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This story contains: KIDNAPPING
Summary: In an alternate version of events, the newly-Digivolved Growlmon has lost his memories and ability to communicate. Subsequently, he regards Takato as a helpless pet in need of protection and carries him away to the park.
Please download the file to view the story with its intended formatting.
readasaur commissioned this.
Devidramon was incinerated and absorbed – that much was clear. But Growlmon, who had metamorphosed into the world in the heat of battle and with pure fighting instinct in his head, could not be certain that the danger had completely passed. This concrete jungle could yet hold foes, and he had to be prepared for any possibility. It was with this mindset that he focused on the little Blue Thing before him. There was no definite correlation between size and power when it came to Digimon, and thus Growlmon regarded the creature with fierce wariness, ready to counterattack if it showed the slightest hint of aggression. But instead of attacking, it lowered its head and began to shake. It was trembling
The little Blue Thing was scared of him.
As he took in this sight, something within Growlmon changed. A second instinct that had lain beneath his drive for survival awoke, eclipsing his readiness to fight. With an unexpected wash of guilt at having caused the being’s pitiful state, Growlmon felt inexplicably protective of the Blue Thing. This feeling wasn’t tied to Guilmon’s still-dormant memories of Takato Matsuda, but rather was a manifestation of the instinctual compassion that many beings felt for creatures too meek to be a threat and that didn’t trigger the predatory drive. Takato himself would know the feeling, having owned a cat. However, for the time being, Takato did not exist: to Growlmon, there was only the Soft Thing, and the Soft Thing was in need of his care.
The creature seemed to sense the mellowing of Growlmon’s gaze and the quelling of his temper. It stopped trembling, and Growlmon uncovered a reservoir of delight at the realization that it was no longer afraid of him. He didn’t mind that it gave a little start as he moved forward, and he was thoroughly careful as he took the little figure into his claws and lifted it up. He didn’t really think before doing this, only taking into account that the Soft Thing would be safer in his grasp than on the ground. Also, he really, really just wanted to touch it.
The Soft Thing was barely as high as his knee and indeed soft: it was a little squishy, but felt so delicate that Growlmon knew at once he must never drop or squeeze it hard. It was covered in a coat that was oddly dense around its legs and torso, but was also fuzzy on top of the thing’s head. It didn’t cover the Soft Thing entirely, stopping short about its face and lower arms. Growlmon determined that the little creature was unprepared to endure the cold, and as the night was a little nippy, he was quick to hold the Soft Thing against his chest. It began to make noises – tentative little spurts of babbling that Growlmon couldn’t make sense of. He wished he could be certain what it was conveying, but the way it drew itself up into a ball on his palm made him think it was glad to be a little warmer. A pleased smile curled its way across his wide dinosaur mouth.
A primal alert flared in Growlmon’s senses a moment later, piercing his tranquility and making him hold the Soft Thing a little higher. It gasped in his grip, and Growlmon could feel its breath on his chest as he looked off into the distance with such intensity as though he could see through buildings. He sensed others approaching – other Digimon. On his own, he would have met them to determine whether they were foes, but because he now had a fragile little creature in need of his protection, he uncharacteristically opted against confrontation. Turning his back on the possibility of another fight, he thundered off to a more peaceful location, following the distant scent of grass while the Soft Thing squeaked and squealed in his claws. Growlmon wanted to tell it that they would soon be far away from danger, but being unable, he simply ran all the faster.
Seeking to get as far away from both the site of the battle and the sirens of emergency vehicles, Growlmon ran for a considerable distance. The park he ended up in was far too open to offer adequate cover from all danger, so Growlmon compromised. He sought out the nearest alley, where - with a tall building to his back and a wide, obscuring tree before him - he felt about as secure as he was going to that night. He sat down, half on the pavement and half on the lawn, and released his grip on the Soft Thing. He fretted to behold the state of it.
The Soft Thing had pulled the blue section of its pelt over its head, covering both its face and brown fur. Growlmon wondered whether this extremely mild defensive mechanism was not yet fully formed, and considered whether in time the flimsy blue hide might harden into a genuine protective covering. With great care, he touched a claw tip to this covering, and the delicate squirm that this elicited from Soft Thing fractured his heart. He had run too fast, or clutched this gentle little being too hard, and thus had frightened it again. Gently, he laid it down on the grass and waited apprehensively to see if anything happened.
