Tai crouched low, Kari cradled in his arms beneath the faint golden shimmer of the barrier. The humming of the Digivice pulsed with his heartbeat — rapid, alert, on edge.
Whoever had fired that shot… might be friend.
Might be foe.
Tai wasn't going to take chances. Not now. Not when Kari's breath still hitched in fear against his chest.
The minutes dragged, thick with smoke and the far-off wails of sirens. Then — soft footsteps echoed into the alleyway. Calm. Measured. Not hurried, not hesitant.
A young man emerged from the shadows.
He wasn't much older than Tai, maybe in his mid-twenties. He had short, tousled black-green hair, a stubbled jaw, and wore a dark hoodie and jeans like any regular university student. But Tai saw it — in the way he stood, in the way his eyes moved — a soldier's awareness. Not someone you bumped into by chance.
The man stopped a respectful distance away and raised both hands slowly, palms out.
"I'm Daigo Nishijima," he said, voice steady but not cold. "Digital World Task Force. Joint USA-Japan operations."
He reached into his jacket slowly, revealing a badge — silver and blue, government-sealed. Then from his other pocket, a Digivice — sleeker than Tai's, but unmistakable. It gleamed faintly in the light, a silent promise that he too had once stood where Tai now did.
Tai narrowed his eyes, still not lowering the barrier. Kari clutched at him silently, her breath still shaky.
"A lot of people say a lot of things," Tai said, voice low and wary. "That doesn't mean I believe them."
A flicker of something — approval? amusement? — crossed Daigo's face.
"Good," he said. "Don't trust anyone right now. Not even me."
He took a slow step back rather than forward, as if to prove he meant no harm. "You've just been attacked by someone who used to be one of us. I imagine you're feeling betrayed, confused, maybe even angry."
Tai said nothing. He didn't deny it.
Daigo nodded toward the barrier, toward Kari, toward the frightened Digimon trembling in Tai's bag. "You protected them. That's what matters. That's what makes you a Digidestined."
The words hung in the air like a quiet oath.
--------------
"Who were they?" Tai asked quietly, his voice carrying more steel than uncertainty.
Daigo looked away, just for a moment — and in that flicker of silence, a shadow passed over his face. Regret. Pain. Old wounds.
"Old friends," he said at last, his voice low and heavy. "People who once stood beside me. And others… people drawn in by promises from the Dark Masters. Power. Wealth. Maybe even purpose."
Tai's brow furrowed.
Daigo's eyes, once distant, locked with his again. "You've seen it, haven't you? Digimon… appearing without warning. That means the gate is open — unstable, for now, but it will settle. And when it does, more will come. Stronger. Smarter."
He stepped forward, his posture stiff with urgency. "The ones who attacked you — they want that gate to stabilize. They want more Digimon to come through. And more than that — they want the Digidestined out of the way."
Tai's hand tightened around the Digivice instinctively.
"You're not alone, Taichi," Daigo continued. "I was one of you. So was that woman — though she's chosen a different path now. But we were there when the Demon Lords rose in the previous Digital World. Our partners… they gave everything."
A faint tremble in his voice, quickly buried.
"They were deleted in the final stand. We couldn't stop the corruption. Yggdrasil rebooted the entire world to cleanse it — and when it did, our Digimon were gone. No eggs. No trace. Nothing."
Tai felt a hollow weight drop into his chest. The idea of Koromon disappearing like that — forever — twisted something deep inside him.
"But I knew it wasn't over," Daigo pressed on. "Yggdrasil saw us. Watched us. It liked what it saw. And so we believed it would choose again — new children, new partners. So we formed the Task Force. We gathered what we could. Technology. Intelligence. Allies. It wasn't easy convincing the government."
He smiled — faint and tired — the first warmth Tai had seen from him.
"But then you appeared. Four years ago. Parrotmon. Hikarigaoka. You saved that city. Your battle gave my project the green light. You proved we were right."
Tai blinked, stunned. That long-ago night — the terror, the fire, the winged Digimon — had changed his life. But to know it had changed Daigo's too…
"We're all still fighting, Tai. And we'll keep fighting. Because Yggdrasil doesn't stop. It escalates. It tests."
Daigo stepped closer, this time not as a soldier, but as someone who understood the burden Tai carried.
"And now the gate is open. I need you to go back. Close it. Rejoin your friends. If the rift becomes stable, the world won't survive the invasion."
Tai opened his mouth, but there were too many questions, too much weight.
