Tick, tick, tick, tick.

The analog clock on the wall ticked noisily, the arms slowly moving about as it displayed the time for all to see. It watched over the small office from its high position, like a sentry. Due to its high position, the clock was able to avoid the clutter of the office below.

The tall silver filing cabinets sat poised against the walls, though many files rested on top of them rather than inside them; even those that managed to get inside the filing cabinet ended up sitting in the drawers as they hung out rather uselessly. The oak desk was in a similar state of clutter, with scattered pencils and papers in uneven heaps. A coffee cup sat on one of the larger piles, bits of hot brown liquid thanklessly trickling down on to the stack. A white trench coat sprawled out on top of a brown faux-leather chair in front of the desk, its sleeves dangled over the edge, as if it were reclining in it.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

A man sat at the desk, hunched over it somewhat uncomfortably. One hand held a black pen that he tapped against the desk, the other running through the bangs of his shoulder length dark blue hair. His faded blue eyes stared at the papers in front of him, unfocused and unseeing. Draped across the back of his chair was the jacket portion of his gray business suit, matching his pants exactly. After a few more moments of tapping, the man dropped the pen down with a sigh and leaned back. He reached up to loosen the dark red tie so that it fell limply against his white shirt, much like he found himself sitting limply in his chair.

The man sighed, closing his eyes.

Suddenly the door burst open, making an awful racket as it banged against one of the cabinets. The impact then resulted in a number of papers that were stacked on top of it to fall off and scatter about like leaves in the fall. The culprit of such an act of reckless disorganization didn't seem to notice. "Yo, Ken!" the unexpected visitor shouted in an overly energetic manner.

Ken looked up sharply before his expression softened at the sight of his visitor, a man looking to be his age with shirt spiky reddish-brown hair and a big goofy grin on his face.

"Daisuke...," he smiled, tilting his head to the side. "Is it that time already?"

"Yup!" Daisuke replied before jerking a thumb behind him. "C'mon, let's get going."

"Sounds good," Ken sighed as he stood up, pulling his jacket up off the chair and slipping it on. He walked around the desk and reached for his trench coat. "I definitely need a drink about now."

"Long day?" Daisuke guessed as a sympathetic look appeared on his face.

"Exceedingly," Ken replied. He shook his head slowly as he walked along side Daisuke out the door. "Theft, assault, vandalism, affairs... it's like I see the worst in humanity every single day."

"Ever think of getting out of this business?" Daisuke asked with a lopsided smile, as he kept his eyes on Ken even while he nodded at his friend's secretary before they left the detective agency.

"Many, many times, way before you even started asking that every day," Ken replied sullenly. "Unfortunately, Miyako thinks this job is the best one suited for me."

"She seems to be the only reason anymore," Daisuke pondered in a surprisingly thoughtful manner as they made their way out of the office building and out onto the street. "I seem to recall the first time I asked you, you had tons of reasons." His expression grew troubled. "Are things really that bad between you two now?"

Ken hesitated, then sighed. "...I really don't understand it. All I seem to do is make her angry. I try to get more involved with her and the children, and she gets angry at me for getting in her way. I stay out of her way, and she gets angry at me for avoiding her. I take off time from work to spend time with the family, and she gets angry and accuses me of being lazy at the expense of our income. I work late so she can have more income to support the children, and she gets angry that I'm choosing work over family. I... I feel like I can't win."

"Do you think she's pregnant again?" Daisuke ventured as he tucked his hands into his pockets. "Hormones drive women crazy sometimes, you know?"

A look of panic crossed Ken's face before he quickly managed to hide it. "...I don't think so. She's asked about having another child, but it was also the day after she mentioned the possibility of a divorce. ...I don't know if she knows what she wants."

"Do you mean she threatened to do it because she was pissed off... or do you mean seriously...?" Daisuke asked slowly, looking even more concerned.

"I don't know," Ken shook his head. "She was angry at the time and didn't bring it up again until the next time she was angry, so it could only have been that... but she's getting angry increasingly often..."