Eventually, the Soft Thing retracted its covering. It looked up at him meekly, and Growlmon realized for the first time that it appeared to have four eyes – one pair of them a solid blue, and the other mostly white with darker pinpricks within. Growlmon noticed that the former pair never blinked, no matter how long he observed them, and concluded that these were probably not actually eyes but eyespots. It gave the Soft Thing an odd, unfailingly alert appearance, but the Champion didn’t mind: it was so little and seemed so innocent, Growlmon was certain that if he licked it, it would taste fresh and sweet.
…Growlmon couldn’t shake this idea once it had entered his head, but for the moment, he stored it and took greater stock of his impulses. He didn’t want to scare his little charge again.
After a while, the Soft Thing sat up. Like Growlmon, it sat on its rear with its heels resting on the ground. Growlmon grinned at it, but when the creature cringed, he toned down his expression – too many fangs could be scary, after all. He replaced the grin with an expression of calm interest and mirrored the Soft Thing - looking at each of the other’s body parts in turn and occasionally running a paw across his mouth in mimicry. The Soft Thing noticed this, and with a quizzical expression seemed to test whether Growlmon was imitating it by slowly performing gestures with its hands. When its expectations were fulfilled, it got very excited and noisy.
Growlmon looked on with fascination as the Soft Thing rose to its feet and came forward, babbling and gesticulating at him. It clearly wasn’t afraid anymore, and much to the Digimon’s delight, it didn’t seem upset either. It just went on making noises of the most precious kind, so dear that Growlmon couldn’t help but smile. At one point, it produced an odd little gadget from its coat and waved it imploringly, to Growlmon’s uncomprehending amusement. When it grasped one of his claws imploringly, he found himself falling in love and had to exercise all of his self-control not to pounce in adoration. Instead, he let it continue holding onto him while he tenderly petted it with his free paw, happy as it eventually relaxed to his touch.
He hoped that his gentle affection would calm the Soft Thing. He would have even been fine with exciting it, provided that meant it would want to play with him, but this wasn’t the effect he had. The Soft Thing neither sank into blissful repose nor became playful; instead, it remained upright and seemed to grow discontent. It eventually let go of his claw, sighed, and rubbed its furry head. It muttered again, but didn’t look at Growlmon as it did. As the Digimon cocked his head, the Soft Thing began to back up and gently pushed away Growlmon’s paw as he reached for it again. It held up its arms and addressed him in a loud, slow tone. A confused Growlmon cocked his head to the other side as his little protectorate drew backwards, arms still raised, until it had passed over the threshold created by the Digimon’s large feet.
Growlmon didn’t like this. He began to rise, but the Soft Thing called out to him, almost sternly, and it made him pause. Having halted for a moment, the Soft Thing backed away ever further and slowly lowered its arms. It turned, showing Growlmon the hooded part of its pelt, and walked away from him. This was something that Growlmon couldn’t help but act on. He supposed he wouldn’t mind going on a walk with the creature, but he wasn’t about to let it go wandering off on its lonesome. Given this, he leaned forward on his knees and elbows and crawled alongside the creature – a giant trying to put himself on level with his pet.
The Soft Thing showed discontent at Growlmon’s pursuit. Though its features were so much smaller than his own, placing himself to close to the creature allowed Growlmon to make out exasperation and mild frustration on its face. It placed its hands on his snout and made imploring noises at him. When the Digimon continued his pursuit a few moments later (leaving imprints in the grassy ground with his knees), it made another sighing noise. Growlmon followed the Soft Thing to the center of the park, which already seemed terribly exposed to him, but he felt a gust of fear as the creature disappeared into the horizontal pipe of a playset. Groaning in discontent, the horned dinosaur lay flat on the ground to press a yellow eye to the pipe’s entrance. He saw the shadow of the Soft Thing’s rear end disappearing around a turn in the pipe.
