Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2020-01-13 11:32 pm
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2020-01-13 11:32 pm
[tri OOM] Episodic 2.
They set off for the port town where Taichi is due to meet them in short order.
“We’ll be traveling half the distance by Trailmon, but the rest we’ll have to go by foot,” Yamato says as the Trailmon leaves the station, heading west. “It’s not a long journey, but we’ll need to move fast if we want to make good time. That means we’re cutting down our daily rest time from ten hours to eight.”
A chorus of groans meets that remark.
“Boo,” Gabumon says. “Boooo.”
“I know, I know. You’ll be able to relax once we get to the port, guys,” Yamato said. “Just stick with it for now.”
Daisuke raises a hand. “So, we’re travelling somewhere new, that means we’re going to end up dragged into a bunch of episodic adventures, right? That’s what always happens.”
Yamato sighs, shaking his head. “No, no, we already did that, I don’t think it’ll happen agai -- …”
THE OTHER MURDER MYSTERY EPISODE.
Yamato breathes out through his teeth.
“We’re trapped, trapped in this mansion!” Dreamon, the master of the mansion they’ve taken shelter in, wails. “Trapped until this terrible storm passes! And Detective Logamon is … is dead!”
Several people wail dramatically. Mimi is one of them. Yamato glares at her.
“Why, it can surely be none other than the Ripper, who has plagued this valley with his murderous ways!” Sakusimon sobs. “He has come to kill us all! To kill us all.”
“We’re totally going to solve this, right?” Daisuke asks with a grin.
“Oh, we’re so going to solve this,” Miyako replies.
---
“Dezipmon, Dreamon and Roamon were all in the kitchen when the murder happened,” Koushiro says. “And Reviewmon and Sakusimon were both in the lounge.”
“Shutmon and Shotmon were out in the gardens,” Miyako adds, poking down several coloured pins on the map. “Vegasmon and Ropuremon were in the library.”
“And Puzzlemon and Newsmon were in the gallery,” Yamato finishes. “Everyone has an alibi.”
“They lost track of each other when they heard the scream, though,” Miyako says. “There’s about a minute and a half where nobody has any idea where anybody else is.”
“But then by the time they get there, Logomon is already dead, and his piece of the buried treasure map stolen,” Koushiro adds. “The door is locked from the inside, and nobody else is in there when they go in.”
Yamato grumbles, scraping a hand through his hair. “Okay. Are there any teleporters among the guests?”
“There’s one,” Koushiro says. “But he has an alibi. For Logomon to have screamed, that must be when he was being killed.”
“Right,” Miyako says. “Unless he never screamed at all. Eh? Eh?”
Yamato and Koushiro both give her a flat look.
“I’m going somewhere with this, I swear.”
---
Daisuke and Miyako insist on taking the lead in the grand reveal of the murderer. Yamato just settles in an armchair, Gabumon draped over his shoulders, with Takeru on one side of him, and Mimi on the other, while Koushiro watches the door.
“How is it that a person can be murdered from within a locked room, while everyone involved has an alibi?” Daisuke asks, puffing on a pipe. Yamato doesn’t know where he got it from. It isn’t even lit. “The answer is really quite elementary!”
“For you see,” Miyako says. “Logomon locked the door, thinking it would make him safe from the killer out to steal his piece of the buried treasure map! Little did he know that one of the guests could teleport through walls with little trouble, and kill him without him even expecting it! It was you, Sakusimon, that murdered Logomon!”
“Preposterous!” Sakusimon exclaims, jumping to his feet. “We all heard Logomon being murdered! And I was with Reviewmon at the time!”
“Thiz iz true, he waz with me, mon amie,” Reviewmon says, nodding somberly.
“Aha! We only assumed that Logomon’s scream was because he was being killed,” Daisuke says triumphantly. “In fact, it was no such thing! Logomon never screamed at all.”
Mimi gasps dramatically, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Don’t, don’t do that,” Yamato says wearily.
“Logomon’s scream was a fabrication meant to fool us. In actuality, his scream was produced by an accomplice, able to perfectly copy and distort audio data, and even project it elsewhere,” Daisuke continues. “Sakusimon told you that if you assisted him, then you could split the buried treasure between you, and all you had to do was project a screaming noise Logomon’s room. Isn’t that right, Roamon?”
