Scientific Witchery [Digimon Tamers]

Spoiler: Summary

When Matsuda Takato began doodling ideas in his sketchbook, letting his head run wild with distractions, he ends up stumbling upon a strange, runic script that seems to flow from his head with each mark upon the page. He expects it to be nothing but a random cipher, something to fill the time.

Instead, he ends up stumbling into magic beyond his imagination.

Summoning not a digimon partner, Takato instead ends up with a magic teacher, here to teach him what it means to use the power of Witchelny's great magic.

(Of course, said magic teacher is a digimon, so it really is splitting hairs.)

To start, Takato will have to begin at the most basic of levels of a Witch - with the hopes of one day becoming a Soul, the peak of elemental mastery.

Unfortunately, his Teacher has a feeling he might end up being a Fool instead...

And, what's this thing called the Game of Rising?!

“It’s way too early in the morning for school.”

That’s what Takato thinks every day - that school starts too early in the morning, and goes too late into the afternoon. The walk to and from home is short enough that he and his friends can take their time.

But it always feels like it’s too early.

Focusing in the morning is always impossible - so half of the time he ends up not bothering.

“...Which, really, could go a lot worse in a lot of ways,” he thinks to himself as his gaze wanders across the room to his friend, Hirokazu. Just as out of it as Takato himself, his eyes completely glazed over. He’s not even pretending to pay attention, either - just staring at his hands and the sea blue sweatbands he always wears.

Takato himself may not have an easy time paying attention, but he prided himself on his thought processes. Even if he didn’t know the answer, he could divine it from logic alone. Math could be broken down into just rapid subtraction and addition, remembering tables and the like wasn’t strictly necessary. History was predictable. Science followed rules.

Everything followed rules.

Except for drawing - and that was one of his favourite things to do for that very reason. Anything could come from it.

But he wasn’t drawing today.

Normally, he’d be filling his page with doodles of digimon and creatures. But that’d get him kicked out into the hallway, and he’d already had a bad enough morning. So, instead, he made a show of taking notes as the teacher talked and talked.

He let his hands wander across the page - following the strict width and line of real notes, but nothing but looping nonsense. Not even katakana came from it, as he let his fingers wander and loop.

“I guess some of these look kind of familiar…” He thinks again, as he starts to put more thought into the structure of the shapes. They resembled the runes from an old, old game he’d seen in a junk shop, once. The predecessor to Digimon, they had called it.

Another symbol caught his eye as the strange symbol on Hirokazu’s favourite shirt.

“He’d never let me hear the end of it if he saw that!”

Still, it helped to be consistent, so…

He continued to sketch out this strange, strange script he’d crafted without thinking, letting it scrawl out across the page in a deluge of graphite and a slow drone of scritch, scritch, scritch.

And, before long, the period would come to an end.

“Hey, are you gonna talk to us, or are you just gonna keep writing all day?!” Kenta squawked, slapping a hand onto Takato’s work as lunchtime came around.

Hirokazu laughed, slapping Kenta on the back. “Let the guy do his thing. You know how he can get when he really focuses on something weird!”

“Eheh...sorry?” Takato laughed awkwardly, closing up his notebook.

“Well…” Kenta sighs, deflating as he sits down next to Takato - the two of them having already pushed their desks closer to his. “I guess it’s fine. It’s not like you’re gonna pay attention in class anyway, mister ‘logical world’. I’m jealous - you get to do well in class, and don’t even get the ‘nerd’ label!”

Hirokazu and Kenta were his best friend’s - in that way that they were his only friends, but were best friends with each other. Kenta was shy and liked direction, Hirokazu was wild and needed boundaries. It was a combination where the two fit together so cleanly that it was hard for Takato to find any space in the friendship.

But that was fine.

With his own sigh, Takato puts his notes and books away, and pulls out his lunch. Carefully eating it, he listens to the two’s animated conversation as it washes over him - until, with a smile, he remembers what he has for a drink this time.

Carefully - reverently, even - he takes out his drink carton he’d managed to snag on the way to school that morning. A garish, pink and white carton decorated with doodles of strawberries. Opening with the utmost caution, not wanting to spill any, he inserts his straw and drinks - sweet, strawberry syrup flavored goodness going down his throat.

He almost purrs, his eyes closing as he feels the tension in his body leave him.

“...Dude, how can you drink that?” Hirokazu asks, breaking him from his pleasurable reverie.

He blinks. “It’s just strawberry milk.”

“That crap tastes nothing like strawberries. It tastes like pink!” His friend’s nose wrinkles as he tears open his own milk and takes a swig.

“Pink isn’t a bad color, Hirokazu, you’re just being rude.” Kenta speaks up, poking his friend in the cheek with his chopsticks.

“Gweh -!” Hirokazu’s eyes cross as he nearly chokes on his milk in his surprise, wiping the bit that leaked past his lips off on a wristband. “G-geeze, Kenta! Warn a guy…!”

With a roll of his eyes, Kenta helps wipe Hirokazu’s face off with a napkin. “I’ll warn you when you stop making it so easy for me to bother you!”

“Which I don’t see happening any time soon,” Takato interjects, suppressing a grin of his own.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!” Huffing, Hirokazu goes back to his food - some leftovers his mom had put together that morning, probably. “And...I guess nothing’s wrong with pink, it’s just nowhere near as awesome as blue. You’ve got to agree with me there, at least, Takato!”

“Honestly, I don’t really have a bias…” Takato thinks to himself. He gets around having to answer by taking another pleased sip of strawberry milk.

Admittedly, he could understand why Hirokazu would think he likes blue. After all, he always wore his blue hoodie underneath his navy blue uniform jacket - even if it made him look like a delinquent. Part of it was just because the school was always cold inside, but also just the fabric of his hoodie made him feel ‘safer’.

Hirokazu had already taken off his gakuran and wrapped it around his waist, revealing his blue band t-shirt - for some heavy metal band from America he’d never heard of. He’d even put his visor on from where it was tucked into his bag.

Kenta, straight laced as ever, just wore the navy blue gakuran as normal. “So, do you have club activities tonight? You decided to join the...cooking club, right? You and Juri?”

Takato shakes his head. “We don’t have clubs for the night because the president is busy with something happening at home, so I’m going to be heading home after class.”

“Lucky…” Hirokazu whines a bit. “I love boxing, but I wish I could just go straight home sometimes, too!”

“I’m sure your team wishes you would, too, Hirokazu.” Kenta sweat drops a bit. “I’ve seen the bruises you leave on some of those guys - you really need to learn to pull your punches…”

“If they don’t want to get punched, why would they join the club -?!”

Tuning out the duo’s bickering, Takato returns to his lunch and - far more importantly, in his opinion - his strawberry milk.

Despite the trio having been friends for as long as they could remember, and still playing digimon together in the mornings and after school, none of them ended up in the same clubs come middle school. Of course, that kind of thing is normal - but it’s still a little disappointing.

Takato had decided to join the cooking club rather early on, himself. His parents worked hard in the bakery in the early mornings, until late at night. They couldn’t afford to wrap up early and get dinner on the table, or make him breakfast and lunch in the morning like the average family. So he decided to learn and take care of it himself.

Plus, it left him feeling warm inside when his parents would come upstairs from a long day, and find dinner already waiting for them. Like there was a hearth crackling away in his heart.

He’d never been much of one for competitive sports, either - and neither was Kenta. Following Hirokazu into the boxing club just was never in the cards.

(Though, he’d heard some people comment that it wouldn’t hurt even if he were to get hit. His family’s bakery, his cooking club projects, and his own sweet tooth left him with something of a ‘softer’ appearance. It wasn’t much, but he definitely was a size up from most of his classmates, and even then, a hint of stomach would poke out from under his t-shirts.)

Kenta, at least, had taken to photography - and was now part of the school’s photography and journalism club. They had a little newsletter that came out every Saturday about upcoming events the following week. Kenta didn’t write much of those, though. Instead, he was the one in charge of taking pictures of scenery that would accompany them.

Takato is shaken from his reverie as Kenta pokes him in the cheek with his chopsticks, just like he did to Hirokazu earlier. “You’re at the bottom of your strawberry milk, Takato. Lunch is going to end soon, so you’d best eat up.”

With a flush to his cheeks and a nod, Takato rapidly digs into his food, taking care not to choke.

“At least the milk was good while it lasted,” he thinks to himself, before packing up his lunch alongside his friends.

Hopefully he’d get some actual notes taken during his classes this afternoon. He could only manage to fake it so long before he’d get caught, or find himself stumped. Rules and logic could only take one so far, afterall.

…

In the end, though, he didn’t get any more notes taken.

Something about the script he was slowly crafting in the pages of his notebook begged to be continued. It wanted to be finished - it wanted for more runes to be drawn, until…

“Until what? What are you waiting for?” He asks the pages silently, as his fingers continue to move rapidly.

There’s no answer, of course.

He can’t even read what he’s writing.

The question still bothers him, even as the school day comes to a close, and he finishes up the classroom chores. Cooking club was cancelled that afternoon, so he was able to head home without needing to do his activities - leaving Kenta and Hirokazu behind with a wave as he leaves to the front of the school, with his school bag and skateboard in hand.

Skateboarding had originally been Hirokazu’s idea for a hobby they could do that wasn’t card games, and while it hadn’t replaced digimon cards as the glue holding the trio together, it certainly added more dimension to their friendships. They would usually board home together after classes, and had taken to using the park near the school as a makeshift skatepark, since it was rarely ever used by anyone.

It had also given Takato another avenue to explore his personal hobby of artwork. The bottom of his board was hand drawn and painted, with a commercial gloss to keep it protected and shiny. While the design wasn’t anything impressive, it was certainly messy. Takato had worked on it for a long time, drawing whatever would come to mind, and then painting the hodgepodge of inspiration together.

The main detail, though, was a red and black dragon in the center, with the backdrop being a blue-green to contrast. It was certainly more special than what he’d started with, even if it wasn’t incredibly professional.

The first bit of business he had to do was head to the park and pick up his cards - and the strange thing that had almost made him late for class that morning.

Takato crawled up into the tall playground equipment they always played in - a strange, dinosaur type of thing they’d never managed to figure out the identity of. It was much harder, now that they were getting older, but tradition would always die hard.

“I need to eat less snacks…” Takato mutters, as he squeezes through, his stomach a bit too large to make it easy.

Still, he climbs into it and begins to look through his cards.

“Now, where is it?” He paws through his cards - poorly organized as always, edges bumping into one another.

That morning, he had found a strange blue card. When he attempted to used it on his card reader, it had freaked out, but also seemed to change.

“So where is - ah, found it!” He yells in victory, as he pulls the device out.

A white, triangle shaped device was in his hand. It had a red band around the screen, along with red buttons and a red strap that would probably attach to his bag or his pant loops. There was also a card port built into the side.

What it could be, well - that was obvious.

“A digivice…? A real life digivice?!” He turned it over in his hands, rolling onto his back to stare up at it, against the ceiling of the playground equipment.

Finding a digivice, becoming a real digimon tamer - becoming a hero - was something he dreamed of. That many, many kids dreamed of. To have a friend who is born to understand you, who will do anything to understand you. To save the world, to make everyone happy.

Or at least, that was what Takato dreamed of. Even if it wasn’t a ‘logical’ dream.

“I could really become a hero now, huh…?” His voice drifted off into stunned, awed silence.

His hands drop, and he holds the digivice to his chest, like a precious treasure. He takes the time to just...breathe, and think about what it means for him, and his future.

“...I...I should get home,” He mutters, as he realizes it’s starting to get darker out. He had probably stayed in the equipment for half of an hour, just sitting. His parents might start worrying about him.

With that in mind, he sorts all of his cards together, and puts them into the usual hiding place next to Kenta and Hirokazu’s, and squeezes out of the equipment to grab his skateboard. Then, he makes his way back home.

Passing through the small market of small booths and corner stores on the way to his home in rural Western Shinjuku, people working waving and calling out to him.

“Takato, good afternoon!”

“Matsuda, we got a shipment of those drinks you like!”

“Hey, remember you still got a free dinner on me!”

He felt warmth in his chest as people greeted him, and he waved back - answering when he can. But eventually, he comes to a stop in front of his family’s bakery. Picking up his skateboard, he heads inside - the bell chiming to welcome him in.

“I’m home!”

“Welcome home, Takato!” His mom, Yoshie, welcomes him from the front counter as she wipes it clean. “ You were late today, I thought you didn’t have club activities?”

“I didn’t, but I got a bit distracted at the park - had to clean up a mess Hirokazu and I left behind this morning,” He fibs just a little bit, as he ducks under the partition into the back. “Didn’t want to leave it for some other kids to find.”

“Honestly, you boys…” She sighs with a bit of a smile. “Well, thank you for coming home. Are you still going to help make dinner tonight?”

“Of course, of course. I love cooking for you guys, honestly!”

And he did, really. When he was younger, his parents would still close up the bakery at night and make dinner for him. But now that he’s older and his parents needed more money for more bills and needs, he had taken up cooking for them while they worked. Luckily, even though he was home late, he’d still have at least an hour before he’d need to get started on dinner.

Waving at his father taking fresh buns out of one of the industrial ovens, Takato heads upstairs to his family’s living space. It had two bedrooms and a small kitchen adjacent to the living space, and was rather cozy.

He heads through the living room, and to his room - throwing his backpack to the side and setting his skateboard down by the door.

His room was decently large - the larger of the two bedrooms, if he had the right of it. Which he appreciated, really, but had started feeling guilty about as he got older. He even had a small balcony overlooking the backstreet!

Next to the balcony was his desk, and across from it on the other side of the room was his bed - which he landed face first in with a whump of displaced air. Then, he fished out his digivice from his pocket, rolling it over in his hands more.

Then...an idea occurred to him.

“...No way this will work,” Takato mutters, as he rolls over - and nearly off of his bed. Rushing over to his backpack, he pulls out his notes - the unfinished script falling open easily, as if it knows he needs it. He tosses them onto his desk, and flicks on the lamp, seating himself fast.

“It’s almost finished, right -?” He pages through it - there’s at least fifteen pages, front and back, of this strange, scrawling script. And there was still more that needed to be done.

Something was missing, he was sure of it.

“...But it’s only a bit more…”

A timer set for when he has to get to work on dinner, Takato spins his pencil into a writing position, and attacks the pages.

The air is filled with the sound of the scratching and scrapings of his pencil, and the leafing of pages as he completely fills yet more pages, front and back, of his notebook - until, with one single mark, in the very bottom right corner of the last page, he finally feels finished.

Fingers smudged and covered in shiny, silvery-black graphite, Takato lets the pencil fall onto his desk as he leans back in his chair. “Finally finished…”

Rubbing his red eyes, sore from the nearly unblinking work, he takes a look over the pages. The front and back of at least fifteen pages was consumed by the strange, looping scrawl. Certainly not kanji or kana, and nothing resembling english. But at the same time, there was a certain...sense, to it all.

Takato brushes his fingers over the text - and could almost swear he sees the words light up for a second as they pass over. But that could only be a trick of the light...right?

“Okay...okay, let’s give this a try…” He takes a deep breath, clenching the bundle of pages in one hand, and in his other, his newly found digivice. If this worked…

He didn’t know, really.

He had no idea what he was about to do.

But still, he moves them towards each other - and attempts to slide the sheaf of papers through the card reader…!

…

“It’s stuck…”

Of course it was. Of course he screwed this all up.

There were so many ways this could have gone, so many doors that were open. He was just on the cusp of something amazing happening, but he screwed it up.

He grips his head in his hands, barely holding in the frustrated tears as he looks down at his most monumental fuck up of his entire life.

There was no telling if he could even get the sheaf of papers out. They could be permanently jammed in his Digivice - leaving it completely inoperable. And if he could get them out, they’d be torn and would lose whatever he’d created in his writing stupor.

“Damnit...Damnit!”

Every door was open, and now he’d slammed it all shut because he’d misread the signs.

He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to scream and break everything -

His timer went off, screaming that it was time for him to start dinner for his parents. And he deflates.

“...One thing at a time.” He sighs, and stands up, wiping his eyes and clearing his throat - even blowing his nose for good measure. “I’ll finish dinner and figure out what I’m going to do next...after…”

He turns and leaves his room - turning off the light, as rain begins to slowly pitter-patter against his window.

…

In the darkness of the room, the digivice lights up - flashing rapid symbols in red, orange, green, and blue in rapid succession. It then whirs softly, and tugs, scanning the first page and cleanly ripping it from Takato’s notebook. Then the next, and the next, and the next, each page forming a pile on his floor.

Finally, the digivice’s screen is covered with a green symbol - a long gust of wind wrapping around a mountaintop.