Growlmon yowled unhappily as he clambered to his feet and paced skittishly around the playset. It was a sprawling thing, slightly shorter than him at its highest spire, and it seemed to provide a dozen places where the Soft Thing may emerge from. He didn’t want to discourage the creature’s play, but in addition to the danger posed by being so exposed, he dreaded it getting stuck inside this contraption. He trampled about, peering in the towers and gently inserting his claws into pipes in hopes of prodding the Soft Thing. Luckless after a half-minute of pursuit, he was preparing to rip the entire construct apart to free his tiny darling.
He would have done so, had he not noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his white-maned head, and across the lawn, the moonlight illuminated the Soft Thing sprinting away towards the perimeter of the park and – Growlmon went cold with horror – the adjoining road.
In less than ten paces, Growlmon had caught up and recaptured his wayward charge by scooping the Soft Thing up in both paws and clutching it to his torso. There was no mistaking its displeasure at being apprehended: it didn’t strike Growlmon, but it did its paws down on top of his knuckles in frustration. It was vocal, too, babbling on in uncomplacent tones over being retrieved. Its face looked very cross. For his part, Growlmon felt relieved but also a little harried by the Soft Thing, which clearly required a lot of looking after. The aggressive side of the Digimon advocated punishing the creature in some way to convey the wrongness of its actions, but that simply wouldn’t do. Growlmon would have eaten his tail before carrying out this fleeting thought. Instead, he held up the Soft Thing and gave its face a little lick with the tip of his tongue. Let that be a lesson to it, he thought to himself righteously.
The Soft Thing froze like a fossil at the kiss, staring at its protector in disbelief. For a moment, Growlmon expected a renewed outburst, but much to his relief, the creature relaxed in his grasp. It patted his knuckles where it had slapped a moment ago, and the Digimon felt his exasperation with the being melt away. He was happy that they finally seemed to understand each other a little better.
As Growlmon carried the Soft Thing back across the park, his stomach growled noisily enough to make the smaller creature look down in surprise. That battle had worked up quite an appetite for the Champion, but he dutifully considered the Soft Thing’s needs, too. Perhaps if it were fed, it wouldn’t think to run off again. He himself would have loved something solid and hearty, but was at a loss about what Soft Things ate. He looked around, disappointed to find that he hadn’t overlooked ample supplies of food lying about the park, but took in the abundance of greenery around them. Perhaps the Soft Thing was an herbivore? He tried to find out by lifting the small figure into the foliage of the nearest tree, hoping it would find sustenance among the leaves. When the Soft Thing came back looking bewildered, he cautiously set it on the ground and got down on his knees and elbows to model grazing.
The Soft Thing stared at him in such disbelief that, momentarily, the roles of master and pet felt as though they had been reversed.
The Soft Thing took charge, walking about the edge of the park, though not without taking hold of Growlmon’s claw again. It was clearly searching for food, as indicated by its cautious glances into waste bins. Growlmon was skeptical about finding anything, and was wondering whether they could afford to venture beyond the park when his charge exclaimed and led the Digimon to a nearby bench. What Growlmon would have dismissed as rubbage lying on the seats was revealed as a paper bag that someone must have forgotten. The Soft Thing picked it up, peered inside, and pulled out something small but so sweet-smelling that Growlmon’s stomach rumbled even louder. The Soft Thing carefully inspected the partially-stale doughnut, sniffing it before determining it edible and holding it up to Growlmon. The Champion was almost salivating with anticipation, but the Soft Thing’s generosity only reinforced his determination to take care of it. He shook his head and made an encouraging gesture. If there was only one doughnut, then his pet should have it.
Frowning, the Soft Thing looked at the doughnut, babbled something, and took the large, glazed ring between its teeth. Instead of eating at once, it reached into the bag and pulled out – to Growlmon’s delight – a second doughnut, even more scrumptious-smelling than the first. This time, the Digimon readily lowered his head and allowed the Soft Thing – still holding the first doughnut between its teeth – to lay the chocolate-covered dessert onto his tongue. It tasted enchanting.