There is a stunned silence for a few moments. Miyako gestures sharply at Yamato.
“Ugh, fine,” Yamato says, opening the Analyzer app.
“Roamon. Adult-level Virus-attribute Voice Change Digimon,” the Analyzer rattles off in Gennai’s soothing voice. “A Digimon with unparalleled abilities to manipulate and project audio data.”
“Another crime successfully solved,” Miyako says, high-fiving Daisuke. “Now, if you’ll both just come with -- …”
“You’ll never take us alive! Roamon, we’re getting out of here!”
---
Daisuke and Fladramon end up fighting Roamon, battling him on the roof of the mansion in a storm of flame bolts and colourful soundwaves.
Yamato and Gabumon pursue Sakusimon outside, cornering him in the mansion’s fountain courtyard.
“Hey,” Yamato says. “There’s nobody watching, right?”
“Nobody that I can see,” Gabumon replies.
“Good. Until I’m sure this isn’t dangerous, I don’t want the others to know about our little Milliways-made device,” Yamato says, kicking off his shoes and slipping the ring onto his finger.
“I’m watching,” Sakusimon says.
“That’s fine,” Yamato says, as the ring activates and the holographic windows open, tightening around his arms and feet, transmuting the skin there to crystal, his hair shifting shades as the extra ears pop up. “You aren’t going to be telling anyone.”
---
It’s the most disorientating fight Yamato’s ever been in.
Sakusimon blinks around the courtyard, and Yamato flickers after him, the two clashing for a few blows each time before they zip away. Yamato’s pretty sure he’s outmatched here, that whatever advantages the gloves he’s made offer him can’t stand up to Sakusimon’s powers.
Luckily, he has Gabumon here as well. As Sakusimon moves to strike, bringing his feathered fan down past Yamato’s guard, Gabumon breathes out a stream of blue fire, forcing him backwards.
Up on the roof, a flurry of flames from Fladramon takes out Roamon.
“Ugh,” Sakusimon groans, lifting his fan and spinning, turning into a roaring typhoon of yellow fire. “Flame Dance Formation!”
Yamato hunches down, one claw raised, as his own flames, blue and cold, spiral up around him. “First Form: Azure Moon.”
One strike. Yamato reappears on the other side of Sakusimon, as the flames around them both fade. He looks down to see the front of his t-shirt scorched open, a bright red, deeply unpleasant looking burn stretching down his chest and stomach.
“I got you,” Sakusimon crows.
“I got you too,” Yamato returns.
Sakusimon gives a dry chuckle, glancing at his hand as it dissolves away. “So you did.”
With a crack of blue fire, he splits across the middle, giving a sharp yell before scattering into cubes of data, the last of them floating away towards File Island.
THE SCARY EPISODE.
“With the road blocked, the only way to get to your destination is to pass through the Valley of Screams,” says the wise old Digimon.
Yamato frowns. “What will we find there?”
“Only what you take with you …”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“... And also a bunch of really scary ghosts.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
---
“See?” Takeru says as they leave the valley a few hours later. “Ghosts exist and they hate you. Specifically you.”
“Ghosts don’t exist.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That was just the fog getting to us, and those mischievous Bakemon playing tricks, and some embedded audio weirdness like you get on File Island sometimes.”
“Was it, though.”
“Yes, Takeru. It was.”
THE MUCHOMON EPISODE.
The Muchomon village is a delightful place, full of music and dancing and good food, which means there must be something horribly wrong with it, because there’s always something horribly wrong with idyllic seeming villages.
“Don’t be like that,” Mimi says when he mentions it. “Just enjoy the music! Relax a little! You don’t have to be on high alert all the time, y’know.”
“Just wait for it,” Yamato mutters. “There’s always some problem for us to fix.”
“Bet you two-hundred yen there isn’t.”
“Deal.”
“We are so glad to have visitors for this year’s Festival of Giving,” says the Muchomon Elder. “You may be witness to the brave sacrifice of eight Muchomon to the Great Metal Devourer.”
Mimi silently hands over a two-hundred yen note.
---
The Great Metal Devourer turns out to be a Kenkimon, a kind of humanoid construction vehicle, which comes trundling up to the village rambling about how it must be fed.
Daisuke and V-Mon leap into action immediately, with Miyako, Hawkmon, Takeru, and Patamon following closely along.
“V-Mon, armor evolution! Burning Courage, Fladramon!”
