Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2019-07-30 02:11 am
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2019-07-30 02:11 am
[tri OOM] Episodic.
“Many thanks again, Crestbearers,” Lord Goemon says, bowing their head. “Trade will resume shortly, and work on rebuilding the outer wall within the next few weeks. We owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“You’ve kept us fed and sheltered for weeks. I’d say any debt has already been paid in full,” Yamato says, shaking his head. “Has Renamon already left?”
“Earlier this morning. She and a caravan are heading South. She’ll alight at Tonami Town and take a Whamon over to File Island to collect those of us who died in the battle,” Goemon says. He nods over at the Trailmon patiently waiting for them. “And you are heading North?”
“We are. We probably won’t be coming back this way any time soon, so this might be goodbye,” Yamato says.
“Trailmon will take you as far as Harwell Town,” Goemon says. “Ah, you should take this with you as well.”
He gestures a hand over his shoulder, and Sorcerymon approaches, holding out a case. Giving Goemon a bemused look, Yamato steps over and opens the case: Lying on a cloth within it are what remains of one of Goemon’s swords, shattered into eight pieces. It’s the one Yamato broke trying to desperately bludgeon MetalEtemon with it.
“It’s useless to me now, but it makes a good enough souvenir,” Goemon says. “Be safe on your journey, Crestbearers.”
“You too, my lord,” Yamato replies.
Twenty minutes later, all of them -- all five humans and all five Digimon -- are on the Trailmon as it begins to chug and chuff, moving slowly along the tracks out of Railroad Town.
“All right, hopefully this’ll be a straight shot up to Harwell Town,” Yamato says. “It’s going to be a pretty boring trip, so sorry for that.”
“Ha!” Mimi says. “We all know that every time we stop in a town there’s going to be some little, episodic problem for us to deal with. That’s how this always works.”
“Mimi, I really don’t think -- …”
THE MURDER MYSTERY EPISODE.
“Just don’t,” Yamato says, when a stop at Russell Town for resupplying is interrupted by the declaration that Sheriff Revolmon has been murdered in the town square. “Don’t any of you say you told me so.”
“We did, though,” Mimi replies. “We did tell you so.”
“Until this terrible crime has been solved,” Mayor DarkSuperStarmon says, “we shall be shutting our gates. Nobody may enter or leave the town until the culprit has been brought to justice.”
Yamato gives an irritable noise, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Please say we’re going to solve a murder,” Miyako says. “Nobody’s leaving until we do, right? You know how it is, drifters from out of town solving a grisly murder that confounds the local law enforcement.”
“Would it technically be grisly? Digimon don’t have gristle,” Koushiro points out.
“Just -- …” Yamato growls. “Miyako, Hawkmon, Koushiro, Tentomon, go and examine the crime scene. Takeru, Patamon, Mimi, Palmon, get witness testimonies. Gabumon and I will see if we can find a door and get Barry to come do some CSI stuff.”
---
“Yeah, couldn’t find a door.”
“... Is it because all the doors in this town are those weird little saloon doors you see in Westerns that don't cover the whole doorway?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
---
“From what I can tell, Revolmon was killed in a single attack from above, before he had a chance to react,” Koushiro says. He raises his phone, showing an image of a ground scattered with intermittent burn marks. “Multiple superheated objects impacted Revolmon and the ground around him at once. Death likely happened in a matter of moments.”
“No witnesses,” Mimi adds. “A lot of people saw him before the murder, but after he went on patrol, everyone was too busy drinking in the saloon to keep an eye on him.”
“Anybody in the main room of the saloon has an alibi, then,” Yamato says. “Do we know anyone who wasn’t?”
“Mostly the people who worked late. A few deputies and other town officials, some of the miners, that kind of thing,” Mimi says. “A couple of those were working with other people, though, so they have alibis.”
---
“What’s your alibi from ten this evening to ten thirty?” Yamato asks, glancing down at the file in his hands.
Once they’d had a handful of suspects, the mayor had been kind enough to arrange a back room at the saloon to be set aside for questioning (“I want more than anyone for this dastardly rogue to be found,” he’d said, sipping from a glass of wine,) and after two suspects with perfect alibis, they now had a Solarmon … squirming? Rotating? Floating in his seat.
“I was in my room, reading a book, I swear!”
“Alone?” Miyako asks. “How convenient.”
“Listen,” Yamato says. “Witnesses say they saw you arguing with Sheriff Revolmon less than an hour before he was killed. Apparently you two argued a lot. I even hear it got physical a few times.”
“What?” Solarmon asks. “Sure, I hated the guy. He was basically the mayor’s damn lapdog, you know what I mean? Always sneaking around and covering up for the guy. I’m not sad that he’s dead. But that doesn’t mean I killed him! I’d never kill him!”
Yamato’s eyes flick over to the chair. The metal frame is already melting, just from the heat that Solarmon is giving off.
“But you do have a history of drunken violence, right?” Miyako asks. “And you’d been drinking a whole lot …”
---
“This is a true tragedy,” Mayor DarkSuperStarmon purred, swirling the wine in his glass. “Please tell me you know who did it, son.”
“We want to gather all the suspects in the saloon. You’re welcome to -- …” Yamato stops as lightning flashes across the window behind the mayor, momentarily illuminating him. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“Oh, I do think I will.”