"How?" he managed to whisper. "How do I go back? And how can you fight Digimon at all?"
"We've been preparing for four years," Daigo said simply. "We've developed countermeasures. But if you — if you don't close the gate, it'll all be for nothing."
And then — the sky cracked.
A tearing roar split through the air, and the ground shook with a deep, sickening boom.
They turned — both of them — just as a hulking green figure smashed into the street a block away, knocking a lamppost into splinters.
"Ogremon," Tai breathed, his Digivice flaring to life in his hand.
-------------
"Perfect," Daigo murmured, almost to himself. "Let me show you what we can do."
A low rumble echoed through the streets — not from the Ogremon, but from something far more human.
Tanks rolled in from either end of the boulevard, their engines purring like mechanical beasts. Overhead, two black attack helicopters cut across the sky, the rhythmic thudding of their blades sending shivers down Tai's spine. Sirens blared in the distance — not in panic, but precision. The emergency evacuation had already been completed, he realized. The streets were empty. Silent. Waiting.
And then he saw them — positioned on rooftops like sentinels: rows of soldiers, each manning powerful anti-tank rifles mounted on tripods. Their barrels gleamed in the pale daylight, each locked onto the roaring green monster below.
Tai walked beside Daigo, still inside the protective shimmer of his Digivice's barrier. Hikari clung to him, her face buried in his chest, trembling but safe. Koromon peeked from the edge of his bag, eyes wide and quiet.
For a moment, Tai forgot to breathe.
The Ogremon bellowed — a roar of challenge, confusion, and rage — but humanity did not flinch.
"Now," Daigo said calmly.
What followed was almost surgical.
The first round of high-caliber bullets shattered the Ogremon's knees with terrifying accuracy, sending it collapsing with a roar of pain that shook the pavement. A split second later, a hail of anti-armor shells tore into its arms and shoulders, neutralizing its ability to stand or strike back.
The final blow came from above — twin missiles launched from the attack choppers, spiraling down in streaks of fire. They struck true, erupting in a thunderous explosion that consumed the monster in flames and smoke.
Tai watched, stunned. The creature — so terrifying in its strength — had been defeated in under a minute.
"They knew where to hit it," he whispered.
Daigo nodded, his expression grim but proud. "We've studied Digimon anatomy for years. We know their data structures, their weak points. That was a field-grade Ogremon. A threat, yes — but manageable."
The smoke began to clear, revealing nothing but smoldering wreckage and digital particles fading into the wind.
Tai looked down at his Digivice, which pulsed gently in his hand. For the first time, he felt something strange — not fear, not awe… but the unsettling feeling of a war that had already begun without him.
"Come," Daigo said, placing a hand on Tai's shoulder. "That was just one. There are others. Stronger. Smarter. And they won't all be caught off guard."
Tai looked up at the older man, a hundred questions burning in his chest.
But for now, he followed.
---------------------
The café sat quietly at the end of a narrow street, its windows darkened by soot and dust from the earlier battle. The sign above the door hung askew, swinging lazily in the wind, and chairs had been overturned in haste. It would've been a cozy place, once. But now, under the flickering light of emergency generators and surrounded by an eerie silence, it felt like a ghost of the normal world — the kind of normal Tai used to know.
Inside, Daigo's men had commandeered the space. Folding tables stood where customers might've once laughed over cake and coffee. A kettle hissed behind the counter, manned by a young soldier with dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in days.
Daigo waved them in. Tai hesitated, still holding Hikari, before stepping through the door. The moment they entered, the barrier shimmered and collapsed. Koromon squeaked softly and hid back into Tai's bag, watching the men with wary, beady eyes.
A mug of hot cocoa was placed in front of Hikari, along with a warm blanket. Tai was handed a bottle of mineral water, though he barely registered it.
"Do you understand now?" Daigo asked, his voice quiet but firm. He leaned back in the worn armchair opposite Tai, his hands clasped together. "We can protect ourselves. At least — at this level."
Tai nodded slowly. What he had witnessed outside was undeniable: the precision, the power, the preparation. Humanity had learned. They had adapted.
"But…" Tai began hesitantly, "how do I get back?"
Daigo offered a small, knowing smile. "Isn't that simple?" he replied, steepling his fingers. "You just need your partner to evolve to Champion level. At that point, the Digital World will pull you back in — it's like a beacon. Right now, the gate is only stable enough for Digimon weaker than Champion to pass through and linger."