“Hawkmon, armor evolution! Piercing Sincerity, Shurimon.”
“Patamon, armor evolution. Flying Hope, Pegasmon.”
---
“We cannot thank you enough for freeing us from the yoke of the Great Metal Devourer,” the Muchomon Elder says, taking their hands in his wings in turn and shaking them. “Although even if he was evil and kept eating us, you did technically kill our god, so we do have to exile you. Just on principle, you understand.”
“Yeah, no, do what you’ve gotta do,” Yamato replies. “We’re happy to help.”
“Our gratitude is without end,” the Muchomon Elder says. “In time, we shall leave this place, and travel to File Island, where we shall meet our ancient enemies, the Penmon, and engage them in a war of cruel insults and lots of shoving. Such is our destiny.”
“Huh,” Yamato says slowly. “I should probably warn them about that.”
THE PLOT-RELEVANT EPISODE.
They’re stopping in a small mountain village when the Mystery Man makes his next move on them.
There’s no warning or gloating this time around. Most of them are asleep, with just Yamato taking watch, when the familiar pillar of light that accompanies all of the Mystery Man’s summons drops out of the sky, and the vast, ragged shape of Cherubimon emerges from it, ears stretching out towards the heavens, hands bent at awkward angles and straining towards the village itself.
“Cherubimon,” the Analyzer chirps. “Ultimate-level Virus-attribute Archangel Digimon. An angel Digimon with the appearance of a beast, and dominion over time, able to repair even the most grievous injuries.”
Yamato swears under his breath and wakes the others. Koushiro, Mimi, and Takeru, more accustomed to snapping to attention straight after waking up, are ready within seconds. Miyako and Daisuke take … frustratingly long, by Yamato’s standards, even if they’re technically up and about within a minute or two.
“... Cherubimon?” Daisuke asks, staring groggily up at it. “But how … ?”
“It’s a mindless puppet, like Devimon and Jureimon,” Koushiro says. “Yamato-san, what’s the plan?”
“It’s after us,” Yamato says. “So we bait it, draw it out of the village and towards that valley nearby. Once it’s clear, we strip away its outer layers and expose its kernel. Once we destroy that, it won’t be able to regenerate any more.”
---
A little yelling and a lot of running, and Cherubimon pursues them out of the village. The Mystery Man seems to have fled, or at least he isn’t directly giving it orders, leaving it on some kind of ‘attack the Chosen’ autopilot instead. That’s a small blessing, at least.
It doesn’t make it easy for them to flee, though. Spears of lightning crash down around them, sticking into the ground, scorching trees as they pass. It’s a miracle none of them get incinerated by them.
Once they’re in the valley, it’s time for the counterattack. Cherubimon looms in close, arms outstretched, staring at them with yellow eyes that seem totally devoid of any signs of life right now.
Koushiro, Mimi, Takeru, Daisuke, and Miyako all pull their digivices from their belts, as their partners surge forward.
“Tentomon, warp evolution! HeraklesKabuterimon.”
“Palmon, warp evolution! Rosemon.”
“Patamon, warp evolution! Seraphimon.”
“V-Mon, armor evolution! The Radiance of Miracles, Magnamon!”
“Hawkmon, armor evolution. Flapping Love, Holsmon.”
Gabumon clambers up onto Holsmon’s back, and they’re off, moving towards Cherubimon.
---
Trying to strip Cherubimon down to the kernel is a nearly Sisyphean task.
Even with four Ultimates, an Adult, and a Child hammering him with attacks, he repairs damage to himself almost as quickly as they can deal it out. Every attack rips a gash in him, like a ragdoll getting torn open, and a split second later it knits back shut like nothing happened, time literally rewinding itself.
“Yamato-san,” Koushiro says. His voice is strangely high-pitched, and when Yamato turns around, he sees why. Koushiro looks … younger. Ten years old, maybe. Mimi looks the same, and Takeru, Miyako, and Daisuke look barely eight.
Yamato glances down at himself. He’s shorter, slighter, almost certainly no older than eleven. Coming back as a puppet clearly hasn’t helped Cherubimon’s power incontinence. He’s rewinding the clock on them.
“Fuck,” Yamato mutters. “We need to hurry this up before he rewinds us out of fucking existence. Koushiro, bring HeraklesKabuterimon back around, I need someone to fly me up there.”