---
“I’ve gathered you here,” Miyako says, raising a finger. “Because the murderer is in this very room with us!”
Gasps echo through the saloon. Mimi screams dramatically, covering her mouth with her hands. As Miyako gives her an excitable look, she gives a thumbs up in return.
“At first, we thought …” Miyako says, pulling a pipe from her jacket. As she catches sight of Yamato glaring at her, she slowly slides it back into her pocket, clearing her throat. “At first, we thought that our culprit was clear. You, Solarmon, had argued with the victim shortly before his demise, had no alibi, and possess fire attacks, consistent with the burn marks found at the scene of the crime.”
“I didn’t do it!” Solarmon yells.
“Burn in hell, murderer!” Someone else yells back.
“Naturellement, Monsieur Solarmon,” Miyako says. “As a Child-level Vaccine-type, it’s impossible that you could have killed Revolmon, an Adult-level Data-type, with a single attack. Furthermore, the burn marks in the area are only at the impact points of the deadly attack. As I’m sure you can all see, Solarmon emits a burning heat wherever he goes. There would be burn marks everywhere if he had been out there.”
She holds up her finger again.
“Furthermore! The attack came from directly above, whereas all of Solarmon’s attacks are horizontal. Non, non, Monsieur Solarmon could not have committed the murder. It would have had to be a Digimon of equal or greater level, with a type advantage over Revolmon, who attacks with superheated objects falling from above. Someone who Revolmon knew well, who had a motive for -- …”
“It’s the mayor,” Yamato says flatly. “The mayor did it. Revolmon wasn't going to keep his secrets anymore, so he killed him.”
Miyako turns to stare at him.
“What? You were taking a really long time to get to the fucking point,” Yamato says.
Miyako keeps staring at him. From the corner, Mimi slightly unenthusiastically screams, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Don’t bother, the moment’s passed now,” Miyako mutters.
---
Despite Yamato’s best efforts, evidence continues to be presented and argued over for some time.
“I can’t go to jail for this,” DarkSuperStarmon crows, as he rises into the air, bursting through the roof of the saloon. “I’m the mayor! I own this town! And I’ll kill everyone in it if I have to.”
“Miyako …” Yamato says, glancing over.
“Yep, doing it quick,” Miyako says, as the Digimental of Sincerity flickers into her hand and Hawkmon pushes off her shoulder.
“Hawkmon, armour evolution! Piercing Sincerity, Shurimon!”
As the two clash in the air above them, Mimi wanders up alongside Yamato.
“How was my panicked screaming?” She asks.
“Pretty good. Could’ve been a little more shrill, maybe more …” He claps his hands to his mouth and gives a shrieking noise of distress. “... You know? But it really set the mood.”
Above them, Shurimon sends DarkSuperStarmon hurtling across town and into the ground.
Mimi gives a thoughtful nod.
“I’ll remember that next time someone gets murdered.”
THE GHOST EPISODE.
Their next stop is Haszard Town, a small village at the base of a hill, with enough fuel and water to last them a few more days.
It’s also where they start hearing ghost stories.
“But nobody ever goes up to the old mansion anymore,” the BlueMeramon croaks, pointing towards the ominous mansion sitting atop the hill. “It’s haunted by the most terrible phantoms.”
“Wait,” Yamato says, holding up a hand. “Phantoms as in ghosts, or just Bakemon?”
“They’re the ghosts of Bakemon!”
“Huh,” Yamato says thoughtfully. “I don’t like you.”
---
“We really should investigate that mansion,” Koushiro says. “The possibility of actual ghosts in the Digital World is fascinating. Theoretically, remnant data could collect after a Digimon has been reborn, or it could even be a case like Wizarmon, where a Digimon initially was a species from a different world and thus exempt from …”
As he continues to ramble, Yamato sees Takeru shrug on his coat.
“Guess we’re going ghost-hunting,” Takeru chirps. “Coming, aniki?”
“I’ll, er, I’ll just …” Yamato glances off to the side. “Ghosts aren’t real, you’re going to be disappointed. I’m going to do what we came here for and get Trailmon refueled.”
“Cool. I’ll make sure to write a spooooky report for you.”
---
Koushiro, Takeru, Miyako, and Mimi return to the Trailmon as the sun is rising.
“Hey, Yamato,” Takeru says. “Turns out ghosts are real and they’re out to get you.”
“You’re my least favourite brother, Tak.”
THE BAD WEATHER EPISODE.
The storm sweeps in without warning, and before long the rivers and lakes that litter this part of the continent have burst their banks.
“Trailmon says he can’t go any further right now. The tracks are getting waterlogged, the wind is too strong, and even with his headlight on he can’t see more than five feet in front of him,” Yamato says, as he returns from the front carriage. “So I guess we’re sticking here until the storm passes.”
“Time to break out the games, then,” Takeru says.
“Please no more Monopoly. I can’t deal with learning any more about real estate,” Mimi says, wrinkling her nose.
“Cluedo’s out, because we’ve already had enough murder mysteries for one trip. Shogi and chess are both out, because Yamato always wins and that’s just not fun. Poker’s out because none of us can beat Koushiro anyway,” Miyako says. “Because he counts cards.”
“I don’t count cards on purpose, Miyako-san.”
“I think I have just the thing,” Takeru says.
