The earth was still trembling when Naruto reached down and scooped up Takeru's limp body with one arm, the other catching the fainted form of Patamon, cradling them both as if they were the most fragile things in the world. His clones moved with mechanical precision, one grabbing Piximon, who looked far too drained to protest, and another hauling the unconscious Leomin—Raikamaru—his fur darkened with blood and soot.
Behind them, the darkness writhed like a living thing, crawling and folding in on itself around the monstrous cocoon that had become Arachne's sanctuary. She had sealed herself away in a shell of obsidian silk, thick as steel and pulsing faintly with power that reeked of rot and death. Within it, she healed. And she waited.
Her voice had been the last thing to echo across the ruined battlefield, a venomous whisper that crawled into their ears and stayed there.
"Run... Run, little mice. Hide in your holes. But remember, I always find my prey."
Naruto didn't look back. He couldn't. The Nine-Tails cloak flared around him in a brilliant shimmer of crimson light, his chakra burning like wildfire. To flee from a foe went against everything that had shaped him—but this wasn't pride, it was necessity. One more blow, one more second wasted, and they would have all been dead.
He surged forward like a comet tearing across the sky, his feet thundering against the cracked earth, scattering stone and ash. The weight of his wounded comrades seemed feather-light compared to the pressure in his chest—pressure not from strain, but from something heavier: fear.
Not fear for himself.
Fear that if he slowed, even for a breath, they would all be swallowed by the thing that waited behind them.
"Piximon!" Naruto barked over the wind that howled past them, the world blurring into streaks of green, grey, and shadow. "Tell me where to go! If we run blind, we're finished!"
The tiny winged Digimon hovered feebly in the arms of a clone, barely conscious, his eyes blinking against the rush of air. His voice came weakly, with a strange reluctance Naruto had never heard from the proud creature before.
"There's… a forest… not far, with a pond... It's near a city... ruled by Digitamamon. A devil Digimon, yes—but even Arachne would think twice before invading his territory. She... she'll wait until she's whole again before trying anything foolish…"
Naruto's eyes narrowed.
"How far?"
Piximon coughed, his wings drooping. "Far. Two countries' worth of distance, at least."
That was nearly a death sentence.
But Naruto's lips curled into a grim grin. "Good thing I'm not normal."
With a roar, he pushed chakra into his limbs, and in an instant, his cloak flared, markings scrawling across his skin like tribal fire. One-tail form exploded into being, bathing the landscape in its eerie red glow. He tore across the wilderness like a thunderclap made flesh—trees bent and snapped in his wake, rocks shattered as he vaulted and smashed through obstacles, a streak of crimson light against the growing dark.
Branches whipped at his face. Hills became blur-lines beneath his feet. Wild Digimon and roaming spirits scattered at the force of his presence, their instincts screaming predator as Naruto moved like a living weapon.
He had no time for finesse.
He could not afford mercy.
This wasn't a race anymore.
This was a storm breaking across the land, and Naruto was the eye of it.
Thoughts rattled through his head, flashes of memory—Arachne's calm eyes just before her smile broke into madness… the laughter that echoed as if from within their very minds… Patamon screaming in pain… Raikamaru, still defiant even as he collapsed…
I've never run before, Naruto admitted silently, breathless.
But I've never had this much to lose, either.
Behind them, far behind, the black cocoon pulsed once more, and from its center came a second, darker wave of energy that stretched out like a clawed hand in search of prey.
Arachne was watching.
Waiting.
And healing.
Her time would come again.
But Naruto would be ready.
And he would never let her touch his comrades again.
-----------------
Tai:
Tai groaned as consciousness returned like a slow wave dragging him from the bottom of the ocean. The world above him was blue—brilliant, cloudless blue—and not the bruised sky of a digital battlefield, but the unmistakable, gentle hue of Earth's sky. He blinked several times, the brightness stinging his eyes.
Grass tickled his fingers.
Real grass.
Not the glitching, polygonal plains of the Digital World, nor the scorched earth of his last battle.