“What are you going to -- …” Koushiro stops, frowning. He’s lost at least a year since they started talking. “No time to explain, I suppose. HeraklesKabuterimon!”
The massive insect Digimon swoops down, and Yamato hops onto his shoulder, slipping the ring onto his finger. This time, it gives a sharp error noise as he tries to activate it, and a warning screen appears.
Warning: Physical parameters insufficient for activation. Continuing activation may cause registry corruption. Continue/Cancel?
Yamato hesitates for a second, then hits continue, grimacing as pain shoots up his arms, the gloves and greaves snapping onto and fusing with his hands and feet before the transformation spreads through the rest of his body. He’s going to have some explaining to do when this is all done.
---
The more Cherubimon’s power de-ages him, the more difficult it gets to use the gloves. When he hits eight years old and fires off a blast of wind that cuts a stripe across Cherubimon’s chest, he realises there’s blood in his mouth.
“You’re bleeding,” HeraklesKabuterimon says. Yamato touches a hand to his face, realising it’s not just his mouth -- his nose is bleeding as well, and he’s pretty sure his ears and eyes will start spewing blood next.
“Ignore it,” he growls (as best he can with an eight year old’s voice). “Everyone focus your attacks, we need to finish cutting through and get at his kernel.”
Nearly there. They’re getting closer, tearing away layer after layer, digging their way through towards the massive Digimon’s kernel. Yamato feels himself lose another year, then another, the pain in his arms intensifying, shooting up behind his eyes.
They’re so close. One last push.
“Giga Horn Buster!”
“Forbidden Temptation.”
“Strike of the Seven Stars.”
“Shining Gold Solar Storm!”
“Tempest Wing.”
“Petit Fire!”
“Third Form: Aurora Execution.”
A flurry of attacks tears Cherubimon apart, leaving the small glass sphere of his kernel floating in mid-air, as his body starts to reform it, bubbling out of nothing.
“Rosemon, now!” Yamato calls.
Rosemon darts in, driving her rapier through the kernel. It cracks, flickers with a faint light, then shatters entirely, and the half-formed body fizzing into existence around it gives a roar as it fades away.
As HeraklesKabuterimon lands, Yamato hops off, dismissing the gloves in a flicker of data cubes. He can feel himself starting to grow older again, the effects of Cherubimon’s power fading now that the Digimon himself is gone.
He just needs to … sit down. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, and strangely numb all over.
“Yamato,” Mimi starts. “... Something you want to tell us?”
“Yeah, I … I, er …” he can’t seem to string a sentence together. With a thud, he drops into a sitting position on the ground, touching a finger to his nose. Still bleeding. “Huh.”
Then he blacks out.
---
It’s morning by the time he wakes up. His head is pounding worse than when he had his hangover in Railroad Town, and his limbs all feel like someone drove about a thousand needles into them.
“Fuck my life,” he mutters.
“You’re awake,” Gabumon says, peering over at him. “Feeling okay?”
“Like a Moosemon kicked me in the head, but I’ll live,” Yamato replies. “How’s everyone else?”
“Back to their normal ages.”
Yamato lifts a hand, turning it over. Yep, that is an eighteen year old sized hand. He’s back to his normal age as well. Good.
“Guess we know kid-me can’t use the gloves, then.”
“You knew that when the warning message popped up, and you did it anyway,” Gabumon points out disapprovingly. “Koushiro’s pretty sure that if you’d kept them on for another few minutes, things would have gotten a lot worse.”
“I didn’t keep them on for another few minutes, though. So it’s fine,” Yamato says. “We were running out of time, and we needed all the firepower we could get. I balanced the risk of death against the inevitable other option of turning back into a sperm.”
Gabumon sighs. “Right.”
They arrive at the port town on time, just barely, through some miracle of planning.
Yamato has barely stepped through the gate when he hears a sharp yell of “Yama!” and Taichi’s entire body barrels into him, knocking him to the ground.
“Get off of me,” he growls, as Taichi squeezes him in a very awkward and very tight hug.
Nearby, Takeru sprints over to Hikari as she emerges from a building, and as Ken follows her out, Daisuke nearly tackles him to the ground. Iori and Jyou emerge a few moments later, and Jyou ambles over to Mimi, grabbing Taichi and hauling him to his feet as he goes.