 

In that same moment, atop Mount Brocken, the greatest mountain in Witchelny, within the greatest institute of magic in the entire digital multiverse, a knight shrouded in ice and snow works hard at his desk.

Even with his great wings of frost and gauntlets of ice dismissed, he cuts an impressive figure, snow spiraling about the room from sealed power. Long, white hair cascades down his shoulders like crystal icicles hanging from the top of an arctic cavern.

And yet, even for all of this barely restrained, raw power - his frustration was palpable, as snow swirled within his office decorated in white, blues, and golds.

“Blasted paperwork…!” Hexeblaumon hissed, slamming a clawed hand into his desk. “Blasted yellow tape!”

“I am a fully registered and licensed Master rank Witch! I have certifications of Mastery of two Greater Schools of Magic, and my third is nearly completed!” He hisses, standing up and marching around his office, red cloak spiraling about the room with him.

“How can I not qualify to be a proctor for the Game of Rising? Am I not the greatest master of Ice Sorcery in ages?!” His pride hangs about him like a cowl. “I can hold my own against even the likes of Wisemen and Devils, and yet I can’t police a group of damned children?! Simply because I have yet to receive my Hermit Certifications?!”

His hand strikes out and grabs his staff - the snow and ice spiraling about him in a hurricane of cold being bound down into a great standard.

“...I need to calm myself. This behavior is unbecoming of my standing,” He mutters. With his power lashed down to its outlet, he can think clearly now that it is no longer pushing his bloodlust higher. Such is the danger of being an Ultimate level digimon.

This powerful warrior was Hexeblaumon, one of the premier Witches within the world of Witchelny, bearing the title of ‘Master’. Certified with the mastery of the Greater Schools of Aquary and Baluluna, with a focus on the twin school of Ice, his raw power and history within the world of Witchelny afforded him higher status provisions than normal for his rank.

However, the restrictions he was dealing with could not be surpassed by even someone of his status. Afterall, the Game of Rising is the biggest event in all of Witchelny and the realms in which its teaching programs reach. To be a proctor in the Game of Rising is one of the greatest honors a high level Witch could receive - and for one of his status to be denied yet again irks him to no end.

No matter how much experience he cultivated, how many masteries he practiced and applied for, there was always one requirement that would forever prevent his ascension to the rank of Hermit.

“...I still have yet to have even one apprentice…”

To ascend to higher levels in Mount Brocken’s hierarchy required different certifications depending on your intended rank, but all of them were rather strict about one certification in particular. High level Witches were required to take on at least one apprentice, in order to spread their unique casting styles further and prevent the loss of information.

The problem was that Hexeblaumon, despite his age and experience, had many flaws in his casting style that could only be made up by said experience. He was a learned fighter who brute forced his way to the heights he now stood at, in spite of the air of regal power he cultivated about himself.

If he were to have any student, they would have to be completely free of bias in order to learn his style.

To say nothing of the other factors of Hexeblaumon that made him...difficult to work and live with.

“This cannot stand for much longer,” He muttered. “This office is far too small, and I cannot abide working on paperwork for much longer! I must speak to Lord Dynasmon immediately!”

For you see, Hexeblaumon is what most in this world would call...insufferable.

Dynasmon, on the other hand, was a fellow high ranking Witch who worked at the institute of Mount Brocken. An instructor by trade rather than a researcher, Dynasmon was the head of education at the Institute and bore the rank of “Hermit” as a high level Baluluna practitioner.

He was also simultaneously Hexeblaumon’s superior and junior, making their relationship...odd, amongst colleagues.

Thus, there was no one better to ask (or demand) for an apprentice from. Hexeblaumon had finally had his fill of mindless research and paperwork, and having his proctorship application denied was simply the straw to break the camel’s back!

Hexeblaumon thus left his office, dragging his poorly leashed cold and windy frustration along for the ride. Of course, he could bind it tighter, or perhaps expel his build up magic in practice to clear his head...but that wasn’t very dramatic now, was it?

As it was, students and teachers alike gave him a wide berth - a poor FlaWizarmon holding his books close to his chest to avoid being caught up in the spiral of ice, and a Wormmon had to hide within a nearby plant to avoid being blasted face first. Hexeblaumon revelled in it, letting his red cape flow behind him in the wind, his staff’s standard billowing and granting him a powerful silhouette.

Dynasmon would likely hear him coming before he saw him, and that was exactly how he liked to make his entrances.

To no surprise, as he finally threw open the doorway to Dynasmon’s office and lecture hall, the white dragon magician was waiting for him, an eyebrow raised.

With silver-scaled skin, garbed in white and gold armor, Dynasmon had all of the look of a divine dragon, one who would bestow justice upon those who walked the earth. But Dynasmon was no Royal Knight.

At least, Hexeblaumon assumed he was not. He had not spoken much to his coworkers about their own pasts, admittedly. His past, on the other hand, was well known.

(Though, Hexeblaumon had overheard Dynasmon’s partner refer to him as “Joshua” behind closed doors, once. It was useful blackmail for later.)

“Hexeblaumon. I could feel your aura from across the campus - are you in a mood again?” Dynasmon speaks casually and a bit callously to his companion, knowing no ill will would likely be had.

Hexeblaumon once more leashes his power, calming the distortion it had upon the grounds. “Perhaps. How could you tell?”

“It was snowing in the greenhouse, and I had to assure the Earthlin students studying there that nothing was amiss with the weather manipulation runes.”

“Yes, well, I will make amends to them soon.” Surely an appearance from the Hero of the Ice Age would lift their spirits! “Now, about what I have come to see you for, Lord Dynasmon.”

“Could it perhaps wait, Hexeblaumon?” The white magician attempts to brush him off, “I’ve recently received a rather interesting - or perhaps vexing - application.”

Hexeblaumon raises an eyebrow in a show of curiosity, but inside he’s already cheering - his mission was already going to be a success, so soon! “How so, my friend? And for it to be an application, so close to the Game of Rising…”

“That is what had me confused at first, as well. But look here.” Dynasmon beckoned Hexeblaumon down to his desk at the floor of the lecture hall, and the icy warrior descended the distance easily. “This isn’t a standard application. This is a positively archaic style of application.”

“Archaic?” Oh, but this bore such interesting implications...

“Yes, indeed!” Dynasmon gestured with a golden claw. “This is an instinctive application! Someone awoke to their talents, and carved out a runic spell to call out for power! Normally, we have enough reach anywhere that a Digimon with talents could simply send the data for their application in, or our information network detects the spell casting.”

“And the wider Planes have their own branches of magical education, of course.” Hexeblaumon nods, moving his friend on to the actual juicy bits.

“Indeed. This plea for power...this is something one must be pushed to if normal processes cannot be reached. A case of immense talent without any training, calling out for power from sheer force of will. A brute force runic incantation!” Dynasmon speaks with wonder in his voice. “Of course they would submit so close to the Game of Rising. This must be someone without any clue of its existence! Without a clue of this institute’s existence!”

Hexeblaumon’s excitement was beginning to bleed out in washes of cold air. “And if they came to your desk, this must be one attuned to Baluluna?”

Dynasmon nods. “Yes, of course. But there’s one more thing that boggles the mind…”

A claw lands upon the application, and drags the text into the air, casting it wide into a projective net.

The data before Hexeblaumon was shocking.

There was no denying the identity of this applicant.

“A human awoke the talent…?!”

“An average human, without any attachments to this world. The location is within the human world connected to the Southern Quadrant, as well - so his timing is nothing if not serendipitous.”

Hexeblaumon can’t help but snort. “Yes, indeed. But to think it’d be in the Southern Quadrant...we have barely any activity or connections to that world, beyond the ones we’ve begun creating now. The realm of the phoenix is certainly an... exciting place to be from.”

Which was putting it kindly.

The Southern Quadrant was a war torn world of might makes right, where finesse meant nothing in the face of overwhelming power. It contained many demi planes where digimon of incredible power had forced the world to bend to their whims, and while they would occasionally receive students from those, the greater Quadrant was typically devoid of applicants.

It was, as many put it, the absolute backwater of the digital world.

“Yes. Of course, we can’t turn down an applicant - especially not one coming from such fascinating circumstances. But the timing is...inconvenient.” Dynasmon tilts his head, white claws to his chin as he looks at the projected application. “We’re spread thin as is, especially in the Baluluna departments. As he’s human, we can’t exactly uproot him to come to Mount Brocken, which forces us to rely on either direct instruction via apprenticeship, or a correspondence course.”

He sighs.

“An apprenticeship would be most ideal, but we lack anyone in the Baluluna program who is free for such a job. I considered bringing it to the head of the department -” Dynasmon carefully doesn’t speak his name, as one eye darts over to Hexeblaumon with a flush “- but he lacks a Child form to manifest safely in the human world, and he’s already overwhelmed with making preparations for the Game of Rising as it is.”

The Baluluna department of Mount Brocken was always stretched rather thin. Wind magic was the most popular secondary talent, so many applied for the courses. However, amongst the Department itself, there were very few primary wielders of the element, and they were constantly strapped for teachers with enough experience.

Hexeblaumon could have taken up a teaching position to help, but his method of casting was incompatible with many modern styles. A shambling collection of bad habits in the shape of a knight, the Department head of Earthlin would often refer to him as.

Not to mention that his personality was…

“In that case, I believe I have a way to answer both of our problems!” He declares loudly, spinning his standard in a spiral once, twice, before setting it on his shoulders. “I’m sure you’re well aware, but I’ve made many applications for my promotion to the next rank of my training in the past several years!”

“Decades, truly.”

“But!” He continues, ignoring Dynasmon’s exasperated interruption. “I have been turned down at every turn because I have never taken on a proper apprenticeship. There are many reasons, of course, but the most important is that I’ve never had someone who was completely untouched by the standards of previous learning! If I could teach this applicant, without needing to worry about other avenues of schooling until much later in his life, I could surely do the job!”

“...You are rather well versed in Wind magic, Hexeblaumon…” Dynasmon sighs, closing his eyes.

That was putting it lightly, and they both knew it.

“...Perhaps an apprenticeship would do you good, as well. You’ve been going stir crazy for quite some time in the research department.” Likewise putting it lightly, “But do you have a Child form? You’ve been an Ultimate level since before I ever arrived…”

Back when Dynasmon was still shy, awkward V-Mon, carrying about his silver grimoire that was many sizes too big.

“Oho!” Hexeblaumon chuckles. “Yes, I was once a Child level digimon! I can forgive you for thinking otherwise - so many other ancient warriors lack one, like our department head. But I can assure you, my Child form is certain to meet your requirements. I’m nothing quite as large as some of the Agumon that come in, I can assure you.”

“...Alright, Hexeblaumon. I will give you this chance.” Dynasmon picks up the application, allowing the projection to disperse in a breeze. “You will be allowed to pursue this apprenticeship. But make no mistake, this is of incredible importance. You cannot damage this boy’s future - he’s one of a kind. Humans only have one future, besides.”

“Yes, yes.” Hexeblaumon nods, taking a bow. “I will endeavor to not disappoint you, Lord Dynasmon.

“I mean it, Hexeblaumon! Do not ruin this!”

He chuckles, taking the application carefully from Dynasmon’s hand. “I’ve not ruined something in living memory, I assure you. Besides, you are speaking to the Hero of the Ice Age! No harm will come to him.”

“I see. Then your reputation as the Hero of the Ice Age is on the line with this case, my friend.” Dynasmon speaks lightly, but his airy tone carries with it blades of steel. “Are we understood?”

“As clear as ice.”

“Very well then. Make your way to the Leyline Center - we’ll be sending you through the network leylines so that you may properly Realize. Make sure you have absolutely everything that you will need beforehand.”

“Of course.” Hexeblaumon turns away from Dynasmon, letting his cloak and standard billow out dramatically behind him. “I will not disappoint you.”

As the door slams shut, Dynasmon puts his head in his claws. “By Yggdrasil, I dearly hope not.”


Meanwhile, in the Matsuda household, Takato had finally finished dinner. A quick soup with mushrooms and greens, pork he had managed to snag on sale earlier that week, fried nice and crispy, simple pickled vegetables, and a good amount of rice.

His mind was still on the digivice and pages, though. Now that he was in a slightly better headspace while working, he recognized a few options he could take.

“If I wrote it out once, I can write it again…” Was his first thought, obviously. It could be copied and replicated easily. “And if I can’t tug it out, I can get the pages wet and tear them. It should come out easily enough, then.”

With the sound of bubbling oil and boiling soup, his head was clearer to think out the logical processes he should have recognized earlier.

Everything had a solution, he just had to think of it. His bad mood had almost completely evaporated - especially with the extra loaf of strawberry bread his parents had managed to save for him the day before, sitting sliced up for dessert.

His parents come up soon after - it’s obvious they’re both tired, as they wash up, before sinking down into their chairs for a quiet dinner with him.

Honestly, they’re all exhausted for different reasons, so almost no conversation happens, beyond the usual, earnest ‘thank you’ and ‘it’s no trouble’.

As he starts to clean up from dinner, though, his dad taps him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Takato, we’ll handle it tonight.”

“E-eh?” He stops, caught off guard. “It’s no trouble, really, and you guys look so tired -”

His mother huffs. “Telling a woman she looks tired...honestly, Takato.” But it’s obvious she’s joking by her smile, as she stands as well.

“You look a little down, so I figured we could handle the dishes for tonight. Why don’t you head back to your room and relax for a little while?” His dad continues, turning him around and shoving him out of the kitchen - leaving no room for argument.

“Alright, alright -!” He laughs, wiping his eyes a bit. “I’ll see you guys later, then. Thanks for the hand!”

Waving his parents off, he heads back to his room, feeling much better and ready to tackle the problems he had been faced with earlier.

Only to find that the problem had, apparently, solved itself. All of the pages from his notebook that the script was written on were scattered about the floor in a pile, and the digivice itself was glowing softly in the darkness of his room.

“W-what the -?” He walks over to the Digivice, reaching out to pick it up - just as a gale of wind is kicked up, scattering the papers into the air! “Gah -!”

Takato just barely manages to grab hold of the Digivice, as green light begins to pour off of it in thick beams. Joining the green lights are bright, azure blue ones, painting his room in a strange, ocean like technicolor.

And as he held it, he realized the wind wasn’t coming from the digivice. It was coming from him.

Digivice held tightly in his hand, Takato looked down at it, the center of a raging storm at the center of his room. Just then, the lights contracted - becoming pencil thin, as they began to spin in controlled patterns.

Drawing something.

Drawing thick circles in the air. Each one was interlaced with the same strange runes as he had drawn, with strange stars filling them. First, a white one, small, just above the digivices face. Then, a larger green one. Yet larger was a blue one above it. And finally, filling the entirety of his ceiling, a great interlocking network of white-green-blue, as the raging hurricane within his room reached its peak.

Snow began to fill the air, as the glowing intensified, brighter and brighter.

A white shape began to slowly descend from the circles in his ceiling - like a single dewdrop falling from a flower’s petal.

Freed from the circles, the shape fell and landed in the center of his room, about the size of the average child. The perfectly round edges were slowly shaved down, bound into polygons and angles.

“S-something...something came through - ?!”

He held up his arms - to protect himself from the light, or the shape, he didn’t know for sure. His heart was beating loud in his ears, drowning out the raging winds.

And then the sharp body of the creature - digimon, it couldn’t be anything else - was smoothed out, becoming shapes anchored in reality. Color bled into its form, revealing blue skin and icy scales. A fluffy white neck, with a long, thick tail. A helmet of ice, and sharp, scarlet eyes.

And everything stills.

The wind ceases to blow, and the snow freezes perfectly in the air, shimmering like starlight.

They stare at each other...until the digimon moves first, pulling out a red flag - bearing its own face on the standard.

“Congratulations, Matsuda Takato! You, yes you, have gained the honor of becoming the first and only apprentice of the illustrious Hero of the Ice Age!” It declares, posing proudly. The snow in the room shimmers, and forms together into a banner floating behind him.

THE HERO OF THE ICE AGE!, the banner proudly declared the digimon in front of him.

“I am the skilled and powerful Master rank Witch! Bearing certifications in two of the Great Witchelny Schools, and absolute mastery of the element of Ice!” It continued, ignoring Takato’s stunned state. “I am the powerful, regal, and humble Hexeblaumon!”

“...” Takato was...speechless, still.

The digimon stops for a moment, before tapping his helmet once. “Well, in this state, I am known as Blucomon. But feel free to call me Teacher all the same!” He - Blucomon? - returns to his pose, “You may now clap!”

“...Uh, hey, excuse me, what’s going on?”

One thing was for sure. Whatever this digimon was…

“He seems absolutely insufferable...”

 

After (barely) managing to convince Takato’s parents that nothing was wrong, that he had just been clumsy and stubbed his toe, and that was what the noise was, he and Blucomon (his new teacher, apparently?) sat down for introductions.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a get together in the Matsuda house without bread - and Blucomon was quite happy to have something to chew on while he explained things.

