiropmon leapt from the boy's arms, silently landing on the kitchen counter to keep watch. He lowered the glass, turning the tap ever so slightly with careful deliberation. This thing could get as loud as a rocket when Kyo would turn it on full blast to fill up a pot for his cooking.
Behind Makoto's back, Chiropmon stiffened, noting a presence in the room. The sound of quiet footsteps now being audible to the pair.
“It's Tomoro.”
Makoto twisted himself around, glass in hand before his grip nearly slipped, making a few globs of water drop down to the floor with soft splashes.
Tenma Tomoro stood silent in the kitchen, his silhouette much more pronounced than the rest of the scenery surrounding him. His spiky hair and coat collar were immediately recognizable. His glasses shimmered with the faintest moonlight streaming through the metallic slits in the cargo container walls. The reflective glare masked his eyes. It gave him an unsettling, hollow quality. The look of a nocturnal predator that had tracked him the whole night.
“Tom-” a cough worked its way through his dry throat again. The glass came to his lips for a moment to down a large gulp of his water. The desert that was once his throat was finally purged. A sigh of relief came out of him, finding his voice again. Tomoro hadn't changed his posture the entire time, watching Makoto stone faced, simply waiting for him to finish. A rapid set of wet slaps soon came from behind Tomoro, his own Digimon, Gekkomon, climbing to perch on his shoulder. Just like himself and Chiropmon, Gekkomon was never too far away.
“Tomoro… you’re up?” he asked.
Makoto watched as Tomoro set his Sapotoma on the counter, his outline now being lit by a soft green glow.
“Yeah, I am.” His response came, blunt and short, but not harsh. A titter came from the creature using Tomoro like a perch.
“I was um… thinking about that GIFT group.” He said, his voice struggling to keep to only a whisper. “That, and Kyo said that there had been sightings of Five Planets around our place.”
Gekkomon, on the other hand, had a completely different story.
“Tomoro couldn't fall asleep. He wanted me to use a lullaby on him, ya know.” Tomoro's hand came up to try and silence him.
“Will you shut up… I did not need that…” he huffed, a strand of his hair waving from his own breath. “What are you doing up?”
The second the question was asked, his entire posture went as straight as a board. The thoughts flowed a mile a minute in his mind. His grip on the glass tightened. Lie? Only mention that he came down here for water? His lips pursed. His posture collapsed. His head dipped. Hair curtaining his eyes. His lip quivered. That same, searing heat coming up on his face again. The knot in his chest twisted and pulled ferociously.
“I had a nightmare…”
A tear rolled down his cheek, his hand not even bothering to try and wipe it away this time. Another tumbled down, shining green in Sapotoma's light. His shoulders shook with the effort of keeping his sobs locked in his chest. The child that he thought he had left behind in Shangri-La, was coming back, full force. The being he thought that the Glowing Dawn had helped him grow out of, rapidly crumbled in only a few moments. The tension in his jaw increased, his chest was losing the fight to keep a sob from coming up.
A sudden, grounding weight came down on his shoulders, snapping him out of the static of his own thoughts. He found Tomoro's face mere inches from his. His hair nearly veiled the two of them. Tomoro’s eyes lay softer, more focused. Tomoro wasn’t the type to wear how much he cared on his sleeve, like Kyo. Makoto’s mind never held any doubts about Tomoro’s care for the Glowing Dawn, but seeing it expressed outwardly was…heavier.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Tomoro’s voice came, losing its usual gruffness. Meeting Tomoro’s eyes, he found sympathy, a connection. Makoto stared up at him, his eyes shimmering with barely held back tears. The glass clattered into the sink. His breathing hitched and his chest heaved, before his feet propelled him into Tomoro’s chest. His arms wrapped around Tomoro’s torso, as if, at any second, he would be ripped from him. Chiropmon hopped from the counter onto Makoto’s shoulder, joining him in the embrace, wrapping his own wings around Makoto’s face, cradling his left cheek.