“Thank you,” Yamato grumbles, standing up and brushing himself down. To Taichi, he adds: “We’re here for our rendezvous. Have you got a ship?”
“I’ve got something better than a ship,” Taichi beams. “I’ve got a pirate ship.”
“We’ll be traveling half the distance by Trailmon, but the rest we’ll have to go by foot,” Yamato says as the Trailmon leaves the station, heading west. “It’s not a long journey, but we’ll need to move fast if we want to make good time. That means we’re cutting down our daily rest time from ten hours to eight.”
A chorus of groans meets that remark.
“Boo,” Gabumon says. “Boooo.”
“I know, I know. You’ll be able to relax once we get to the port, guys,” Yamato said. “Just stick with it for now.”
Daisuke raises a hand. “So, we’re travelling somewhere new, that means we’re going to end up dragged into a bunch of episodic adventures, right? That’s what always happens.”
Yamato sighs, shaking his head. “No, no, we already did that, I don’t think it’ll happen agai -- …”
Yamato breathes out through his teeth.
“We’re trapped, trapped in this mansion!” Dreamon, the master of the mansion they’ve taken shelter in, wails. “Trapped until this terrible storm passes! And Detective Logamon is … is dead!”
Several people wail dramatically. Mimi is one of them. Yamato glares at her.
“Why, it can surely be none other than the Ripper, who has plagued this valley with his murderous ways!” Sakusimon sobs. “He has come to kill us all! To kill us all.”
“We’re totally going to solve this, right?” Daisuke asks with a grin.
“Oh, we’re so going to solve this,” Miyako replies.
“Dezipmon, Dreamon and Roamon were all in the kitchen when the murder happened,” Koushiro says. “And Reviewmon and Sakusimon were both in the lounge.”
“Shutmon and Shotmon were out in the gardens,” Miyako adds, poking down several coloured pins on the map. “Vegasmon and Ropuremon were in the library.”
“And Puzzlemon and Newsmon were in the gallery,” Yamato finishes. “Everyone has an alibi.”
“They lost track of each other when they heard the scream, though,” Miyako says. “There’s about a minute and a half where nobody has any idea where anybody else is.”
“But then by the time they get there, Logomon is already dead, and his piece of the buried treasure map stolen,” Koushiro adds. “The door is locked from the inside, and nobody else is in there when they go in.”
Yamato grumbles, scraping a hand through his hair. “Okay. Are there any teleporters among the guests?”
“There’s one,” Koushiro says. “But he has an alibi. For Logomon to have screamed, that must be when he was being killed.”
“Right,” Miyako says. “Unless he never screamed at all. Eh? Eh?”
Yamato and Koushiro both give her a flat look.
“I’m going somewhere with this, I swear.”
Daisuke and Miyako insist on taking the lead in the grand reveal of the murderer. Yamato just settles in an armchair, Gabumon draped over his shoulders, with Takeru on one side of him, and Mimi on the other, while Koushiro watches the door.
“How is it that a person can be murdered from within a locked room, while everyone involved has an alibi?” Daisuke asks, puffing on a pipe. Yamato doesn’t know where he got it from. It isn’t even lit. “The answer is really quite elementary!”
“For you see,” Miyako says. “Logomon locked the door, thinking it would make him safe from the killer out to steal his piece of the buried treasure map! Little did he know that one of the guests could teleport through walls with little trouble, and kill him without him even expecting it! It was you, Sakusimon, that murdered Logomon!”
“Preposterous!” Sakusimon exclaims, jumping to his feet. “We all heard Logomon being murdered! And I was with Reviewmon at the time!”
“Thiz iz true, he waz with me, mon amie,” Reviewmon says, nodding somberly.
“Aha! We only assumed that Logomon’s scream was because he was being killed,” Daisuke says triumphantly. “In fact, it was no such thing! Logomon never screamed at all.”
Mimi gasps dramatically, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Don’t, don’t do that,” Yamato says wearily.
“Logomon’s scream was a fabrication meant to fool us. In actuality, his scream was produced by an accomplice, able to perfectly copy and distort audio data, and even project it elsewhere,” Daisuke continues. “Sakusimon told you that if you assisted him, then you could split the buried treasure between you, and all you had to do was project a screaming noise Logomon’s room. Isn’t that right, Roamon?”
There is a stunned silence for a few moments. Miyako gestures sharply at Yamato.