"How're your kids holding up with all this going on?" Daisuke asked as they paused at a crosswalk to wait for the light to change.

"They seem to have gotten the drill by now," Ken replied. "Not that I'm sure that's a good thing. Whenever she gets angry, they run off to their rooms and hide... and afterwards, they act like it never happened."

"Well our kids are pretty strong, just like we used to be way back then," Daisuke mused thoughtfully.

"Just the same, I'd rather not expose them too much to this," Ken mumbled. The light changed and the two began walking again. "I suggested sending the kids to my mother's for a little while, just to get them out of this environment until we could work it out. ...She got angry at me for accusing her of being a bad mother. She then got angry and demanded to know why my mother and not hers."

"Well next time why not suggest hers so she'll have one less thing to complain about?" Daisuke suggested awkwardly as he rubbed his chin.

"I will, once she's calmed down enough from me mentioning it the first time," Ken said, nodding slightly. "Maybe it is hormones. We... haven't...," the detective paused and then coughed, face red. "...Since this whole thing started."

A broad smile appeared on Daisuke's face at that. "Well there's your problem! She wants a little more Ken and Miyako one on one time." He patted Ken on the back firmly. "Just plan some kinda romantic weekend and give her a chance to really burn off those hormones." He winked knowingly at his friend. "Just try not to make another kid again."

Ken smiled weakly before looking away, face still quite red. "...That's assuming I can get the drive to go at it."

Daisuke stopped to stare at Ken. "Wait, you mean..." He paused to point a finger in the air before curling it until it drooped downward. "...You got problems?"

Ken grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. "...Yeah. I just haven't been able to... well, since this all started. And if it all started because of that, that means... I'm kind of stuck in a really vicious cycle, aren't I?"

"Yeah," Daisuke muttered before he attempted a laugh. "Akemi'd probably kill me if I cut her off completely."

"It's hard to get 'motivated' when I'm getting screamed at," Ken muttered, somewhat defensively. "Not that I was ever really interested in it to start with."

"Huh?" Daisuke stared at Ken in confusion.

The detective made a face as he churned over what he had said for a few moments, still walking with his friend down the sidewalk before finally coming to a stop in front of a large karaoke bar. Neon lights flashed brilliantly, the false light dancing on the ground. Ken sighed before giving Daisuke a sheepish grin. "I've never been a very... sexual creature, I guess."

"Coulda fooled me," Daisuke said as he rubbed the back of his head while they entered the bar. "Akemi and me are still trying to give Hikaru a little brother or sister and we go at it at least five times a week."

"I'm not a sexual creature," Ken repeated. "I didn't say Miyako wasn't."

Daisuke stared blankly at Ken for a few moments. "But how-" he stopped when realization hit him. "Oh." He quickly grew confused again. "But how'd she, you know, get it up?"

"Uhm," Ken glanced around uneasily, noting the other people walking in and out of the karaoke bar. "Let's hold that thought until we rent a room and get some drinks, okay?"

"Okay," Daisuke replied in a rather carefree manner.

It didn't take long for Ken and Daisuke to rent a room, as both were very familiar with the process. Even more, the staff immediately recognized them and knew both what rooms they wanted and what sort of drinks to send their way. In what seemed like barely a few minutes, the two old friends were in their private rooms relaxing with their sake cups and the alcohol to fill it.

"Should I be bothered that they know us so well by now?" Ken muttered as he reclined, slowly turning the sake cup in his hand to make the liquid twirl about without spilling it.

"Hey, I look at it as good service m'self," Daisuke said cheerfully before taking a deep drink of his sake.

"Either that or we come here too often," Ken muttered, though he leaned forward to take a drink of his cup as well. "Phew... but that's to be expected. This is the only time I can really relax."

Daisuke exhaled deeply and held up his cup. "Hey, I hear ya. I've gotta work my butt off just to have any time at all to spend with you and my family. Who'da thought owning a ramen business could be so much darn work?" He sighed and downed another gulp of his drink, exhaling harshly after swallowing due to the sting. "I miss just plain cooking the darn stuff."