---
“... I activate my trap card, Fairy Wine,” Takeru nearly yells, flipping over a card. “Apart from this card, all our spells and traps are destroyed, aniki, and we both take three-hundred damage for each. That’s nothing on my side of the field, and five on yours, for fifteen-hundred damage, reducing my life points to five-hundred and your life points to zero.”
Yamato blinks, then glances down at the table. “I don’t … understand this game. At all.”
“The rules are … quite convoluted,” Koushiro agrees.
“I understand them just fine,” Gabumon says, from where he’s sprawled in the baggage compartment. “And I’m not even playing.”
“Wanna play me next, Gabumon?” Takeru asks.
Which is about when the screeching from outside starts.
---
“What is that?” Yamato asks, squinting up at the circling shape in the sky.
“I’m trying to check, but …” Koushiro says, attempting to angle his phone to catch an image of the shape while remaining huddled inside the Trailmon and out of the rain. “Ah! Here we go.”
“Thunderbirmon,” the phone says. “Adult-level Data-type Giant Bird Digimon. It has the ability to summon storms through its echoing cry. It has a rough and territorial temperament.”
“Storm’s not going to stop until we drive it off, is it.”
“That seems plausible, yes.”
“Hey! Miyako! We need Hawkmon.”
“... Ah, but,” Hawkmon’s voice comes back, “I would rather not go out in the rain ...”
“Just do it before we drown.”
“Alright, alright,” Miyako calls back. A moment later, Yamato sees her hop out of the Trailmon, pulling her hat down a little lower against the freezing rain. The Digimental of Love flickers into her hand as she sets Hawkmon down. “All right, let’s wrap this up quickly.”
“Hawkmon, armour evolution! Flapping Love, Holsmon.”
---
The skies clear pretty quickly once Thunderbirmon has been driven off. Enough for them to continue on their way after a few hours.
“All right,” Yamato says, settling opposite Takeru. “Teach me how to play, kid. I’m going to kick your ass.”
“That’s not a great incentive,” Takeru says, but he teaches Yamato anyway, or at least he tries to. Halfway through the explanation of spell cards and fusion summons, Yamato has trouble keeping up, despite his best efforts.
“Why are you even trying, honestly,” Takeru laughs.
“Hey,” Yamato says, nudging a fist against Takeru’s forehead. “It’s worth it to spend a little time with you. This whole trip, we’ve barely had any time to just talk and have fun together, kiddo.”
Takeru snorts. “I’m surprised you even want to.”
“Tak -- …”
“You know I did it on purpose, right? Koushiro might not have been fast enough finding a cure, and Mimi might have accidentally obstructed it, but I deliberately exposed everyone to the Infection. I knew what I was doing,” Takeru says sharply. For a moment, he looks and sounds painfully like Yamato does.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to have more time with Patamon. And I don’t blame you for being afraid of what we’d do if we knew.”
“I wish you would,” Takeru snaps. “I can’t stand it. I can’t cope with all of you being nice to me when you should hate me. Doesn’t it make you angry at all? I killed Gabumon. I killed everyone’s partners so that I could get a few more days with mine. Get mad. Hit me. Do something, please.”
Yamato tries not to show any emotion. He reckons he doesn’t succeed, that Takeru can probably see on his face how much that stings.
He lifts his hand and settles it on Takeru’s head, ruffling his hair.
“Idiot. I know what you did, and why you did it, and I’ve already forgiven you. You’re my baby brother, asshole,” he murmurs. “There’s nothing you can do that’ll make me love you any less.”
Takeru shuts his eyes. Yamato gives his hair one last ruffle, enough to muss it up beyond the point of being easy to fix, then pulls his hand back.
It doesn’t fix anything. Yamato knows that whatever Takeru’s going through isn’t going to be fixed by a few words. It’s the best he can do right now, though.
“You’re going to need to explain this whole trap card thing again, though, because I’m still going to kick your ass at this game, kid,” he grins. “No mercy.”
THE EPISODE THEY ONLY CAMEO IN.
The group chat on the Network goes crazy one day.
Taichi: YAMA. YAMA, HELP.
Taichi: A DIGIMON HAS CURSED ME TO COMMUNICATE IN SONG.
Taichi: BACKING DANCERS ARE PHYSICALLY MANIFESTING AROUND ME.
Taichi: I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE MUSIC IS COMING FROM.
Taichi: ARE YOU EVEN SEEING THIS?
Read by Yamato Ishida, 13:47.
Taichi: I HATE YOU, YAMA.
THE BEACH EPISODE.
“All right,” Yamato says, when they make a stop at the seaside town of Jacquard Town. “We’ll be sticking around here for two days, so make the most of it. This is probably the only shore leave any of you are going to get for this mission.”
“All right! Two days of sand, surf, and sun, I am down for that,” Miyako says. “I’m going to get that tan I’ve always wanted.”
“We both know you don’t tan. You burn,” Hawkmon sniffs.
“Ah, I should see if there’s a library. It might be useful to see if there are any scientific volumes that could help us with figuring out the Infection,” Koushiro says, stroking his chin. “Would you like to join me, Takeru-kun?”
“I don’t know if that actually counts as relaxation,” Takeru replies wryly.
“You shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit the beach, Koushiro-han,” Tentomon says. “At least spend a few hours in the sunlight! It’s good for you!”