“Ugh, fine,” Yamato says, opening the Analyzer app.
“Roamon. Adult-level Virus-attribute Voice Change Digimon,” the Analyzer rattles off in Gennai’s soothing voice. “A Digimon with unparalleled abilities to manipulate and project audio data.”
“Another crime successfully solved,” Miyako says, high-fiving Daisuke. “Now, if you’ll both just come with -- …”
“You’ll never take us alive! Roamon, we’re getting out of here!”
Daisuke and Fladramon end up fighting Roamon, battling him on the roof of the mansion in a storm of flame bolts and colourful soundwaves.
Yamato and Gabumon pursue Sakusimon outside, cornering him in the mansion’s fountain courtyard.
“Hey,” Yamato says. “There’s nobody watching, right?”
“Nobody that I can see,” Gabumon replies.
“Good. Until I’m sure this isn’t dangerous, I don’t want the others to know about our little Milliways-made device,” Yamato says, kicking off his shoes and slipping the ring onto his finger.
“I’m watching,” Sakusimon says.
“That’s fine,” Yamato says, as the ring activates and the holographic windows open, tightening around his arms and feet, transmuting the skin there to crystal, his hair shifting shades as the extra ears pop up. “You aren’t going to be telling anyone.”
It’s the most disorientating fight Yamato’s ever been in.
Sakusimon blinks around the courtyard, and Yamato flickers after him, the two clashing for a few blows each time before they zip away. Yamato’s pretty sure he’s outmatched here, that whatever advantages the gloves he’s made offer him can’t stand up to Sakusimon’s powers.
Luckily, he has Gabumon here as well. As Sakusimon moves to strike, bringing his feathered fan down past Yamato’s guard, Gabumon breathes out a stream of blue fire, forcing him backwards.
Up on the roof, a flurry of flames from Fladramon takes out Roamon.
“Ugh,” Sakusimon groans, lifting his fan and spinning, turning into a roaring typhoon of yellow fire. “Flame Dance Formation!”
Yamato hunches down, one claw raised, as his own flames, blue and cold, spiral up around him. “First Form: Azure Moon.”
One strike. Yamato reappears on the other side of Sakusimon, as the flames around them both fade. He looks down to see the front of his t-shirt scorched open, a bright red, deeply unpleasant looking burn stretching down his chest and stomach.
“I got you,” Sakusimon crows.
“I got you too,” Yamato returns.
Sakusimon gives a dry chuckle, glancing at his hand as it dissolves away. “So you did.”
With a crack of blue fire, he splits across the middle, giving a sharp yell before scattering into cubes of data, the last of them floating away towards File Island.
“With the road blocked, the only way to get to your destination is to pass through the Valley of Screams,” says the wise old Digimon.
Yamato frowns. “What will we find there?”
“Only what you take with you …”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“... And also a bunch of really scary ghosts.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“See?” Takeru says as they leave the valley a few hours later. “Ghosts exist and they hate you. Specifically you.”
“Ghosts don’t exist.”
“Uh-huh.”
“That was just the fog getting to us, and those mischievous Bakemon playing tricks, and some embedded audio weirdness like you get on File Island sometimes.”
“Was it, though.”
“Yes, Takeru. It was.”
The Muchomon village is a delightful place, full of music and dancing and good food, which means there must be something horribly wrong with it, because there’s always something horribly wrong with idyllic seeming villages.
“Don’t be like that,” Mimi says when he mentions it. “Just enjoy the music! Relax a little! You don’t have to be on high alert all the time, y’know.”
“Just wait for it,” Yamato mutters. “There’s always some problem for us to fix.”
“Bet you two-hundred yen there isn’t.”
“Deal.”
“We are so glad to have visitors for this year’s Festival of Giving,” says the Muchomon Elder. “You may be witness to the brave sacrifice of eight Muchomon to the Great Metal Devourer.”
Mimi silently hands over a two-hundred yen note.
The Great Metal Devourer turns out to be a Kenkimon, a kind of humanoid construction vehicle, which comes trundling up to the village rambling about how it must be fed.
Daisuke and V-Mon leap into action immediately, with Miyako, Hawkmon, Takeru, and Patamon following closely along.
“V-Mon, armor evolution! Burning Courage, Fladramon!”
“Hawkmon, armor evolution! Piercing Sincerity, Shurimon.”