“So...I have magic, right?” Takato decides is the best place to open this whole...strange conversation.

Blucumon nods, shoving an entire loaf of wheat into his mouth in one, single swallow. It’s like watching a great snake unhinge its jaw to swallow an egg. “Indeed! You’re currently the first human in our registered history, long and storied as it is, to have awoken the power of magic!”

Takato swallows, his throat dry. “I...wow.”

“Wow?!” Blucomon huffs, apparently offended by his lack of excitement. “You should be screaming and jumping for joy! Especially as you get to be taught by yours truly - my first and only ever apprentice!”

He can’t tell if that’s good or bad, honestly. He’ll take it as the intended compliment.

“First apprentice, huh…?” Takato mumbles, taking a bite of his own bread - a marbled rye bread that’s a bit too crunchy. “Why am I your apprentice, then?”

Blucomon puffs his chest out. “For many reasons! For one, we have compatible affinities - your primary and my secondary are of the same Greater School. Of course, I’ve been alive so long that my primary and secondaries are at nearly the same mastery - I’m one of the best practitioners of the Greater School of Wind in Witchleny, still!”

“The Greater Schools…? Affinities?” Honestly, he was starting to get a bit overwhelmed already.

“Ah, well - let me put it this way. There are four base elements in the most common systems around the world. Those are Fire, Earth, Air, and Water. We in Witchelny refer to these as the Greater Schools.” Four symbols appear above Blucomon, formed from snow and ice. “Their proper names, traditionally speaking, are Eneruge, Earthlin, Baluluna, and Aquary. Most people still make use of these terms, but I’ve never been much of a traditionalist - they’re quite a mouthful!”

Blucomon then swallows another chunk of bread - consuming a baguette by shoving it down his own throat like swallowing a sword. “As for affinities,” He swallows, “Every living thing has a natural affinity for one of the four elements, regardless of whether or not they have magic. A human can be associated with an element, just like a digimon, or a cat, or a bird, or a lizard or a fish!”

Takato hums in understanding, tearing off another piece of rye and eating it. “And my affinity is...wind, then? Since you’re my teacher.”

It made some level of sense - Takato had seen the wind spiral earlier, and had seen the symbol on his digivice. It certainly fits.

“Indeed - which is very important!” Blucomon points at Takato with one talon. “Practitioners of wind magic are rare! It’s an all-round magic type - able to do countless things, with no leaning in any direction on its specializations. Compare this to, say, Fire - which is heavily associated with curses. Water is likewise generally support based, and Earth is defense based. Of course, there are exceptions!”

“Exceptions, huh…?” He then blinks. “If wind magic is so well rounded, why aren’t there more practitioners of it?”

His teacher hums, “A good question! When you first awaken your magic, your primary affinity is what awakens first, and is the style of magic best suited to you. At least, it’s your ‘Greater School’ that best suits you - it’s your job to find the best ‘specialization’ for yourself. The point is, awakening to a proper wind affinity is rare - but many people practice it for their secondary, which is usually something you can choose!”

“Of course, we’ll get into choosing a secondary later,” Blucomon continues, “but we’ll need to practice with your primary first! It’s best to think about which you’d prefer - though I would recommend you truly consider water magic. It’d certainly make my life easier, as I do need to pass on my greatness to somebody!”

“Yeah…” Takato sweats a bit. He doesn’t think ice would suit him much, but it would be something to consider - it’s not like he has any other ideas of what else he could be. “So the fact that I’m a wind practitioner is why you’re teaching me?”

“Well...something to that effect. The faculty within the Baluluna Department at Mount Brocken - that is, our headquarters for education - is spread rather thin. Natural, primary practitioners are rare, but it’s a highly valued secondary. This creates a bit of a gap, where the amount of qualified teachers and faculty just can’t keep up with the constant influx of new students.” Blucomon admits, as he scratches at his icy helmet. “The head of education wanted to teach you personally, but bringing you to Mount Brocken isn’t currently possible, and a correspondence course would only work if you already knew the basics.”

Takato blinks, and then narrows his eyes at his teacher. “If your department is spread so thin for teachers, why are you here?”

“Ahaha, well! That’s obvious!” Blucomon retakes his proud pose. “I am a Master, with a focus on research - not a teacher. I’m not a Hermit like any of my colleagues - I am intending to obtain the ranking of God! As such, I was more than available to leave Mount Brocken for my first ever teaching endeavor!”

Blucomon then smirks, muttering under his breath - just loud enough that Takato can hear. “And then when I complete this apprenticeship, I can finally get my promotion!”

Suddenly, Takato feels a bit less honored and a lot more used.

“Keep it to yourself, Takato. You’re not going to learn magic any other way - even if your teacher does kind of suck.”

As if he hadn’t paid any attention to Takato - or rather, more likely that he actually hadn’t - Blucomon continues to talk. “Of course, my talent and intelligence will more than make up for any lack of experience on my part. I am one of the premier users of ice - the first ever user of true ice magic - so I know the most out of anyone about starting from square one!”

That got Takato’s attention. “What do you mean you’re the first…?”

“Oh, well - I’m rather old, you know?” Blucomon rubbed his claw up under his ‘nose’. “I was around when the Digital World had its last ice age, and I used that time to pioneer and master the field of ice magic - combining wind and water together into a perfect symphony of frost!” He poses once more. “Of course, I didn’t have any teachers! I am perfectly self taught!”

His pose then drops a bit. “I, uh, also was lacking a lot of common sense basics for a while. So, I had to make do with a lot of missing bits of information that just wasn’t accessible - or possible - for me. That’s why I know I can teach you! Because I started from square one, and you’re starting from square zero! It’ll be great!”

Takato files all of that away for another time, and gives his teacher a thumbs up - because really, how do you react to that?

“And now, with all of that squared away,” His teacher barrels on, “It’s time to teach you your first spell! My most favored creation, of course. My precious baby of a spell, which is the foundation for all that I’ll teach you -!”

“Can it wait until tomorrow?”

It was as if Takato had reached up into the sails of his teacher’s ship, and then ripped into it with a scythe.

“W-why tomorrow?! This is important, really, incredibly important!”

Takato makes a bit of a face. “While learning magic sounds way more fun, there’s two problems. One, I don’t even know the basics.” Blucomon deflates. “Two? I have homework due tomorrow.”

That made Blucomon look ready to have an absolute tantrum over. “But you’re my student! Why do you still have to do human school things?! It’s not like they can teach you magic -!”

“And it’s not like you can teach me real world science, or human history, or cooking.” Takato then gives Blucomon a flat look. “You’d also have to convince my parents of me dropping out.”

“...Alright. We’ll split your studies between mundane and magical, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. In fact -!” Blucomon stands tall. “I’ll be monitoring your classroom at all times, so that I may see exactly what is so good about human school and human teachers! I shall far surpass them, just you wait, and then you’ll happily enroll in my lessons, full time!”

“If you want to teach me anything first, how about how to actually make spells?” Takato hedges out, as he moves back to his desk and starts taking out his homework from his book bag.

Look, Digimon being real? Fantastic.

Magic being real? Mind boggling.

Takato being a Witch, with magical talent? Literally life changing.

But that didn’t stop the fact he needed to get his homework done, or his teacher - his human teacher - would be called in to investigate his home life, and he really did not need that right now! Or ever!

With a huff, Blucomon tucks himself right up against Takato’s desk. “Very well, very well. I shall gladly explain the most fundamental aspect of Witchcraft to you, Mister Matsuda, and then you’ll admit to preferring me over your human school!”

“Mmmhmm.” Takato hums, keeping an ear open as he works on his math homework, first. That’s something he can do mindlessly. And, maybe, his teacher’s words would actually be very, very interesting.

…

It turned out that they were.

Apparently, Witchcraft worked on the concept of utilizing coding languages to force the world to act a certain way. Enforcing your will onto the world, temporarily becoming a master of the aspect of your choice, and creating a reaction.

Thus, at its base, most Witchcraft endeavored to replicate something that could naturally occur, through unnatural means.

For instance, a huge pillar of ice could form naturally, over time and given incredibly precise circumstances. But through magic, one could cause that reaction instantaneously simply with the correct logic and writing. It was only once the inherent nature of digimon as beings that surpassed their limits got involved that things began to lose sight of reality.

But that was okay, in its own strange way.

Because, while Takato might not have a digimon’s raw power to surpass the boundaries set by its existence, he did have imagination, and the ability to understand the logic of the world. He’d surpass the limits by simply going around them.

But that was for another time, as Blucomon continued.

The manner in which code was used to change the world varied from Witch to Witch, but had its basis in the same concept. Whatever tool you used, whatever style you used, you must create a magic circle in order to formulate your spells.

Magic circles were the manifestation of the force needed to take the reins from reality, and enact their will upon it. They could be physically drawn, or they could be drawn in the air, or they could be mentally constructed. Regardless of how one went about it, the creation of a circle to inscribe your work upon was a mandatory step of the process.

“Some,” Blucomon had said, “Claim that there are shortcuts, tools that focus the mind and casting implements that circumvent it. But those tools don’t replace it, they simply grant a new form for the circle to take. We only really call it circles still, because that’s the most common and easy method of creating them. A song imbued with thought and raw intent could be a circle of its own, requiring just as much thought and energy to create, even if the visuals are different.”

Takato hummed in understanding, as he absently doodled a circle of his own on his scrap paper.

Magic circles that were encoded on physical material could be used again and again, but were incredibly difficult to modify later without undoing the entire array. They were reliable, but stiff - they’d fallen out of fashion, apparently, due to how they couldn’t be used in rapid combat and problem solving in a pinch.

Mental and immaterial circles - formed in the air, or temporarily constructed - were seeing a massive rise in popularity within the last several generations, with many in Witchelny making the decision to move over to the newer, more flexible ‘aetherial casting’ style.

“The thing is, you only need to learn the basic outline of your spells for this to be an incredibly powerful tool.” Blucomon pointed out. “You construct the basic structure, and then modify it to the needs of the situation. Say a spell that simply created ice - which, by the way, isn’t simple at all! This is simply for an example.” He cut himself off for a moment, before continuing. “If you knew a spell that simply had the function ‘create ice’, you could modify it on the fly to be able to create a pillar of ice. Or cast it multiple times in a small scale to create a flurry of ice lances. Or an ice sword you could wield as a weapon. Regardless of how you look at it, aetherial circles are strictly better than physical circles in a combat scenario.”

In Takato’s opinion, that all sounded very wasteful.

Because if you knew that a circle made for material casting worked once, it would always work, from the sound of things. But if you flubbed an aetherial circle in the middle of combat?

Dead. Instantly.

Red data floating on the wind.

At least, that was his opinion.

He’d endeavor to look into both later on, once he’d learned more. But unfortunately, he’d have to begin learning to even construct a circle.

“Of course, once you learn the basics, it’s rather simple to cast aetherially. Especially when you begin to properly understand parallel thought processing!” What. “We’ll go over that soon. Splitting your mind into multiple partitions increases your spellcasting effectiveness exponentially, obviously!”

What.

“Teacher - I can’t do that.” Takato stopped putting on his pyjamas and stared at the ice dragon. “No, seriously - look at me, please. Humans can’t do that. I’m pretty sure I’d go insane just trying!”

Blucomon frowns. “Are humans really lacking that much in constitution…? Well, no matter! With proper training, you’ll manage it eventually!”

“Listen to me, please - !” Takato hisses, but his teacher is already happily in his own world, setting up a nest inside of Takato’s closet for him to sleep in. Which, rude, but also a good choice of where to hide from his parents. He’d been doing his own laundry for four years now, easily.

Then his teacher yawns, and wraps himself up in a blanket he’d brought with, and begins to doze off almost instantly.

“Do digimon even need to sleep?” he asked himself, before deciding that way led only madness, and climbed into bed himself. He still clutched the digivice in his hand, thinking about many, many things, as rain and lightning fell outside his window sill.

About cooking, and studying. About magic, and its new place in his life. About his future partner - because Blucomon, they both knew, would never be Takato’s digimon partner.

He thought, and thought, and thought - until he fell, and dreamt.

…

“Am I really dreaming?” Takato thought, as he felt something detach. As he felt himself wander, floating in the falling rain.

He didn’t know where he was going. He simply existed in the aether, floating through the air. But it wasn’t by his own guidance that he flew.

He was going somewhere, being pulled somewhere.

Something important he had to see.

That was how he stumbled upon it.

The world of fog and static, which swallowed him.

With a single boy, and a great, towering cat carved from flames.

“Hmph, not even a competitor…?” The boy scoffed. He was dark skinned, tanned in a way that wasn’t something you saw often in Japan. With dark red hair, tucked under a horned baseball cap, and a long scarf, he cut a strange figure in the mist. “You’re just a dumb, wild animal. Not that it’s surprising for where you’re from!”

The huge digimon was Lynxmon, his brain supplied. An Armor type Digimon, which always had unusual power levels. It roared out - in offense, or in ignorance, he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t speaking, only howling and screaming and craving.

There was an all consuming hunger in its shape, in the way it held itself underneath the falling rain. Rain that turned into steam upon contact with its body of pure, concentrated heat. It couldn’t be put out, because to be put out would be to die, and not even the rain could kill this creature born of flame.

At least, that’s how Takato saw things.

But the boy didn’t see things the same way.

“You’re just making noise. You’re barely worth my time!” He growled out, leaping forward and up, high into the air, past Takato.

For a moment, he could swear their eyes met. That the boy’s eyes narrowed as they saw him.

But then he was falling, descending towards the beast in an axe kick towards its back. His feet pierce through fire, which licks up at his body but doesn’t burn, and he vaults off of his foot while carrying his momentum far and away from the beast in a turn.

He lands, having rotated to face it as he did so. But the force of his momentum keeps him sliding back and away from the beast, his fingers digging into the ground to try and keep himself from moving.

No.

That wasn’t it at all, now that Takato looked closer.

He was positioning himself. Lynxmon was dumbly attempting to find him, turning slowly instead of using its size, power, and speed to crush him. It had thought this a foregone conclusion.

But then the redhead pulled down the sleeve of his windbreaker, and opened his mouth to reveal fangs.

And then he dug his teeth into his wrist, and pulled.

A vicious tearing sound filled the air, but blood did not pour from the wound. Instead, flowing out from it was smoke. Grey-black smoke that floated into the air, filling the sealed dome of mist and static with choking fumes.

“As soon as I walked in here, you lost. Now, get out of my sight!”

A magic circle bloomed just above his outstretched hand, burning bright red like a roaring wildfire.

The smoke changes, warps. It becomes something more, and something less. The great wisps of smoke become fulminating slivers of choking smog, and are then refined further down. Down into blades.

And the magic circle turned black, as he wrenched it towards himself. “Fall - Carnwennan!”

The blades did fall. They pierced into Lynxmon, like they were metal, so miraculous as to not melt from heat, to be born from shadows instead of the light of a forge. And they went out the otherside, landing in the pavement with a chink of finality, as blood red data flowed from the wounds like blood.

Lynxmon bled data from the inside out, until all that was left was scarlet ascending into the air.

“...I suppose I can’t waste this. I’m not a barbarian.” The boy mutters, taking a bottle from his windbreaker pocket and holding it aloft. The data slowed, and then descended, settling within the bottle. “I’ll make use of you later. Or perhaps I’ll mail this off to a Primary Village in a realm that truly has one.”

And as the field of static fades, he turns his head up towards Takato once more, eyes narrowed.

As though presented with a puzzle he didn’t know the solution to.

And then Takato began to stir, and woke up to the sound of his teacher snoring softly. Of the rain still falling outside his window, onto the balcony. And he understood, on some deep, instinctive level, that there was more to his teacher being here than simply teaching him.

 

It took him a few tries to properly get out of bed the next day.

But then his teacher conjured a bucket of icy water over his head, at which point he considered punting the digimon through his balcony, damn the consequences and property damage.

He didn’t, though, and for that he’s extremely proud of himself.

Wiping himself off, he makes sure to clean his face and do the rest of his morning routine, before getting dressed and going to prepare breakfast for himself in the upstairs kitchen.

To his surprise, Blucomon follows him. It’s only the fact that he knows his parents are already up early and working in the bakery already that he doesn’t stop the digimon from following him. He doesn’t really mind letting him watch, either, as he sets up the rice cooker and sets the pan on the heat.

Although - “Just so we’re clear, teacher, if you want breakfast, I’m giving you the leftover bread downstairs. I can’t make enough breakfast for both of us without me being late.”

He’d seen his teacher devour the bread he’d brought to his room for a snack the night before. It was like someone had chummed the water, and his teacher was a megalodon.

