Chapter Text
April 21, 2102 AD
Shiori Katakana, when she was asked after becoming a mother herself, would remark her first and strongest memory was when her mother’s partner Digimon, Leomon-jiisan, took her to live on File Island for three years after Mount Fuji erupted and the Japanese Land Forces ordered the mass evacuation of Tokyo via the Digital World and from there out to less populated areas on Honshu and Hokkaido, where emergency shelters were already being set up and prepared for the arrivals. The UN and NATO had negotiated with the Digimon Sovereigns for the safe travel of human refugees to certain points on Server, and then safe passage to the next point of travel.
The Digital World, as vast and connected as it was to the Human World, was more like a planet out of a science fiction film than anything else. Digimon may have been bits of data given sentient form, but that didn’t stop them from forming their own culture and societies that were more or less similar to humans. You could find the very best and worst among them, and that made them dangerous to humans. A good number didn’t particularly care for humans, viewing them as cruel and arrogant, and many humans felt the same way. Digimon were viewed by many as overpowered demons and monsters who just as easily destroy humans, and vice versa. The endless cycle of death and rebirth in the Digital World left them inured to human suffering, but that cycle was broken should a Digimon die in the human world. This left a bitter taste in many mouths, especially in areas that had been under the thumb of the Digimon Kaiser.
With the rise of AI infiltrating personal computing and businesses, AI began to infect the Digital World as well. At first it was nothing major, fish swimming in a river would be meatier and have extra eyes or fins. Plants would grow in unusual colors depending on the region, but when applied as a glamour, this is when it got dangerous. Humanoid male Digimon used AI glamour to prowl Human cities to seduce humans for sexual encounters, many more consensual than others. However, using AI glamours grew to be addictive, leading to a black market for glamours.
As bad as the addiction to AI glamours was, the political situation in the Digital World was not the greatest either. With the rise of online MMORPGs and social media, new lands formed, and many more Digimon migrated to these frontiers. However, there never seemed to be enough resources (even on a continent as large as Server), and thus began the rise of the Digimon Shoguns, Ultimate levels who wielded enough clout and power to carve out their own fiefdoms and make war to conquer neighboring kingdoms. Because of the cyclical nature of death and rebirth, the Digimon Sovereigns did not see the need to get involved. After all, it was the job of the Chosen Children to maintain balance, and they only stepped in if things got really screwed up. Thus far, things had not yet reached that level.
File Island, off limits to ordinary humans except for the Chosen and their descendants, was thankfully calm. The two main Shoguns, ShogunGekkomon and ShogunMyotismon were entering the sixth decade of a long simmering cold war over natural resources. Rumors had floated around for decades about a map leading to the Digimon Kaiser’s main underground base and the lands surrounding it that had been under his direct control. Supposedly, the richest resources were there, and whoever laid claim would be the de-facto shogun of File Island. However, there wasn’t much evidence of such a map even existing, but both shoguns spent a good amount of time and money running down every last credible lead.
The day of the eruption had started off normally enough, well normally enough after a 7.5 earthquake had rocked the entirety of the Kanto region. The Armadillomon and Digmon miners stationed outside of Mount Fuji had noticed the rise in heat, the precipitous bulge on Mount Fuji’s peak, and had contacted the Japanese government; an eruption was 85% imminent within the next 72 hours. The Digimon returned back to whatever part of the Digital World they called home, and the Japanese Land Forces began the mandated mass evacuations. Humans in the area collected their legal papers, extra clothes, and were able to evacuate in a mostly calm and orderly manner, the only hindrance coming from the rubble and debris left behind by the earthquake.