He gestured vaguely toward the window, where wisps of digital data still shimmered faintly in the air like falling embers. "Yes, rookies have appeared before. We intercepted several. Some were eliminated — hostile creatures with no intention but destruction. Others, we managed to capture."
"Capture?" Tai echoed, brow furrowing.
Daigo leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "These aren't the Digimon you remember. These are wild, twisted things — corrupted, maybe even desperate. But we're trying to understand them, to tame them. We believe — if handled properly — they might once again become partners. Maybe even allies."
Tai's eyes narrowed with curiosity. "And you want me to help with that?"
Daigo nodded, then tapped the tablet he'd been carrying. A holographic image burst to life above the screen, bright and flickering.
"You might not know this," Daigo said, gesturing to the projection, "but your Digivice has another function— a capture protocol. It allows you to bind a Digimon that isn't your partner and form a limited contract with them."
Tai watched the 3D video unfold — a person raised their Digivice, and from it sprang digital chains, glowing with arcane energy. They snaked through the air and latched onto a snarling Digimon's limbs — legs first, then arms — and finally coiled around its neck. When the last chain clicked into place, the Digimon froze. Moments later, ghostly versions of the chains appeared imprinted along its skin like tattoos. The creature's wildness dulled, its data signature stabilizing.
"This isn't a recording," Daigo added. "It's a simulation. But we've been testing the system for real. With… varying success."
At that moment, as if summoned, the door to the café creaked open again.
Two soldiers entered, flanking a reinforced digital cage. The sound of heavy boots and clinking chains echoed through the room. Inside the cage stood a small but vicious-looking creature — its green skin mottled, eyes yellow with hatred. Shackles glowed at its wrists and ankles. The chain marks on its body pulsed faintly with electricity,
"Goblinmon," Daigo said.
The Digimon snarled from within the cage, baring jagged teeth, but it made no attempt to break free.
Tai instinctively pulled Hikari closer.
"He was one of the first we captured," Daigo continued. "Violent. Unstable. But… he hasn't tried to break the chains. Yet."
Tai looked at the creature, then at Daigo, then at his Digivice.
The world had changed. The rules were different now.
And he was beginning to understand — this was no longer a game between children and monsters. This was war.
-------------------
Daigo stood near the far wall of the dim café, arms crossed as he watched the boy. Taichi. Digidestined. Hero.
The soft whirr of the Digivice filled the silence as its screen lit up, glowing faintly in Tai's hand. A digital chain slithered through the air, its ghostly form shimmering like a thread of lightning. It lashed forward with a whip-crack and struck Goblinmon, coiling around the creature's limbs with unsettling precision.
Daigo said nothing, only watched.
He'd guided Tai here for this — to capture the Goblinmon, to prove what needed to be done — but a small, bitter piece of him twisted in the silence. He hid it well, behind a smile and level tone, but it was there, gnawing just under the surface.
He wished his own Digivice still worked.
Daigo's hand fell to the device clipped at his hip — a battered thing, its color dulled by time, its once-lively glow now cold and gray. It hadn't flickered in years. No matter how often he'd tested, recalibrated, or hoped.
Because he wasn't one of them.
Not anymore.
Not until Yggdrasil deemed it so.
Daigo still remembered the days of wonder, of sun-drenched meadows in the Digital World, of laughter and battle and heartbreak. He remembered his partner. The last smile before the light consumed them. The moment the Digital World rebooted and everything was lost.
He had survived, but not unchanged.
The others — what few of them had made it back — had scattered, some burying the past, others like him trying to make sense of the future. It had taken years to convince the world — to convince governments — that the danger was real. But after the night Tai had fought off Parrotmon in the heart of Tokyo… the world had finally begun to listen.
Even so, he'd paid for every inch of ground. Diplomats, scientists, bureaucrats — none of them understood what was coming. None of them had seen what he had seen.
He'd built the Task Force as a way to buy time. But he knew better than anyone that humanity couldn't hold the line forever. The weapons, the tanks, the anti-tank rifles — they worked for now. But if an Ultimate Digimon appeared?
Nothing they had could stop it. Not even nuclear arms.
That's why this mattered.
That's why he needed Tai to succeed.
The boy's Digivice pulsed again, finalizing the seal. Goblinmon writhed once, then slumped, subdued. The chains glowed softly against its green skin, not tight, but ever-present — a quiet reminder of its captivity.
Tai hesitated. Then — slowly, as if unsure what would happen — he turned to Goblinmon and gave a simple command:
"Go with Daigo."
