[wip] The Wind-Born

[higuchimon]

Speed. That is the only answer. I have to move faster than Rosemon, out-fly her, find a way to stop her that is too quick and too strong for her to stop, avoid her in every single way.

The problem with that is that Rosemon is as fast as I am, in other ways.

The room fills with vines, each one bearing thorns as sharp as steel, and winding my way through them is the next thing to impossible. I try, though. Because I must.

I move forward, just managing to dart around one vine that shoots toward me nearly as fast as my wings can flutter, I’m not even certain if I miss it all the way, is that a smear of blood from the thorn?

I don’t have time to stop and check. Looking for damage will only make more damage. So I dodge and I dart and I spin and I shout.

“What did you do to Ophanimon?” I have only the thinnest of ties to her, that I remember, but I don’t care.

That is the point: that I remember. What I don’t know could fill worlds and it hurts to think about those I’ve forgotten, and all I can think about them is as those I don’t know.

For all I know, Rosemon could be one of them. We could’ve been friends. Or more. Or other.

But now Rosemon fights me with thorns and whip and blades and whatever we might’ve been is dust in the wind. What little thoughts I have time to think vanish, replaced by the simple need to survive.

“Ophanimon is part of me now, just like you will be,” Rosemon declares, and her smile is a slash of terror and fear and hatred and triumph all in one. “You have nothing to fear, Wind-Born. Accept what is meant to be and all will be well.”

“I don’t think so.”

All I have time do is move and I can’t move very much, because the thorns and the vines are everywhere and the little spaces to dodge between them get smaller by the moment.

I think I would already be dead if Rosemon didn’t want to not kill me yet. And I have no idea of why that is.

Knowing that isn’t part of the scheme and not knowing why it isn’t is more than enough to send chills all through me. I wish I had time to think this out, but if I take so much as a moment that isn’t avoiding Rosemon’s thorn attacks, then whatever Rosemon wants is going to happen.

I can’t see the dagger anymore. That worries me; what does Rosemon have planned for it? What has Rosemon already done with it?

Rosemon’s breath is cold on my neck and there are so many vines in every direction; I barely have room to move, let alone avoid the attack that’s coming.

It hits me head-on, sending me spiraling into a wall, and knocks all the breath out of me. I can see Rosemon approaching and there is that smile, speaking vibrantly of death and fear.

I want to get up. My wings half-hide the approach, but I can still hear those footsteps, each one sounding like the end of the world.

I won’t let this happen. I can’t let this happen.

I have to get up.

Getting up doesn’t count as being pulled up by Rosemon, but that’s the only way I can stand. My feet don’t want to co operate. My wings flutter and I remember, somewhat vaguely, that I can fly. This is somewhat on the same par as remembering I can breath: a thing I can do but which I can’t focus on right now.

But flying could save me, if I could do it fast enough. I’ve been flying but I haven't gone anywhere.

Rosemon stares down at me and I see that her petals are no longer red but gray as charcoal, gray as ashes, gray as death…

“Death Rosemon...” The words just rise to my lips, as so much else has done since I became aware of myself. That is who this is.

And there is that smile, which gets no better with reptiation.

“I see you remember my name at last.” There is the dagger, sharp and bright in one hand, and far too close to me. “I would give you back all of your memories, but you won’t have a need for them much longer.”

If Death Rosemon can do that… then I still wouldn’t take them, not like this. I want to know who I am, but not at that price. Whatever price would be asked here and now would be too much.

Light catches on the dagger as it’s raised up. I don’t care what Death Rosemon wants to do with it or has done with it already. If it drinks my blood, then Death Rosemon wins, and there won’t be anyone around who can put a stop to this.

So I do what I don’t even know if I can do, because I have to do something, and this is all that I can imagine now. The only hope that I have.

I did this when I fought Ranamon. I don’t know how I did it then and I still don’t know, but the dagger strikes against my metallic wings as I close them between the two of us.

Death Rosemon’s dagger falls, skittering away, and I wrench out of that grip, panting for what bits of air that I can get.

“This will do you no good, Wind-Born,” Death Rosemon tells me, beginning to move toward the dagger at a lazy pace. “There’s nothing that you can do to stop me. I’ve drunk the power of more beings that you can imagine. Ophanimon was only the latest. All of their strength resides in me. Do you think that you can stop me?”

At first I don’t know if I can say anything at all or what I would say if I could. But I try not to waste time thinking on it. Instead, I move forward, and seized the dagger only a heartbeat before Death Rosemon does.

I think I’m lucky to get it by the handle. If I grabbed the blade, then whatever Death Rosemon had in mind would happen. Or have a better chance of happening.