Sharing food seemed to bring the two of them closer together. There were two other doughnuts in the bag, and while Growlmon at first was apprehensive about eating both of them, the Soft Thing ate its single one at such a slow pace that he was convinced it would suffice. He allowed the Soft Thing to repeat the clever trick of feeding him, and as he sat relishing the taste of confectionary as it melted across his tongue, he even let it climb onto back. It wasn’t a hard thing to allow: he twitched in surprise as the Soft Thing first grabbed hold of him from behind, and was intensely excited that his charge was incorporating him into its play. When the Soft Thing straddled the back of his neck and clutched his mane for support, he immediately stood up to be a proper mount for his diminutive darling. The Soft Thing laughed with delight, and more noises of glee followed as Growlmon began walking about. The Soft Thing made a whooping noise as Growlmon sped into a moderate charge, running with his back at a steep angle. The way the Soft Thing dug its knees against his neck for support didn’t bother him, but even if it did, its happiness would have made it bearable. Growlmon ran his pet around the park several times, jumping over benches and veering sideways to the Soft Thing’s joy.
If for no other reason, Growlmon was glad to be alive because he could bring happiness to something as dear and precious as the Soft Thing.
The two eventually came to a stop on the opposite side of the park. Panting a little, Growlmon fell to his knees and lowered himself to his side. The Soft Thing rolled off safely and lay beside him on the cool grass, laughing itself into stillness. Once quiet, it turned its head towards Growlmon’s huge face and reached an arm to lay its tiny paw on his snout. Growlmon in turn laid his claws delicately across its body, and the Soft Thing received this affectionate gesture with a lot more grace than before. It sighed happily, looking into the Digimon’s huge yellow eyes. At such close proximity, Growlmon was able to see that the points of his pet’s eyes were ringed with a shade of brown lighter than its head-fur. He thought it looked beautiful.
Looking at the Soft Thing like this filled Growlmon with a sense of nostalgia. There was something familiar in how they lay there and how they had played. There was even something familiar about the way the Soft Thing had fed him. He couldn’t make sense of it – not now, at least – but it gave him the impression that he had been right to keep the Soft Thing with him.
Growlmon scooted closer, pushing up the grass underneath him, and the Soft Thing made a noise of playful protest as it rolled away and put its arms over its head, anticipating what was coming. Growlmon licked its arms and calves, and any other unfurred part that exposed itself. The Soft Thing’s blue pelt was pushed up as it wiggled about, and the Digimon took advantage by licking its lower back. Squealing with delight, the Soft Thing rolled onto its spine, only to present its belly to Growlmon. It tried to push down the blue covering, but it simply wasn’t as fast as Growlmon’s tongue. The creature kicked its legs and caused a gleeful ruckus as the Digimon gave it tummy-kisses.
When Growlmon finally backed off, the Soft Thing had been drained by gleeful ecstasy, and giggled weakly until regaining control of itself. The energy had gone from its little body, and as it lay on the ground – looking thoroughly unlikely to get up and flee again – the Champion felt himself infected by the tranquility. The battle had been won, the defenseless Soft Thing had been taken somewhere safe, and they had eaten and played; now, it was beginning to feel like the time to sleep. Already drawn up close to the Soft thing, Growlmon merely rested his head and drew his tail up against the creature, creating a safe and warm perimeter.
The night was still a little cool, but the Soft Thing warmed both itself and Growlmon’s heart by hugging the tip of the Digimon’s tail and scooting backwards across the grass until its back pressed against Growlmon’s chest. It issued the most beautiful yawn and looked up at its protector, meeting eyes with him. It murmured something and reached up to pleasantly bat the underside of his chin. Growlmon’s resulting smile was full and warm, and he embraced the Soft Thing more fully than he had dared to yet. His touch was mighty but gentle, and the Soft Thing showed neither distrust nor discomfort. It exhaled comfortably, closed its eyes, and Growlmon could tell by its rhythmic breathing that it had fallen asleep within only a few minutes, looking as content as a kitten in the embrace of its mother.
Growlmon remained awake for a little while longer, making absolutely sure that absolutely everything was alright. In between monitoring his pet’s breathing and making sure that his grip wasn’t too tight, he raised his upturned ear so as to help ensure that the park truly was the safe haven he had thought. He knew it was, but his priorities had been affected by his new relationship. What he would have thought of as an acceptable level of risk before now had become unthinkable. Fighting seemed out of the question, so long as he had the Soft Thing to take care of. Taking care of the Soft Thing had become his number one priority.
