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There was a particular corner not far from a particular apartment building. This corner saw little foot traffic but was a frequent shortcut taken by a particular boy that lived in that apartment. This boy wasn't of any particular interest to him; She warned him to be wary, though he saw no danger from the carefree, silly acrobat. What a fool. No, what he was interested in was the brother. That one had things to answer for, and he would see it came to pass.
His plans had started when he followed the boy that night. All he could think about was wrapping his fingers around that neck and squeezing. He took Shichiro away. He was the reason Shichiro forgot him. He was the reason Kouhei had spent three years alone, afraid and endangered. But She led him to caution, to plot. He was not their ultimate goal, after all. The White was. It was always the White.
He'd spent a few days watching, learning habits. The Black Queen had helped him pick this spot. After three years in the Digital World he needed no help to look dirty and disheveled; his clothes were torn and haphazardly mended and a bit small. He had less in fact than the few indigents he did come across. So he picked his corner, set out his cup and cardboard sign. It was more difficult not to look hard and predatory, though he managed by remembering what he'd seen in Shichiro's window. The kiss.
Kouhei sat looking forlorn and pitiful, and waited for his prey.
...Scout returns to his home, or at least to his neighbourhood. It's been another long tiring day filled with trying to help people out. This time, in the human world! He hadn't needed to use his D-Scanner at all, which had made for a nice change. He'd helped out at a homeless shelter for a few hours, then gone to help collect donations with people from various charities. A good day, and he felt good as a result.
But how could he keep this feeling running? Maybe he could go to the Digital World for a few hours, there was still some time left in the day! At the very least, he and Takahiro could go to the Digital Beach for a few hours.
He starts towards the building and...oh. That boy looks about his age. Man, he looks awful! Scout immediately changes direction without thinking. He sits down next to the boy, facing him, a smile plastered across his face. It was that smile and attitude that led people to often underestimate him when things did come down to a fight. Takahiro might be Kouhei's target, but he might quickly realize the folly of discounting Scout as a threat.
“Hey. Are you alright? You look like you've been out here for...a while.”
Kouhei flinched back when Scout landed next to him, a genuine animal reaction bred from three years in hostile lands. He yanked his nearest hand away from the boy like he was afraid he'd bite it off, cradling the scabbed knuckles close to his stomach. His eyes were wide and frozen on Scout, silent and still for a moment like he had spoken gibberish. Or maybe the boy didn't know Japanese? Some sort of wild animal-boy, escaped from a recent shipment of zoo- no. Just a homeless boy.
"Yes," he muttered hesitantly. Ducked his head as if embarrassed. "Spare yen for food?"
Scout watches the boy for a moment. Hm. He seems...embarrassed. Poor kid. He doesn't have any money on him though! He pretty much stuffed the last of his allowance in the donations box before he left. But...he can't leave this hungry kid like this, can he? He looks torn!
Now that Scout's stopped moving for a few seconds, it's obvious he's been injured recently. There's a bandage around his left hand and whats visible of the forearm, and signs of light burning on the left side of his face. Nothing serious, of course, probably heal up in a week or two, but...there we are! Clearly he's a gang member or something.
"Um. I'm sorry, I don't have any...money on me," He blushes, a little embarrassed as well! "But if you want, you could probably come have dinner with my family! Mom and dad wouldn't mind," his grin returns, "I promise we aren't serial killers."
He was... this was absurd. It was so easy. She'd drilled him for days, and this boy took no convincing at all? Who were these people? Kouhei stared wide-eyed and silent, trying to find the ploy. It had to be a trap. Right? He couldn't be this... his stomach rumbled, loudly enough the boy must have heard as well. He hadn't eaten human food in so long... "Since you promise not to be killers," he muttered timidly with a grateful duck of his head. "Please, senpai."
He must stay vigilant. there was still the possibility this was an ambush...
Scout jumps to his feet in the blink of an eye! He extends a hand, offering to help the poor street urchin to his feet! "Oh, you can just call me Scout!" He offers a smile once again, as he reaches into his pocket with the other hand. A gun! Wait, no, his cellphone. He fires off a quick text, with one hand, to let his parents know what's happening. That way they can make sure there's enough food, and hide Poyomon, MetalKoromon and Botamon away somewhere whilst they have company...erk.
Kouhei was surprised at Scout's strength when the boy hauled him to his feet. Kouhei was wiry for sure, but what was there was muscle and bone. Hard living hard burned off any fat in his first year. His eyes still held a shadow of that 'hunted prey' look, always shifting to check his peripherals and the sky above. His motions were restless, and a little abrupt. Letting go of the friendly boy's hand like it was on fire, Kouhei busied himself straightening too-small, ragged clothing. There were no bags or luggage nearby to collect; everything the boy had was on him. Or in his pocket, but that would remain a secret.
"I am Takeshi," he offered quietly, moving to follow Scout.
Scout continues to smile, practically rushing ahead at first before remembering...underfed company. Right. He slows down to walk at a more comfortable pace. Silly or not, he's clearly quite fit. "Takeshi! That's an awesome name," he giggles a little, seemingly unable to completely contain the huge amount of energy within him! Crazy kid. Everything about him screams that he's just a happy, hyperactive kid, right down to the bizarre way he can't seem to hold still for more than a second or two. Nothing about his appearance or demeanor belies the fact that he can change into an unstoppable monster at will...
He starts to lead the way back towards his home...