So I have the handle and I turn back around and I can see that glare bearing down on me. I almost wish I couldn’t, though right now, that means I’m alive, and that means I can still fight.

For now. Whatever this other form with wings of metal and even greater speed may be, it takes a lot of strength to keep it up, and I can feel mine running out. I have to find a way to end this quickly and surely and in my favor.

The wind gusts against me. The first time I’ve felt it doing so since this fight began.

There are no words. Only a feeling, a sensation, and nothing more.

To end this fight, I have to turn the dagger’s power back to Death Rosemon. I have to use the dagger on my enemy.

I have to kill with it.

Killing isn’t something I want to do. But there’s no other choice. There’s no other way to stop whatever plan Death Rosemon has in mind.

Not liking it doesn’t mean that I won’t do it. It just means I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror after this.

That’s all right. I don’t think I want to look in the mirror and not know who I am anyway. I’ve had enough of that. But I’d rather see myself and not know myself because I don’t know, than because I did something I knew wasn’t right.

There’s too much going on and I have to do something. Death Rosemon keeps coming toward me and each step could be the last one that I see.

I go up. There’s not much room to maneuver, but I take what I can find, and the vines can’t go up forever, not with part of the wall destroyed now. There’s a hole that leads to the outside and there I go.

Death Rosemon is right after me, lashing that whip, and I do everything within my power to dodge it. Getting out of its reach isn’t easy and I can feel the wind from it cracking far too close to me.

Someone like Death Rosemon wouldn’t have a weapon like this if it didn’t have something more to it than causing pain.

“Just give up, little wind-dancer,” Death Rosemon’s voice slides against me, and there’s that whip cracking again, too close, far too close. “If you give up and give me back my dagger, I’ll finish you quickly. You’ll feel nothing at all. You’ll be one with me, forever.”

I can’t say that appeals to me at all. I can say the thought terrifies me, though.

“If you don’t give it back, then I’ll finish you slowly. I’ll rip out every feather you have and use them to slice every part of you until you bleed. I’ll throw you into a tornado and watch you bounce from ground to cloud until you’re close to death, and then I’ll pull you out.”

A clawed finger presses against me. I flap my wings harder; I can’t stand to be this close.

“I’ll pull you out and I’ll find the deepest depths of the ocean to drown you in and I still won’t let you die. What’s mine is mine and everything and everyone in that dagger is mine, and so is it, so give it back!”

There’s something in those words that means more than Death Rosemon wants me to know. But I fly faster and fly harder and I only think about it later, because thinking is not what I want to do now.

The wind says to use it on Death Rosemon. My heart says something else altogether. The wind is my friend, the one that I’ve had the longest whether I can remember it or not, and can’t just toss the words aside.

I can’t think faster than I can fly, not when flying means I have to stay ahead of Death Rosemon. Every little twitch of my wings is something to watch out for, because those claws reach for me, and I can feel the lash getting closer with each strike.

I mustn't get hit by that. From a small crack in my memory, I know what that lash’s touch can do: anyone hit by it is forever bound to Death Rosemon, loyalty beyond life itself infusing them.

Not today. Not ever. Not happening.

I’m not strong enough to win this fight. I know that more than anything and I can’t give it up, won’t give it up.

I’m high up enough now that I can see the landscape spread out beneath me. There’s a lake glittering off to one side. Is it the one I met Ranamon at? I don’t know. But seeing it reflect back the sky gives me a thought. Perhaps the best one I’ll have in all of this fight.

Death Rosemon hasn’t hesitated for a moment, pulling up closer.

“Even without that, I’m stronger than you’ll ever be. Victory is mine, little wind-dancer. So give it back.”

“No,” I say, holding it as close as I can. “I’d rather die.” I have to believe this. I have to accept that this just might work: or worse, that it might not, and there really is no way to stop Death Rosemon.

“I can arrange that.”

And Death Rosemon darts forward, hands reaching, and I use one of the oldest tricks that anyone who flies can ever use.

I drop. I drop and spin and twirl until I’m heading right for an expanse of rocks that would surely kill anyone who slammed into them at the speed that I’m going, and I can feel Death Rosemon’s stare following me for those first few moments.

I don’t think that Death Rosemon believed that I would do this. I know I don’t believe that I’m doing this.

But I keep going, the dagger held out, because I want it to hit the ground before I do, even if it’s only by a matter of moments.

Death Rosemon is fast.

I’m faster.

There’s nothing as fast as the wind, and this is why I am the Wind-Born. Because there’s nothing as fast as I am.

Not even Death Rosemon.

The dagger crashes first. I don’t know if what happens next is because of it or because I hit the ground, but something happens anyway.