“Technically, the Digital World’s sun doesn’t provide the vitamins -- …”
“It’s good for you, Koushiro-han.”
“I should see if they’re selling flokseed oil,” Gabumon says. “We’re almost out and I don’t want my fur getting brittle.”
As the group files out of the Trailmon carriage, Yamato settles at one of the tables, laying out maps and notes.
“You’re not coming?”
Mimi is still lingering in the doorway, even as Palmon comes ahead.
“There’s still a lot of work that needs doing,” Yamato says, shaking his head. “If I finish early, I’ll stop by the beach and see you guys.”
“All right,” Mimi says dubiously. “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”
---
Morning turns to afternoon, then evening.
“Stop! That beach umbrella is mine!” Yamato hears Takeru yell, and some fifty feet away from the Trailmon, an Impmon scampers by clutching an umbrella, just before four humans and five Digimon barrel after him.
Yamato gives the unfolding scene a sidelong look, then glances back at his work. “We could shave off twelve hours if we cut through this canyon, but we’d miss a town. We’ve got enough fuel for it, but we’d need to ration our food supplies for a day or two …”
“I said it’s mine! Give it back!” Takeru yells, as the Impmon flees the other way, and the group stampedes after him.
“If we cut down food use by just four percent every day, though, it’d be fine. There’s a spot where we can forage for food not long after …” Yamato murmurs, tapping his chin with his pen. “Worth doing.”
---
The group doesn’t get back until late at night. Yamato only realises when they come trudging back in that he’s barely moved from his spot by the door.
“Still working?” Gabumon asks, tilting his head.
“Yeah. Nearly done, though. I’ll get it wrapped up in the morning.”
“You know, the world won’t end if you don’t finish it all now,” Gabumon says.
“I know, I know. Get some sleep.”
---
Morning comes and Yamato keeps working. One by one, the others leave the Trailmon.
By the time noon arrives, he’s still working. Mimi shows up shortly after, lingering in the doorway.
“Are you still working?”
“Someone has to do it, and not for nothing, but this kind of boring logistical work isn’t any of your strong suites.”
“That’s a fun way of saying you’re a control freak.”
“That’s a fun way of saying I’m a control freak, yes.”
---
By the time night falls, he’s still working. Somehow, there always seems to be more work to get done, another problem with their trip that needs solving, a few new factors to be accounted for.
(Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to go out and enjoy himself. It feels like too much, somehow, to try to insert himself into the others having fun.)
“Yamato-san!”
Koushiro is in the doorway, breathing heavily. He must have run all the way here. Yamato feels a spike of panic in his chest immediately, and before he knows it he’s on his feet.
“What is it? Is everything all right?”
“Everyone’s fine,” Koushiro says wheezily. “It’s the Mystery Man, and he’s brought Nanomon with him. Miyako-san and Mimi-san are fighting him now, but we need you down there.”
How am I meant to help without my -- …
It doesn’t matter. If Koushiro says they need him, then he needs to go.
“Let’s go.”
Koushiro grabs his hand in a death grip, dragging him out of the Trailmon and through the town towards the beach, and even with his heart beating fast, Yamato can’t help but notice that he doesn’t hear a battle going on, even as Koushiro drags him out onto the beach and -- …
Nanomon isn’t anywhere to be seen. Neither is the Mystery Man. Just Mimi, Palmon, Takeru, Patamon, Miyako, Hawkmon, Tentomon, and Gabumon, standing in front of a bonfire with sparklers in their hands.
“Sorry,” Takeru says, holding up an extra sparkler. “We couldn’t think of any other way to get you out here.”
“I’ll, er -- I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide upon,” Koushiro says, bowing his head. He finally lets go of Yamato’s hand, just in time for Takeru to take it in his, lifting it up and closing Yamato’s fingers around the sparkler.
“But first,” Mimi beams. “You’re going to spend a few hours partying with us. All that boring work isn’t going anywhere, right?”
“And once we’re moving again, we can help you with it. If you want us to,” Miyako adds. “I … guess actually you probably don’t want us to, but, er, if you change your mind! We’re around!”
“Like you said, we won’t get another chance like this before the mission is over,” Gabumon says. “So just spend a few hours with us, okay?”
Yamato shuts his eyes for a moment, breathing out through his teeth. Then: “You really couldn’t think of anything other than ‘the Mystery Man is attacking,’ guys? I nearly had a heart attack.”
A few mumbled apologies rippled through the group.
“Fine. A few hours, okay? No more,” Yamato says, padding past them towards the bonfire. “And -- thanks. I guess.”
---
Three days later, they arrive at Harwell Town. It’s a quaint little town built around a castle, but as they enter, Yamato finds his gaze drawn to the nearby forest, and the stubby tower poking out of the top. Even from this far away, he can see the crackling, glitching textures that indicate that that’s the Infected zone they’re looking for.
“Not much longer now,” he murmurs.
He glances at his notebook. MetalEtemon, BlackWarGreymon, Vamdemon, Archnemon, and Mummymon have all been scratched out. One of the eight remaining names on the list is doubtless waiting for them at that tower.
“Yamato-san,” Koushiro says sharply. Yamato’s attention is snapped towards the younger boy, as he taps a notice on the town’s bulletin board. It’s written in English, and chickenscratch English at that, and Yamato has to lean in close to try to figure out what it says.