"I imagine you now have to hire people to do that for you. Kinda takes the fun out of it, huh?" Ken mused. "Just like I have to focus most of my time on cleaning up other people's messes or the...," the detective paused and grimaced. "...Digimon slave trade."

Daisuke grimaced as well. "There's some sick people out there," he muttered and sighed as he poured himself another drink before doing the same for Ken. "Don't tell Hikari I told you this, but sometimes I think the worst thing to ever happen was that everyone in the world got their own Digimon partner."

Ken nodded. "I thought the same thing. I was optimistic at first, but... being a detective has really opened my eyes. There are so many people who... don't deserve to walk the streets at night, let alone have a Digimon."

"Yeah, though you gotta keep in mind how most people are good, and aside from the random schmuck that abuses their Digimon, it's still pretty peaceful now since Baliel Vamdemon died, you know?" Daisuke ventured before taking another drink.

Ken looked at Daisuke for a good long moment, then chuckled quietly. "'Peaceful', huh?"

"Yeah, my kid complains all the time about how boring it is and keeps complaining about how he's never been able to go on a big adventure like we did," Daisuke mused as his eyes wandered towards the ceiling. "But I guess he'll eventually grow out of it."

The detective gulped the entire contents of his sake cup and grimaced. At times, Ken found himself more than a little frustrated with Daisuke - and the other Chosen. Even Miyako seemed to share the same optimism for the world, that people would generally do right and only the few did wrong.

In the end, this made Ken feel as though a vast canyon stretched between them. The others had the luxury of having such ideals, but Ken didn't. Every day, he had to deal with humanity's dirty laundry. Every day, he dealt with liars, cheaters, thieves, abusers - and he didn't even have to deal with the worst that humanity had to offer! He never got any cases for murder or rape, but his comrades did - and he heard all about it.

After doing it for so many years, he could honestly not take such an idealistic concept seriously. Even more, he found himself angry that the others did. But then, wasn't that his job? To make it so people like Daisuke could believe the best in mankind, as people like Ken kept the worst at bay? How could he begrudge them that?

Besides, was he angry that they seemed 'so blind' or was he jealous that he could no longer share that blindness?

"Yeah, he keeps wishing for some big bad Digimon to attack us all so he can save the world like we did," Daisuke explained as he refilled Ken's cup. After finishing he gave the detective a lopsided grin. "But I guess you're probably wishin' for that too to get outta the house and away from Miyako the horny shrew, right?"

Ken blinked at that and stared at Daisuke for a good moment. Then, he began to laugh. The laughter bubbled up out of him, light at first but increasing in intensity. His eyes watered as his face flushed slightly, laughing long and hard. And just like that, the sour mood was gone. With such a simple comment, the pensive mood evaporated like a cloud of smoke. This was what he liked about Daisuke - Daisuke could make him feel better, no matter how bad he felt.

"Now that's what I like to see," Daisuke said, his grin broadening, before he took a swig of his drink, downing the rest in one gulp. He paused to exhale loudly as a result of the alcohol stinging his mouth and throat and then grinned at Ken again with a faint flush to his cheeks. "So you in the mood to sing now, or after we've had a few more so we can totally mangle all the lyrics?"

It took Ken a few moments to get control over himself long enough to answer. He wiped as his eyes as he chuckled heavily. "A few more, I think. Just to be on the safe side."

"The safe side?" Daisuke repeated curiously as he topped off their drinks.

"Well," Ken grinned rather slyly. "I can't listen to you sing while I'm sober, now can I?"

Daisuke blinked then laughed. "You're no rock star either you know."

Ken lifted his sake cup up. "Here's to being drunk and tone deaf!"

Daisuke raised his own cup. "But mostly drunk!"

The two friends clinked their sake cups together, laughing.

The first thing Ken became aware of was the pounding of his head. His body felt sluggish and very much unhappy with him, his muscles sore and his stomach churning. Even the darkness seemed to hurt, so even keeping his eyes closed did little to help him.