Back in Tokyo’s leafy Tama New Town prefecture, five year old Shiori Katakana had been enjoying her afternoon mixed martial arts lesson in the back garden, backpacks neatly lined up along the playground’s edge for easy access. She was a pretty little girl, shiny black hair and expressive blue eyes. She was also on the tallish side, and it was gossiped amongst her teachers that she had a Digimon father (this was true), and it was not Leomon. Leomon jiisan was Himeko’s partner Digimon, and Himeko was the Chosen Child of Resilience. The sensei was demonstrating how to hold a bokken, and the kids who had been signed up for this class were standing in two rows, legs apart and arms raised adopting a starting position. Passing by, you would have mistaken them for taking cues from Star Wars: Rebels when Kanan trained Sabine how to use the Darksaber. “Ready, begin! Ichi. Ni. San. Again! Ichi. Ni. San. Again! Ichi, ni, san! Faster.” The twenty four or so five year olds moved their wooden blades up and down, but Shiori was a bit faster with her timing. She had been watching SWR one morning when she had been home with a bout of COVID, and Leomon had been minding her. Himeko had been working from home then, as one of the senior editors for Nakayoshi, she had flexibility.
Shiori had been rewatching the same five minute loop for about an hour, and was holding a plastic ruler in her hands, raised above her head. Freddie Prinze Jr’s voice could be heard giving authoritative instructions in sword use, leaving Leomon puzzled as to why he was hearing English and not Japanese. The tan-furred leonine Digimon left the kitchen, and walked into the den. He caught sight of Shiori gazing intensely at the flat holographic television screen, paying careful attention to the Jedi’s footwork and blade angle. Leomon felt the ghost of a smile tug at his lips, Shiori was so focused on her task she was oblivious to what was going on around her. How odd that she was the Chosen Child of Balance, she didn’t have a partner Digimon yet. Then again, considering who her father was, maybe that was for the best.
Shiori went through the motions effortlessly, which was saying something, as she was only 4 years old. Most four year olds were all over the place and there were times they didn’t know where they ended and where their friends began, especially if some prized toy was wanted. She was an intense child, and intelligent. She knew exactly what she wanted, and how to go about doing it. She of course, knew how to get along within the group setting, but over the last century there had been major social shifts away from ingrained social cohesion and collectivism, for the most part.
He watched as Shiori cycled through with the ruler, and he asked, “What are you doing there, Shiori-chan?” Shiori paused the show, and smiled brightly at her beloved jiisan. “I am practicing my sword skills, Leomon- jiisan.” She whisked the ruler around, a soft whoosh slicing the quiet room. Leomon had to kneel, and as he stood about 8 feet tall, he was grateful for the 12 foot ceiling height in the apartment. He grinned, “I saw you practicing, you are getting better.” He ruffled her hair, and Shiori told him how one day she wanted to go to the Digital World and get stronger. He had laughed at her earnestness and said one day she would, but when she was older. How much older, he wasn’t sure.
Now, roughly a year later, Shiori was standing in the front row as she and her peers worked through their training exercises. Leomon was watching his young charge from one of the sturdy oak trees within the campus. She had been progressing nicely, and her skills would soon be outpacing her peers and she would need to be enrolled in a program geared towards older children. It wouldn’t hurt, Shiori needed to be challenged anyway. She was an inquisitive child, and being constantly challenged (within reason) kept her focused.
It was about now that the 5 pm bell rang, the end of the Japanese workday. One of the teachers called out it was time to line up to go home, so Leomon jumped down from the tree and waited at the front gate, as a cheerful teacher escorted Shiori to the front gate. Leomon and Shiroi bowed respectfully to the teacher and headed home. Shiori’s small hand felt microscopic in Leomon’s paw, but she was his Shiori-chan. People were leaving their offices, cheerfully greeting each other, ready to head home. Shiori had a question about this.
“Leomon-jiisan, why does everybody stop working at 5 o’clock?”
“Everyone stops working, little Shiori?”
“Not everyone, jiisan. People like okasan who work in big, tall office buildings. Why do they stop work at five o’clock?”
“Well, a very long time ago, people thought that it was a good idea to work very long hours where they worked because it made the company look good, and nobody talked about how they felt. If you felt sad or angry with someone, you didn’t go to your work senpai and discuss how to get along better. People kept all their feelings inside because they didn’t want to… be a problem for everyone around them.”