"Koromon…?"
A small pink blob wriggled onto his chest with a soft, relieved chirp. "Tai!"
He sat up sharply, cradling the Digimon, heart thudding like a war drum in his chest. Around them stretched a sprawling green park—well-kept, peaceful, utterly mundane. Birds chirped overhead. A distant dog barked. The smell of sakura drifted faintly in the air, carried by a breeze that was real and cool and tasted of home.
Home.
He turned slowly in place, wide-eyed.
There, across the grassy field, stood the rusted jungle gym where he'd once broken his arm trying to impress Kari. The cracked footpath looping through the trees. The vending machines near the small public restroom, still humming like they always had.
"...This is Highton View Terrace," he whispered. "My neighborhood. This is home."
But the words felt heavy in his mouth, like trying to speak underwater. After everything he'd been through—Etemon, the black hole, the relentless battles—how could this quiet park exist as it always had? As if nothing had happened?
"Maybe…" he murmured, narrowing his eyes at a small girl playing by the swings. She was humming, utterly oblivious to their arrival. "Maybe this isn't real."
He approached her with Koromon in his arms, trying to steady his heart, trying not to seem threatening.
"Hey," he said gently, kneeling down to her level. "Are you… real? Or, uh… digital?"
The little girl blinked up at him with round, innocent eyes—and promptly burst into tears.
"Waaah! Stranger! Pink monster!"
Tai paled. "No, no, I didn't mean—wait, don't cry!"
But it was too late. Her sobs echoed across the field, and with them came the turning of heads—joggers stopping mid-stride, parents pulling their children close, phones subtly raised, curious eyes narrowing.
"Tai," Koromon hissed nervously, "we should go."
Tai didn't argue. Clutching Koromon tightly against his chest, he broke into a sprint across the grass, ignoring the shouts and stares, slipping through the park's narrow exit and into the back alley of an old convenience store.
He collapsed behind a stack of crates, panting, heart racing for a different reason now.
"This… this is insane," he gasped. "How are we here? How did we get back?"
Koromon tilted his round head. "I don't know… but this isn't over, is it?"
Tai looked out over the rim of the crate toward the familiar streets beyond, now laced with doubt and dread.
"No," he said softly, "I don't think it is."
----------------
The narrow alleyways and winding streets blurred around Tai as he ran, Koromon nestled under one arm. His sneakers slapped against the concrete with frantic rhythm, but this time, it wasn't fear driving him—it was hope.
Real hope.
His apartment complex loomed ahead like a lighthouse in a storm, old and familiar and comforting in its rust-stained balconies and cracked exterior. Tai almost laughed. Never before had the dull grey building looked so welcoming.
He fumbled with the spare key under the potted plant, just as he had hundreds of times before. The door creaked open, and for a heartbeat he froze on the threshold, almost afraid to breathe.
"I'm home," he said softly, almost testing the words. The silence that followed felt... strange.
No clatter of dishes. No smell of Dad's burnt toast. No soft humming from his mother.
He stepped inside. The apartment was still and empty, frozen in time like a photograph. But it was definitely his home. Every detail was exactly as he remembered—the crooked picture frame in the hallway, the scuffed wall where he'd kicked his soccer ball, the faint scent of lemon cleaner lingering in the air.
"They're not here," Tai muttered, setting Koromon on the table and moving to the fridge. He pulled the door open with a pop, rummaging inside until he found leftover curry and an unopened soda can. As he scarfed it down with unceremonious relief, his eyes fell on the magnetic calendar tacked to the fridge door.
He stopped chewing.
The date was still the same.
The same day he'd left for camp.
Weeks of hardship. Battles. Fear. Friends lost and found. And here, in the real world, time had barely twitched.
"Piximon said something about time…" Tai murmured, slowly closing the fridge. "That it flows differently in the Digital World."
"It does," Koromon confirmed, blinking up at him. "A day here could be days or weeks for us there."
Tai leaned against the counter, head spinning. "So… we could be gone for months in there, and no one would even notice here?"
