Chapter 96: Together?
"I just do not get it!"
"I really, truly do not understand why that meathead keeps targeting me!"
"Why? Tell me, why is this happening to me?"
Beside the roaring, crackling bonfire, a BlackGatomon—the current, compact form of the usually fearsome LadyDevimon—slumped dramatically against a log. She sat right next to a BlackAgumon, the de-digivolved state of the Virus-attribute MetalGreymon. Piles of empty, overturned wine bottles formed a haphazard barricade around them. The feline Digimon waved her paws wildly in the air, loudly recounting the supposed epic tragedy of her drinking session.
"You two are clearly his kind! You are both Agumon variants! So why does he always have to waltz in and ruin my fun?!" she wailed, her tail puffing out in sheer frustration. "I do not get it! I just do not get it!"
She leaned over, poking the dark reptile beside her. "Answer me right now, MetalGreymon!"
"..."
Amidst the drunken wails of the former LadyDevimon, the BlackAgumon let out a long, heavy sigh. His peaceful meal had been thoroughly interrupted. He slowly lowered his claws, stopping the massive chunk of roasted meat halfway to his jaws. Turning his head, he fixed her with a flat stare, his vibrant green eyes reflecting the dancing orange flames of the bonfire.
"Look," the dark reptile grumbled, his voice rough around the edges. "Although that other MetalGreymon is a complete meathead, his combat intuition is terrifyingly sharp."
He took a slow, deliberate bite of his food before continuing. "As for why he constantly targets you... have you ever stopped to consider that the problem might actually be you?"
"...?"
Staring into the unblinking, brutally honest eyes of her companion, the heavily intoxicated BlackGatomon fell dead silent. The crackling of the fire filled the quiet gap for exactly three seconds.
Then, she let out an ear-piercing shriek. She lunged forward, her black-gloved claws latching directly onto his scaly head.
"You absolute jerk! How could you say something so cruel to me?!" she screeched, shaking him back and forth. "We are comrades! We fought side-by-side in the trenches! It is bad enough that you refuse to support my grievances, but to blame me?! Ahhhhhh!"
"..."
As his head was violently rattled back and forth by the hysterical feline, a deep sense of helplessness flashed through the BlackAgumon's green eyes. Deciding that reasoning with a drunk LadyDevimon was a losing battle, he simply went limp. He ignored her entirely, allowing his head to be shaken like a ragdoll, and stubbornly returned his focus to the massive slab of roasted meat in his claws.
He remained completely silent. His only priority was chewing.
A short distance away, the rest of the chaotic group fared no better. The painfully honest Agumon—the very same one who usually fought as the Vaccine-attribute MetalGreymon—was currently stuck headfirst in the dirt. Beside him, a Monochromon, the temporary Champion-level state of the terrifying SkullGreymon, was desperately digging at the soil with his heavy claws, trying to pull his friend out of the deep pit.
Yes, he had been buried alive by a very petty, very drunk LadyDevimon earlier in the evening.
Roughly an hour had passed since the celebratory banquet officially began. Instead of winding down, the chaotic, lively atmosphere among the Digimon had only escalated into pure, unadulterated madness.
Sitting a comfortable distance away from the epicenter of the destruction, Mizuki watched his boisterous companions with a soft, genuine expression. A faint, contented smile bloomed on his face as he took in the sight of his friends safe and happy.
At that moment, a small shadow shifted beside him. Belle leaned in close, carefully holding a perfectly glazed, steaming meatball up to his lips.
"Mizu, say ahhh," she coaxed, her voice sweet and melodic.
"Thank you, Belle," he replied, leaning forward to accept the offering.
Watching him chew the food she had personally cooked, a bright spark of anticipation lit up Belle's eyes. She leaned closer, practically vibrating with nervous energy.
"Mizu, is it delicious?" she asked, her tone hopeful. "I made this batch specially for you."
As Mizuki bit down, rich, savory juices burst across his tongue. The tender texture of the meat and the complex, smoky aroma of the spices blended perfectly together. It was a culinary masterpiece, bringing a wave of pure, incomparable comfort after days of grueling survival.
His eyes widened slightly in pleasant surprise. He turned to her, his smile widening into an expression of pure joy. "This is incredible, Belle. I think your cooking skills have actually surpassed mine."
"Really? That is wonderful!"
Hearing his praise, Belle let out a bright, happy cheer. A moment later, a faint blush dusted her cheeks, and she shyly lowered her head, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her clothes.
"Well, I still have so much to learn from you, Mizu," she murmured softly. "But... if you really like it, I can keep making it for you in the future."
She paused, taking a deep breath before looking back up, her gaze suddenly burning with intense conviction. "No—or rather, please let me cook for you for the rest of my life!"
"Together?" Mizuki blinked, slightly taken aback by the sudden weight of her declaration.
"Together!" Belle repeated firmly. She raised her chin, meeting his gaze with absolute, unwavering determination, and gave a sharp nod.
Their eyes locked for several long, quiet seconds. The sounds of the chaotic party faded into the background. Then, the tension broke, and they both burst into soft, genuine laughter.
"You know we do not need to say such things out loud for them to be true," Mizuki said, his voice warm and teasing.
"Mhm," Belle hummed in agreement, a brilliant smile lighting up her face. "After all, we already promised to be together forever."
With those words hanging sweetly in the air, the small Digimon shifted her weight, leaning fully into Mizuki's chest. Without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her, gently pulling her into a secure, comfortable embrace.
"Sure enough," she murmured, nuzzling against his jacket. "Compared to me hugging you, I definitely prefer being hugged by you, Mizu."