“Sickly, unlucky, and afflicted,” he says in English. “Visit Warudamon, the only Digimon who can heal … ” He draws back, frowning.
“The Infection,” Koushiro finishes for him. “It says she can cure the Infection.”
“You’ve kept us fed and sheltered for weeks. I’d say any debt has already been paid in full,” Yamato says, shaking his head. “Has Renamon already left?”
“Earlier this morning. She and a caravan are heading South. She’ll alight at Tonami Town and take a Whamon over to File Island to collect those of us who died in the battle,” Goemon says. He nods over at the Trailmon patiently waiting for them. “And you are heading North?”
“We are. We probably won’t be coming back this way any time soon, so this might be goodbye,” Yamato says.
“Trailmon will take you as far as Harwell Town,” Goemon says. “Ah, you should take this with you as well.”
He gestures a hand over his shoulder, and Sorcerymon approaches, holding out a case. Giving Goemon a bemused look, Yamato steps over and opens the case: Lying on a cloth within it are what remains of one of Goemon’s swords, shattered into eight pieces. It’s the one Yamato broke trying to desperately bludgeon MetalEtemon with it.
“It’s useless to me now, but it makes a good enough souvenir,” Goemon says. “Be safe on your journey, Crestbearers.”
“You too, my lord,” Yamato replies.
Twenty minutes later, all of them -- all five humans and all five Digimon -- are on the Trailmon as it begins to chug and chuff, moving slowly along the tracks out of Railroad Town.
“All right, hopefully this’ll be a straight shot up to Harwell Town,” Yamato says. “It’s going to be a pretty boring trip, so sorry for that.”
“Ha!” Mimi says. “We all know that every time we stop in a town there’s going to be some little, episodic problem for us to deal with. That’s how this always works.”
“Mimi, I really don’t think -- …”
“Just don’t,” Yamato says, when a stop at Russell Town for resupplying is interrupted by the declaration that Sheriff Revolmon has been murdered in the town square. “Don’t any of you say you told me so.”
“We did, though,” Mimi replies. “We did tell you so.”
“Until this terrible crime has been solved,” Mayor DarkSuperStarmon says, “we shall be shutting our gates. Nobody may enter or leave the town until the culprit has been brought to justice.”
Yamato gives an irritable noise, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Please say we’re going to solve a murder,” Miyako says. “Nobody’s leaving until we do, right? You know how it is, drifters from out of town solving a grisly murder that confounds the local law enforcement.”
“Would it technically be grisly? Digimon don’t have gristle,” Koushiro points out.
“Just -- …” Yamato growls. “Miyako, Hawkmon, Koushiro, Tentomon, go and examine the crime scene. Takeru, Patamon, Mimi, Palmon, get witness testimonies. Gabumon and I will see if we can find a door and get Barry to come do some CSI stuff.”
“Yeah, couldn’t find a door.”
“... Is it because all the doors in this town are those weird little saloon doors you see in Westerns that don't cover the whole doorway?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
“From what I can tell, Revolmon was killed in a single attack from above, before he had a chance to react,” Koushiro says. He raises his phone, showing an image of a ground scattered with intermittent burn marks. “Multiple superheated objects impacted Revolmon and the ground around him at once. Death likely happened in a matter of moments.”
“No witnesses,” Mimi adds. “A lot of people saw him before the murder, but after he went on patrol, everyone was too busy drinking in the saloon to keep an eye on him.”
“Anybody in the main room of the saloon has an alibi, then,” Yamato says. “Do we know anyone who wasn’t?”
“Mostly the people who worked late. A few deputies and other town officials, some of the miners, that kind of thing,” Mimi says. “A couple of those were working with other people, though, so they have alibis.”
“What’s your alibi from ten this evening to ten thirty?” Yamato asks, glancing down at the file in his hands.
Once they’d had a handful of suspects, the mayor had been kind enough to arrange a back room at the saloon to be set aside for questioning (“I want more than anyone for this dastardly rogue to be found,” he’d said, sipping from a glass of wine,) and after two suspects with perfect alibis, they now had a Solarmon … squirming? Rotating? Floating in his seat.
“I was in my room, reading a book, I swear!”
“Alone?” Miyako asks. “How convenient.”
“Listen,” Yamato says. “Witnesses say they saw you arguing with Sheriff Revolmon less than an hour before he was killed. Apparently you two argued a lot. I even hear it got physical a few times.”
“What?” Solarmon asks. “Sure, I hated the guy. He was basically the mayor’s damn lapdog, you know what I mean? Always sneaking around and covering up for the guy. I’m not sad that he’s dead. But that doesn’t mean I killed him! I’d never kill him!”
Yamato’s eyes flick over to the chair. The metal frame is already melting, just from the heat that Solarmon is giving off.
“But you do have a history of drunken violence, right?” Miyako asks. “And you’d been drinking a whole lot …”
“This is a true tragedy,” Mayor DarkSuperStarmon purred, swirling the wine in his glass. “Please tell me you know who did it, son.”
“We want to gather all the suspects in the saloon. You’re welcome to -- …” Yamato stops as lightning flashes across the window behind the mayor, momentarily illuminating him. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“Oh, I do think I will.”
“I’ve gathered you here,” Miyako says, raising a finger. “Because the murderer is in this very room with us!”