“Patamon, armor evolution. Flying Hope, Pegasmon.”
“We cannot thank you enough for freeing us from the yoke of the Great Metal Devourer,” the Muchomon Elder says, taking their hands in his wings in turn and shaking them. “Although even if he was evil and kept eating us, you did technically kill our god, so we do have to exile you. Just on principle, you understand.”
“Yeah, no, do what you’ve gotta do,” Yamato replies. “We’re happy to help.”
“Our gratitude is without end,” the Muchomon Elder says. “In time, we shall leave this place, and travel to File Island, where we shall meet our ancient enemies, the Penmon, and engage them in a war of cruel insults and lots of shoving. Such is our destiny.”
“Huh,” Yamato says slowly. “I should probably warn them about that.”
They’re stopping in a small mountain village when the Mystery Man makes his next move on them.
There’s no warning or gloating this time around. Most of them are asleep, with just Yamato taking watch, when the familiar pillar of light that accompanies all of the Mystery Man’s summons drops out of the sky, and the vast, ragged shape of Cherubimon emerges from it, ears stretching out towards the heavens, hands bent at awkward angles and straining towards the village itself.
“Cherubimon,” the Analyzer chirps. “Ultimate-level Virus-attribute Archangel Digimon. An angel Digimon with the appearance of a beast, and dominion over time, able to repair even the most grievous injuries.”
Yamato swears under his breath and wakes the others. Koushiro, Mimi, and Takeru, more accustomed to snapping to attention straight after waking up, are ready within seconds. Miyako and Daisuke take … frustratingly long, by Yamato’s standards, even if they’re technically up and about within a minute or two.
“... Cherubimon?” Daisuke asks, staring groggily up at it. “But how … ?”
“It’s a mindless puppet, like Devimon and Jureimon,” Koushiro says. “Yamato-san, what’s the plan?”
“It’s after us,” Yamato says. “So we bait it, draw it out of the village and towards that valley nearby. Once it’s clear, we strip away its outer layers and expose its kernel. Once we destroy that, it won’t be able to regenerate any more.”
A little yelling and a lot of running, and Cherubimon pursues them out of the village. The Mystery Man seems to have fled, or at least he isn’t directly giving it orders, leaving it on some kind of ‘attack the Chosen’ autopilot instead. That’s a small blessing, at least.
It doesn’t make it easy for them to flee, though. Spears of lightning crash down around them, sticking into the ground, scorching trees as they pass. It’s a miracle none of them get incinerated by them.
Once they’re in the valley, it’s time for the counterattack. Cherubimon looms in close, arms outstretched, staring at them with yellow eyes that seem totally devoid of any signs of life right now.
Koushiro, Mimi, Takeru, Daisuke, and Miyako all pull their digivices from their belts, as their partners surge forward.
“Tentomon, warp evolution! HeraklesKabuterimon.”
“Palmon, warp evolution! Rosemon.”
“Patamon, warp evolution! Seraphimon.”
“V-Mon, armor evolution! The Radiance of Miracles, Magnamon!”
“Hawkmon, armor evolution. Flapping Love, Holsmon.”
Gabumon clambers up onto Holsmon’s back, and they’re off, moving towards Cherubimon.
Trying to strip Cherubimon down to the kernel is a nearly Sisyphean task.
Even with four Ultimates, an Adult, and a Child hammering him with attacks, he repairs damage to himself almost as quickly as they can deal it out. Every attack rips a gash in him, like a ragdoll getting torn open, and a split second later it knits back shut like nothing happened, time literally rewinding itself.
“Yamato-san,” Koushiro says. His voice is strangely high-pitched, and when Yamato turns around, he sees why. Koushiro looks … younger. Ten years old, maybe. Mimi looks the same, and Takeru, Miyako, and Daisuke look barely eight.
Yamato glances down at himself. He’s shorter, slighter, almost certainly no older than eleven. Coming back as a puppet clearly hasn’t helped Cherubimon’s power incontinence. He’s rewinding the clock on them.
“Fuck,” Yamato mutters. “We need to hurry this up before he rewinds us out of fucking existence. Koushiro, bring HeraklesKabuterimon back around, I need someone to fly me up there.”
“What are you going to -- …” Koushiro stops, frowning. He’s lost at least a year since they started talking. “No time to explain, I suppose. HeraklesKabuterimon!”