"Exactly."
He was about to respond when a soft creak echoed from the hallway.
A girl stood there in pink pajamas, holding a plush rabbit against her chest. Her hair was a little messy from a nap, but her wide, brown eyes were alert—too alert.
"Kari?" Tai said, stunned. "You're home?"
She nodded slowly. "Hi, Tai."
He opened his arms instinctively, and she ran into them, squeezing him tight. He blinked, suddenly aware of how much taller he was now compared to her.
Her eyes slid to the table.
"That's Koromon," she said.
Tai stiffened. "What… how do you know his name?"
She looked up at him, eyes full of eerie certainty. "Because I've seen him before. I remember him."
Koromon blinked in confusion, then gave a soft, "Huh?"
Tai knelt to her level, brow furrowed. "Kari… you must be confused. Maybe you're coming down with something—"
"I'm not sick," she insisted firmly, clutching her rabbit. "I remember him, Tai. I do."
Tai couldn't find the words. This was his little sister—smart, shy, and far too observant for her age. But she was saying something impossible. Something that scratched at a part of his memory too hazy to reach.
"I don't get it," he muttered. "None of this makes sense…"
He stood abruptly, racing to the phone in the living room. If he was back, maybe the others were too. Maybe it had just been him who got sucked out of that nightmare. He dialed Sora's home first.
Ring.
Ring.
No answer.
He tried Matt. Then Izzy. Mimi. Joe.
Every call led to an empty dial tone or a concerned parent wondering where their child had gone off to.
"No one's back," he whispered, lowering the receiver. "It's just me."
Koromon looked up with concern. "What now?"
Tai ran a hand through his hair, heart pounding. "I don't know," he admitted. "But something tells me… this isn't over."
And from the hallway, Kari just stood in silence—watching Koromon, as if seeing an old friend return after a very long time.
---------------------
The apartment had grown quiet again, the morning sun filtering through the curtains in long golden slants. Koromon snoozed peacefully on the couch, his tiny form rising and falling with each breath. Tai sat cross-legged on the carpet, a half-empty soda can beside him, and watched Kari as she carefully turned the pages of a photo album they had pulled from the cupboard.
She hadn't said a word since he'd finished calling the others.
"Kari?" he said softly.
She didn't look up, but her voice came quiet and sure.
"I've seen Koromon before."
Tai felt his stomach flip.
"You said that earlier, but… how? This is the first time I've brought him home."
Her finger paused on a page. A faded photo of them playing in the park. Tai in shorts and a dinosaur T-shirt. Kari, barely more than a toddler, holding a pink whistle in her chubby hand.
"It was years ago," she murmured. "Three or four, maybe. I was so little. I thought… I thought it was just a dream."
Tai stared at her, heart thudding. "What do you mean?"
She finally looked up. "There was a night. You probably don't remember either. But I do. Not all of it, but pieces. That night, something came out of the computer."
The air in the room seemed to still.
"A… DigiEgg," she said, the word unfamiliar on her tongue, like something she'd once overheard in a dream. "It appeared from nowhere. There was this… light. And then it cracked open."
Tai's breath caught.
"And a creature came out," Kari continued, eyes distant. "It looked like Koromon, but bigger. He was hungry. We fed him—bread, apples, anything we had. And then he fought with you."
Tai gave a startled laugh. "He… fought with me?"
Kari nodded solemnly. "Over food. You didn't want him to eat everything, but he was so fast. Then… he changed. He glowed and got bigger—a lot bigger."
Her hands stretched outward to show the size, nearly knocking the album off her lap. "He turned into a huge yellow dinosaur. Like something from your toy box. You remember Agumon, don't you?"
Tai stared at her. "Agumon…?"
"He broke through the wall and carried me through the city," she said. "I remember the wind in my face, the rooftops, the cars honking below. You chased after us."
Tai's mind spun. A memory stirred like dust at the back of a forgotten attic—flashes of light, roaring wings, the shriek of something terrible.
"Then the sky split open," Kari whispered.