“But that’s wrong! Okasan says it’s best to tell people how you feel and then work together to see how the problems can be solved so other people know how to fix it.”
“That’s how it is now, but one hundred years ago, people didn’t like sharing how they felt, they wanted to blend in. It was only after the Chosen Children and their Digimon partners saved the world that politicians in the Diet began listening and changed Japanese work culture.” This was the simplest explanation in the extreme changes in Japanese work culture and views towards mental health. Shiori was far too young to understand the nitty-gritty surrounding collectivism in the workplace, and the mandated loosening of said rules by the various Diets held over the decades. She would learn about that once she hit junior high.
Even now, the average Japanese work day was 10 hours, but salarymen/women had 1 hour for lunch and 1 hour of group yoga and mindfulness at the end of the workday. Workweeks were 4 days on, three days off. Instead of going drinking after work, you had monthly small dinner parties once a month, and bi-monthly Saturday night karaoke sessions. Because of these reforms, mental health overall stabilized, the birth rate had increased and the national economy was stronger overall.
These changes had also reached the public education system, as well. School still started at 8 AM, but classes were block scheduled. 2 hours of 2 courses in the morning, 1 hour for lunch, followed by 2 more course blocks. Fridays were reserved for extracurriculars and clubs. College exams were taken, but your GPA and transcripts were also taken into account. You were also allowed to accessorize your school uniform with pre-approved jewelry and hair ribbons sold at the school store. Uniforms had gone back to the traditional sailor fuku, skirts had to fall 3 inches below the knee for modesty standards, and thick sweater tights were mandatory during the fall and winter. Cram schools were all but outlawed, only if you had fallen behind or special circumstances permitted it. As for LGBTQ students, Japan was still fifty years behind the rest of its First World trade partners. Civil ceremonies were allowed, but you still had to watch yourself in more conservative areas.
By now, Leomon and Shiori had gotten back to their apartment, and Himeko was on a phone call as she hovered over a pot full of ramen noodles. Shiori could smell the beef broth boiling away as she entered the kitchen. “Mommy,” she cheered happily as she embraced her mother’s corduroy clad legs. Himeko knelt down and kissed her daughter’s head. “Wash up and get ready for dinner,” she instructed warmly. Shiori nodded, and headed for the nearest bathroom.
For someone who was only 30 years old, Himeko Katakana was a beautiful woman. She was tall and elegant, lavender hair that was wavy and fell to the middle of her back. She was built like a swimmer, and had broad shoulders and strong arms and legs. She came from a military family, so she needed to be strong both mentally and physically. She knew about the evacuation orders, she had gotten the email earlier that morning while she was reviewing what manga would be going into the May edition. There was something else that had been bothering her as of late, she would speak to Leomon later, after Shiori had gone to bed.
Dinner had been nothing short of delicious, ramen in beef broth with carrots, ground beef, sliced bell peppers, carrots, and an egg. Shiori regaled her mother about what happened about her day, and Himeko told her daughter about the new manga that was coming out. Shiori said there had been a siren going off at nap time, she had not liked that. Himeko had laughed, “I’m sorry you didn’t get to nap as long as you like, but we live in a country prone to earthquakes, so we need to be ready to leave when we hear those sirens. They help keep us safe,” she explained. Shiori nodded, she believed her mother, but why did they have to be so loud?
Once Shiori had taken a bath and was in bed, Himeko set about packing Shiori’s legal papers in a file folder, along with some spare clothes, before taking her daughter’s digivice (which looked like a smart watch) and strapping it on her right wrist. Leomon glanced out the window and asked his partner what was going on.
“Earlier today, I got a summons from the Japanese Land Forces office. I need to stay behind to assist with evacuation efforts. I also got the feeling I was being followed earlier when I was down in Odaibah, down by the TV station.” Her voice had softened, but she was pacing quickly as she worked. Leomon knew very well she was feeling anxious.
“I have a house on File Island, it’s near Primary Village. Shiori will be safe there, and there’s a small town nearby. There’s a general store and a cafe, we’ll be okay. About who’s following you, it wasn’t him, was it?”