Eventually, the Digimon would fall asleep. Eventually, he would regain his Rookie form and look back on the events of his amnesiac night with a combination of embarrassment and nostalgia. Takato would forgive him, not least of all because of how it had felt for him to have been cared for and worried over by his own creation. But for now, Growlmon and the Soft Thing simply lay there cozily, content and secure in simply being with each other.
A few hours before dawn, Growlmon awoke to the sound of movement close by. Putting his arms protectively around the Soft Thing, he raised his head and looked across the park to where the noise was coming. Something was dancing across the lawn towards them, blown by the wind.
Growlmon was assuaged when he saw that it was just some paper. He thought it might be the empty bag that the doughnuts had been in, and would have ignored it had he not noticed that something colorful and eye-catching was drawn on one side of the sheet. It definitely wasn’t the doughnut bag. Staying where he was, he waited until the paper was blown over to him and then pinned it down with a claw, careful not to perforate it.
Under the moonlight, Growlmon looked upon Takato’s conceptual picture of him. Having fallen out of his pocket during the escape attempt, it was so lovingly-drawn that even in his present state, Growlmon could recognize himself. What was more, he even recognized the Soft Thing riding on top of his back. He recognized the two of them, immortalized in art, and knew more than ever that their being together had not been an accident. He couldn’t yet comprehend the extent of their bond, but as he looked from the picture to the peacefully-sleeping Soft Thing, he acknowledged that he had ceased being master of his darling. The Soft Thing would now and forever maintain exclusive control of his heart, and neither time nor plane would ever change that.
Summary: In an alternate version of events, the newly-Digivolved Growlmon has lost his memories and ability to communicate. Subsequently, he regards Takato as a helpless pet in need of protection and carries him away to the park.
Please download the file to view the story with its intended formatting.
readasaur commissioned this.Growlmon the ProtectorDevidramon was incinerated and absorbed – that much was clear. But Growlmon, who had metamorphosed into the world in the heat of battle and with pure fighting instinct in his head, could not be certain that the danger had completely passed. This concrete jungle could yet hold foes, and he had to be prepared for any possibility. It was with this mindset that he focused on the little Blue Thing before him. There was no definite correlation between size and power when it came to Digimon, and thus Growlmon regarded the creature with fierce wariness, ready to counterattack if it showed the slightest hint of aggression. But instead of attacking, it lowered its head and began to shake. It was trembling
The little Blue Thing was scared of him.
As he took in this sight, something within Growlmon changed. A second instinct that had lain beneath his drive for survival awoke, eclipsing his readiness to fight. With an unexpected wash of guilt at having caused the being’s pitiful state, Growlmon felt inexplicably protective of the Blue Thing. This feeling wasn’t tied to Guilmon’s still-dormant memories of Takato Matsuda, but rather was a manifestation of the instinctual compassion that many beings felt for creatures too meek to be a threat and that didn’t trigger the predatory drive. Takato himself would know the feeling, having owned a cat. However, for the time being, Takato did not exist: to Growlmon, there was only the Soft Thing, and the Soft Thing was in need of his care.
The creature seemed to sense the mellowing of Growlmon’s gaze and the quelling of his temper. It stopped trembling, and Growlmon uncovered a reservoir of delight at the realization that it was no longer afraid of him. He didn’t mind that it gave a little start as he moved forward, and he was thoroughly careful as he took the little figure into his claws and lifted it up. He didn’t really think before doing this, only taking into account that the Soft Thing would be safer in his grasp than on the ground. Also, he really, really just wanted to touch it.
The Soft Thing was barely as high as his knee and indeed soft: it was a little squishy, but felt so delicate that Growlmon knew at once he must never drop or squeeze it hard. It was covered in a coat that was oddly dense around its legs and torso, but was also fuzzy on top of the thing’s head. It didn’t cover the Soft Thing entirely, stopping short about its face and lower arms. Growlmon determined that the little creature was unprepared to endure the cold, and as the night was a little nippy, he was quick to hold the Soft Thing against his chest. It began to make noises – tentative little spurts of babbling that Growlmon couldn’t make sense of. He wished he could be certain what it was conveying, but the way it drew itself up into a ball on his palm made him think it was glad to be a little warmer. A pleased smile curled its way across his wide dinosaur mouth.