Grunting, the detective blinked his eyes open before slowly sitting up with a groan.

Ken had slept on the couch that night, as it was where he found his pillows and blanket upon returning home. He imagined he should have been used to such an uncomfortable bed with how often he found himself sleeping there, but it still didn't agree much with him. The alcohol no doubt didn't help.

"What time is it...?" Ken murmured, picking up his black cell phone from off the coffee table to look at it. The white digital numbers flashed at him, telling him that it was not only morning but that he was late for work. "...Lovely."

"Good morning, Ken-chan," a kind voice whispered, drawing Ken's attention to the doorway of the living room. There he saw Wormmon standing there carrying a tray of food and his hangover medicine over to the sofa.

Ken blinked before he smiled softly. "Good morning, Wormmon."

"Miyako-san is out shopping with the baby, and Osa and Ichiko are at school," Wormmon said softly, so as not to aggravate Ken's hangover. Once close enough to his partner he held up the tray as high as his little stubby arms could allow so Ken could take them. "Did you sleep well last night? I got new sofa cushions yesterday with my allowance and the lady who sold them to me said that they were supposed to be better for sleeping on."

"It was much softer, thank you," Ken moved to sit closer to the tray. It didn't do enough to make sleeping comfortable, but he'd never admit to such a thing. "You really didn't need to go through so much for me, Wormmon."

"Yes I did," Wormmon insisted as he held the tray steady. "You almost never sleep in your bed with Miyako-san anymore and you always have so much pain in your back every morning, Ken-chan. I would've bought you your own bed or at least another sofa if I could, but I knew Miyako-san would get very angry at you if I did that."

Ken went very quiet at that. So it was obvious even to Wormmon? But then, how could it not be? His partner was the one most attentive to him, closest to his heart - more so than even his wife. It would be inconceivable for Wormmon not to notice what was going on.

Such a fact made Ken feel a pang of guilt. Wormmon was no doubt suffering as well, simply because Ken was.

"I don't want you to waste so much money on me, Wormmon," Ken said, softly. "You've done so much for me as it is."

"The money isn't wasted if it makes you feel better, Ken-chan," Wormmon said simply before deciding to set the tray down on the coffee table when it seemed Ken wasn't going to take the medicine or food right away.

Ken honestly was having trouble finding his appetite. However, he knew he at least needed the medicine and reached to take it. "I'm sorry about all this, Wormmon."

Wormmon shook his head. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Ken-chan. You can't help what Miyako-san decides to do."

The detective sighed heavily before he gulped down the medicine, reaching for the glass of water on the tray to wash it down. "Hopefully this won't last that much longer."

"I'm sure it won't, Ken-chan," Wormmon said quietly, but with cheerful enthusiasm. "You and Miyako-san just need to talk things out."

"Yeah, talk," Ken murmured before setting his glass down on the table. He reached for the plate of food, a rice omelet, and set it on his lap. The pain in his body and head were already starting to clear up, thanks to the medicine. At least living in the year 2029 was good for some things - medicine had come a long way. At least, when it came to hangovers. "Thank you for the food, Wormmon."

"You're welcome, Ken-chan!" Wormmon practically chirped, obviously happy about being praised by Ken.

Ken smiled before taking his fork and spearing the rice omelet with it. He tore a chunk out of the food and placed it in his mouth. "Were you able to find out anything last night?"

Wormmon nodded vigorously as his excitement grew. "Yeah! I found out that there's going to be another shipment of captured Digimon coming in tonight at midnight!"

"Really?" Ken immediately perked up, his eyes widening. "Good job! Maybe we'll actually find out more about whoever's behind all this!"

Wormmon's gaze grew troubled at that. "...Ken-chan?" he asked after a few moments, his voice quiet, hesitant.

Ken blinked before frowning. Such a reaction made him very concerned. "...Yes, Wormmon?"

Wormmon squirmed anxiously in place and seemed unable to meet Ken's gaze. "I... I also heard a rumor about who might be behind this."