“Oh, no need to worry. I assumed as such!” Blucomon cheers, before tucking himself into the corner of the small, narrow kitchenette out of Takato’s way. “I just wanted to observe your work.”

Takato lets out a soft hum, taking out eggs, fish, and radishes. “I always cook breakfast for myself in the mornings. Usually, I’ll use the leftovers to prepare my lunchbox, and mom and dad will have the rice with lunch. Mama used to make breakfast and lunch for me, but then I got older and the bakery got more popular.” He shrugs, “It just isn’t an option anymore. But I don’t mind - it’s one of my favourite things to do. I’m even at the cooking club at school!”

Blucomon nods, a pleased expression on his face. “I see, I see! Then I have some ideas for future training!” He says, eyes glinting a bit.

Takato feels his stomach drop a bit already, but he doesn’t push.

Instead…

“Hey, teacher? Is there magic that lets you see things in your dreams?” He asks about what happened last night.

“...Perhaps?” Blucomon narrows his eyes as he thinks. “Astral projection is possible, but it usually requires quite a lot of preparation, and is incredibly dangerous - I can’t even imagine the risk for a human, if you can’t even use parallel thought processing! Why do you ask?”

Ah. Well, no barking up that tree, then. “Just...curiosity, I suppose.”

“Well, feel free to ask any sort of questions you might have! There is Witchcraft for every manner of things!”

Takato thinks about that for a moment, before letting himself get lost in cooking.

Eventually, he had his breakfast done, before he set to fixing up the fried pork and setting aside leftover omelette and rice for his lunchbox. Just before he could sit down and eat, though, he poked his head downstairs.

Seeing that both of his parents were busy, he quickly grabbed some of the leftover bread that was sitting out on the table by the door and brought it upstairs.

As intended, his teacher’s eyes lit up - claws reaching out to happily start shoveling buns and baguettes and the like into his gaping maw. “You are, in fact, the best student I could have asked for!”

It’s like watching a raging garbage disposal, a typhoon of breadcrumbs and icy spit.

It’s beautiful, in a horrifying and nightmare haunting sort of way.

It takes everything Takato has not to throw up immediately, but he manages. He’s gotten skilled over the years from trying the things some of the girls in the cooking club try to come up with for ‘surprise recipes’.

As he’s eating, Blucomon slows down on his nightmarish feast, looking over to his student. “So, you like to cook, then?”

“Hmm?” Takato blinks, a bit surprised. He swallows his bite of omelette before nodding. “I figured you would have noticed from watching me, but…”

“Well, I did, yes, but I don’t want to assume!” He rubs his nose a bit. “I’ve made quite a lot of assumptions, and have been kicked out of plenty of windows, believe me. So, clarification!”

Takato nods. He can imagine quite a few scenarios where someone would want to kick Blucomon out of a window, and he’d only known him for around twelve hours at this point.

“Then I have a suggestion!” Blucomon takes another pose, holding out a half eaten baguette like a sword. “We shall prepare you a garden for your balcony!”

“...Okay, that sounds nice, but why?” Takato raises an eyebrow.

Yes, he’d thought about using his small balcony for something before, and a garden would be nice, but he wasn’t sure how useful it’d be. It was valuable space, and he didn’t exactly have the money to be spending on flowers. Much less how this would help with magic.

“Not just any garden, of course.” Blucomon explains, seeing Takato’s trepidation. “An herb garden! Useful for medicines and cooking alike, so it has a use beyond what I was suggesting it for.”

“An herb garden…?” That would be a good use of his money, and would make things easier on his family’s budget, just a bit. “I wouldn’t mind having fresh herbs to cook with...I can probably set aside time to go and fetch the plants and equipment in the next week or so.”

“Oh, don’t bother!” Blucomon smirks, before flipping the baguette into the air and leaping to catch it - swallowing it whole like a massive shark, rising from the depths of the sea. “I shall get everything you’ll need. I can create the flower beds, and I shall procure the herbs myself!”

“...” Takato decides it’s better not to ask how he’s going to manage that. “So about the why -?”

Blucomon burps softly, before nodding. “Oh, yes, of course! Well, I’ve never done it myself, but I’ve heard some of the heads of the educational departments swear by it. Having your students take care of plants helps them to practice patience and keeping their thoughts clear, as well as help foster a connection to natural forces.”

He could definitely understand why Blucomon would have trouble with that. But he definitely appreciated that his teacher had come up with an idea that would help him in more ways than just the one. “Alright, I’ll give it a try.”

“Very well, then! I shall procure the plants posthaste. Speaking of - you should hurry and finish your meal, lest you be late for that gathering you like to do with those friends of yours!”

Takato blinks, and checks the clock. “...Crap…” He mutters, rapidly shoveling the rest of his food into his mouth, grabbing his lunchbox, toeing on his shoes, grabbing his skateboard, and running out past his parents with a call of - “Bye, I love you -!”

“...Well, I’ll make a proper whirlwind of him yet!” Blucomon nods to himself, satisfied with the boy’s speed.

Now, where was he going to get herbs this early in the morning? Surely he wouldn’t have to worry about something like bartering or trading - he was the Hero of the Ice Age, and surely even humans could recognize what that status meant!

While his teacher made plans, Takato quickly made his way to the park near the school where he, Hirokazu, and Kenta would play cards every morning. He was, once again, thankful for his skateboard - it helped him get there much faster than running would have. He’d surely be late for school again if he’d tried.

Dropping his board by the playground equipment, he hops up inside of it just in time to see Hirokazu and Kenta on the tail end of a game. “- And just like that, Mugendramon has enough power to wipe you clean off of the map! Sorry, Kenta, but that’s another win for me!”

“I know you’re not that sorry, Hirokazu.” The glasses wearing boy sighs, but smiles. “I appreciate you trying to act like it, though. You’re getting better at not being a total jerk!”

“Hey, I’m trying!” Hirokazu huffs, a flush to his cheeks. The brunette was never the best at being humble, to say the least, but he’d been trying.

Trying did not mean succeeding, though.

“Hirokazu got another win?” Takato quips as he climbs up. Not that it was too much of a surprise. Though Takato and Kenta played a lot, they weren’t as competitive as Hirokazu, who also had a surprisingly tactical mind for these sorts of things. They played for fun, but Hirokazu always played to win.

Maybe that was why the boxing club feared for their lives when practicing with him.

“Another win, yeah.” Kenta sighed, waving at Takato as the chubby boy climbed in. “One of these days, I’ll squeeze a win out of you!”

“Mmm, keep trying, keep trying!” Hirokazu hums, picking up his cards and giving them a shuffle. “How about you, Takato? Want a match before class?”

Takato thinks about it for a moment. He would - it’d certainly help clear his head up and help him better process things. But at the same time, he also wanted to ask for their help about things.

He just didn’t know where to start.

He’s broken out of his thoughts by fingers snapping in his face, along with Hirokazu’s call of - “Hey, Takato! You with us?!”

“Have you guys ever had a dream about a boy -?” Falls from his mouth without any thinking on his part, probably the absolute worst thing he could have asked for help with.

He can immediately tell he’s made a grave mistake.

Hirokazu chokes on his spit, as his confusion clashes with a surprised laugh. Takato winces, as he sees how much that has to hurt.

Kenta pats him on the back, wincing a little. “Um...not very often. Is there something you wanted to talk to us about, Takato?”

Hirokazu recovers before Takato can explain that this is all a horrible misunderstanding, coughing a few more times just to get his throat cleared. “Crap, dude, give a guy warning before deciding to come out!”

“W-wait, hold on -”

“Hirokazu, you can’t just say it like that!” Kenta snaps, his voice surprisingly sharp. “Takato’s being brave by telling us this! You should try and be more understanding!”

Hirokazu winces a bit as Kenta gets into his face. “I’m not insulting him or anything! It just really came as a surprise! Like, sure, it’s fine and all - but you know I don’t dream about boys! That’s not my thing at all!”

Kenta gives him a dry look. “You’ve told me about dreams you’ve had of that Digimon King guy before. The winner of the biggest card tournaments?”

“A-ah, I mean - !” Hirokazu grimaces, caught in his own words. “...And maybe one or two others.”

“Exactly. So you need to show Takato the same respect you showed me, and that you’d show this mister ‘Digimon King’ I’ve heard you whisper about during sleepovers!”

Takato can only hold his head in his hands, face red from his nose to his ears as his friends argue. He’s not sure exactly what he expected, but it wasn’t really this.

...He couldn’t lie that he appreciated the heartfelt acceptance. Even if it was over nothing.

“You know it isn’t like that, anyway, Kenta! He’s just cool and stuff! Plus, I’ve heard the Digimon Queen is an icy bitch!” Hirokazu bites out. “I bet he’d be much better as the reigning champion. No one’s heard from him in a while.”

“Hmm...what did he even look like, anyway?” Kenta asks, blinking. “You’ve talked about him a bunch, but I can’t even remember his name.”

Takato sighs in relief, as the two get sidetracked.

“...Huh, it’s on the tip of my tongue…” Hirokazu frowns. “Whatever...He was pretty cool looking. Brown hair, with those cool grey eyes. I heard a lot of the girls say he was handsome for a while. But it is weird that we haven’t heard from him in a while. I don’t think he’s been to a tournament in over two years!”

“Hmm...well, since you remember him so well,” Kenta says, his eyes turning sharp in a way that makes Takato instantly regret relaxing, “Would you say he’s a handsome boy fit for our friend here?”

“Hey, hey! We’re not setting up Takato with the Digimon King - !”

“Is it because you want him for yourself?”

“It’s because he’d probably freak Takato out! He doesn’t need someone famous, he’s more the type to want a quiet and thoughtful guy, I’m sure of it!”

Takato can’t help the screeching, dying groan that escapes his mouth. He feels his soul leaving his body - he’ll need to control it like a puppet from the afterlife, he absolutely can’t face his friends again after this!

Kenta raises an eyebrow. “So not you?”

Hirokazu sputters, the sound like a dying lawn mower. “A-a-a-absolutely not me!”

“So you don’t think Takato’s cute?”

“I-I mean, he is! And his red eyes are pretty cool, too? But he’s not really my type! I want someone with more fight!”

“Like Ayaka Itou from Class A? Juri’s friend?”

Hirokazu’s nose wrinkles. “Absolutely not, absolutely not!”

“Well, she’s in the photography club with me, so I could put in a good word with you if you ever change your mind.” Kenta smirks. “She’s got blonde hair, she’s probably a secret delinquent just like you.”

“That’s rude and you know it, Kenta!” Takato finally cuts through - he can let himself be made fun of, but Ayaka isn’t in their group! “She can’t help her natural hair color. We already know she doesn’t dye it!”

“...Oh, right, Takato’s here!” Hirokazu breathes out in relief. “Can we talk about something else now?!”

“One of these days, I will get the both of you set up with someone!” Kenta hisses, fists clenched in determination.

“...A-actually, maybe I should head to school early,” Takato cuts in. He did not want to be part of this conversation any longer than he already was!

“But you only just got here!”

“And I’ve already had more than enough of it!” He responds, sliding down the hole and bolting off with his skateboard - any thought of getting help from his friends thoroughly trampled by raw, overwhelming embarrassment. Besides, he’s pretty sure Blucomon will want to meet him at the school - though in what shape, he honestly can’t say what he expects or what he wishes.

“Honestly, I have a feeling I won’t ever know what teacher is going to be doing,” He says to himself as he pushes himself towards the school on his skateboard. Whether or not that was a good thing or not, he wasn’t sure. Things had gotten a little paint-by-the-numbers in his life, he could admit to himself.

“Everything follows a logical cycle, but this can’t.” And that was exciting and frightening in many ways.

He came to a stop in front of the school - just in time for a call of “Takato!” to startle him, as something lands on top of him, slamming straight into his face and knocking him to the dirt.

“T-teacher?!” He squeaks out, blinking stars out of his eyes as he looks down. And down, and down. “...E-eh?”

Rather than a large dragon made of ice, what stood (?) on Takato’s chest was a small, icy creature. A body made of ice, completely covered in snow that almost gave it the shape of a slime, with a large, ice carved nose poking out. Its big, black eyes gave it an almost adorable and innocent appearance, but Takato knew from the way that it held itself, tiny icy fingers on its tiny snowy waist, that this was his smug, insufferable teacher.

“Apologies, but I knew I couldn’t sneak into your school building at my normal size! Thus, I shed much of my power again, and returned to my Baby II form - Hiyarimon!” His voice was so, so similar to Blucomon’s, but Hiyarimon’s was just this side of squeaky. “I can regather it - so long as your parents don’t use that ice cube tray I’ve commandeered for it!”

He doesn’t ask more questions about that, but does decide he’ll need to get a small fridge for his room if this is how his teacher is going to store his extra power.

“...Wait, hold on - how are you even going to be watching my classes? Are you going to be invisible or something?” Takato blinks, realizing his teacher had promised to do so. He’d assumed it would be through scrying or something, but apparently he was wrong.

“Of course not!” His teacher huffs, crossing his tiny, icy arms. “To do so would be an affront to gentlemanly conduct! I’m a knight and a hero, I can’t simply hide in the shimmering shadows of invisibility! Instead, I’m going to hide in your school bag.”

What.

“That way, there’s a chance I’ll be caught. Equal and honorable!”

“Oh, please no.” Takato thinks to himself, panic rising. “D-do you at least have telepathy, or something?! People will hear you if you try to talk to me or whisper during classes!”

“Of course I do. I’m not a trainee!” Hiyarimon hisses out, before properly correcting him. “Well, it isn’t quite telepathy as you’d think of it. Don’t worry, it’s something I can absolutely teach you! It’s one of the cornerstones of wind magic!”

Well, he could at least look forward to that. “...Alright. You can climb into my bag, just be careful not to get my stuff wet, alright?” If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t say no to his teacher when he looked so cute and round.

“I would never!” Hiyarimon barks out, before climbing into Takato’s book bag and making himself comfortable. “...I’ll need to bring a blanket next time we do this.”

“Next time?” Takato could already feel his heart sink a bit. He’d have to get used to this as just another part of learning magic, he supposed.

With his teacher tucked into his (suspiciously bulging) book bag, Takato heads inside…

And, as always, just barely makes it in time for the bell to ring.

 

“This spell was crafted a long, long time ago by yours truly,” Hiyarimon lectures in Takato’s ears - a whisper on the wind that somehow managed to completely stifle the sound of his science teacher’s voice. “Unfortunately, it never really caught on, but it’s useful for a beginner to learn!”

It had caught Takato off guard, when his teacher began speaking like this. It had nearly gotten him in trouble, if not for his own quick thinking as he knocked a pencil off of the desk to pick it up.

His teacher was utilizing a spell that converted his own voice into blowing wind, easily able to drift into his ears without need for telepathy - that sort of spell apparently a more difficult endeavor than Takato expected.

His teacher continues, “As versatile as it is powerful, it’s the foundation of many of my more effective offensive techniques.”

Takato raises an eyebrow, looking down into his bag so his teacher can see him. He obviously can’t speak and verbalize his questions, so he hopes his teacher can understand him.

“Ah, the reason it’s unpopular amongst most Wind practitioners is because it’s something of a ‘brute force’ sort of spell.” If a slime could shrug, he would. “Nowhere near as graceful as they prefer. It’s not a spell that constructs, or a spell that allows one to move quickly or dance on the wind. It is wind in a raw, forceful form. Nothing more, nothing less - unless you make it so.”

He nods in understanding. He could imagine how an element so associated with grace, and so sought after for conferring speed onto Witches who lack it would find such a spell looked down upon. His pen scrawls out the circle and the runes within the formation, just as his teacher explains them.

“Its greatest strengths are found within its simplicity. A spell which conjures a simple sphere of wind - but what can be done with wind?” Hiyarimon asks rhetorically. “Well, I’ll leave that for you to decide! We can call that part of your homework, of course!”

Takato sighs, and the only thing keeping him from rolling his eyes when he does so is that he knows his school teacher would think he was being disrespectful. But he can’t help it - as fond as he is for his new teacher, he can’t help but be exasperated.

“As for the name of such a spell…” Hiyarimon hums lightly. “Well, the only name I could think of that fits a spell so defined by its strength and versatility…”

“Bolverkr. The Doer of Evil Deeds.”

Takato swallows.

There’s something impactful to that name.

(He also knows, deep down, that his friends would call him a massive doofus for declaring that sort of spell. But they all played card games still, so rocks and glass houses, as the Americans said.)

“Its function is to gather air, pull it into a tight spiral - and then release it when the spell ends. That is to say, its detonation is built into the spell’s ending, rather than needing a separate command, so it’s all rather efficient, in my opinion!”

That is something he can understand. Not having to actually give it a command to end just means that, hypothetically, he can throw it and stop thinking about it - and it’ll do what he needs it to do.