There’s light. Light that pours out from everywhere and screams along with the light, as if the dagger itself – or the light because the dagger doesn’t exist anymore, shattered on stone – screams.

A thousand screams, perhaps ten thousand, and somewhere in there I can her Ophanimon, and Death Rosemon, and there is just pain with every voice.

Pain that rises with each moment and I can’t keep this up, I need to rest but there’s no rest at all.

I can’t move my wings. I can’t move anything. I can’t even see anything. Those screams fill my ears to the point I don’t even know if I’m hearing them or making them myself.

And then there is no more light. No more screams. Nothing at all. And I think I like it that way.

---

I don’t know how long it is before I feel anything else. When I do, it’s the wind, teasing at my hair and my feathers, as if it’s giggling at me. A soft, light giggle. A laugh between friends.

I try to open my eyes. That isn’t a very good idea. There’s nothing but sky around me, sky and wind.

A perfect place for me. It wouldn’t be so bad to stay here for a long time. Maybe forever.

Are you awake, Wind-born?

I can’t say that I recognize the voice but I can’t say that I don’t, either. It isn’t the confusion of not remembering, though, it’s something else.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard them before. Even when I had my memories.

“I think so?” I look at myself. Everything seems in order, as much as I can tell. No injuries. The ones from the fight with Death Rosemon are gone. I can’t even feel where they were. I knew they were there; going in and out of those vines left a lot of marks on me. But now they’re not.

I’ve been waiting for you.

“Who are you?” I don’t know if there’s any other question I could ask. Then another does come. “Did I do it? Is Ophanimon all right?”

You may call me… AncientIrismon.

And then there before me is someone I’ve never seen before. I know I’ve never seen them before, because even with my mind blanked entirely, I couldn’t have forgotten someone this beautiful or this powerful.

Speed and wings and rainbows, that is all my mind can comprehend, along with beauty that would make Ranamon weep and rage, and which makes me wish I could be half as beautiful one day.

And yes. Ophanimon has been saved, as have all of those who were trapped by Death Rosemon’s power. You need not fear for any of them.

I relax. At least whatever else happens to me, it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you so much.”

But you are the one who should be thanked, Orimoto Izumi, Wind-Born, Sky-Dancer, Child of the Wind, my Fairymon, my Shutumon. AncientIrismon smiles with those words. Each of them is me, a name, a description, part of who I am.

And with each one the memories click back into place. I am the Wind-Born, born among mortals, but not one of them, raised until adulthood as one of them, until my wings grew in, and I learned to dance with the wind, to be part of it, to sing its songs and have them echo back to me.

All the powers of the wind are mine, if to a lesser extent than AncientIrismon.

“Mother...”

Not as mortals think of the word, but AncientIrismon made me, crafted me from will and wind and set me among mortals to learn from them, and now I remember so much more…

Because I chose to give up my memory, when we learned of Death Rosemon and those awful, horrible plans with the dagger, to soak up all of the power of the greatest spirits and beings that Death Rosemon could get to, and use it to destroy the world itself.

Only by setting out tempting bait that didn’t even know it was bait could Death Rosemon have been defeated. Only by sending me, the wind’s daughter, could Death Rosemon been tempted to overreach centuries of plans, and make that final grab.

So I was that bait and while it did not work perfectly – we hoped that Death Rosemon wouldn’t gain Ophanimon’s power and only now do I understand how close to death I came – it did work in the end.

But where was Death Rosemon? I destroyed the dagger, which released all of the power that Death Rosemon stole from others. But that wouldn’t have killed Death Rosemon, not by itself.

AncientIrismon touches the side of my face. You need not worry.

I worry anyway. Even without the dagger and all of that stolen power, Death Rosemon remains powerful and vengeful. It’s the vengeful part that I’m really worried about.

As I knew you would be.

“I’m going back there.” We’re not in that world now. We’re in our world, the world of the wind. Here we can speak to one another freely, here we are almost one being. It’s different being there. I’m separate, a person of my own, which is part of why I exist in the first place. AncientIrismon – mother – needed hands and a will to work in the world and could not do it. So, I was made. This is what I’m for.

Then be strong and be quick. Death Rosemon’s power isn’t what it was, but you are still learning the reaches of yours.

That was a thing even before this mission. I can use the wind in ways that people who aren’t me can’t even imagine but it’s nothing compared to what Mother can do, and it’s nothing compared to what I will be able to do one day.

If it’s enough to put an end to Death Rosemon now, I don’t know. But I have to find out, and I have to find out now.

---

I can go in between worlds now, aware of who and what I am. Just a flicker, and there I am in the world I once stood in without knowing myself.