Ken set his fork down on the plate and leaned forward. "...Who?"

Wormmon looked down at his stubby arms as he poked them together nervously, his antennae drooping, and muttered something unintelligible.

"I couldn't hear you, Wormmon," Ken said softly, becoming increasingly concerned. "Could you repeat that?"

Wormmon sweated a little as he hunched slightly, as if instinctively readying for something dreadful. "T-the... the D-Digimon... Ka...Kaiser...," he finally forced out in a weak voice that was barely above a whisper.

Ken gaped at his Digimon partner, his expression rather blank. Clearly he couldn't have heard that correctly. "Who?"

"The... Digimon Kaiser," Wormmon repeated a little louder this time, his voice still so weak, practically distraught.

The detective blinked slowly. He was having trouble comprehending what his partner had told him - it felt too surreal, too bizarre. What did he mean that the Digimon Kaiser was behind it?

"I-I'm sorry, Ken-chan!" Wormmon blurted out anxiously after the silence stretched on for too long. "I don't believe it! Honestly I don't! A Gazimon just told me that the Digimon Kaiser had come back and kidnapped his family! He must've been mistaken!"

Ken stared at his partner before slowly leaning back. "There's nothing to apologize for, Wormmon. I'm glad you told me. This must have really been bothering you."

Wormmon nodded, looking absolutely miserable.

The detective moved to scoop his partner up in to his arms and hold him tightly. "It's fine, Wormmon. I... was just a little stunned, but the answer is obvious. Clearly someone is taking advantage of... my old moniker. No doubt they're using it to gain a reputation without earning it."

"Ken-chan...!" was all Wormmon could say in response as he hugged his partner close with tears in his eyes.

Ken cradled his partner and stroked the Digimon's head soothingly. "Don't worry. We'll catch them, and then everyone will see them for what they really are."

"R-right, Ken-chan!" Wormmon said as enthusiastically as he could manage, though he couldn't help the hiccup that escaped him.

"It'll be fine," Ken repeated, firmly. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

Wormmon blinked his tears away and tried his best to look determined. "I-I won't, Ken-chan! We'll find out who's doing this!"

"And the first thing we need to do is rescue those Digimon tonight," Ken said, smiling. "We need to get ready."

"Right, Ken-chan!" Wormmon said with growing enthusiasm as he did his best to smile despite his jagged sideways mouth.

Ken smiled back at Wormmon. In all honesty, everything he said was for Wormmon and himself. He needed to keep himself strong, even if he felt almost wounded by such news. No doubt this was why Wormmon was so upset and hesitated to tell him - he knew that Ken would be hurt at the news that his old legacy was being used again. It was a skeleton in his closet that most everyone knew, one that he wished he could bury.

And yet someone had not only dredged it up but was using it for themselves.

"It'll be okay," Ken thought, his smile weakening slightly. "It's not my fault they've decided to use my old legacy, even if it is my fault that legacy exists in the first place. That just means it's my duty to put a stop to them. That's all it means."

He just needed to keep reminding himself of that.

Midnight had long since come and gone by the time Ken Ichijoji began his uneasy approach to the warehouse. The detective would have preferred that the operation took place during the day, but undoubtedly what he disliked about the night raid was precisely what his targets liked about it. Darkness shrouded everything, including Ken himself, and thus made it difficult to see much of anything.

The warehouse itself was from a particularly dilapidated part of the harbor. It was a structure that seemed to be made more from rust than metal, with countless dents and fissures marring what had supposedly been a smooth surface sometime many years ago. The paint on it had faded or chipped away over time, leaving it almost indistinguishable from the other rundown structures. It was only due to the fact that Ken had memorized the location of this warehouse on the map he had studied prior to his arrival that he felt sure that it was the correct one - at least as sure as a rumor could make a detective like him feel.

Gingerly stepping along the alley behind the large steel warehouse, Ken avoided stepping on the litter that had been precariously thrown about; even so much as a crinkle or jingle of a can would expose him. Wormmon hovered near him, in the form of Stingmon; he silently flew, not having to worry about the ground beneath him.