Honestly, more than being efficient, it just sounds like something convenient his airhead of a teacher needed to actually fight with.

He barely manages to muffle his snort at that, as he continues taking his notes on the spell - its functions, runes, and the method of conjuring. It had surprisingly few runes, but the lines throughout the spell were complex enough that he’d definitely need to practice actually conjuring it.

His teacher intended to start him on aetherial casting, after all. It wasn’t really possible to draw the runes during combat, and Hiyarimon seemed insistent that he’d need a combat focused education to start with.

The lecture from his teacher entered his ears, causing him to take a near constant stream of notes and diagrams - the interactions between elements, the ‘feeling’ of magic and how to summon it. The base runes needed for the construction of spells, followed by the internal coding logic he’d need to understand.

“From the sound of things, I’m going to need to start reading up on C++ if I want to actually use wind magic…”

Takato was interrupted from his own thoughts and studying as it came to be time for lunch - a usual series of events, if he were to be honest with himself.

What was unusual, however, was a hand slamming down onto his desk.

“Talk to me straight, Matsuda,” A feminine voice spoke.

Startled, he looks up into the face of Itou Ayaka.

Ayaka was one of those girls who was naturally gifted in the realm of looks - with a round, symmetrical face, and long, strawberry blonde hair that she always had up in a pair of high twintails, with even her bangs pulled back to keep her face completely clear. Her willowy build was well suited to the school uniform, he’d heard the other students whisper about - the girls jealous and the boys interested. In his opinion, the navy blue suited her skin tone well, and the white accents were a good match.

She was one of those girls who looked just this side of foreign, without making the school raise any alarms about integrity. Someone who had the best of all worlds - and notably would never talk to him, in spite of their shared friendship with Juri.

“H-huh?” Takato blinks, confusion bleeding out into his face. He did his best to always be nice to Ayaka, so this confrontation was...strange. “Excuse me…?”

“Talk to me straight about things, Matsuda. You don’t need to be subtle, you don’t need to lie about anything.” She leans down, gold-brown eyes getting close to his own red ones. “So talk to me directly. I want to know what it is you’re into.”

He could feel heat rising up into his face and ears, as he pushed himself back in his seat away from her. “I...I’m into cooking? And drawing, too?”

“What is happening?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. I see what you’re doodling and what you’re writing, so tell me what your type is -!” Ayaka tried to needle him, only for a loud voice to cut through the air as the students got ready for lunch.

“Stop bothering him, Itou!” Hirokazu huffs, crossing his arms over his t-shirt - his gakuran open to show that strange, rune-like symbol on it.

“Shiota.” Ayaka’s voice was surprisingly sharp and uncharacteristically hard as she crossed her arms in a mirror to him. “This is between Matsuda and I.”

Already, Takato could tell this wouldn’t be very pretty. “I wish I had bought strawberry milk on the way to school this morning. That’d make this worth it.”

“Well he isn’t interested in anything like that!” His friend hissed. “He definitely doesn’t need some girl like you clawing at his arms and breathing down his neck!”

“Clawing? Are you calling me an animal? Rich, coming from you.”

“You’re screeching like a damn bird, Itou! Takato doesn’t need some harpy like you bothering him all of the time! He ain’t interested in what you’re peddling!”

Ayaka rears back, a hand on her chest. “You think I’m trying to come onto him? Have some class, Shiota. I wanted to learn more about him!”

His eyes narrow. “So you can sink your talons into him, I bet.”

“I don’t have talons.” She closes one eye, flipping one twintail over her shoulder. “I’m well groomed, unlike you.”

Ayaka then turns back to Takato. “If you ever want to talk to someone about important things, Matsuda, give me a call. Or, well, tell Juri to call me.” She then reaches into her pocket and sets something on his desk. “And keep this around. I think it suits you.”

When Takato looked at what she’d placed down, he nearly choked.

A smooth, blue-green gemstone. It looked like it was naturally formed, yet had no debris or rock covering it. A perfect piece of shining jade.

It probably cost more than his family’s entire bakery.

And she was just...tossing it at him?!

“A-ayaka, wait, I can’t take this -!” But she was already walking away, back over to the other girls who were gathering outside of the classroom to have lunch together. “...What just happened?”

“I’ve got about as much of a clue as you do,” Kenta said, coming up behind him with an eyebrow raised. “Seriously, what was that, Hirokazu?”

“Gagh -!” Hirokazu lept back, startled out of his glares towards Ayaka. “What do you mean, what was that?! She was trying to seduce our best friend, Kenta! There’s no way Takato could ever put up with someone like that - even a boy like her would drive him crazy!”

“...When you put it like that…” Kenta hums, nodding slowly.

“Can we please not talk about my non-existent love life during lunch time, please?” Takato asks, desperate to distract them. “Especially not when Hirokazu and Ayaka attracted everyone’s attention over here!”

“You need to be brave in the face of adversity to become a true Witch, my student!” Hiyarimon whispers from his bag. “Face your classmates, and declare yourself a man!”

“I refuse!”

Kenta smirks, poking Takato’s cheek with his chopsticks. “You look like you’ve got food poisoning with that face, Takato.”

He sputters, “Y-you would too if you had to listen to Hirokazu talking about protecting your virtue!”

“...Hmm, fair enough.” Kenta nods, opening up Takato’s lunch box and stealing a bite. “And for making me think about that, food tax!”

“Food tax -?!” Takato sputters again - and he thinks he’s starting to sound like a lawn mower. “You’re the two who were talking about that for the entire class to hear!”

It’s just enough ridiculousness to make Takato forget about the strangeness with Ayaka and Hirokazu, as he fights with his friends over the food he cooked himself, thank you very much!

And the day continues, with Takato working on his studies, and just barely managing to catch enough of the actual school lessons that he knows what to prepare for the next day. Then, the bell rings - signalling cleanup, followed by club time.

Takato personally wasn’t looking forward to what his teacher was going to do during it. Hopefully they’d still have food in the classroom by the time it was over.

“I never imagined a snowman could eat so much…”

 

Making the move to the cooking club after cleaning duties were done was almost a relief. Neither Hirokazu nor Kenta had club with him - Hirokazu’s boxing and Kenta’s journalism clubs kept them both busy.

He loved his friends, really - they’d been together since they were seven, at least!

But Hirokazu was loud, and Kenta liked to needle. Sometimes he just needed to be with someone who wasn’t at full volume all of the time.

Which meant Juri!

“...I only have three friends. Wow, that kind of sucks.”

There were some other acquaintances, but no other real friends. Juri was friends with Ayaka and Miki, so he was sort of friends through them. Hirokazu and Kenta had their club mates, but they rarely met outside of activities.

“...I need more friends,” Takato mutters.

“Well, sadly I can’t be one. I’m your teacher! As much as I’d love to be your peer, I am instead your glorious, ever brilliant mentor, to guide you on your journey to greatness!” Hiyarimon whispers into his ears. “...Slightly less great than I, of course. You must understand, it isn’t easy reaching this level.”

“...Sure.” Takato sighs. Why was his teacher like this? “I guess that’s fine, but you do realize that I only make food for my friends and family, so if you aren’t a friend -”

“Ah, no, no -!” Hiyarimon shivered. “No, I’ll be your friend! If it means getting all of that tasty bread every day, I’ll definitely be your friend and teacher! It’ll work out! ...Probably.”

“Probably.” Takato chuckled a bit. Since the halls were mostly cleared out, he felt comfortable talking to ‘himself’. It’s not like he had enough friends or a good enough reputation to worry about protecting. “I suppose if you say it’s probably fine, it’s certainly.”

He wore his hoodies over his school uniform and skateboarded to school - not to mention his best friend was Hirokazu, the ‘devil’ who doesn’t know how to pull a punch.

He’s pretty sure the entire school thinks he’s a secret yakuza heir or something absurd like that.

“Instead, I’m just a secret Witch. No big deal.”

It’s only because of this conversation with his teacher that he misses the sight of a boy watching him with narrowed eyes. With blue-black hair like dark waves and grey eyes like heavy clouds, it was as if the storming seas had become a boy.

Comparatively…

“Do ya think he’s nuts, or are we on the same page, Li?” A light voice asked from his duffel bag. “Cuz it could go either way!”

“...” ‘Li’ doesn’t answer for a moment. “His partner might have long range communications of some sort, or invisibility. Or…”

“He’s a nut job and we gotta talk him out of it!”

A sigh, as if the storm was breaking, “...It could be a possession.”

“Possession, shmossession! Digimon can’t possess humans that easily, and I don’t imagine them having nice conversations over it, either.” A green and white head poked out from the bag - a creature approaching the intersection of rabbit and dog looking up at ‘Li’ with big, black eyes.

“For now, though, we’re going to leave it. Gather information, then act. Besides, they might be like Makino and want to fight.” The distaste at the word alone was evident.

“You’re getting snarly again, Li. Mou-men-tai!”

That gets a soft chuckle out of him. “Yeah, moumentai.”

The wandering storm cloud then began to drift outside into the open air. He had cram school, after all, and it wouldn’t do to be late.

Takato, meanwhile, doesn’t notice a single thing as he heads into the cooking club room. There were a few other students in the club alongside him and Juri - including her friend Miki. But usually, the two of them stuck together.

“Juri, are you here already?” He called, setting his bag down as he picked up an apron. The club normally had meetings, but the club leader was going to cram school tonight, leaving them to their own devices.

Which, for Takato, meant a lot of talking with Juri and making food to bring home. They both needed the leftovers, after all.

“I’m at the usual station, Takato!” She called back. “I have water boiling, do you think you could fetch the milk and mushrooms for me?”

Takato could do that. He and Juri had made plans for stroganoff and had purchased some cheaper ingredients - still more expensive than either of them could normally afford - using club funds. It wasn’t exactly allowed, but the club president always turned the other way for them.

Juri had to worry about her brother, and Takato had to worry about his parents. It was as simple as that.

Takato grabbed the milk and the mushrooms he and Juri had splurged on, alongside the herbs he was sure Juri forgot as well, and walked back to ‘their’ station. It was one of the many stoves in the room, but it was closest to one of the wider countertops that meant they could work back to back and swap quickly as needed.

Juri was already hard at work - her long, brown hair pulled up into a ponytail and then covered with a sunshine yellow bandana. She was cutting up the beef that they had chosen together, and the water was boiling on the burner for pasta. They had made their own during the last meeting they’d had, so Takato was excited to see how well it worked out.

Takato’s own hair was wild and difficult to tame, fluffy and everywhere but too short to be tied back easily. That’s why he grabbed a bandana himself - though he went for a pastel green, instead of his usual blue.

“Might as well lean into the wind magic thing now. It’s good to develop an aesthetic.”, says his chuuni side. The rest of him actively smothers that side, happy to not recognize their own dorky personality.

With his apron tied, Takato sets the pan on the burner and turns it on, pouring in a bit of oil to let it heat.

Takato nods, and turns his head slightly to her. “Switch.”

“On it!” She responds, and the two move around each other - Juri taking the meat and placing it in the pan, and Takato taking up a second knife and cutting board in order to start chopping the mushrooms , onions, and herbs. Normally, Juri would be better about handling vegetables before the meat, but considering things had been hard at the restaurant, he couldn’t be upset with her for spacing out.

The sound of soft chopping and sizzling meat fills the air, alongside pleasant aromas as other members of the club start their own projects.

Takato speaks first, “How was your lunch today, Juri?” He asks, because they didn’t have lunch together very often.

“Ah, it was alright! Ayaka ran off to say hi to you, didn’t she?” Juri asks, careful not to burn the steak chunks. “Miki and I have been thinking she’s been acting a little odd lately, but I think she might just have a crush on you!”

Takato chokes - only not dropping his knife from the amount of practice he’s had with Juri saying weird things out of nowhere. “I don’t think that’s it! Besides, Hirokazu’d kill her if he thought that!”

“Oh, he wouldn’t. Hirokazu’s just like an iguana!”

Takato blinks. What?

“What?”

“You know, they’re really sweet and lazy, but then if you bother them too much, they’ll bite you and flood your veins with poison.” Juri hums. “You know, he doesn’t act up much because he doesn’t need to, but when he does, he goes right for the head.”

“Oh.” When she put it like that, it made sense. “..You’re pretty amazing, Juri.”

“Huh?”

“Well...you see things in a way I can’t really understand. But then, when you explain it, it makes a whole world of sense.” Because Takato’s logic - the logic of how things connected, and how the world worked - was nearly incompatible with Juri’s own world view. It had to be its own, entirely different world. “I think it’s nice.”

She laughs a bit. She sounds tired.

“It must have been a long night. The bar probably was open late, and she probably had to step in for someone else’s shift.”

Takato finishes up the mushrooms, just as he hears the sizzling stop from the pan.

“Switch,” Juri says, and he’s already moving. She’d emptied the meat into a separate container, and Takato set the mushrooms, onions, and garlic into the pan to cook in the beef fat and oil.

The smells in the air got even warmer, full of savory notes as meat and mushrooms amplified each other’s taste profiles. Takato was glad he had enough lunch today, otherwise he’d just eat the mushrooms straight out of the pan.

The mushrooms expelled their water, mixing with the other ingredients to create a heavenly base for a sauce just in time for Juri to call for another switch. Takato moved behind her to grab pastas, and Juri began building the sauce with wine and butter. Takato set the noodles into the water, and carefully stirred as the two stood side by side to finish up their meal.

Wrapping up the cooking, they nodded to each other and served two small bowls to review their own work. Everything else, regardless of its quality, would get packed up for later.

Sitting down next to her at the counter, Takato could tell he was right. Juri had been up late - he could see the bags under her eyes worse than usual.

“Bad night at the bar again, Juri?” He asked, trying to keep his concern from being too audible. He knew she didn’t like him worrying, but it was hard.

She smiles, but it doesn’t go very far. “Aha, someone had to cancel their late shift. I didn’t want dad to worry, so I stepped in. It was a lot later than I expected. Hopefully I won’t need to step in again this week. I have most of my homework done, though!”

He thinks of countless things he could say. About how her dad should know better, how she shouldn’t have to do all her schoolwork and extra curriculars while also working underaged and taking care of her younger brother. He could say that he’s proud of her for doing well, for being as strong as she is.

He doesn’t say any of that.

It’d probably only make her sad.

“Well, that’s good then. I’m doing my best to keep up with my own homework, myself. We should try and get together to have a study session again sometime soon.” He says, instead.

“Ah, that’d be nice. I think I’m much better at it than Hirokazu is, anyway. He’s friendly and all, but his head’s all full of water and air!” She says, a smile returning to her face. “Ah, we should eat this before it gets cold. I have my notebook on me, so we can figure out what to do better next time!”

“Alright, alright.” Takato nods, a smile on his face as he gets to working with Juri - the two writing, tasting, and correcting the recipe in companionable silence as the rest of the club arrives and does their own work. First to finish, as always.

Eventually, though, club time is over, and the two split up. Childhood friends as they are, their homes are in completely different directions, in different parts of town. The Katou’s bar and restaurant was in a more busy, main part of town, compared to the Matsuda’s effectively ‘back alley’ shop.

Takato waits by the gate, skateboard in arm as he counts the minutes down until Hirokazu and Kenta arrive.

From his pocket, he hears his teacher pipe up. “That girl’s a nice one. Have you been friends for long, my student?”
“Mmm. For a long, long time. Honestly, it’s hard to put it down, but we’ve always known each other - though it took until middle school before we got as close as we are now.” He can’t help his smile. “She’s pretty different from Hirokazu and Kenta. Less likely to make my ears bleed.”

“Ohoho, indeed? Well, I shall endeavor not to interrupt your time together, then!” A beat. “I think she appreciates you. That is an important friendship to foster, make no mistake of that.”

Before Takato can respond, he hears a shout from the school building.

“Hey, Takato!” Hirokazu calls, sprinting up to him. The brunette had already shed his uniform jacket and wrapped it around his waist, alongside his heavy duffle bag that contained all of his boxing gear - and, likely, his schoolbag, knowing Hirokazu.

He tried not to wince at the thought of all of his homework crushed together. At least Hirokazu didn’t have any notes to ruin.

“Hey there, Hirokazu. Where’s Kenta?” Normally, the two of them left together, and Takato followed.

Hirokazu smiles, coming to a nearly sliding stop from how fast he had approached Takato. “He’s got some stuff going on in the journalism club. Runnin’ late, I think! He said to head out with you, and he’d go home on his own! So it’s just us tonight!”

“Oh.” Takato blinked, but couldn’t help the smile that bubbled up onto his face. He liked that. “Alright, alright. Guess I’ll have to listen to you talk my ear off like old times, then!”

“Hey, I can go back and get Kenta! He likes my talking!” Hirokazu argues, but the smile is on his face, too.