Time isn’t the same between the worlds. I don’t know how it is different, but it seems that right now, not much has changed.

But the one thing that has changed is what worries me the most: there’s no sign of Death Rosemon. A few ash-gray petals, but nothing more.

I can’t finish this if that’s all I have. As much as I search around, I find no sign of Death Rosemon.

But I do find Ranamon, and I can say for certain that it isn’t the most pleasant meeting of my entire life.

“What are you doing here?” Ranamon just glares at me as if my existence if a personal offense. It might well be, at least where they’re concerned.

“Looking for Death Rosemon.” I see no reason to lie about it . Maybe Ranamon can help. Though I can’t say I expect it.

Instead, I get hands on hips and a glare from crimson eyes. “And what would you do if you succeeded?” The water nymph doesn’t look all that impressed by me being in full awareness of who I am.

“Whatever I had to.” I lean back and look Ranamon up and down. “Do you know anything useful?”

A flick of Ranamon’s helmeted head. “I know everything the water knows. And the water doesn’t know anything about where Death Rosemon is.”

Well. That’s interesting. The wind might well know, but it blows around so much that it might not know that it knows for a long time to come. You can go for a while without water, but going without air is something else altogether.

Then something else clicks. “Are you looking for Death Rosemon?”

“Of course!” Ranamon flicks one hand. “What did you think I was going to do?”

The wind picks up, tossing my hair and feathers. Ranamon gives me a look.

“Oh, don’t get all blown out of shape, Windy. I want to put an end to Death Rosemon, just like you do! The only reason I had anything at all to do with all of that was because of that dumb whip I got hit with!” Ranamon waves a taloned hand in my direction. “I want revenge! Now, are you going to help me with that or are you just here to blow hot air?”

“You want me to help you?” I can’t quite get my head wrapped around this. It wasn’t on my list of things to believe, that’s for sure.

Ranamon gives me another look. “Unless you don’t think that you can.”

Well. That puts a faintly different spin on it. I pull up as tall as I can. “I think it would work better if you helped me.”

Now Ranamon turns to glare at me even more. “Me help you? You’ve got to be kidding? Why would I want to help a blowhard like you?”

“Is that the best insult you can come up with?” I’ve heard better. The kids where I grew up thought it was funny to call me names because I didn’t look like them and didn’t act like them, even before I grew my wings. “But if we’re going to help each other, we should get started on it. Who knows where Death Rosemon’s gone off to.”

“Why you, I -” If it were possible for Ranamon to slay me with just vision alone, I don’t doubt for a moment I would be dead.

If I can be dead. I’ve never asked mother if I can die. The wind is difficult to kill.

But that’s kind of not the point.

“So, where do you think Death Rosemon might be?”

Ranamon folds arms over chest and glares first at me, then around to a few other places before drooping down.

“I don’t know. I barely even know what happened. Just that one time I was doing whatever Death Rosemon wanted me to do and then I wasn’t, and I want to beat those petals right down into dust because of that!”

I can feel for that.

“I destroyed that dagger. That probably had something to do with it.” At least I hope it did. I can’t imagine what else it would be. But for all that I have my memories back now, I still don’t know everything abut what Death Rosemon can and can’t do.

Ranamon makes a bit of a noise, then finally points toward the higher reaches of the mountains. “There’s a castle that way. I saw it when I was crossing over through a stream that goes through them, but I didn’t stop to ask anything. Maybe we can check there. See if anyone saw anything.”

It’s probably the best idea that I’ve heard, let alone had, since I got back here. I nod.

“Come on, then.” There’s not a bit of water anywhere near where we are, but Ranamon heads off as if she can just jump into the nearest glass and be right there. “The sooner we do this, the sooner I don’t have to look at your ugly face anymore.”

“Are you going to try to spend this whole trip insulting me?” I fall in with Ranamon as we head off. I don’t know where this castle is and unless the plan is to go by water, walking will get us there as soon as anything else will. I don’t think Ranamon can fly.

I haven’t asked, though. Wind and water can make tornadoes and hurricanes and storms, so maybe?

“What do you mean ‘try’? I can insult you for this trip and every other trip and never repeat myself!”

“Well, considering that all you seem to go on about is how good I look and how good you look, you might want to think about some better material.”

Ranamon tries to say something to that, but with the way those cheeks turn red and one foot stomping, I don’t think anything will be said. But there’s something different in the way we’re talking.

Allies would be a lot better word than friends for us: we have a common goal and we’re not stopping until we find Death Rosemon and wrap all of this up.

I want to see more of this world, so much more. It holds so much that calls to me, and I know without a doubt, this is just the beginning.

It might not be the beginning I would’ve planned for myself, but it’s a beginning all the same.