Tai looked at her sharply.
"Something came through. A huge egg… but dark. It cracked in the air, like thunder. A monster came out—a giant bird with glowing eyes and sharp claws. Parrotmon, I think."
That name stabbed at something in Tai's chest. Parrotmon. He could almost see it, huge and shimmering with digital static, screaming as it descended over the city.
"Agumon tried to fight him," Kari said, voice trembling slightly. "But he wasn't strong enough. I… I blew my whistle. I wanted to help. But I was too small. Too scared."
Tai remembered the whistle. Pink. Plastic. Annoyingly loud. It had been hers.
"You took it from me," she said, a little smile touching her lips. "You blew it so hard I thought the windows would break. And then… Agumon changed again. He became Greymon."
Tai felt as if the world had shifted under his feet. The memories were faint—like trying to remember a dream after waking—but they were there. Lights in the sky. Heat. Roars. Kari screaming his name. The impossible weight of something far greater than the world he knew.
"Greymon fought Parrotmon," Kari said. "He protected us. He was amazing."
Her eyes darkened a little. "They both vanished after that. Like dust in the wind. And the next morning, no one remembered. Not even you. So I thought maybe it hadn't happened at all."
Tai looked at her, stunned.
"But now…" She nodded at Koromon sleeping soundly beside them. "Now I know it was real."
Tai leaned back, running both hands through his hair, dizzy with revelation.
"That means…" he whispered. "We were chosen even back then."
Kari nodded once.
"And we've already saved the world once," she said. "But no one knew."
Tai felt something tighten in his chest. A strange mix of pride and fear. That memory had been buried deep inside them—too wild to accept as real. But it had happened. It had.
He looked at his little sister with new eyes.
"I guess we've always been DigiDestined," he said.
She smiled softly, and for a moment, the heavy weight of mystery, monsters, and war lifted.
But only for a moment.
Because Tai knew now—what once came from the sky could always return.
---------------------
The morning light poured into the Kamiya kitchen like golden syrup, bathing everything in a soft glow. Tai stood at the stove, apron barely tied, hair sticking up worse than usual. He juggled a pan of scrambled eggs with one hand and a spatula in the other, wearing the slightly dazed expression of someone who'd traveled worlds and still wasn't quite sure what time it was.
Koromon sat on the counter, watching the pan with reverence, as if it were some sacred relic. Kari leaned her elbows on the table, sleepy but smiling, humming a tune she half-remembered from years ago.
"Scrambled eggs!" Tai announced triumphantly, sliding a mound of fluffy yellow eggs onto a plate with far more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary. "Not exactly gourmet, but edible!"
Kari grinned. "You've been gone for weeks and that's the first thing you want to do?"
"Food heals the soul," Tai declared, placing a plate before her. "Besides, if I'm gonna deal with Digimon and mysterious dreams again, I need protein."
He had barely sat down when the television in the corner blared to life. The volume had been left high, and the sudden noise made Koromon bounce in alarm.
"…unusual weather activity continues across Europe and Asia," the news anchor said, her voice calm but tight. "Meteorologists are unable to explain the synchronized lightning storms seen across the Northern Hemisphere last night…"
Tai looked up, a fork halfway to his mouth. On the screen, shaky amateur footage showed streets filled with mist, flashes of unnatural lightning in otherwise clear skies, and in one clip—a moment so fast it might have been imagined—a winged shadow flying low over Tokyo Tower.
He leaned forward.
"Did you see that?" he asked. "Was that—?"
"Yes," Kari said before he could finish. "You're not the only one seeing them anymore."
Tai turned to her. "But… that's impossible. We're not in the Digital World anymore."
Kari shrugged, her face serious. "Maybe the Digital World came to us."
Tai's fork clinked against his plate. Before he could say anything more, a high-pitched beeping filled the kitchen. His Digivice, which had sat dormant since he'd returned, was vibrating violently on the counter.
"Uh… Tai?" Koromon said nervously, bouncing away from it.