As a result of such cautiousness, the approach to the warehouse was slow, painfully slow. It felt like hours passed, even if it was only a few minutes - then again, nerves no doubt played a role as well. The detective's heart was beating fast inside his chest, his adrenaline rushing as all of his senses seemed amplified. Rumor or not, his body was already convinced that something was lurking in that warehouse and each step was a step closer to that something.

Cautiously, Ken pressed his back up against the wall of the warehouse. He ignored the feeling of rust clinging to the back of his jacket and slowly inched his way along the perimeter, heading towards the massive doors to the complex.

The doors loomed as Ken drew closer and closer, until he was finally able to snake his head around the corner and peer inside.

The inside of the warehouse was alarmingly dark. Though the small holes in the structure allowed a tiny bit of moonlight to filter through, for the most part these holes seemed to be blocked by rotting boxes and warped pieces of metal. Bits of paper and scraps of moldy cardboard littered the floor among splinters of wood and metal. Even in the dim light Ken noticed that recently the trash and thick layer of dust on the floor had been disturbed.

Ken frowned. He supposed he shouldn't have expected everything to just be sitting out waiting for him, but he felt a little disappointed that the warehouse looked relatively normal. Even the disturbed floor only said that someone had been there, not that said someone was doing anything illegal.

The detective peered around for a moment longer before he decided to enter the warehouse. Clearly he wasn't going to find anything by standing outside. Whatever he was after, it had to be further in.

The random boxes and bit of discarded objects loomed within the darkness ominously. Anyone or anything could be lying in wait, or even kidnapped Digimon could be kept locked up as hostages behind or within any overly large object. The threat of the unknown wasn't enough to deter Ken, as he had been in more dangerous situations in the past, particularly when he was a child.

Ken slowly snuck in to the warehouse, glancing around anxiously. Perhaps his mind was making it appear worse than it truly was, but he simply couldn't shake the feeling that he was entering a lion's den.

"...Stingmon, stay close." he whispered.

There was no reply.

Ken paused before glancing over his shoulder, a sudden feeling of uneasiness forming inside him. "Stingmon?"

But there was no one there. The pier outside the warehouse was devoid of any signs of life, including Stingmon. There was no sign of a person, an enemy Digimon, or even a rat scrounging for scraps or shelter could be seen in the dim light.

Ken whipped his head about as he tried to catch sight of his Digimon partner, the uneasiness increasing. Where was Stingmon? He hadn't heard anything at all! The detective quickly pulled out his Digivice and glanced at the screen, verifying the status of his partner.

Unfortunately Ken was unable to check, for at that moment a sharp pain laced through the back of his neck. It had come from nowhere, an intense burning sensation the likes of which he had never felt before. It was as though he lost control of his entire body as it went into wild spasms with an ache that grew so intense it stripped the world away into blackness.

Consciousness was painful - a stinging, burning type of pain as if hundreds of needles were poking him all over. For this reason, Ken found himself not particularly inclined to welcome consciousness as it tried to worm its way back inside him.

Unfortunately, once he became aware of that painful consciousness, it would not be denied.

"U... uuuh...," Ken grimaced as his eyes slowly opened. "What..."

The Chosen of Kindness was immediately greeted with darkness. He froze, uncertain of what to make of it. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was still unconscious. However, the pain in his body made him quite sure that was not the case. He didn't feel a blindfold on his face, and even reached up to feel his face and verify this - he wasn't bound or restricted in any way. In fact, he could see himself quite plainly. He could see himself as clearly as if he were in broad daylight - and yet the rest of the world was pitch black.

What was going on?

"Are you satisfied?"

"Huh?" Ken blinked and looked around. "What?"

"Is this what you've always wanted?"

"Is this...?" Ken frowned and stood up, shakily. "What are you talking about!?"

"Is this your beautiful dream?"

"My beautiful dream?" the Chosen of Kindness repeated, slowly.