Despite what one would think, Hirokazu and Takato were friends before Hirokazu and Kenta were friends.

“Well, that’s Kenta. And Kenta’s weird.” Takato says, tossing his skateboard onto the ground. Hirokazu follows suit, and they begin heading home.

“...Geeze, it has been a while since it was just us two, huh, Takato?” Hirokazu says, a few minutes into their ride. “I mean, Kenta and Juri are great, but well - brings back memories, y’know?”

Takato raises an eyebrow, turning his head to look at his longest time friend. “What, memories of you talking my ear off in the hospital?”

“Hah, I guess that’s what would come to mind first, yeah!” Hirokazu rubs the back of his head, a dumb grin on his face that only barely hid the strain thinking about it brought to him. “...It did mean a lot to me back then, you know? And it still does.”

Takato can’t help the burning that climbs up his face - both on his skin and in his eyes and throat.

Some eight odd years ago, Hirokazu had been in a car accident. No one was sure he’d ever wake up, or recover. So Takato had spent his time in his room, talking to Hirokazu and drawing him things, until he’d finally woken up.

And then, Takato spent every day going over so Hirokazu would have somebody to talk to, the situation not doing anything to dampen his excitable, talkative personality.

It was certainly what cemented their friendship.

Takato was honestly sure Hirokazu had forgotten.

“G-geeze,” He choked out, his throat tight. “Warn me a bit before you talk like that, okay?”

“Haha, alright, alright!” Hirokazu looked at him with a wide smile, then sped up his board to cut ahead. “Come on, if we don’t hurry, we won’t be home before dark!”

“Alright, alright!”

When Takato did make it home - he and Hirokazu having split up to head to their own homes - he set to work on clearing up his homework. After his homework, he had to make dinner, and then work on his witchcraft homework.

Which, in reality, was less about practically casting the spell, and more so about recording the structure down over and over again until he could reliably reconstruct it on the fly.

So Takato would forgive himself for dozing off and falling asleep on his tenth sketch of the pattern.

…

A bridge, in the night. It crossed over one of the larger bays in town. Normally, you could see all the way to the bottom of the bay, and look up into a cloudless sky.

But tonight it was blanketed in thick fog, oppressive and almost loud in a similar way that TV static hurts to look at. He could almost hear it, burning at his ears and attempting to force its way into his head.

“Where…?”

His own voice was wispy and far away. Quiet, like snow on the wind.

“Looks like we made it in time, Renamon. Our competition is slacking.” A voice cuts through the static, feminine and strong. Cold, like the night air.

A girl wearing a long, brown trench coat over what looked to be a private school uniform stood out from the fog. Her uniform had a dark grey sweater over a white dress shirt, and her skirt was pleated and pressed cleanly over top a pair of leggings.

Scarlet hair like roaring flames hung long past her shoulders, held away from her face in a half ponytail. A pair of sunglasses sat on her brow, and at her hip was a belt holding three card boxes…

And a digivice, ringed in azure blue.

On cue, a shape came forth from the static, standing just behind the girl. Tall, tall, tall, was the first thing Takato thought. A tall, elegant digimon with golden and white fur, an androgynous beauty resembling the kitsune of legend. A beast he could imagine tempting emperors to fall to decadence, unknowable wisdom and wicked power sealed into muscles that were perfectly built for efficiency. And this girl had tamed it, called upon it as a weapon with which to destroy others.

Takato saw this girl and her vigil, and knew to be afraid.

Renamon nodded. “Yes. It seems we’ve made it ahead of them.” Their voice was soft. Not because they needed to be quiet, but because they had no need to speak loudly. Their words would be heard and heeded.

“Whoever said competition breeds excellence was a dirty liar.” The girl sighs. “At this rate, we’ll only be getting the dregs, and you’ll start to slack.” She brushes a bit of hair off of her shoulders. “We’ve already lost that Child that manifested earlier. If this thing isn’t at least an Adult, then we’re wasting our time.”

“If it isn’t an Adult, it’s on the cusp of Evolution.” Renamon agreed, their voice smooth and measured. “Now, if only it weren’t hiding like a coward.”

The redhead sighs. “It’d best be worth it. Meeting our quota is starting to get bothersome - diminishing returns on diminishing encounters? Talk about irritating.”

Renamon makes a sound of agreement, just in time for a tiny digimon to begin attempting an escape from the fog.

Takato could feel his stomach drop.

Renamon’s body coiled like a spring, and they vanished, becoming one with the air.

“Ah, I didn’t even have to give the order. We’re getting more efficient with this.”

The kitsune reappears, slamming all of their body weight into the digimon - a small goblin creature, with green skin.

“A Goburimon. One of the biggest jokes of all Child digimon?” The girl raises an eyebrow, irritation evident in her movements. “Really now. Renamon, don’t even bother with the show.”

“Yes, Ruki.” Renamon nods, kicking off of the goblin’s body and into the air. “Now...rend. Koyousetsu!”

Their body hangs elegantly in the air, floating on the wind as leaves of carved crystal manifest between their arms, and fall like rain, tearing into the Goburimon with vicious, lethal intent.

It’s only because of Takato’s vantage point above them that he notices a red light by the edge of the bridge, in synchronization with the red light that overtakes the Goburimon - enshrouding it entirely.

“Oh, it was ready to Evolve?” The redhead - Ruki - speaks, her voice colored with interest.

Rising from the red light comes a great shape, bearing a great club of carved bone. It lurches to a stand, and lets out a mighty roar as it attempts to slam the club down into Renamon.

However, the fox merely dodges - seemingly hopping on the air itself, landing on the club. They then rush forward, and slam their feet into the giant, red digimon’s face.

“Ah, that’s Fugamon. An Adult level digimon that sacrifices all defense for raw offense. Renamon, this is a joke.” Ruki says, as if reciting from a card.

“Indeed.” Renamon nods, coiling and driving their feet deeper into the digimon’s face. Their paws ignite, becoming clad in azure blue flames. “Vanish. Touhakken!” Their voice echoes with power, as they push with all of their might and rise into the sky off of Fugamon’s face, using it like a vaulting platform. A trail of that same azure light follows Renamon into the air, where they backflip once, before descending again - their entire body wrapped in Touhakken’s flames.

The only thought that can come to Takato’s mind as he sees Renamon pierce through Fugamon and out the other side was -

“Has there ever been a fox Kamen Rider before?”

As that inane thought passes through his head, he realizes that Fugamon’s body was coming apart at the seams - dissolving into blood red pixels and data.

“Renamon, download.”

“Understood.” Renamon turns to Fugamon and holds their arms out. The data suddenly turns, and is sucked into the fox digimon, until nothing is left of Fugamon but the single impact it left upon the bridge with its one and only attack.

“...Well, it wasn’t good for the adrenaline, but new data is new data.” Ruki sighs, adjusting her sunglasses to cover her eyes as the fogbang vanishes into the night. “Come on, Renamon. Let’s go home. Grandma probably has dinner on the table by now.”

Renamon nods, and vanishes, seemingly falling into the shadows. “Understood, Ruki.”

And once more, Takato stirs and awakens, blinking as he realizes he’s been drooling all over his tenth bit of scratch paper.

“Ah, dangit -!”

But the image of that red girl and her partner doesn’t leave his head - nor does the fact that, once again, his dreams had shown him somewhere else.

“Astral projection, nearly impossible for humans, huh…?” Takato thinks, as he turns his head over to his teacher. Blucomon had fallen asleep on his bed, some of his notes haphazardly scattered about. The piece of jade that Ayaka had given him was laid out alongside them as well, and Blucomon had grabbed Takato’s pillow and was clutching it like a lifeline.

“...This witchcraft thing is getting way more complicated than I thought it’d be.”

Spoiler: Author's Note

Sorry this one took a while to come out. We're just about to get into the actual exciting stuff, so thanks for being patient.

I don't know how many people actually read this story, but I really appreciate the people who do!

 

Now that he was no longer groggy, Takato took a look around his room.

He was pleasantly surprised to see that his teacher had done what he had promised he would - made a planter and sourced herbs for it, somehow. It was one perfectly sized to his tiny balcony, meaning it was wide, tall, and just deep enough for one row of herbs.

Luckily, he had thought ahead and grabbed a small bag of dirt from the alley on his way inside, and so he decided to take a break from his copying and start filling.

Takato was rather impressed by the variety his teacher had gotten - basil, cilantro, and parsley, alongside various others. He wasn’t sure how well they’d all grow together in one pot - but presumably witchcraft would help with it.

Thinking about witchcraft, of course, brought him back to his strange dreams.

“You know, two out of two of the people I’ve dreamt about have been battle freaks with red hair,” he thinks absently. “Do I just have a type?”

Now that made him uncomfortable to think about, and he knew Hirokazu would blow a gasket if he were to voice that.

“...Though, that boy was…” He shakes his head before he can put a word to that.

“N-nevermind…”

Before he knew it, he had planted all of the small cuttings of herbs into the planting box, and had set it up on his balcony. He still had to get some water for it, but it looked promising.

“...Phew. That looks good.” He smiled, proud of himself as he wiped his hands off. “Didn’t even make much of a mess, either!”

It was rather late at night now, as well, so…

“Hey, teacher!” He called, turning to his bed just in time to watch Blucomon yelp and jump, casting blankets and pillows in all directions - the icy dragon nearly slamming into the ceiling. “I’m going to be getting ready for bed, so you need to get into your bed. I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you!”

“Gghg -! Why can’t you just let your teacher have a comfy bed, Takato?!” Blucomon hisses, rubbing his head. “...Fine, I’ll get my closet together. You’re lucky it’s a wonderful, roomy closet, else I would demand compensation for my suffering! My closet-bound suffering!”

“...You mean the free bread isn’t enough?”

“...I rescind my demands for compensation.”

With a soft laugh, Takato goes to the bathroom to prepare for bed - and sleeps well, without any dreams to speak of.

The next morning dawns easily enough, though Takato’s never been much of an early riser. The nap he’d caught before bed, followed by some extra work, made his sleep both come and stay easier.

He was able to get up, wake up his teacher, water his new planter, say hello to his dad unloading a new flour shipment, and make breakfast in easy time. Then, he got his stuff together and made it to his meeting with Hirokazu and Kenta with time to spare.

It was an easy morning.

He felt lighter, somehow.

“Maybe this magic thing really is good for me?”

His teacher, having shed his power into an ice cube tray to take on the form of Hiyarimon once more, gave a small running commentary that Takato had to stop himself from chuckling or yelling at him for. He didn’t need his friends to think he was even crazier than they already probably thought he was!

“So, Takato, did you have anymore dreams about weird boys?” Hirokazu asked, curiosity on his face. “I need to know who to look out for, especially if Itou’s stalking you now.”

Takato winced, waiting for Kenta to cut in and tease him about whatever his answer could be - only to blink as he realized there wasn’t the needling commentary from the bespectacled boy.

The blue haired boy was staring off into space, a look of something between concentration and concern on his face.

“...Kenta? You okay over there?” He asked.

A startled jump causes Kenta to nearly drop his cards all across the platform they were sitting on - only barely holding onto them. “H-huh?! G-geeze, don’t scare me like that, Takato!”

Takato felt himself sweat a bit. “Uh...sure. You alright, though? You haven’t really spoken much…”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve been staring into space since we met up, Kenta!” Hirokazu adds. “You nearly knocked over an old lady on the way here!”

“I did not -!” Kenta counters, before sighing. “Sorry, just - a weird thing happened on the way home last night. Got me all mixed up, you know?”

Takato barely fights down a wince. He has a very good idea of ‘weird things at night’ by now, including but not limited to battle crazed redheads and ice dragons appearing in his room. Hopefully, that didn’t extend over to Kenta’s problems.

“Seriously, one ice dragon was bad enough.”

Hiyarimon took this moment to cut in, whispering in Takato’s ear. “Perhaps you should offer to go home with him tonight, Takato. In case it happens again.”

Nodding, Takato speaks up. “Then maybe we should go home with you tonight, just in case. If you saw something weird once, it might happen again.”

“N-no, no, it’s fine. Really.” Kenta shakes his head. “...If you want, I guess. But I don’t want to put you guys out if I have another late school day.”

Hirokazu wraps an arm around Kenta’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “No way, man! You’re our best bud, it’s never gonna be trouble!”

Kenta sighed, but smiled - before laughing. “You guys really are the best…!”

That easy morning meeting led into an easy enough school day, as they raced to the school building together, managing to make it before the bell could ring.

Classes were simple.

Notes went easily.

Maybe that was why the sudden shrill, ear piercing screams of the fire alarm caught him so off guard.

“What in the world…?!” Their teacher hissed, before clapping her hands together. “Please stand up and leave the building in an orderly fashion! We need to evacuate as per the drills, everyone!”

Takato swallows, picking up his bag as he follows everyone else.

“The temperature throughout the school grounds is normal - no actual fires as far as I can tell. But this is pretty convenient - you can probably get out of class today!” Hiyarimon whispered on the wind into Takato’s ears.

“Convenient, but anxiety inducing…” Takato agreed in his own head, as he followed out of the classroom.

“...Wait, hold on -” He looked around, spotting Hirokazu just behind him in the line. “Hirokazu, Hirokazu!”

“H-hey, Takato? What’s going on - we can’t lag behind too much or we’ll get yelled at…!” The brunette hissed back at him, as Takato pulled him aside.

Takato rolled his eyes - since when could Hirokazu tell him off for the teacher getting upset, honestly. “Whatever. Where’s Kenta? As soon as we left the classroom…”

“...Now that you mention it…” Hirokazu looks around, frowning. “...He’s okay, probably, but he must have gone off somewhere.”

“Where -?”

“Matsuda, Shiota!”

Both boys froze, before standing up straight and saluting their teacher. “Coming!”

Hiyarimon, inside of Takato’s bag, could only sigh.

“Why doesn’t Takato listen to me like that? I’m just as respectable of a teacher, surely!” The small little ice ball thinks as he crosses his arms - pouting, as much as he’d argue against such a designation. “Although...this smell in the air, and this signature...”

...

“There was another digimon in the school building today.”

Takato chokes on his ice cream, having bought two small sundaes for himself and his teacher to share after school had been dismissed to investigate the fire alarm.

“In fact, I’m positive that it was the one who pulled the fire alarm today.” Blucomon continues - having reclaimed his shed power in order to properly move about town with Takato for the day. The two were tucked into a wide, hooded platform that led onto a slide at one of the various playsets near the school. “They left a trail of cold air behind them as they moved through the school, and I was able to track its progress while we evacuated. It matched the map of the school building I found in your bag!”

“W-who gave you permission to look in my bag?!” Takato hissed, holding it closer to his chest as he took another bite of strawberry ice cream. “And what do you mean another digimon?”

“Counting myself, there’s typically four signatures within your school building. This new one would make a fifth signature. Only one of those three other signatures is an active digimon - the other two are concealing their positions somehow.” Blucomon tilts his head. “As far as I can tell, the fact I can pick up any signature at all is because of a bleed effect. They’ve been around so long that their power has bled off of them into the surroundings.”

A frown settles on Takato’s brow. “So, what...two Witch digimon, then…?”

“Likely, especially if they’re concealing their position. Possession, illusions, there are many options for doing so. But that’s not exactly important. One of them doesn’t hide its position at all, so presumably it has a bond to one of the human students.”

Takato rubs his temples - and this time it isn’t from a brain freeze. “So what’s that fifth one, then?”

“I’ve no idea. But we may be lucky, and it’ll be nothing to worry about.”

Elsewhere…

“Gotta get out, gotta get out, gotta get out -!”

There was so much noise. There were so many people, running and yelling and panicking. There was ringing, ringing, ringing in his ears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry -!” He screamed in his own head, as he ran, ran, ran up the steps. He had to leap, his legs were shorter than theirs, and his body wasn’t made for it. He had had to jump for that white lever, too - and he’d made everything start moving!

“Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad!” His friend was here, his friend had asked him not to come. But he had anyway, and he’d messed up, and his friend would get so mad at him -!

He had to get outside!

Just away, away, away!

He needed quiet, open air!

Finally, he reached the top of the staircase, and threw open the door - seeing the open, blue sky below the wide rooftop.

“Ah...ah, ah!” He panted as he came to a stop, falling onto his butt as he held his large messenger bag close. His tail softly wagged, now that he was away from the noise and the people.

“I really stepped in it this time…” He muttered, holding his bag close to his chest. “I hope he isn’t mad at me…”

“Y-you bet I’m upset with you!” A voice called from behind him, making him flinch. The voice was interspersed with panting, and he sounded at least a bit angry.

He stood up, turning to face his friend, Kenta. “I-I’m so sorry! I know you said not to come to school with you, but -!”