The screen lit up—blazing with static, and then, with a sudden snap of clarity, the face of a very distressed Izzy appeared.
"Izzy?!" Tai jumped up, knocking over his chair. "Is that really—?"
"I don't have time to explain!" Izzy said quickly, his voice crackling with static. "Tai, listen to me. Whatever you do—don't try to come back."
"What? Why not? Is everyone okay?!"
"You're better off where you are!" Izzy snapped. His eyes darted to something offscreen, and for a second, Tai saw someone else—a flash of orange, someone falling—
Then the image glitched again, warping, breaking into lines of code.
"Izzy?! What's going on—?!"
"I said don't come back! If you do—!"
The screen went black.
Tai stood frozen, his hands clenched, the silence in the kitchen now oppressive.
"Tai…" Kari whispered. "What did he mean?"
Tai turned, his eyes still locked on the blank screen.
"I don't know," he said softly. "But I'm going to find out."
---------------
Time, as Tai had recently discovered, was an unpredictable thing. It moved faster when you were running for your life, slower when you were waiting for answers. And sometimes, like now, it just hovered — thick and heavy — like the humidity before a summer storm.
The sky outside the apartment had turned an odd, bruised purple, though the forecast had called for sunshine. The television droned quietly in the background, cycling through news of strange phenomena: power outages, disappearing pigeons, tremors that couldn't be explained by fault lines.
Tai sat on the floor in the living room, his back against the couch, Koromon in his lap like a warm, pink football. Kari was curled up on the armchair nearby, her legs tucked beneath her, her eyes not leaving the sky.
"You might never go back," she said suddenly, her voice so soft it barely reached him over the hum of the TV.
Koromon blinked up at her. "What do you mean?"
Kari hesitated. "To the Digital World. What if... you're stuck here now?"
Tai's chest tightened. The thought had been gnawing at him too, creeping in during quiet moments like this one. He tried to brush it off with a scoff.
"There's always a way back. There has to be."
"But how?" Kari whispered. "Izzy said not to return, and even he couldn't explain what's going on. And... the Digimon are coming here now. It's like... the worlds are overlapping."
Tai gritted his teeth and stared at his Digivice, which sat lifeless on the coffee table.
"All I want to do is help," he muttered. "But I don't even know where to start."
He slammed a fist into the floor. The sound echoed sharply.
"I can't just sit here and do nothing!"
As if the universe had heard his frustration and decided to oblige, the ground gave a sudden, violent tremble. The building groaned, and the windows rattled in their frames.
Kari jumped from her chair. "An earthquake?"
"No," Tai breathed, already on his feet, Koromon bouncing beside him. "Something worse."
They ran to the balcony.
Down below, in the street bathed in orange streetlight and shadows, a massive red creature lumbered into view — Tyrannomon, its spiny back arched, its claws dragging long, smoking gashes into the pavement. Its tail swiped across a row of parked cars like they were made of matchsticks. A pulse of fire erupted from its mouth, striking the side of an office building and sending glass and metal raining down.
Screams echoed in the distance.
"Tyrannomon..." Koromon murmured, eyes wide.
"But that's not possible," Tai said. "He belongs in the Digiworld!"
Kari's voice shook. "They're coming through... somehow."
Tai stared at the creature, the same feeling stirring in him as it had years ago — the instinct to act, to protect, to lead. He felt like he was standing at the edge of something enormous.
"If the Digimon are here," he said slowly, "then maybe... the rift is too."
He turned to Koromon, determination settling like steel in his chest. "We follow it. If Tyrannomon came from somewhere, we find out where. It might be our way back."
Koromon nodded. "Let's do it."
Tai grabbed his backpack, shoved the Digivice inside, and opened the door.
"Stay close," he said to Kari.
She looked up at him, defiant. "I'm coming with you."
Tai didn't argue. This wasn't a time for big-brother lectures. Not anymore.
And so the three of them — one boy, one girl, one pink Digimon — stepped out into a world unraveling at the edges, chasing a monster in hopes of finding the road back to another.