"You cannot pin the blame on them!" Tavaras heard a voice boom from inside the meeting room as they walked closer. After mulling over it for far too long, the group realized they would get nowhere with what they knew.
They needed more answers, preferably now.
"Why not Metalgreymon? They appeared when the scar did, did they not?" Another voice squawked.
"They're children, for crying out loud Kiwimon!" Babamon's voice shook. "Whatever the cause, they had no part in its doing. If anything it's the Digital World you should be angry at."
"If they had no part in it, then why in the world would you think the Digital World brought such ignorant creatures to govern us?" Kiwimon replied in heated debate.
"It's not our place to know. Would you rather we did nothing and just let the world collapse?" A gruff voice said.
"Yes, Weregarurumon, I would very much rather we figure this out and deal with it ourselves than be subject to the whims of whatever outsider." A calmer, older voice said, though no less heated. "I think we should help them find their way home, and then try to seal that scar."
"And if we all die?" Weregarurumon challenged.
"Then we will have done so on our own terms. Agree with us on the governance of the Digital World or not, none of you can say it's right to even ask them to stay here. Why the digital world did not pick some old man on their deathbed, I'll never know."
"It should be a decision they make, Cherrymon." Jijimon said sternly.
"No it should not, Jijimon." Tavaras could hear the rustling of leaves and branches. "To even ask such a thing of immature minds is cruel. Nobody knows what this would entail for them. Regardless, we all heard their wishes; they want to go home."
Silence filled the void as Tavaras and the group lurked outside.
"The meeting is adjourned. Take time to think on your position. We will reconvene in a few days." Jijimon finally said. As the Digimon departed the meeting hall, Tavaras was lost in thought, looking at their faces. He understood their plight; they faced an existential crisis. On the other hand, as selfish as he may have felt, he couldn't sacrifice his own future for them. Jijimon slowly walked up to them.
"Did you have more questions, my friends?" Tavaras jolted up.
"Um, yes. How did we get here, and what's the scar?" Deon asked. Jijimon looked to the ground.
"Ah, you heard all that, did you?" He looked to the sky. "The short answer is we do not know. To both your questions. I am sorry my boy, all we do know is you and it appeared at the same time. Perhaps you came through it? Who's to really say." He mused.
"Jijimon, look at me straight." Tavaras demanded the old Digimon. Jijimon looked up in shock, but complied. "Are you going to help us get home, or will we be on our own?" Jijimon sighed, but held his gaze.
"You've heard, right? Our group is split on the matter. No, I shouldn't say split. One side is adamant that you go home, and the other is conflicted. Is our continued existence worth shattering the lives of ten innocent souls?" He chuckled. "When I put it that way, it really does make me sound like the bad guy. I'm old, Tavaras. Very old. If it were just my own life there would be absolutely no question what I would do." Jijimon glanced around the village, and spoke softly, almost as if to himself. "We created this very village to be a sanctuary for Digimon old and young, to live and be protected."
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
He sighed and glanced towards the metal dinosaur and then around to the members of the committee still around. "Metalgreymon, kindly give Leomon and Guardromon directions to the temple." He glanced at each of the four humans and their partners in turn, taking them in. "I do not know what the right answer is. But, if there are to be any found, it will be there." He laughed bitterly. "Perhaps it's a good thing I can't help you; this is something you must figure out for yourself."
He turned to walk away. "Rest here a few more days, for it is a long journey and darkness approaches."
—
“You look down.” Imogen snapped out of her thoughts, hearing Leomon’s gruff voice. She looked up and saw him standing near the forest, powerful arms crossed. The young girl shrugged her shoulders. “Hmm.” The stoic warrior grunted, but stayed silent.
Imogen walked over to a fallen log next to him and sat down. The silence was comforting, and for some reason she felt safe with the Digimon, both Leomon and her unnamed partner. “ I’m scared. ” She whispered, breaking the silence, and looked up at Leomon. He gazed down and smiled.
“You are in a new place fraught with danger. It’s only natural.” She shook her head.
“I’m scared I won’t be able to protect who I need to protect.” Imogen shivered, watching the Digimon of the village go by. She was conflicted; the longer she sat here, the longer she wouldn't be able to protect her siblings. “10 years,” she whispered. “10 years, and then I just leave them. Just like her. Just like him.” She stroked the jacket she always wore, and fingered the necklace in her pocket. Both keepsakes from a brighter time in her life. What was so special about these things? It seemed like everyone had something like it.
“Hmm.” Leomon nodded sagely. “You are a kind person.” He uncrossed his arms and turned to face her. “Trust yourself. The right answer will come to you when it needs to.” With that, the powerful warrior turned towards the village and walked off, Imogen watching his sheathed sword disappear behind the houses.
The young girl sighed and lay back on the fallen log losing herself to time, watching the sun crest over the horizon, and laughed bitterly. Another choice; protect others or take care of herself and her own. She already knew the choice her brother would make, but for her it wasn't so clear cut. If Imogen were alone, she'd stay without a second thought, if for no other reason than to escape the hell that was waiting for her back home.
She looked at her partner. Silent and ever hovering near her. By all accounts it should creep her out like nothing else, yet it felt comforting. Like a warm sweater on a cold winter's night. The others' partners had some kind of personality and intelligence; they were their own beings. They could fight, they could grow, they could talk. Yet, Imogen felt closer to hers than she saw any of the others were with their own partners.
A partnership that transcended words itself. "Who are you?" she whispered, not expecting an answer.
"Out here all by your lonesome?" She heard a voice call. Sitting up, she saw Palmon and Floramon, the two who made the clothes she was wearing. She managed a small smile.
"Just, thinking." She replied. Palmon nodded, and they both sat next to her.
"Cherrymon told us you were brought from the human world, and that you're looking to go back." Imogen nodded. "He also said the Digital World brought you here to try and stop the crash that's happening." Imogen's heart dropped as she heard her new friend say that, and she nodded. Floramon put a... was it a hand? On her shoulder.
"We don't want your help." Imogen looked up, shocked.
"W-what?"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're not one of us. You should worry more about yourself and whatever your life at home is. We will fix our own problems, our own way."
"That's right," Palmon said cheerfully. "You're so pretty, you probably have loads of people waiting for you back in the human world!"
Imogen almost started to cry at that. None of these creatures deserved death, but who was she to step in where she wasn't wanted? They were right; she and the rest of them had nothing to do with the Digital World, and as she could never forget, she did have people waiting for her back home.