Makoto could feel a soothing, yet awkward motion start on his back. The hand of Tomoro rubbed his shoulder, before going down to the middle of his back, before back up again. Stiff and unpracticed, even Makoto could feel it himself.
“It’ll be okay, um…” He heard Tomoro’s voice stammer out. His voice faltered as it tried to take on an unfamiliar cadence and vocal tone. “You’re holding on really hard…”
Makoto gathered a large breath, before letting it out. His hands loosened their grip on his jacket before looking up at him. His normally bright and shining face had the red blemishes of sorrow etched below his eyes.
“I didn’t think much could scare you.” Tomoro blurted out, continuing his soothing motions. Gekkomon butted himself into the hug, using his own long tongue to gently lick up some of the boy’s tears. “You watch all those horror movies. I thought nothing could get to you.” he admitted, which only made the sting in Makoto’s head hurt all the more.
“M-my father…” his shuddering making his breath come out shaky. Makoto gazed down, unable to meet Tomoro’s eyes anymore.
“But… he’s in prison.” Tomoro said matter-of-factly. “The MCP took him.” This didn’t make that constant shakiness in his chest simmer down any further.
“The last time you saw your dad, he looked like he was gonna pee his pants, ya know!” Gekkomon chirped. Makoto’s lips twitched, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, but the muscle just wouldn't function. Not when it was currently buried underneath a mountain of fear that he couldn't dig out of. He let his head rest against Tomoro’s coat, eyes focused on the floor.
“I’ll never leave your side again, Makoto.” Chiropmon attempted to reassure, his wing coming up to gently stroke the boy’s cheek in a comforting gesture. He took the bat off his shoulders, bringing him in closer for a hug, once again, carrying him in his arms.
“Why don’t we go um… relax on the couch for a bit.” Tomoro suggested. Makoto’s face lit up, some of his old happy self leaking through the stress and sadness on his face. Makoto's hand reached down to grab the glass from the sink again, putting in some more water. His footsteps followed Tomoro to the red couch kept on the main floor. Out of the two couches that sat facing each other on the main floor, the red, more cushioned one felt like the better option. Makoto sat down, feeling the weight of Tomoro coming down right beside him.
“My father… he could still hire more cleaners.” Makoto started. “Prison doesn’t mean much.” His hands quivered holding the glass again, his knuckles whitening as he tried to grip it tighter to keep it steady. Bringing the glass to his lips again, he took another sip, trying to set the glass down onto the table in front of the couch carefully. “He could keep coming back, more cleaners, until eventually…” the thoughts were whipping through his head faster than ScourgeChiropmon at top speed.
“Then we’ll beat the shit out of every single one of them.” Tomoro came through the static again. “No matter how many times he tries it.”
For the first time since he had woken up, a giggle rose out of Makoto’s chest.
“You’re acting like it’ll be that simple.” Makoto’s stare pierced Tomoro's, who shifted slightly under the weight of it.
“Well, yeah… you usually figure out most of this stuff.” Tomoro rationalized.
“But… then there’s my brother.” Makoto continued looking down. “He’ll do something to him… I just know it.” A scene of Tsukasa being kidnapped played in his mind, all in an effort to get Makoto come out again and for Chiropmon to be stolen from him again.
“I…” Tomoro’s voice stopped as quickly as it started. No more quips, able to dismiss such concerns in an instant.
The thought did come over him. Why was he so afraid of his own father? He had beaten him before. The cleaner with the Loogarmon that had tried to separate him from his friend stood no chance once Chiropmon powered up to perfect level. It was an impressive feat, especially considering how young and how weak he had started off as. None of Tactics besides Raito and their leader Naito had unlocked their Digimon’s perfect forms yet. Even Hotaruko didn’t have a Perfect level Digimon yet. Logically, the vast majority of cleaners that his father could find to try and get Chiropmon wouldn’t have a hope against ScourgeChiropmon. Of course, he could splurge on trying to hire a Five Planet member, but considering his current standing, he doubted he would be credible enough to be taken seriously by any of them. His mind swam deep in What if’s. The feelings of disgust and inadequacy burned his chest.
