#analog instruments

I kind of...suspected? That Asuka would be a McGuffin to the bitter end? I tried to deny it bc like- there are hints that he has a personality beyond being a perfect brother. His own fucking trauma that he needs to get through.

There were just too many weird things. Stuff Guilmon said and awkwardly walked back. Maybe Haremon had been sent by someone- but it wasn’t some shadowy evil human that would not be named, but Guilmon themself. Maybe…Tomoro was already in a trap, and Guilmon was walking him deeper into it.

Guilmon ignored him, shoving the envelope in his hands. It had already been unsealed, and it was tied with a blue and gold hoodie drawstring into a bundle. “What the hell is this?” Tomoro pulled at the string to loosen it. “Don’t open it!” There was a shred of panic in Guilmon’s voice, “I mean. Not yet. You might understand, someday, but…” Tomoro’s nostrils flared, “You’re not making any sense, Guilmon.” “No,” Guilmon said, “of course not,” they sighed, “listen. It’s a song.” “The one you were playing?” Guilmon nodded, “Just. It needs to exist in the world. If you could- I don’t know. Make sure other people hear it? Maybe play it, someday.” What a weird and desperate request. “You talk like somebody who doesn’t expect to live.” Maybe that was too blunt, but that’s how Tomoro saw it. “Hey,” he asked, “are you like- a prisoner here, or something?” “Of course not,” Guilmon said too quickly.

He turned around. His digimon was always at his side, unless they got in a fight or something. Or maybe they got distracted by the scent of food, but Gekkomon was getting better at staying focused. “Gekkomon?” He shouted, “Armalizamon? Hey! Get over here.” A feeling like his organs sinking out through his skin. “Gekkomon?” So wait- Haremon had teleported him, but not Gekkomon. No, of course they hadn’t moved ArmaLizamon. They were a ways away from Reina and Tomoro. Tomoro chewed on his lip. So he was in some part of the mirror world he didn’t know, without his digimon, and his communicator was broken because of this stupid orange barrier. There better not be some hungry digimon here. He pushed vegetation away to get closer to the barrier- which stopped his hand as soon as he reached out. “Oh. You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, slapping it. It made no sound but held its shape all the same. So you could phase through this thing to get in, but not out? What was this, some kind of cage? So he was trapped in a cage, maybe with something that wanted to suck him dry, with no way of defending himself and no one knowing where he was. Another typical Tuesday for Tenma Tomoro, if he was being honest.

Kanada clapped slowly, “What a brave boy you are. Making such threats against someone with my standing, and with no Gekkomon to fight with you.” “Gekkomon’s hiding in the trees, you dumb fuck,” Tomoro said, “planning an ambush.” “Oh. These trees?” Kanada lifted a sapotama that was still in working order with his left, gloved hand. It displayed a holographic screen of the security feed at Maki's bar. The rest of the Glowing Dawn were there. Makoto was staring into his goggles as Chiropmon sat perfectly still. Reina was pacing and waving her arms. Pristimon was glaring at her over their tea steam. And Gekkomon was being cradled in Kyo’s arms, tears streaming from their eyes. Tomoro paled a little, “That’s Garando. Why do you have this feed?”

“You wouldn’t dream of-” Asuka stopped himself, “Tomoro doesn’t even have a digimon. Back off, buddy.” The Adamantine grinned. “What? What’s it going to take to ever wipe that smug smile off your face?” “Tenma Tomoro doesn’t have a digimon, you say..."

“He’s familiar to you.” Kyo has leaned in ever so slightly and whispered into his ear. Asuka blinks. The lights above have constellations he can trace. “What was that?” They continue their slow dance, leaning into and out of each other. “Kanada. You already know him. A part of him.” Asuka frowns. “I want nothing to do with him,” he protests. Why would Kyo remind him of that man? It wasn’t fair. Kanada’s everywhere, but never here. He doesn’t have a right to be here, “it’s you I dance with here,” he reminds Kyo. Kyo chuckles, his voice deep and harmonious, “I know that, dear. This is not jealousy. Please, listen,” he lowers his voice, “He knows a lot about you, but you know a part of him well. You already know his shame. Use that.” “Use-?” “Use it. And come back to me,” Kyo kisses his hand, “please.”

Kanada. He was the one who had lured Tomoro and Kyo to their possible deaths. He’d orchestrated everything. Tomoro lost a brother because of him. And from Asuka- he’d taken everything. Everything it seemed possible to take, and a few more things that it shouldn’t have been possible to take. Not just his home; his freedom. Not just his freedom; his body. Hands. The sun itself. Even his morals. Even his morals. Asuka had killed for Kanada. He had killed for him.