The massive insect Digimon swoops down, and Yamato hops onto his shoulder, slipping the ring onto his finger. This time, it gives a sharp error noise as he tries to activate it, and a warning screen appears.
Yamato hesitates for a second, then hits continue, grimacing as pain shoots up his arms, the gloves and greaves snapping onto and fusing with his hands and feet before the transformation spreads through the rest of his body. He’s going to have some explaining to do when this is all done.
The more Cherubimon’s power de-ages him, the more difficult it gets to use the gloves. When he hits eight years old and fires off a blast of wind that cuts a stripe across Cherubimon’s chest, he realises there’s blood in his mouth.
“You’re bleeding,” HeraklesKabuterimon says. Yamato touches a hand to his face, realising it’s not just his mouth -- his nose is bleeding as well, and he’s pretty sure his ears and eyes will start spewing blood next.
“Ignore it,” he growls (as best he can with an eight year old’s voice). “Everyone focus your attacks, we need to finish cutting through and get at his kernel.”
Nearly there. They’re getting closer, tearing away layer after layer, digging their way through towards the massive Digimon’s kernel. Yamato feels himself lose another year, then another, the pain in his arms intensifying, shooting up behind his eyes.
They’re so close. One last push.
“Giga Horn Buster!”
“Forbidden Temptation.”
“Strike of the Seven Stars.”
“Shining Gold Solar Storm!”
“Tempest Wing.”
“Petit Fire!”
“Third Form: Aurora Execution.”
A flurry of attacks tears Cherubimon apart, leaving the small glass sphere of his kernel floating in mid-air, as his body starts to reform it, bubbling out of nothing.
“Rosemon, now!” Yamato calls.
Rosemon darts in, driving her rapier through the kernel. It cracks, flickers with a faint light, then shatters entirely, and the half-formed body fizzing into existence around it gives a roar as it fades away.
As HeraklesKabuterimon lands, Yamato hops off, dismissing the gloves in a flicker of data cubes. He can feel himself starting to grow older again, the effects of Cherubimon’s power fading now that the Digimon himself is gone.
He just needs to … sit down. He feels dizzy, lightheaded, and strangely numb all over.
“Yamato,” Mimi starts. “... Something you want to tell us?”
“Yeah, I … I, er …” he can’t seem to string a sentence together. With a thud, he drops into a sitting position on the ground, touching a finger to his nose. Still bleeding. “Huh.”
Then he blacks out.
It’s morning by the time he wakes up. His head is pounding worse than when he had his hangover in Railroad Town, and his limbs all feel like someone drove about a thousand needles into them.
“Fuck my life,” he mutters.
“You’re awake,” Gabumon says, peering over at him. “Feeling okay?”
“Like a Moosemon kicked me in the head, but I’ll live,” Yamato replies. “How’s everyone else?”
“Back to their normal ages.”
Yamato lifts a hand, turning it over. Yep, that is an eighteen year old sized hand. He’s back to his normal age as well. Good.
“Guess we know kid-me can’t use the gloves, then.”
“You knew that when the warning message popped up, and you did it anyway,” Gabumon points out disapprovingly. “Koushiro’s pretty sure that if you’d kept them on for another few minutes, things would have gotten a lot worse.”
“I didn’t keep them on for another few minutes, though. So it’s fine,” Yamato says. “We were running out of time, and we needed all the firepower we could get. I balanced the risk of death against the inevitable other option of turning back into a sperm.”
Gabumon sighs. “Right.”
They arrive at the port town on time, just barely, through some miracle of planning.
Yamato has barely stepped through the gate when he hears a sharp yell of “Yama!” and Taichi’s entire body barrels into him, knocking him to the ground.
“Get off of me,” he growls, as Taichi squeezes him in a very awkward and very tight hug.
Nearby, Takeru sprints over to Hikari as she emerges from a building, and as Ken follows her out, Daisuke nearly tackles him to the ground. Iori and Jyou emerge a few moments later, and Jyou ambles over to Mimi, grabbing Taichi and hauling him to his feet as he goes.
“Thank you,” Yamato grumbles, standing up and brushing himself down. To Taichi, he adds: “We’re here for our rendezvous. Have you got a ship?”
“I’ve got something better than a ship,” Taichi beams. “I’ve got a pirate ship.”