“My father in the dream… he just… went on about how worthless I am…” Makoto admitted, shifting his legs awkwardly, trying to stop his foot from tapping up and down on the floor repeatedly in a nervous tick. “I know I might not be the best team member…” he shook out.
“Don’t say that.” Tomoro said, looking at him now with a fiery look that lit its way through the darkness. “You’ve saved our asses so many times. All those times Chiropmon helped us catch a cleaner.” his thumbs began to twiddle together, casting shadows across the room from the lit Sapotoma in the middle of the table. “We never would have been able to stop Klay… and… I might have been dead in that arena if you didn’t find me.”
Makoto's face straightened as he began to listen intently.
“And then there’s all the other stuff you do…” he said. “The finances… the calculations…”
“Tomoro is terrible at math, ya know.” Gekkomon leaned in again, Tomoro giving an annoyed glance in his direction, but unable to deny the completely accurate accusation.
“Y-yeah…” Tomoro, leaned to lay his head back against the red cushions of the couch.
A sniffle echoed in the green light. Tomoro’s eyes frantically widened as he stared down at his younger compatriot. “D-Did I say something bad?”
Oh, but those certainly weren’t tears of sadness. Not anymore. They were tears of happiness. Of genuine appreciation.
“N-no… that’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever gotten…” He said, his bright, sunshine smile now coming back full force. “Thank you.” His right arm left Chiropmon to wrap around Tomoro’s torso again in a side hug, which Tomoro immediately returned with one of his own. They were left in the silence once more.
“This is gonna sound stupid but… um…” Tomoro’s voice cut through the silence as leaned forward on the couch, his arms resting on his knees. Makoto’s teeth came down to bite his lip, physically having to force his chest from producing a giggle. His mind wandered to the amount of ribbing that Reina would give Tomoro about this if she were awake. “Whenever I would have a nightmare, Asuka would do this ‘thing’ with me before I went back to sleep.” Tomoro’s hands came together. “You put your hands together and say ‘Baku-san, come and eat my dream’ three times.” His eyes glanced back at Makoto. His hand furiously scratched the back of his neck. “Asuka told me that the Baku would come and eat my dream, and I wouldn’t have that nightmare again. It… always worked.”
“Tomoro’s face is getting redder in the dark, ya know.” Gekkomon leaned in.
“I can see it too, Makoto.” Chiropmon boldly added.
“Shut up, both of you.”
Makoto’s snickers reached a fever pitch, having to stop himself before he began giggling at normal conversation volume. Before he began the ritual, he completed his glass of water, gulping the last of it down with a sigh, the cool water soothing his clenched stomach, before setting it down again. His hands came together, his eyes closed, but his face relaxed.
“Baku-san, come and eat my dream.”
And again.
“Baku-san, come and eat my dream.”
And for the final time.
“Baku-san, come and eat my dream.”
His hands came apart, a breath of relief coming from the deepest parts of his lungs. The tight knot that had been wreaking havoc on his chest all night had finally come undone. A soft, tingling warmth came to replace it. Despite the fact that Kyo and Reina were sleeping he could feel their love as well. His mouth stretched open in a long yawn. Sleep had now come back with a vengeance. His eyelids felt like a million pounds. The thought of even returning to his futon felt like trying to trek up a mountain. Instead, his posture swayed, leaning towards Tomoro, before finding his place against his side. The fabric of Tomoro’s coat and body, acting as his pillow.
“Thank you, Tomoro…” The words blew out in a whisper, all that he could manage at this point. His mind swam, like it always did when sleep approached. His own body shifted as Tomoro adjusted himself, allowing Makoto to lean more comfortably against him. But soon enough, Makoto could feel Tomoro’s body slackening as he fell victim to the same tiredness. Chiropmon came to rest right up against Makoto’s stomach, gently warming him. Gekkomon soon joined in, hoisting himself onto Tomoro’s lap, and sleeping in the gap between his outstretched legs. The questions that would come upon waking up wouldn’t be easy to answer. Blushing faces and stammering words would likely commence.
Oh well.