Gasps echo through the saloon. Mimi screams dramatically, covering her mouth with her hands. As Miyako gives her an excitable look, she gives a thumbs up in return.
“At first, we thought …” Miyako says, pulling a pipe from her jacket. As she catches sight of Yamato glaring at her, she slowly slides it back into her pocket, clearing her throat. “At first, we thought that our culprit was clear. You, Solarmon, had argued with the victim shortly before his demise, had no alibi, and possess fire attacks, consistent with the burn marks found at the scene of the crime.”
“I didn’t do it!” Solarmon yells.
“Burn in hell, murderer!” Someone else yells back.
“Naturellement, Monsieur Solarmon,” Miyako says. “As a Child-level Vaccine-type, it’s impossible that you could have killed Revolmon, an Adult-level Data-type, with a single attack. Furthermore, the burn marks in the area are only at the impact points of the deadly attack. As I’m sure you can all see, Solarmon emits a burning heat wherever he goes. There would be burn marks everywhere if he had been out there.”
She holds up her finger again.
“Furthermore! The attack came from directly above, whereas all of Solarmon’s attacks are horizontal. Non, non, Monsieur Solarmon could not have committed the murder. It would have had to be a Digimon of equal or greater level, with a type advantage over Revolmon, who attacks with superheated objects falling from above. Someone who Revolmon knew well, who had a motive for -- …”
“It’s the mayor,” Yamato says flatly. “The mayor did it. Revolmon wasn't going to keep his secrets anymore, so he killed him.”
Miyako turns to stare at him.
“What? You were taking a really long time to get to the fucking point,” Yamato says.
Miyako keeps staring at him. From the corner, Mimi slightly unenthusiastically screams, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Don’t bother, the moment’s passed now,” Miyako mutters.
Despite Yamato’s best efforts, evidence continues to be presented and argued over for some time.
“I can’t go to jail for this,” DarkSuperStarmon crows, as he rises into the air, bursting through the roof of the saloon. “I’m the mayor! I own this town! And I’ll kill everyone in it if I have to.”
“Miyako …” Yamato says, glancing over.
“Yep, doing it quick,” Miyako says, as the Digimental of Sincerity flickers into her hand and Hawkmon pushes off her shoulder.
“Hawkmon, armour evolution! Piercing Sincerity, Shurimon!”
As the two clash in the air above them, Mimi wanders up alongside Yamato.
“How was my panicked screaming?” She asks.
“Pretty good. Could’ve been a little more shrill, maybe more …” He claps his hands to his mouth and gives a shrieking noise of distress. “... You know? But it really set the mood.”
Above them, Shurimon sends DarkSuperStarmon hurtling across town and into the ground.
Mimi gives a thoughtful nod.
“I’ll remember that next time someone gets murdered.”
Their next stop is Haszard Town, a small village at the base of a hill, with enough fuel and water to last them a few more days.
It’s also where they start hearing ghost stories.
“But nobody ever goes up to the old mansion anymore,” the BlueMeramon croaks, pointing towards the ominous mansion sitting atop the hill. “It’s haunted by the most terrible phantoms.”
“Wait,” Yamato says, holding up a hand. “Phantoms as in ghosts, or just Bakemon?”
“They’re the ghosts of Bakemon!”
“Huh,” Yamato says thoughtfully. “I don’t like you.”
“We really should investigate that mansion,” Koushiro says. “The possibility of actual ghosts in the Digital World is fascinating. Theoretically, remnant data could collect after a Digimon has been reborn, or it could even be a case like Wizarmon, where a Digimon initially was a species from a different world and thus exempt from …”
As he continues to ramble, Yamato sees Takeru shrug on his coat.
“Guess we’re going ghost-hunting,” Takeru chirps. “Coming, aniki?”
“I’ll, er, I’ll just …” Yamato glances off to the side. “Ghosts aren’t real, you’re going to be disappointed. I’m going to do what we came here for and get Trailmon refueled.”
“Cool. I’ll make sure to write a spooooky report for you.”
Koushiro, Takeru, Miyako, and Mimi return to the Trailmon as the sun is rising.
“Hey, Yamato,” Takeru says. “Turns out ghosts are real and they’re out to get you.”
“You’re my least favourite brother, Tak.”
The storm sweeps in without warning, and before long the rivers and lakes that litter this part of the continent have burst their banks.
“Trailmon says he can’t go any further right now. The tracks are getting waterlogged, the wind is too strong, and even with his headlight on he can’t see more than five feet in front of him,” Yamato says, as he returns from the front carriage. “So I guess we’re sticking here until the storm passes.”
“Time to break out the games, then,” Takeru says.
“Please no more Monopoly. I can’t deal with learning any more about real estate,” Mimi says, wrinkling her nose.
“Cluedo’s out, because we’ve already had enough murder mysteries for one trip. Shogi and chess are both out, because Yamato always wins and that’s just not fun. Poker’s out because none of us can beat Koushiro anyway,” Miyako says. “Because he counts cards.”
“I don’t count cards on purpose, Miyako-san.”
“I think I have just the thing,” Takeru says.
“... I activate my trap card, Fairy Wine,” Takeru nearly yells, flipping over a card. “Apart from this card, all our spells and traps are destroyed, aniki, and we both take three-hundred damage for each. That’s nothing on my side of the field, and five on yours, for fifteen-hundred damage, reducing my life points to five-hundred and your life points to zero.”