She let out a long, contented sigh. "Being able to shrink down into this compact body is wonderful in every sense of the word."
Currently resting in her Rookie-sized, diminutive BeelStarmon form, Belle looked entirely at peace with the world.
Suddenly, as if a thought had just struck her, she tilted her head back to look at his face. "Speaking of which, Mizu... aren't you going to go play with everyone else?"
She gestured a small paw toward the chaotic wrestling match happening near the empty wine bottles. "Is it really okay for you to just sit back here and watch?"
"It is perfectly fine," Mizuki replied, his tone relaxed. He adjusted his jacket to keep the chill of the night air off her shoulders. "I have never been particularly fond of roughhousing or causing a scene. Just being able to sit here and see everyone safe and happy... that is more than enough for me."
"Is that so?" Belle tilted her head, her brow furrowing in slight confusion. "But back in the Village of Beginnings, you got along so easily with everyone. You were always right in the middle of the crowd."
"No, it was not just back in the Village of Beginnings. It is exactly the same right now," Mizuki corrected gently. He shook his head, a soft, nostalgic light flickering in his dark eyes. "Actually, there is no contradiction between those two things at all."
He looked out over the roaring fire, watching the Monochromon finally manage to yank the dizzy Agumon out of the dirt pit.
"Getting along well with others, knowing how to blend into a crowd and make people comfortable... that is simply a matter of upbringing and survival," he explained, his voice dropping to a quiet, thoughtful register. "But choosing to sit on the sidelines, watching your friends act like fools, and quietly enjoying this hard-won peace amidst the chaos? That is a matter of personality."
He smiled down at her. "Upbringing and personality are never in conflict."
"Is that so?" Belle nodded slowly. She looked half-convinced and half-confused by his philosophical reasoning.
A moment later, her confusion melted into a teasing, helpless expression. She poked his chest. "Sure enough, Mizu, sometimes you act exactly like a grumpy old man."
"An old man?" Mizuki blinked, genuinely taken aback by the sudden accusation. He touched his own cheek. "Do I really sound that ancient?"
"Mhm!" Belle hummed cheerfully. She shifted upward, affectionately rubbing her soft head against his jawline. "But even if you are a boring old man, it does not matter, right?"
She giggled, the sound light and musical. "Because I will always be by your side. If my Mizu is an old man, then I will just have to be an old woman to match you."
Just as she had declared at the very beginning of their journey—they were bound together for life.
The crackling of the bonfire filled the comfortable silence between them for a few minutes.
"Mizu," she called out softly.
"Hm?"
"I suddenly really want to hear you sing again."
Mizuki stiffened slightly. "Sing? Right here?"
He cast a wary glance toward the chaotic mob of Digimon wrestling and shouting just a few yards away. He reached up, awkwardly scratching his cheek.
"I do not know about that," he muttered, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. "I feel a little embarrassed performing in front of such a large crowd."
"Eh?" Belle pouted, looking up at him with wide, pleading eyes. "But you sang right in front of Taichi and the other Chosen Children during that massive brawl earlier today!"
"No, no, no, that was a completely different situation," Mizuki argued quickly, waving his hands in denial. "That was in the heat of battle! Adrenaline was pumping! This is just—"
He stopped mid-sentence. He looked down at the small, hopeful Digimon resting against his chest. The steady, comforting warmth emanating from her body chipped away at his stubbornness in record time.
He let out a defeated sigh, pondering his options for exactly two seconds before giving in. He offered a reluctant nod.
"Alright, fine. Just one song."
However, the very second those words left his mouth, a thunderous, deafening roar of cheers erupted from the darkness nearby, completely without warning.
"That is fantastic news! His Excellency Mizuki is going to sing for us!"
"Hurry up and get the stage ready, you idiot! Why are you just standing there drooling like a fool?!"
"Prepare the area! Hurry up and prepare!"
Mizuki froze. "???"
He stared in utter bewilderment at the massive crowd of Digimon that had suddenly materialized around his seating area. They had crept up completely unnoticed, their eyes shining with eager anticipation.
"Wait a minute," Mizuki said, his voice laced with disbelief. "Have you guys been eavesdropping on us this entire time?"
"Of course we have!" a familiar voice boomed.
"Everyone here can tell that although His Excellency Mizuki enjoys a lively atmosphere, he does not care for roughhousing," another voice chimed in. "So, we have all been quietly keeping an eye on you from a distance. We just did not want to come over and disturb your private moment."
The speaker was none other than the painfully honest Agumon—the de-digivolved MetalGreymon. He had finally been successfully excavated from his dirt prison by the exhausted Monochromon, and was now standing at the front of the crowd, covered in dust but beaming brightly.
Mizuki listened to the earnest explanation, completely dumbfounded. In his arms, Belle burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.
"See?" she teased, poking his cheek. "After all, everyone here really likes you, Mizu."
"That is exactly right!" the Agumon cheered.
"We love His Excellency Mizuki the most!" the crowd of Digimon roared in unison, their voices echoing into the night sky.
Listening to the deafening, joyous chorus of voices from the gathered Digimon, Mizuki felt a sudden, intense warmth flood his chest. The heavy burdens of survival and combat melted away, replaced by a deep sense of belonging.
With a soft, defeated chuckle, he gently set Belle down and stood up from the grass, brushing the dirt from his clothes. Belle immediately hopped up to stand beside him.
"Alright, alright," Mizuki called out, raising his hands to quiet the cheering crowd. A confident, slightly mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Since everyone is insisting so passionately, I suppose I can put in a little effort for you all."
He pointed a warning finger at the front row of Digimon. "But let me warn you right now—if I miss a note, absolutely none of you are allowed to laugh at me!"
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