“I don’t know, and I certainly hope not. What’s important is that he never finds me or Shiori. I think it will be a couple of years before Tokyo is safe for her to return.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed her daughter’s bangs. “I hope Shiori doesn’t grow to resent me.” Leomon squeezed her hand, and told Himeko she was not a terrible mother, she was saving her daughter’s life.
The next thing Shiori knew, she was waking to the sharp smell of charcoal burning in the air. She woke up with a start and began coughing, was a nearby apartment on fire? She could hear a mechanical voice giving orders to evacuate. She pulled at the light pink curtains decorated with susuwatari and kodamas, the starry sky seemed darker than usual, and the full moon was behind hazy clouds. Leomon burst into the bedroom, and tossed Shiori her backpack. “We gotta evacuate, kiddo. It’s not safe here.” He scooped Shiori into his arms, and walked briskly into Himeko’s home office.
The computer screen was lit, and the digiport was open. Shirori started to look around and call out for her mother. Himeko stepped into the room wearing a sharp, black business suit. She embraced her crying daughter and wiped away the child’s tears, “It’s not safe in Tokyo right now, you need to go to the Digital World for a while with Leomon. I will miss you, but I will be okay knowing you are safe. Makenai, Shiori-chan.” One last embrace, and there was a sudden gust of wind as Digimon and ward escaped into the safety of File Island.
Once her daughter had been safely seen off, Himeko locked the door and flagged down a taxi to drive her to the communication center that had been set up. It was the border between the Minato and Odaibah wards. It’s times like this that I wish I was either a Pretty Cure or a Sailor Senshi, she thought to herself. Once she was there, her biometrics were scanned and she logged in with her government credentials:
Name: Katakana, Himeko
Age: 30 years, 1 month
Chosen Child of: Resilience
Partner Digimon: Leomon
Government Alias: Killer Katsuragi
“What have we got,” she asked the uniformed officer who was barking orders to deploy ambulances and heavy machinery out to clear the roads. The officer gave her numbers about the injured among the evacuated, those who were dying had suffered from lava flows and smoke inhalation. “We are opening as many digiports as possible, but there are concerns the country’s wireless grid could come to a standstill or worse, crash- leading to more casualties. We’ve mobilized some teams of Digmon and Armadillomon to help with the evacuation, but some AI glamour addicts are giving us hell. Pretty sure we got a Kuwagamon with a cloaking device ability. How soon can you get out there?” Himeko said she could get out there as soon as possible.
“Digiport open!”
Shizuoka prefecture, or the outer fringes were wreathed in dense smoke and fire as Digimon and humans tried in vain to evacuate the wooden and stone houses that were in danger of combusting. Numerous elderly couples refused to leave, what reason did they have to live if what they came back to wasn’t there? Pleading and begging worked with some, others had to be forced out, albeit carefully.
An assembly line had been set up to get the infirm out of their homes and to the meet up point on the other side of the country. Despite how fast and carefully they worked, people were still in respiratory distress, and some were dying from wandering away, not to mention Kuwagamon kept dive bombing the intrepid rescuers. Himeko gave the order to bring down Kuwagamon, and it did bother her Kuwagamon would rather die than submit, it was for the safety of everyone. Of course, the Kuwagamon caught fire when flying too close to some smoldering lava, and crashing into a house, setting it alight.
Trailing it on her feet, Himeko called out for any survivors as the glass windows exploded, sending shrapnel everywhere. She dove into the nearest bush, when she heard something coughing. It was a little girl in a set of Pretty Cure pajamas, about Shiori’s age. She had wild, dark blonde hair, and her glasses were askew. She was wheezing and asking where her parents were. Scooping the child up, Himeko ran back to the street, and this little girl would not die tonight. One life saved was worth more than anything else in the world, Himeko thought.
Sitting with the child, they rode to the nearest hospital, and when Himeko had the child safely delivered, she returned to the grim task at hand. She had to keep going, she was the Chosen Child of Resilience.