Yamato blinks, then glances down at the table. “I don’t … understand this game. At all.”
“The rules are … quite convoluted,” Koushiro agrees.
“I understand them just fine,” Gabumon says, from where he’s sprawled in the baggage compartment. “And I’m not even playing.”
“Wanna play me next, Gabumon?” Takeru asks.
Which is about when the screeching from outside starts.
“What is that?” Yamato asks, squinting up at the circling shape in the sky.
“I’m trying to check, but …” Koushiro says, attempting to angle his phone to catch an image of the shape while remaining huddled inside the Trailmon and out of the rain. “Ah! Here we go.”
“Thunderbirmon,” the phone says. “Adult-level Data-type Giant Bird Digimon. It has the ability to summon storms through its echoing cry. It has a rough and territorial temperament.”
“Storm’s not going to stop until we drive it off, is it.”
“That seems plausible, yes.”
“Hey! Miyako! We need Hawkmon.”
“... Ah, but,” Hawkmon’s voice comes back, “I would rather not go out in the rain ...”
“Just do it before we drown.”
“Alright, alright,” Miyako calls back. A moment later, Yamato sees her hop out of the Trailmon, pulling her hat down a little lower against the freezing rain. The Digimental of Love flickers into her hand as she sets Hawkmon down. “All right, let’s wrap this up quickly.”
“Hawkmon, armour evolution! Flapping Love, Holsmon.”
The skies clear pretty quickly once Thunderbirmon has been driven off. Enough for them to continue on their way after a few hours.
“All right,” Yamato says, settling opposite Takeru. “Teach me how to play, kid. I’m going to kick your ass.”
“That’s not a great incentive,” Takeru says, but he teaches Yamato anyway, or at least he tries to. Halfway through the explanation of spell cards and fusion summons, Yamato has trouble keeping up, despite his best efforts.
“Why are you even trying, honestly,” Takeru laughs.
“Hey,” Yamato says, nudging a fist against Takeru’s forehead. “It’s worth it to spend a little time with you. This whole trip, we’ve barely had any time to just talk and have fun together, kiddo.”
Takeru snorts. “I’m surprised you even want to.”
“Tak -- …”
“You know I did it on purpose, right? Koushiro might not have been fast enough finding a cure, and Mimi might have accidentally obstructed it, but I deliberately exposed everyone to the Infection. I knew what I was doing,” Takeru says sharply. For a moment, he looks and sounds painfully like Yamato does.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to have more time with Patamon. And I don’t blame you for being afraid of what we’d do if we knew.”
“I wish you would,” Takeru snaps. “I can’t stand it. I can’t cope with all of you being nice to me when you should hate me. Doesn’t it make you angry at all? I killed Gabumon. I killed everyone’s partners so that I could get a few more days with mine. Get mad. Hit me. Do something, please.”
Yamato tries not to show any emotion. He reckons he doesn’t succeed, that Takeru can probably see on his face how much that stings.
He lifts his hand and settles it on Takeru’s head, ruffling his hair.
“Idiot. I know what you did, and why you did it, and I’ve already forgiven you. You’re my baby brother, asshole,” he murmurs. “There’s nothing you can do that’ll make me love you any less.”
Takeru shuts his eyes. Yamato gives his hair one last ruffle, enough to muss it up beyond the point of being easy to fix, then pulls his hand back.
It doesn’t fix anything. Yamato knows that whatever Takeru’s going through isn’t going to be fixed by a few words. It’s the best he can do right now, though.
“You’re going to need to explain this whole trap card thing again, though, because I’m still going to kick your ass at this game, kid,” he grins. “No mercy.”
The group chat on the Network goes crazy one day.
Taichi: YAMA. YAMA, HELP.
Taichi: A DIGIMON HAS CURSED ME TO COMMUNICATE IN SONG.
Taichi: BACKING DANCERS ARE PHYSICALLY MANIFESTING AROUND ME.
Taichi: I DON’T KNOW WHERE THE MUSIC IS COMING FROM.
Taichi: ARE YOU EVEN SEEING THIS?
Read by Yamato Ishida, 13:47.
Taichi: I HATE YOU, YAMA.
“All right,” Yamato says, when they make a stop at the seaside town of Jacquard Town. “We’ll be sticking around here for two days, so make the most of it. This is probably the only shore leave any of you are going to get for this mission.”
“All right! Two days of sand, surf, and sun, I am down for that,” Miyako says. “I’m going to get that tan I’ve always wanted.”
“We both know you don’t tan. You burn,” Hawkmon sniffs.
“Ah, I should see if there’s a library. It might be useful to see if there are any scientific volumes that could help us with figuring out the Infection,” Koushiro says, stroking his chin. “Would you like to join me, Takeru-kun?”
“I don’t know if that actually counts as relaxation,” Takeru replies wryly.
“You shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to visit the beach, Koushiro-han,” Tentomon says. “At least spend a few hours in the sunlight! It’s good for you!”
“Technically, the Digital World’s sun doesn’t provide the vitamins -- …”
“It’s good for you, Koushiro-han.”
“I should see if they’re selling flokseed oil,” Gabumon says. “We’re almost out and I don’t want my fur getting brittle.”