A primal alert flared in Growlmon’s senses a moment later, piercing his tranquility and making him hold the Soft Thing a little higher. It gasped in his grip, and Growlmon could feel its breath on his chest as he looked off into the distance with such intensity as though he could see through buildings. He sensed others approaching – other Digimon. On his own, he would have met them to determine whether they were foes, but because he now had a fragile little creature in need of his protection, he uncharacteristically opted against confrontation. Turning his back on the possibility of another fight, he thundered off to a more peaceful location, following the distant scent of grass while the Soft Thing squeaked and squealed in his claws. Growlmon wanted to tell it that they would soon be far away from danger, but being unable, he simply ran all the faster.
Seeking to get as far away from both the site of the battle and the sirens of emergency vehicles, Growlmon ran for a considerable distance. The park he ended up in was far too open to offer adequate cover from all danger, so Growlmon compromised. He sought out the nearest alley, where - with a tall building to his back and a wide, obscuring tree before him - he felt about as secure as he was going to that night. He sat down, half on the pavement and half on the lawn, and released his grip on the Soft Thing. He fretted to behold the state of it.
The Soft Thing had pulled the blue section of its pelt over its head, covering both its face and brown fur. Growlmon wondered whether this extremely mild defensive mechanism was not yet fully formed, and considered whether in time the flimsy blue hide might harden into a genuine protective covering. With great care, he touched a claw tip to this covering, and the delicate squirm that this elicited from Soft Thing fractured his heart. He had run too fast, or clutched this gentle little being too hard, and thus had frightened it again. Gently, he laid it down on the grass and waited apprehensively to see if anything happened.
Eventually, the Soft Thing retracted its covering. It looked up at him meekly, and Growlmon realized for the first time that it appeared to have four eyes – one pair of them a solid blue, and the other mostly white with darker pinpricks within. Growlmon noticed that the former pair never blinked, no matter how long he observed them, and concluded that these were probably not actually eyes but eyespots. It gave the Soft Thing an odd, unfailingly alert appearance, but the Champion didn’t mind: it was so little and seemed so innocent, Growlmon was certain that if he licked it, it would taste fresh and sweet.
…Growlmon couldn’t shake this idea once it had entered his head, but for the moment, he stored it and took greater stock of his impulses. He didn’t want to scare his little charge again.
After a while, the Soft Thing sat up. Like Growlmon, it sat on its rear with its heels resting on the ground. Growlmon grinned at it, but when the creature cringed, he toned down his expression – too many fangs could be scary, after all. He replaced the grin with an expression of calm interest and mirrored the Soft Thing - looking at each of the other’s body parts in turn and occasionally running a paw across his mouth in mimicry. The Soft Thing noticed this, and with a quizzical expression seemed to test whether Growlmon was imitating it by slowly performing gestures with its hands. When its expectations were fulfilled, it got very excited and noisy.
Growlmon looked on with fascination as the Soft Thing rose to its feet and came forward, babbling and gesticulating at him. It clearly wasn’t afraid anymore, and much to the Digimon’s delight, it didn’t seem upset either. It just went on making noises of the most precious kind, so dear that Growlmon couldn’t help but smile. At one point, it produced an odd little gadget from its coat and waved it imploringly, to Growlmon’s uncomprehending amusement. When it grasped one of his claws imploringly, he found himself falling in love and had to exercise all of his self-control not to pounce in adoration. Instead, he let it continue holding onto him while he tenderly petted it with his free paw, happy as it eventually relaxed to his touch.
He hoped that his gentle affection would calm the Soft Thing. He would have even been fine with exciting it, provided that meant it would want to play with him, but this wasn’t the effect he had. The Soft Thing neither sank into blissful repose nor became playful; instead, it remained upright and seemed to grow discontent. It eventually let go of his claw, sighed, and rubbed its furry head. It muttered again, but didn’t look at Growlmon as it did. As the Digimon cocked his head, the Soft Thing began to back up and gently pushed away Growlmon’s paw as he reached for it again. It held up its arms and addressed him in a loud, slow tone. A confused Growlmon cocked his head to the other side as his little protectorate drew backwards, arms still raised, until it had passed over the threshold created by the Digimon’s large feet.