“But?!” Kenta cut him off. “You could have waited outside if you really wanted to see! But coming inside and pulling the fire alarm, Ilya?!”

Ilya hid his face behind his huge bag, as best as he could. “...’m sorry, Kenta...I got curious, and...yeah…”

The glasses-wearing boy covered his face with one hand, before looking down at the digimon.

Ilya was, very clearly, a digimon. One could be forgiven for thinking him an Agumon - with his large mouth, claws, and feet, and tiny little tail. But the colors were wrong - a pastel, baby blue instead of yellow, with big, wide sapphire blue eyes. He was a Yukiagumon, a snowy version of his fire breathing cousins.

What divided him further from his own brethren, however, was the large messenger bag he carried - full of books, notebooks, writing supplies, and other such spare ends completely overflowing from its depths. Not to mention the tiny little wings that floated above his back.

Kenta and this little ice dragon, who had shyly informed him that he was named Ilya, had met the night before.

And now…

“It’s fine. Just...let me know, if you really want to come, okay?” Kenta got down onto one knee to rub Ilya’s head. “You’re more than welcome to come, but I just wanted you to stay safe at home.”

“I’m sorry…” Ilya sniffs, rubbing his nose. “I’m already the worst partner...I messed up so bad!”

Kenta could feel the weight of the pink rimmed digivice in his bag as Ilya referred to him as his partner. “No, you’re not. You’re my partner, so that means I’m always going to be there for you. Alright?”

“...O-okay. Thank you, Kenta…”

…

“Irregardless of such things, we should still use our time wisely, now that we suddenly find ourselves with so much of it!” Blucomon continued. “That means we can finally begin practicing your actual casting, instead of your rune construction!”

“Finally!” Takato let out a cheer, his ice cream container set aside now that he’d finished it. “We’ve gone through the process before, so I think I can feel it out.”

Blucomon raised an eyebrow at his student’s confidence, before nodding. “Well, if you think you can manage it without my coaching, please, go on ahead.”

Without a response, Takato held his hand out, open palm facing upwards, and focused.

Magic belonging to the Greater School of Wind most closely resembled C++ from his quick research. It was an object based coding structure, utilizing runes to command things conjured and created from it. It was good for both precision control and for ‘fire and forget’ attacks in equal measure.

He could understand why it was such a valued school as a secondary, but also found it easy enough to understand the basics.

The basic concept of the ‘Bolverkr’ spell his teacher had created was the conjuration of a wind object, which would rapidly increase its speed and size variables until the system crashed around it and it would disperse. He could place a timer variable in the circle’s center, or a true-false trigger that he could activate remotely.

The rest of the spell system was runes that would check its size, position, and rotation speed and gradually adjust them to match the variables that were set when the rune was drawn.

With that in mind, Takato began to construct the spell in his head - trying to keep it completely clear in order to properly conjure the runic circle.

Above his fingers, a bright green light slowly began to etch itself into the air. First, a circle, followed by a series of runes within it. A second circle was drawn inside, as Takato began to construct the finer details of the spell within his head.

“Just a bit more, and -”

“Ne, Jian! I think he might actually be possessed!” A voice cut through the air, shattering Takato’s focus as the spell unwound - not even a hint of wind being conjured this early in the process. “No human can do something like that, right?”

Takato turned, startled, to see a boy with dark blue hair, and eyes like a gathering thunderstorm staring him down - looking no less intimidating while standing atop playground equipment.

On his shoulder was a white and green rabbit like digimon - Terriermon, his knowledge of cards told him.

The boy snorted, lightly tapping his partner on the forehead. “Terriermon, we’re in public.”

“Li then, Li! I’m pretty sure we were right!” Terriermon spoke, hopping off of the boy’s shoulder to float to the ground. “What do you have to say for yourself, icy-spicy? Possessing a human’s a pretty nasty thing to do!”

Blucomon tilted his head. “Possession? I assure you, this is my student! I’ve been teaching him the arts of Witchcraft, as any good teacher would!”

“...Eh?” Terriermon blinked, looking back to ‘Jian’ with a raised eyebrow. The boy with storm clouds in his eyes - mesmerising storm clouds - could only shrug.

But by the time they turned back to the ‘Witchcraft’ duo, they had already run for their escape route - Takato sprinting down the slide as Blucomon leapt off and ran after him alongside it.

“Wait, we weren’t done here!” Jianliang called, frustration clear in his voice. “What in the world…?”

“Witchcraft, huh?” Terriermon said as he hopped onto Jianliang’s shoulders. “That’s some high level foreign stuff, especially for a human to try and learn.”

“...Let’s go after them. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Meanwhile,

Takato and Blucomon ran as fast as they could, following the trail to a larger park in the area.

“Good thinking, my student, picking a location with two exit points!” Blucomon explained, panting heavily as he ran as fast as his short legs could carry him. He wasn’t used to running in this form, and while he could conjure up great power, it had been a long time since he’d did much activity as Blucomon.

Takato didn’t say anything - not wanting to admit that he’d simply picked it because it was a spot out of the sun.

Instead, he comes to a sliding stop as they leave the treeline out into a larger stretch of green grass. The early afternoon sky was still bright blue, and the sun was warm on them both.

“It was a nice place to study, though…” Takato says, hands on his knees as he gathers his breath. “I think there’s a shed around here that we could probably hide out in instead, but it’s less ideal…”

“Let’s...gather ourselves, first.” Blucomon suggests, trying to hide his own depleted stamina as he starts walking further across the field.

With a nod, Takato follows him. “So...do you know who that digimon was?”

“That was one of the typical signatures I mentioned earlier. That boy must be his partner, though I did not see a device like the one you have on him.” A shrug from the ice dragon. “Presumably it’s stored in his bag or under his coat somewhere, but I quite frankly do not care much about the details of other people’s things.”

Takato can’t help the snort that comes out from his nose. “That didn’t stop you from looking through my bag for my things!”

“Don’t speak so rudely to your teacher, Takato! Besides, it was just a book or two! I had to move it while getting comfortable. Even as a slime, it’s difficult to find a comfortable spot on top of books and school supplies…” He crosses his arms in a pout.

Before Takato can respond, Blucomon suddenly tenses, and just out of the corner of his eye, he can see a golden shape ripple through the air, approaching Blucomon like a speeding bullet…

Only for their body to impact against a shield.

“I’m sorry, but I do not have any open appointments at the moment!” Blucomon says, voice pitched high and friendly, even as he holds his claws up in the air as if holding a drawn bow. Between him and the golden shape - Renamon, his brain recalls from the night before - are three thick, layered magic circles. The outermost one is white as snow, the central one blue like the deep sea, and the one closest to Blucomon green like leaves rustling in the wind. “I’m with a student currently, you see. I cannot interrupt such an important time in his development for the whims of a child!”

Renamon growls, cowling their body and hefting their leg high into an axe kick to shatter the shield, but to no avail.

“Careful, careful! This is delicate spellwork!” Blucomon says, as the inner two circles contort, becoming cylinders that rotate like an arrow in his back hand. “If I let go, I could fire and spear you through!”

With a snarl, Renamon vaults from Blucomon’s shield, flipping backwards to land soundlessly in the grass as their partner walks out to meet them.

Ruki raises an eyebrow, looking at Blucomon with disdain. “Nice lightshow, but you’re still just a Child. What stopped you this time, Renamon? Child levels are supposed to be easy.”

“...Ruki, I don’t think that’s a regular Child digimon.” Renamon speaks, already getting into a ready position.

Blucomon smiles, still holding the spellwork. “That is correct! Quite far from it, in fact. I’m an Ultimate level digimon, normally. I’ve just changed to a much more compact form - but that makes me no less dangerous. In fact...let me show you!”

And he releases the spell, and allows the cylinder to fly through the snow white spell circle.

It soars into the air with a thunderous crack of force, exploding into wind and clouds above them, as it begins to snow in the small park, temperature dropping until Takato can just barely feel his teeth start to chatter.

“I am nobody less than Hexeblaumon. The original Hexeblaumon, as I bear no name! I am a Master rank Witch, with Masteries in two Greater Elemental Schools. I am a Researcher at Mount Brocken, little fox. Do you know where that is?” Blucomon raises an eyebrow, a pleased and proud smile coming to his lips as he sees Renamon flinch and tighten her muscles.

“Ruki, we need to pull back. Now.” Renamon grips their tamer’s shoulder, only to be shoved off by the redhead, who glares at Blucomon directly.

“I don’t care who you are. Renamon and I detected a powerful Digimon, and we came here to battle. I don’t care what your certifications are!” She says, her own pride coming to rise up like a vile serpent from the seas. “We’ll match you.”

“Tsk. I’m sorry, but I’m not here to play with children or Children.” Blucomon says, waving them both off as he crosses his arms. “After all, an Ultimate level, humiliating a Child? What would my colleagues think? But if it’s a battle you want, I know how to give you one.”

Takato blinks as his teacher turns to him.

“You may only battle me if you are able to defeat my student in a duel!”

“Eh?!”

Spoiler: Author's Note

So I lied about this being the first major action chapter. But we are certainly about to come over that hill.

This chapter introduced a good couple of things, and I'm really excited to see everyone's thoughts on all of them!

 

After a few moments of Blucomon holding his pose and not following up his declaration with a sike, everyone abruptly realized -

“Oh, this dragon’s actually serious.”

...Though, some had that thought in less kind words.

The voice that ultimately split the silence, however…

“Alright. Sure, why the hell not.”

Was Ruki’s.

Takato and Renamon both look at her in shock, while she simply shrugs and walks forwards. “Renamon is the strongest - which means she knows how to fight weaklings,” Like you went unsaid but absolutely heard. “We know how to pull a punch. You’ll just be knocked out and have some nice dreams while we delete your partner and be on our way.”

Renamon stiffens, but nods, turning to face Takato and getting into a ready position - their entire body low to the ground.

“She’s going to try and rush me,” He thinks quickly, “Aiming for the head to knock me out instantly.”

Then he realizes that she’s actually going for it.

He turns back to Blucomon - and sees the little dragon throwing him a thumbs up.

“Hold on, are we really doing this -?!” He demands of Renamon, teeth chattering and body shaking as he pulls up a weak defensive stance. He’s a chubby middle schooler whose only exercise is skateboarding, by gods’ sakes! Renamon was certainly the only other sane person here, but -!

“If Ruki asks it of me, then I shall do everything within my power to perform it. If that means simply knocking out a child...well, easy enough.” Renamon gives him an honest to god smirk, before letting their entire body coil with powerful force, and launches themself forward.

Takato only barely manages to hold up his hand to block - and he can tell immediately that he would have been knocked out if he hadn’t. Hell, he’s surprised his arms didn’t shatter under the power behind that kick, as he’s knocked back and away. He skids at first, but then falls onto his butt and bounces softly the last few feet.

Immediately, his mind tells him he needs to move, and he rolls over - just barely dodging Renamon’s fist impacting the ground next to his head.

He rolls backwards, and manages to get to his feet with a scramble - only barely dodging Renamon’s kicks as he keeps running, running, running -!

He fails to run fast enough.

Renamon’s clawed foot impacts his side, knocking out all of the wind from his body as he’s flung far from his path, ragdolling across the ground.

“...You’re lasting longer than I expected,” Renamon spoke with a small amount of respect leaking into their voice. “Get up.”

Takato stumbles to standing, coughing heavily as he tries to get his breath back in. He knows he’s probably going to be bruising something awful, but for once he’s happy for the body he has. That softness probably stopped him from getting his ribs shattered.

“There’s no way I can keep up with her if I just keep trying to run. I’ll just eat dirt, and this snow isn’t helping any…” Takato thinks to himself. “...But I’m not a fighter.”

“I’m a Witch,” he mutters, pulling his hands up into a proper boxing stance that he’s seen Hirokazu do so often that it’s imprinted into his mind.

This time, when Renamon comes for him, he dodges by moving closer to her, and around and past her - weaving quickly.

“Creating file. Constructing circle heading. Constructing initiative functions.”

Takato manages to dodge under one of Renamon’s powerful roundhouse kicks, keeping on his feet even as the air distorts from the force of it.

“Initiative functions written. Building task. Defining variables - initial position, rotation speed, rotation exponential -!”

He barely manages to keep his thought process up as he blocks Renamon’s fist with his arms, gritting his teeth.

“Task constructed! Setting variable values! Loop task, break point set!”

Takato’s next dodge has him go forward and down, copying a motion he’s seen Hirokazu do countless times in the ring.

“Initialize!” He roars, as he puts his entire body weight and momentum into the motion of driving his fist into Renamon’s jaw.

A wicked uppercut that would certainly knock a human’s teeth out, but would do nothing short of annoy a digimon.

But the punch wasn’t the point.

Spiralling above Takato’s fist is a raging ball of wind, suspended over a forest green magic circle.

“BOLVERKR!”

The spiralling wind unfurls, and Takato feels raw power run through his veins, ice flooding his body as he takes in the ambient snow spell conjured by his teacher, and forces it into his spell. It burns, icy hot inside of his body, attempting to shred him from the inside out. It doesn’t want to fit, doesn’t want to flow, but he forces it, with all of the will he can manage.

The spell turns icy blue, and erupts - taking the snow from the ground, the chill in the air, the clouds in the sky into itself, as it becomes an earth shaking, meters wide tornado of energy, spiralling high into the sky and sending Renamon flying up and away.

Then it ends. The magic and data disperses, and Takato feels bone achingly empty, even as Renamon falls out of the air and lands with a solid crack and thud.

Takato can barely stand himself, woozy and shaking as he tries to keep standing.

“I...I did it…” He mutters, looking back to Blucomon, who is running towards him with pride on his face.

He can also see...Jian, and his partner, running closer and closer.

“Guess they’re gonna have to find out.” Is his last thought, before he collapses into Blucomon’s arms, eyes closing as blackness floods his vision and he is taken by that cloying emptiness.

…

“What the hell was that -?!” A voice screamed from the treeline.

He’d approached to see where the huge data surge had come from, and came to see a human wipe out a digimon! And not just any digimon, either. Renamon, the monstrosity that haunted every Wild One’s nightmares as they attempted to make a living in the harsh streets of Shinjuku.

“No way that some human brat could pull that off...No freakin’ way!” He yells, hopping up and down with clenched fists, making the tree he was standing in shake up and down.

He grits his teeth and glares across the clearing, as the boy collapses into the digimon’s arms. “Can’t believe...can’t believe someone like that can do that!”

He can feel his body burning, rage consuming his common sense. Just like always.

He’d burn like fire, until he collapsed into ashes, and had to get up and try again.

But Impmon was used to that. Used to starting over from nothing.

“...That was a spell circle, though.” He recognized it - his own Infernal Summoning abilities worked off of basic spell casting. “So he’s...using digital magic? But I didn’t recognize what kind! Damnit, damnit!!!!”
He grits his teeth, and adjusts his scarf. “Well...if even someone as weak and pathetic as a human can learn it, then that means I can manage it, too!”

He’ll just have to make that rotten dragon teach him, too!

…

With Jianliang’s help, Blucomon manages to get Takato to a safer position than out in the open. Luckily, Ruki and Renamon had left as soon as they realized the situation was not what they had expected.

Now, they were within a shed of concrete, out of the way of the main path, but well covered.

“...So, answers sound like a good thing to share right about now.” Jianliang speaks, looking down at Blucomon with an eyebrow raised.

The dragon digimon sighs, before nodding. “Very well then. To put it simply - my student is a human Witch. The first of your kind that is able to harness data to enact change upon the world!” He sighs. “Which is...a bit of a problem, you could say!”

“Because humans don’t have any method of producing data themselves, and our world is material.” Jianliang says, following.

“Exactly. The method by which a digimon produces data varies based on where they’re from, but it all generally boils down to the presence of a digicore that produces data for its body and abilities.” Blucomon explains, as he focuses and creates a diagram of a floating sphere. “In some places, they convert food into data through their metabolisms. In the Southern Quadrant - where your little friend is from,” He says, gesturing at Terriermon, “Food helps to accelerate the recovery of the body by being converted into additional data.”

“Wait, then how was Fluffy here able to do all of that fancy stuff?!” Terriermon finally asks, hopping off of Jianliang’s shoulder. “That tornado sure looked like magic to me!”

“It was!” Blucomon says, voice fit to bursting with pride. “But it was something I enabled. My opening spell created an immense amount of ambient data for him to pull from. He has the presence of circuits and diodes within his body to allow the construction and direction of spells, but nothing to construct them with. So long as there’s another digimon who has been using attacks, or something similar, he can manage...theoretically.”

“Didn’t stop him from eating dirt.” Terriermon quips.

Jianliang lightly kicks Terriermon with the heel of his shoe.

“H-hey! I’m right, I’m right!”