"Or are you waiting to wake up?"

"Wake up? From what?" Ken asked.

"Are you willing to let someone else define your beautiful dream, just as you've let them define everything else about you?"

"...Show yourself," Ken said, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you?"

"Where are you?"

"That's what I want to know!" Ken all but screamed. "What's going on!?"

"Do you want to find out?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know!" Ken said as he whipped about, searching for the voice. "Answer me!"

"What do you want?"

"What do I-?" Ken began, then cut off short.

Daisuke beamed as he stood in front of Ken, wearing a large white rabbit suit with a pink bow wrapped around his neck. He held out a basket full of candy towards Ken, beaming. "Happy Easter!"

"Hmph," Takeru smirked as he crossed his arms, casting Ken a sideways glance. "You really are cute when you smile."

Hikari giggled with embarrassment, her cheeks lightly flushed a shade of pink that matched the two-piece swimsuit she wore on her teenaged body. "You really like this swimsuit, Ken?"

"Humph," Iori grunted as he looked away, though a slight blush was on his cheeks.

"Welcome to the First Annual Digimon Drag Parade!" Taichi called out through a microphone, wearing a replica of Angewomon's usual attire, complete with melons in his chest to give the impression of cleavage.

"W-what's going on...?" Ken whispered, his voice soft.

"What do you see?"

Yamato snorted, slinging his guitar strap over his shoulder. "There'll be other gigs... don't worry about it."

"I want to thank everyone for their support," Sora said as she stood at a podium, wearing graduation robes in front of a massive university. "If it wasn't for my friends, I wouldn't have made it this far."

"What do I...?" Ken repeated, dizzily.

"What do you hear?"

"Could you hand me that bottle over there?" Jyo asked as he fitted a syringe with a needle. "The one on the table."

"He shoots... he scores!" an announcer howled as Daisuke kicked a soccer ball into the goal, plowing through the bewildered goalie's defenses as he wore a victorious grin on his face.

"Who are you...? What's happening...?" Ken whimpered, holding his head.

"What do you feel?"

"What do you think?" Mimi asked as she looked at herself in the mirror, wearing a very fancy dress. "Would purple stripes suit me?"

"The program is running smoothly," Koshiro muttered as he typed away at his laptop, sitting comfortably on the floor. "Any errors should appear on the screen soon enough."

"What...?" Ken mumbled, hugging himself as he felt as if he were about to faint.

"Do you want to know?"

"You're such a pimp, Ken!" Taichi smirked as he winked at the other boy. "But you have to pick one sooner or later, before they kill each other!"

"It looks like rain..." Sora mumbled absently, staring up at the sky with a relatively solemn expression. She held her tennis racket close, standing at what appeared to be a bus station.

"Want to... know...?" Ken repeated.

"About your beautiful dream?"

"What are you thinking about?" Hikari asked as she looked over at Ken. One hand idly rubbed her slightly enlarged stomach as the wind blew her light summer dress and hair about.

"Looks like we're going to have another one!" Daisuke smirked as he wrapped an arm around Miyako's waist, who looked particularly pregnant. "Like rabbits, eh?"

"Ken-chan..." came the hauntingly familiar voice of Wormmon, though it sounded more like a weak echo. The scene shifted to the Village of Beginnings, where hundreds of child Digimon gathered around in a circle. At the center was Wormmon, who was looking away at the distance.

Slowly, Wormmon turned about to stare at Ken, his eyes full of despair and pain. "Ken-chan... where are you?"

Ken stared at Wormmon, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He gasped breathlessly, though no air seemed to fill his lungs as he trembled.

"Or is it a nightmare?"

"...I want to know..." Ken whispered, trembling violently. He gasped as everything around him suddenly disappeared, revealing nothing but blackness once more. Ken stared around before his eyes settled on a figure in the distance.

The figure was a woman in a white lab coat, with wild red hair and hazel eyes. She looked to be in her early twenties, though her eyes were so cold it burned into his body.

"Then wake up."