This one was dangerous. Unpredictable. "Takeshi" would need to exercise great caution around him. After all, it was the brother he really wanted... It wasn't much trouble to feign infirmity when he began following Scout. He'd had to learn to conserve his precious energy in the digital world; a scarce as food had been every motion counted. Even though he already knew the location, his lower stamina left the boy trailing behind and struggling whenever Scout would momentarily forget the physical state of his latest charge and rush ahead.
Scout was distracted easily enough that Kouhei was winded by the time they approached the apartment building bed staked out earlier. "Is... Is this it?" His breath coming in short, uncomfortable gasps he was only partially faking, "Takeshi" looked upon the unassuming building with more than a little jealousy.
"Mhm! Come on!" Scout pushes the door open, and heads into the building, taking the elevator up to the top floor!
He lets Kouhei into the large apartment, where his parents (both in their mid-to-late thirties) appear to be cooking in the kitchen. Fortunately they'd managed to get all the Fresh Digimon hidden away. MetalKoromon had been the hardest to deal with, not wanting to leave the refrigerator. He wants to be the best fridge magnet he can be, after all!
The two parents look up and smile, asking their son who his company is. "This is Takeshi!" SPOTLIGHT.
"Oh, it's lovely to meet you, Takeshi. You're more than welcome to join us for dinner. Do you need anywhere to sleep for tonight?" Oh, Mister Evans. You...fool.
The elevator was the worst part. Kouhei hesitated to enter the tiny, confining box where he would have no escape should he be attacked. This was obviously where the ambush would happen, of course. He was tense and nervous the whole ride up, keeping his back pressed into one of the corners next to the doors, where an attacker would have to rotate to face him once inside. It could buy him the precious seconds he needed to spirit evolve and kill- ding. Oh. No ambush. They were there.
Dirty, vaguely predatory 'Takeshi' was quite out of place in the nice clean, homey apartment. His eyes kept checking for exits, and he seemed intensely uncomfortable under the scrutiny of Mr and Mrs Evans. He bowed his head low, keeping his gaze on the floor as he thanked the family for their hospitality. "Thank you and your family for the meal, Evans-sama." And then he asked, all but offering their home. These people... were so nice.
He could hardly stand to look them in the eye and his voice cracked when he answered Mr Evans' second question. "Sir, I... I have nowhere to go."
Scout...performs a very sudden flip, walking on his hands into the open lounge/kitchen area, and then flipping again, this time over the couch. He peeks into an open doorway, pouts, then walks back over towards his parents (this time like a person). "Where's Little Hawk?"
"Oh, he's with Shichiro tonight. He won't be back until a little later," Mrs Evans explains, checking the contents of her pan with an almost...cautious look. She is by far the least talented chef in the family. And so she's been relegated to making sure it doesn't catch fire, by her husband.
Mister Evans rubs the bridge of his nose, "Oy, first Shichiro, now you. Steven, please. And my kitchen-destroying wife is Rika. We're an informal family here, Takeshi," Ooooh. He looks at Scout, who shrugs, "If you'd like...you can stay here for a while. We certainly don't mind making up the spare room for you. It's bound to be more comfortable than sleeping rough, and it isn't like we're unused to Scout bringing people home like this,"
Spare room. Is that what it is, now?
Besides. It'd hardly be the first time they gave someone a room without any damned warning. Steven and Rika don't seem particularly put out or upset by it. Mildly amused, perhaps.
Shichiro. Shichiro. Kouhei kept his head low. It was too soon, the name a slap across his cheek. He felt Her rise up to clamp down on his heart, calming his emotions before they could fly out of control. She wouldn't let him lose to them. She was the only one he could depend on. "Thank you... Steven, Rika. Scout-san," When he raised his head, the boy's eyes were swimming though no tears had been allowed to fall. You didn't waste them, in the Dark Area. He could here, was only allowed to here, because they served a purpose. But... were they real?
"I am not used to such kindness," he explained to them. "Not for many years."
Kindness let 'Takeshi' into their home. It brought them into their lives, but to what purpose? Would their new ward get what he sought? Would they regret it? Would he?
Steven waves it off, and calls over his shoulder, "Wifezilla, would you be so kind as to make up the spare room?" His Japanese is a little...weird. Some of his word choices aren't great. Well, he still has an American accent, so...Japanese obviously isn't his first language anyway.
Rika sighs at her husband, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated fashion. She sets down the spoon she was inanely poking at the food with, and walks off to the bedroom furthest from the door, disappearing inside.
"You can stay here as long as you need to, Takeshi. All we ask is that you tell us if you're going to leave us," Steven explains, backing over towards the oven, to try and correct whatever culinary nightmare his wife has turned dinner into.
Scout has...very suddenly returned, and offers Takeshi a smile, "You'll probably meet my little brother later, um. You can use the shower after dinner, and I probably have some spare clothes you can have, if you wanted to change out of those!" Or maybe rags are in fashion.
"Thank you, sir. Um, Steven. I will be a good guest, I promise." Yeah, except when you try to murder their son or whatever. He went a little sincerely wide-eyed at the offer of clean clothes and a shower; it was obvious by their size and general state of wear he'd been in them for quite a long time. Even his shoes were falling apart, held together by too-short laces he's harvested to make crude repairs to his other clothing. He nodded once sharply to Scout, a little overcome. It had been so long since he'd worn anything other than these clothes, since he'd been able to bathe properly.
"Your little brother," he murmured quietly. "The 'little hawk.' It will be nice to meet him. Is, um. Is he bringing... anyone? He actually looked a little frightened by this prospect. Maybe he wasn't comfortable with gay kids? That could certainly make one wonder why he was out on the streets. Or maybe he wasn't ready to come face-to-face with his unwitting nemesis? Nah, it'll be fine. Probably.