“That’s because while he has the method for shaping data, it does not mean he’s able to do it in large scales like what happened moments ago.” Blucomon crosses his arms. “He took in every bit of ambient data created by my spell, and forced it through his body into the tiny Bolverkr container - something certainly not made to handle such a thing. Neither is his flesh made to handle such a thing.”

“The human body is controlled using electric signals triggered by chemicals,” Jianliang points out, his head spiralling with thoughts and possibilities about this strange brunett he’d suddenly found himself saving. “How can this be much different?”

Blucomon scoffs. “Scale, scale, scale! I’ll say it again, it’s about scale! Just because your body is controlled by electrical signals doesn’t mean I can safely route a lightning bolt through your skull!”

“Then why don’t you just drop this whole thing?” Terriermon says, crossing his arms. “If this kid is going to blow his brains out one of these days, might as well not give him the chance!”

“Terriermon!”

“I’m just saying -!”

“My student has the potential to be a great Witch.” Blucomon says, immediately drawing their attention to him. “If not one of the greatest. In spite of his disabilities, I can already tell that he has the drive, if not the natural talent. He doesn’t need the talent, because he’ll push past every wall in his way.”

“Even if he lacks the same talents as the average Witch, even if he lacks the natural capabilities? He’ll surpass them. He has no access to parallel thought to thread his spells and strategy simultaneously. He has no digicore with which to metabolize and produce data. These, and many others, are reasons for him to quit. But he won’t.”

“These are insurmountable walls that no digimon has ever had to face, that there is no way for us to solve in a traditional manner.” His expression hardens. “That is why I’m here as his teacher. Because Takato deserves to become the best he can, and if we cannot surpass these barriers - we shall simply go around them. Because he’s going to be great.”

Just as Blucomon finishes, there’s the sound of clothing rustling behind him - as Takato awakens.

He blinks his red eyes, and looks up through bleary vision towards the shapes he can just barely make out. Blucomon, for sure...and then the tallest one was -?

“Where…? Did I do it…?” His voice is shaky, and his throat is sore. He could go for a drink.

He blinks, and his vision takes a moment to clear. But he sees his teacher looking down on him, a smile on his face.

“That you did. I’m so, so very proud of you, Takato.”

Takato can feel his face heat up bright red at those words, so he pushes past it to look at Jianliang and Terriermon - his expression turning more guarded. “...Are you two going to try and fight us, too?”

Terriermon snorts. “After that show? No thanks! I like flying under my own power, thanks!”

Jianliang shrugs, a soft expression on his face. “Fighting wasn’t really in the cards, really. It’s...not something I like to do, unless I have to.”

“Alright, then...I guess we’re good…?” Takato pushes himself to sit up, wincing as he feels his body ache with sharp pains. “I definitely overdid it…”

“Jianliang. Li Jianliang, and this is Terriermon.” Jianliang holds out his hand to shake.

Takato takes it, even as he tries to figure out how to say that. “Matsuda Takato, and my teacher is Blucomon. It’s nice to meet you, um...Jenrya...Jan...Janyu…”

His face contorts as he tries to say his name.

“Just ‘Jian’ is fine. It’s probably easier.” He says with a bit of a sigh, but there’s also a smile to it, so Takato presumes he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Jian, then.” He smiles. “It’s a nice name to say, when it’s like that!”

Unnoticed by Takato, Jian’s face takes on a deep flush.

“Now, I have a few things to talk to you about, Takato.” Blucomon says. “And this is incredibly important.”

“I’ve already explained it to Jianliang, but your body isn’t made for powerful spells like that. Not yet, anyway. If you intend to pursue spellcasting, you’ll need to learn to carefully measure how much you’re channeling - and from where.”

Takato brow furrows.

Seeing his confusion, his teacher continues. “Your body cannot produce the data necessary for Witchcraft on its own. As such, I’ve been providing you with what you need to cast - but in large data spaces, that might be dangerous.”

“I see…” Takato murmurs. That would explain...certainly a lot of what had happened up until now. And yet…

His expression becomes stronger, and he nods.

“Then I’ll just have to work beyond it. Do you have any suggestions, teacher?”

Blucomon brings his hands together and opens his mouth into a wide, draconic grin - full of shark-like teeth. “Oh, many indeed! We’ll have to pursue many of them over our time together - but this is still rather early in your education! You will, of course, have to work out many of the theoreticals, and do much homework and studying, but we’ll surely reach the point where you can be considered great!”

Takato facefaulted violently, the mention of more homework more than doing him in.

Elsewhere…

“My, my...so that’s his deal, hmm…?” A girl’s voice speaks, as she carefully rolls a piece of brilliant, golden jade over in her hand. It was roughly the shape of a boxcutter, covered in softly pulsing runes. “I was expecting Matsuda to be more experienced, or another player. But for him to be a complete greenhorn…”

She smiles, as she places the jade onto her vanity. “That’s fun. Very, very fun. I suppose I’ll give him time, then! If he was just another player, I’d squish him. But this is the type of game that I can’t get elsewhere.”

“When you have an overwhelming advantage, it's logical to take upon yourself the tiniest amount of risk.” She flips a long tail of strawberry blonde hair over one shoulder as she stands up and crosses her room. “A game where you know the outcome from the start isn’t very much fun. A world of unified theories becomes so dull without a touch of magic.”

Ayaka Itou stares at herself in the mirror, blinking honey-golden eyes once to reveal eyes as shining blue as the open skies.

“Isn’t that right, Matsuda?”

From her vanity, she can still hear them speaking, the golden jade connected to the green jade still resting in Takato’s bag.

“Let’s play a game.”

Spoiler: Author's Note

Sorry this one took a long time to put up.

I ended up writing a fic for a different site elsewhere, so that took up some time.

Hope you like it, though!

 

In the dark of night, long after the evening sun had set on that day…

Towering above Shinjuku is the Tokyo Government Building, two massive towers connected at their centers. Various offices, departments, and groups were situated here. Further, there were even cafes and restaurants set up in the government building for the sake of its workers.

Within the tower, however, was a secret.

A segment of the government that existed without knowledge of the public, dedicated to the pursuit, quarantine, and handling of one thing.

Digital threats.

This group, known as HYPNOS, was formed by the government as a reaction to the manifestation of anomalous data packets in the real world. Strange, digital creatures that could manifest in the material world. Digimon, as some called it.

In the eyes of HYPNOS, they were simply called “Wild Ones”.

Other strange, anomalous packets of data are also monitored, due to the craftiness of beasts and the unpredictable nature of ‘life evolved from random numbers’. This is why HYPNOS is often active through the night.

When the first strange, anomalous data packet appeared two days ago, HYPNOS was put on alert. Not a Wild One, but a strange other sort of manifestation that could not be traced. The sort that they had traced only a few times before.

When another anomalous packet appeared, a massive one which they could not even begin to quantify, their alert changed to panic and emergencies - until the packet shed so much data that it was even smaller than the average. A strange event that left them concerned, even as it manifested into a small, likely Child type, Wild One.

And then, earlier that day…

“Do we have any leads on the origin of the cyclone we saw today?” A man with hair like straw asks, clicking a lighter once. Twice. Three times.

“Most eyewitness reports believe it was a trick of the light, a mirage.” A red haired woman responded, first. “It possessed traits akin to an EMP - causing all recording devices to produce only static and noise.”

“Rei-rei’s right.” The woman sitting in the chair to her back continues. “It’s only due to our tech’s resistances to digital interference that we were able to avoid it - and even then, our imaging is spotty and pixelated in parts. We can’t get a clean reading on its nature.”

The redhead - Reika - types out something on her console, changing the image on some of the screens that surrounded the work room from floor to ceiling. “However, we have managed to analyze some of it. We know for certain that the cyclone was not created by a Wild One of any sort.”

“Elaborate.”

“The source of the cyclone does not return to our systems as a digital lifeform, but rather as what we can only assume is an ‘organic circuit board’.” Reika says. “That is to say…”

“Our wind machine is a person!” Megumi agrees.

The blond man clicks his lighter closed. “A person?”

“Indeed. The source of the event could only have been a person, as it matches no possible matches to any sort of digital lifeform - Wild One or otherwise.” Reika says. “We cannot verify age, identity, or the why-how. Simply that a person capable of using abilities akin to a Wild One exists.”

There’s a heavy silence that builds, slowly over the course of a minute.

“Is it related to the events of five years ago?”

With that sentence, the tension floods into the entire room, the floodgates opened as invisible weight falls onto everybody’s shoulders.

The events of five years ago. The day when everybody in this department realized the importance of their mission and role.

“...As far as we can tell, it isn’t the same person, and we did not see any data packets that would have led to a repeat of those events related to this person’s records.” Megumi finally speaks, her high energy completely smothered.

A lighter click. “It doesn’t matter. We cannot allow a repeat of five years ago. Assume the worst, and if we’re wrong - then let us get there too early rather than too late.”

Because nobody in this room, in this department, wanted to ever repeat the events of five years ago.

“I refuse to let another Digimon replace a dead child.”

And Takato awoke with a choked scream.

What?

A Digimon…killed a child?

A Digimon became a child?

He presses his hand to his chest, trying to calm his roaring heartbeat, hammering in his chest like oppressive thunder.

Where was that? Who were those people?

The Government Building? A government sponsored organization for the hunting of Digimon? This was known?

He…he was known. Digimon were considered dangerous, and they had hurt a kid before. So they wouldn’t…they wouldn’t believe him.

Takato’s life was in danger if he got found out.

But what did he know?

“The head is a blond man in a dark suit. I couldn’t see his face because of the glasses and the darkness. But…I can look for him more…”

He can keep himself safe by looking for them. By doing this…astral projection, Blucomon had called it. If he could master it, he could stay ahead of them. Not get caught, and even protect Jian and his partner. Protect Blucomon, and maybe even Ruki and Renamon.

Though that sounded like…a lot of sleeping.

Maybe he should just focus on keeping himself safe for a while.

Though, it was hard to focus when voices were arguing outside his window!

…Wait, it’s almost two AM. Why are there voices outside of his window?

Standing up abruptly, knocking his sheets off of his bed as he goes to the window, pulling aside the curtains. There were two people - ‘people?’ - on the other side, one standing on his balcony, and the other hanging off of his balcony.

The one standing on his balcony was very clearly a digimon, a child-like one with an almost jester-like appearance with purple ears and a red scarf. He was whispering angrily, clearly mad at the other interloper’s presence for some reason or another.

Speaking of the one hanging from his balcony, it seemed to be a boy his age, maybe a year younger, with mousy brown hair, like sparrow’s feathers and dressed in the rattiest sweater Takato had ever seen. While he was balancing on the edge of the balcony, which was caught on his armpits, he was also holding…a flower pot? With two lilies in it?

What?

“Look, I’m tellin’ you, I was here first, so scram!” The digimon hissed, trying to kick the boy off of his balcony.

The boy, for his part, looked rather calm about the entire thing, if a bit disappointed. “But herbs taste good…”

“What?!”

The boy nods. “Plant tax. I can eat one of his herbs. They’ll grow back fast, so it’s fine. Probably.”

“Probably?! Why do you even want these ones?!”

“Because.”

“Because?!”

“Why are you here?” He tilts his head, looking at the digimon with big grey-blue eyes, like a pond’s surface.

The digimon - an Impmon, now that Takato thinks about it - grits his teeth as his face starts to flush. “None of your business! Now SCRAM!” Impmon finally yells, kicking the boy’s arms off of the balcony and making him plummet into the alleyway below.

Takato throws open the window - trying to reach out and grab the boy, but it was already too late.

He fell down into a huge pile of boxes and bags that Takato’s parents were getting ready to take out to the garbage this weekend, filling the alleyway with the sound of crashing cardboard and rustling plastic.

And, a moment later, a potted plant rose out of the rubbish, soon followed by a mop of brown hair. The boy stood up, waved at Takato, and then ran off into the night, just as confusing as he’d arrived.

“GOOD RIDDANCE -!” Impmon yells off after him - just as Takato slams his hand to cover the Digimon’s mouth.

“Could you please be quiet?! I don’t want my parents to think I’m taking home cats again, please…!” Takato hisses, looking at Impmon with a panicked expression. “Please?”

Impmon blinks, before his face contorts into an expression of rage as he opens his mouth wide and bites down on Takato’s hand!

“Ghghgkgh -! You little -!” Takato grits his own teeth, as he glares at the Digimon. Well, if a Digimon was around, there should be just enough data around to -!

He drives a Bolverkr coated fist into Impmon’s skull, letting the wind explode outwards and push the digimon hard into the bannister of the balcony.

“Have some manners when you’re visiting someone else’s house, you little turd!” Takato bites back at Impmon, much of his politeness and kindness gone, because it’s two in the morning, he just had a nightmare, and now this little imp wants to be ‘cute’!

“Well I ain’t here to see you, human jerk!” Impmon counters, rubbing his head. “I’m here to see that magic dragon! If he can teach a crapsack human like you how to beat Renamon, then he can teach me, too!”

Takato stops. “You…you want my Teacher? To teach you?” Because…surely that can’t be right.

“What, you think I can’t handle it?!” Impmon glares, poking his red gloved finger into Takato’s chest. “Think I’m too weak, think I’m too small?! Well don’t let your stupid wind magic nonsense go to your head! I’m an actual Digimon, dumbass!”

“Y-yeah, I don’t doubt you. It’s just…my Teacher? Are you sure? He’s kind of…”

“Strict?! Rude?! A taskmaster, an asshole, someone who’ll put me through it?!” Impmon bites each word out, shoving Takato further and further back as he pursues him into the room, floating to keep their height relation. “I! Can! Take! Anything!”

“I’m not sayin you can’t! It’s just that he’s -!”

“He’s what?!”

Takato finally manages to say it. “Insufferable!”

“...Eh?”

“Like, he’s amazing, and really good, but also, he has a terrible attitude! He’s flighty and weird and doesn’t ask before he does things, and he’s kind of out of touch with everything?” Takato’s rambling, now, as his lack of sleep really sets in. “So like, I get it! But also maybe find someone who isn’t insufferable while you can!”

“Mmgh…is my Student talking about me?”

Takato and Impmon both freeze, heads snapping towards the closet door as it slowly opens to reveal Blucomon, rubbing at his eyes with sleep in his expression.

“Speaking my praises, no doubt!” He says, and there’s not even a hint of suspicion that Takato was disparaging him as he fully awakens after a beat.

Thank. God.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Takato nods.

Impmon follows along. “Totes.”

“Mmm, alright.” Blucomon nods. “What are you here for then, little devil creature? Especially so late into my student’s much necessary beauty rest?”

Takato’s eye twitches briefly. “Alright, hold on a minute -”

“Teach me magic, you frosty gecko!” Impmon snaps immediately, crossing his arms. “I’ve got the basics down, but I ain’t something like a Witchelny stooge. I can’t do that fancy construction stuff ya’ll do, and I need to get stronger already! So drop this mop headed kid and train a real digimon!”

There was so much to unpack there.

“Hmm…” Blucomon tilts his head and looks the digimon up and down, stroking his ice bearded chin as he does so. “Yes…you do seem to have natural talent for certain magic, and I can’t deny your drive is endearing. However, I cannot do so!”

Impmon’s eye started twitching, matching Takato’s. “Why not?!”

One icy finger is held up. “Because, for one, I already have a student, and filing for another one is incredibly tedious paperwork that I have no interest in pursuing.” Because of course it came down to laziness. “And two, because you’ll be my student’s student.”

“WHAT?!”

Both Takato and Impmon scream simultaneously - followed immediately by a knock on Takato’s door by his mother.

“Takato, are you okay?!”

He swallowed, before calling back. “Y-yeah, just a bad dream, sorry!”

“Oh…alright. Would you like me to put the teapot on for you?” Already, he could feel his stomach twist because of the sound of his mother’s worry.

Lying was never going to be an easy part of this, but it hurt to feel anyway.

“Y-yeah. Thank you, I love you.”

His mom sighs. “I love you too, and I’ll get it on for a bit. Try not to fall asleep before you turn it off, alright?”

“Yeah, I won’t. I’ll be down in a moment, you just go back to bed, alright?” He hoped she would agree.

“Alright. Sleep well afterwards, you have school in the morning.” And then Takato heard her steps as she left, thankfully.

Takato lets out a long breath he’d been holding, as he looks at the two digimon in his room, both looking uncomfortable. “How about we go into the kitchen, have bread and tea, and talk about things together?”

Spoiler: Author's Note

I am so, so sorry this chapter took forever to post.

After I took a break to write some other stuff, I then had to move out of my house.

Followed by me being sick.

Then holidays.

Then me being sick AGAIN.

Followed by a family funeral.

And then yet another sick period.

You can imagine why this chapter took so long to get out, and why it's shorter and a bit awkward.

I hope you enjoy it anyway, though!