Growlmon didn’t like this. He began to rise, but the Soft Thing called out to him, almost sternly, and it made him pause. Having halted for a moment, the Soft Thing backed away ever further and slowly lowered its arms. It turned, showing Growlmon the hooded part of its pelt, and walked away from him. This was something that Growlmon couldn’t help but act on. He supposed he wouldn’t mind going on a walk with the creature, but he wasn’t about to let it go wandering off on its lonesome. Given this, he leaned forward on his knees and elbows and crawled alongside the creature – a giant trying to put himself on level with his pet.
The Soft Thing showed discontent at Growlmon’s pursuit. Though its features were so much smaller than his own, placing himself to close to the creature allowed Growlmon to make out exasperation and mild frustration on its face. It placed its hands on his snout and made imploring noises at him. When the Digimon continued his pursuit a few moments later (leaving imprints in the grassy ground with his knees), it made another sighing noise. Growlmon followed the Soft Thing to the center of the park, which already seemed terribly exposed to him, but he felt a gust of fear as the creature disappeared into the horizontal pipe of a playset. Groaning in discontent, the horned dinosaur lay flat on the ground to press a yellow eye to the pipe’s entrance. He saw the shadow of the Soft Thing’s rear end disappearing around a turn in the pipe.
Growlmon yowled unhappily as he clambered to his feet and paced skittishly around the playset. It was a sprawling thing, slightly shorter than him at its highest spire, and it seemed to provide a dozen places where the Soft Thing may emerge from. He didn’t want to discourage the creature’s play, but in addition to the danger posed by being so exposed, he dreaded it getting stuck inside this contraption. He trampled about, peering in the towers and gently inserting his claws into pipes in hopes of prodding the Soft Thing. Luckless after a half-minute of pursuit, he was preparing to rip the entire construct apart to free his tiny darling.
He would have done so, had he not noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his white-maned head, and across the lawn, the moonlight illuminated the Soft Thing sprinting away towards the perimeter of the park and – Growlmon went cold with horror – the adjoining road.
In less than ten paces, Growlmon had caught up and recaptured his wayward charge by scooping the Soft Thing up in both paws and clutching it to his torso. There was no mistaking its displeasure at being apprehended: it didn’t strike Growlmon, but it did its paws down on top of his knuckles in frustration. It was vocal, too, babbling on in uncomplacent tones over being retrieved. Its face looked very cross. For his part, Growlmon felt relieved but also a little harried by the Soft Thing, which clearly required a lot of looking after. The aggressive side of the Digimon advocated punishing the creature in some way to convey the wrongness of its actions, but that simply wouldn’t do. Growlmon would have eaten his tail before carrying out this fleeting thought. Instead, he held up the Soft Thing and gave its face a little lick with the tip of his tongue. Let that be a lesson to it, he thought to himself righteously.
The Soft Thing froze like a fossil at the kiss, staring at its protector in disbelief. For a moment, Growlmon expected a renewed outburst, but much to his relief, the creature relaxed in his grasp. It patted his knuckles where it had slapped a moment ago, and the Digimon felt his exasperation with the being melt away. He was happy that they finally seemed to understand each other a little better.
As Growlmon carried the Soft Thing back across the park, his stomach growled noisily enough to make the smaller creature look down in surprise. That battle had worked up quite an appetite for the Champion, but he dutifully considered the Soft Thing’s needs, too. Perhaps if it were fed, it wouldn’t think to run off again. He himself would have loved something solid and hearty, but was at a loss about what Soft Things ate. He looked around, disappointed to find that he hadn’t overlooked ample supplies of food lying about the park, but took in the abundance of greenery around them. Perhaps the Soft Thing was an herbivore? He tried to find out by lifting the small figure into the foliage of the nearest tree, hoping it would find sustenance among the leaves. When the Soft Thing came back looking bewildered, he cautiously set it on the ground and got down on his knees and elbows to model grazing.
The Soft Thing stared at him in such disbelief that, momentarily, the roles of master and pet felt as though they had been reversed.