The creature snarled low in its throat, then obeyed. Bound by the Digivice, it shuffled toward Daigo, its eyes dull and wary.
That was enough.
Daigo allowed himself the smallest nod.
Goblinmon wasn't the kind of partner he'd dreamed of. It was cruel, rough-edged — a born brawler with no instinct for kindness. But it was a start. And maybe, just maybe, it was enough to get back what he had lost.
The boy looked at him, young and uncertain. Hikari stood beside him, clutching his sleeve.
They were too young for this.
Daigo knew it — felt it deep in his bones — and it made his stomach twist with guilt. Children shouldn't have to save the world. But that was the tragedy of it. The adults weren't strong enough. Not yet.
He offered Tai a tight smile. "You did well. Now it's your turn to go back and finish this."
As the boy nodded and looked down at his Digivice, Daigo turned away for a moment. Not out of rudeness, but because he couldn't bear to let the boy see the look in his eyes.
Regret.
Determination.
And a single, aching hope that this time — this time — they would win.
-----------------
Hikari stood quietly beside her brother, the weight of the past hour finally settling in her chest like a stone. The moment Goblinmon slunk to Daigo's side, shackled by the Digivice's chains, it felt like something intangible had shifted — like the world had exhaled, and in doing so, reminded her that nothing was going to be the same again.
Daigo turned to Taichi with a faint nod. "Go. I'll take care of things here. Your parents, your sister... I promise."
Hikari could see the tension in her brother's shoulders. His fists clenched at his sides, the edge in his voice sharp as steel.
"If anything happens to them…" Taichi stepped forward, his face mere inches from Daigo's, "—there won't be a place on Earth you can hide from me."
There was no need for shouting. The words struck like a knife in still water. Even Goblinmon flinched.
Daigo didn't answer, only gave a solemn nod, as if he knew the truth of it already.
Hikari felt warmth bloom in her chest. That was her big brother — brave, fierce, and unwavering when it mattered most. For a flicker of a moment, she was no longer the scared girl hiding behind a barrier, no longer the one who had cried in alleyways while monsters fell from the sky. She was his sister — Taichi Kamiya's sister — and that meant something.
But then, as he turned back to her, the ache returned.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
She watched as he pulled out his Digivice. It gleamed in the late afternoon light, humming with power. Koromon chirped softly from his arms, then leapt free, landing on the cracked pavement.
The light that poured from the Digivice was blinding — a radiant beam of raw, wild energy that wrapped around Koromon like the embrace of destiny. Hikari's breath caught as his small pink body elongated and stretched, glowing fiercely.
"Koromon… Digivolve to… Greymon!"
The roar that followed shattered the silence. It echoed through the sky like a challenge, like a declaration of war.
And the world answered.
The air above them shimmered, twisted — as though reality had been pierced. A jagged rift cracked open in the sky, a swirl of colors and static and wind. The digital gate. It had found Greymon. It wanted him back.
And it was coming to take Tai with him.
"No…" Hikari whispered, the word escaping before she could think. Her heart pounded.
Greymon gave a thunderous growl as his massive body was slowly lifted into the air by unseen forces, drawn upward into the pulsing rift.
Taichi stepped forward, his eyes locked on his partner.
Then he turned slightly — just enough to glance back.
And Hikari ran to him.
"No!" she cried, grabbing his hand as his feet began to rise from the ground. "Tai—don't leave me! Please, not again!"
His hand squeezed hers — firm, steady. That familiar grip that had pulled her up when she fell, held her close when she was scared.
"I have to," he said gently. "I have to end this."
Tears blurred her vision, but she nodded, choking back a sob. "But I don't want to be alone."
"You won't be." His voice trembled now. "I'll come back. I promise."
The wind picked up, swirling around them. His body was lifting faster now, drifting skyward like a leaf caught in a storm. Hikari held on desperately, her feet skidding forward, trying to anchor him with the last of her strength.
Their fingers slipped slightly. She gasped, clinging tighter.
And then, slowly, their hands began to part.
"Don't forget me!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "I love you, Tai!"
He smiled then — soft, proud, and full of the kind of warmth that could never be replaced.
"I could never forget you," he whispered, and with one last squeeze, the rift pulled him away.
Gone.
The sky sealed behind him, leaving only the empty quiet, and Hikari stood alone, staring upward with her heart in her throat, her hand still outstretched.
A tear slid down her cheek.
But she didn't fall.
Because she knew now.
Her brother was fighting for all of them.
And she would be strong — for him.