As the group files out of the Trailmon carriage, Yamato settles at one of the tables, laying out maps and notes.
“You’re not coming?”
Mimi is still lingering in the doorway, even as Palmon comes ahead.
“There’s still a lot of work that needs doing,” Yamato says, shaking his head. “If I finish early, I’ll stop by the beach and see you guys.”
“All right,” Mimi says dubiously. “You know where to find us if you change your mind.”
Morning turns to afternoon, then evening.
“Stop! That beach umbrella is mine!” Yamato hears Takeru yell, and some fifty feet away from the Trailmon, an Impmon scampers by clutching an umbrella, just before four humans and five Digimon barrel after him.
Yamato gives the unfolding scene a sidelong look, then glances back at his work. “We could shave off twelve hours if we cut through this canyon, but we’d miss a town. We’ve got enough fuel for it, but we’d need to ration our food supplies for a day or two …”
“I said it’s mine! Give it back!” Takeru yells, as the Impmon flees the other way, and the group stampedes after him.
“If we cut down food use by just four percent every day, though, it’d be fine. There’s a spot where we can forage for food not long after …” Yamato murmurs, tapping his chin with his pen. “Worth doing.”
The group doesn’t get back until late at night. Yamato only realises when they come trudging back in that he’s barely moved from his spot by the door.
“Still working?” Gabumon asks, tilting his head.
“Yeah. Nearly done, though. I’ll get it wrapped up in the morning.”
“You know, the world won’t end if you don’t finish it all now,” Gabumon says.
“I know, I know. Get some sleep.”
Morning comes and Yamato keeps working. One by one, the others leave the Trailmon.
By the time noon arrives, he’s still working. Mimi shows up shortly after, lingering in the doorway.
“Are you still working?”
“Someone has to do it, and not for nothing, but this kind of boring logistical work isn’t any of your strong suites.”
“That’s a fun way of saying you’re a control freak.”
“That’s a fun way of saying I’m a control freak, yes.”
By the time night falls, he’s still working. Somehow, there always seems to be more work to get done, another problem with their trip that needs solving, a few new factors to be accounted for.
(Or perhaps he just doesn’t want to go out and enjoy himself. It feels like too much, somehow, to try to insert himself into the others having fun.)
“Yamato-san!”
Koushiro is in the doorway, breathing heavily. He must have run all the way here. Yamato feels a spike of panic in his chest immediately, and before he knows it he’s on his feet.
“What is it? Is everything all right?”
“Everyone’s fine,” Koushiro says wheezily. “It’s the Mystery Man, and he’s brought Nanomon with him. Miyako-san and Mimi-san are fighting him now, but we need you down there.”
How am I meant to help without my -- …
It doesn’t matter. If Koushiro says they need him, then he needs to go.
“Let’s go.”
Koushiro grabs his hand in a death grip, dragging him out of the Trailmon and through the town towards the beach, and even with his heart beating fast, Yamato can’t help but notice that he doesn’t hear a battle going on, even as Koushiro drags him out onto the beach and -- …
Nanomon isn’t anywhere to be seen. Neither is the Mystery Man. Just Mimi, Palmon, Takeru, Patamon, Miyako, Hawkmon, Tentomon, and Gabumon, standing in front of a bonfire with sparklers in their hands.
“Sorry,” Takeru says, holding up an extra sparkler. “We couldn’t think of any other way to get you out here.”
“I’ll, er -- I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide upon,” Koushiro says, bowing his head. He finally lets go of Yamato’s hand, just in time for Takeru to take it in his, lifting it up and closing Yamato’s fingers around the sparkler.
“But first,” Mimi beams. “You’re going to spend a few hours partying with us. All that boring work isn’t going anywhere, right?”
“And once we’re moving again, we can help you with it. If you want us to,” Miyako adds. “I … guess actually you probably don’t want us to, but, er, if you change your mind! We’re around!”
“Like you said, we won’t get another chance like this before the mission is over,” Gabumon says. “So just spend a few hours with us, okay?”
Yamato shuts his eyes for a moment, breathing out through his teeth. Then: “You really couldn’t think of anything other than ‘the Mystery Man is attacking,’ guys? I nearly had a heart attack.”
A few mumbled apologies rippled through the group.
“Fine. A few hours, okay? No more,” Yamato says, padding past them towards the bonfire. “And -- thanks. I guess.”
Three days later, they arrive at Harwell Town. It’s a quaint little town built around a castle, but as they enter, Yamato finds his gaze drawn to the nearby forest, and the stubby tower poking out of the top. Even from this far away, he can see the crackling, glitching textures that indicate that that’s the Infected zone they’re looking for.
“Not much longer now,” he murmurs.
He glances at his notebook. MetalEtemon, BlackWarGreymon, Vamdemon, Archnemon, and Mummymon have all been scratched out. One of the eight remaining names on the list is doubtless waiting for them at that tower.
“Yamato-san,” Koushiro says sharply. Yamato’s attention is snapped towards the younger boy, as he taps a notice on the town’s bulletin board. It’s written in English, and chickenscratch English at that, and Yamato has to lean in close to try to figure out what it says.
“Sickly, unlucky, and afflicted,” he says in English. “Visit Warudamon, the only Digimon who can heal … ” He draws back, frowning.
“The Infection,” Koushiro finishes for him. “It says she can cure the Infection.”