The Soft Thing took charge, walking about the edge of the park, though not without taking hold of Growlmon’s claw again. It was clearly searching for food, as indicated by its cautious glances into waste bins. Growlmon was skeptical about finding anything, and was wondering whether they could afford to venture beyond the park when his charge exclaimed and led the Digimon to a nearby bench. What Growlmon would have dismissed as rubbage lying on the seats was revealed as a paper bag that someone must have forgotten. The Soft Thing picked it up, peered inside, and pulled out something small but so sweet-smelling that Growlmon’s stomach rumbled even louder. The Soft Thing carefully inspected the partially-stale doughnut, sniffing it before determining it edible and holding it up to Growlmon. The Champion was almost salivating with anticipation, but the Soft Thing’s generosity only reinforced his determination to take care of it. He shook his head and made an encouraging gesture. If there was only one doughnut, then his pet should have it.
Frowning, the Soft Thing looked at the doughnut, babbled something, and took the large, glazed ring between its teeth. Instead of eating at once, it reached into the bag and pulled out – to Growlmon’s delight – a second doughnut, even more scrumptious-smelling than the first. This time, the Digimon readily lowered his head and allowed the Soft Thing – still holding the first doughnut between its teeth – to lay the chocolate-covered dessert onto his tongue. It tasted enchanting.
Sharing food seemed to bring the two of them closer together. There were two other doughnuts in the bag, and while Growlmon at first was apprehensive about eating both of them, the Soft Thing ate its single one at such a slow pace that he was convinced it would suffice. He allowed the Soft Thing to repeat the clever trick of feeding him, and as he sat relishing the taste of confectionary as it melted across his tongue, he even let it climb onto back. It wasn’t a hard thing to allow: he twitched in surprise as the Soft Thing first grabbed hold of him from behind, and was intensely excited that his charge was incorporating him into its play. When the Soft Thing straddled the back of his neck and clutched his mane for support, he immediately stood up to be a proper mount for his diminutive darling. The Soft Thing laughed with delight, and more noises of glee followed as Growlmon began walking about. The Soft Thing made a whooping noise as Growlmon sped into a moderate charge, running with his back at a steep angle. The way the Soft Thing dug its knees against his neck for support didn’t bother him, but even if it did, its happiness would have made it bearable. Growlmon ran his pet around the park several times, jumping over benches and veering sideways to the Soft Thing’s joy.
If for no other reason, Growlmon was glad to be alive because he could bring happiness to something as dear and precious as the Soft Thing.
The two eventually came to a stop on the opposite side of the park. Panting a little, Growlmon fell to his knees and lowered himself to his side. The Soft Thing rolled off safely and lay beside him on the cool grass, laughing itself into stillness. Once quiet, it turned its head towards Growlmon’s huge face and reached an arm to lay its tiny paw on his snout. Growlmon in turn laid his claws delicately across its body, and the Soft Thing received this affectionate gesture with a lot more grace than before. It sighed happily, looking into the Digimon’s huge yellow eyes. At such close proximity, Growlmon was able to see that the points of his pet’s eyes were ringed with a shade of brown lighter than its head-fur. He thought it looked beautiful.
Looking at the Soft Thing like this filled Growlmon with a sense of nostalgia. There was something familiar in how they lay there and how they had played. There was even something familiar about the way the Soft Thing had fed him. He couldn’t make sense of it – not now, at least – but it gave him the impression that he had been right to keep the Soft Thing with him.
Growlmon scooted closer, pushing up the grass underneath him, and the Soft Thing made a noise of playful protest as it rolled away and put its arms over its head, anticipating what was coming. Growlmon licked its arms and calves, and any other unfurred part that exposed itself. The Soft Thing’s blue pelt was pushed up as it wiggled about, and the Digimon took advantage by licking its lower back. Squealing with delight, the Soft Thing rolled onto its spine, only to present its belly to Growlmon. It tried to push down the blue covering, but it simply wasn’t as fast as Growlmon’s tongue. The creature kicked its legs and caused a gleeful ruckus as the Digimon gave it tummy-kisses.
When Growlmon finally backed off, the Soft Thing had been drained by gleeful ecstasy, and giggled weakly until regaining control of itself. The energy had gone from its little body, and as it lay on the ground – looking thoroughly unlikely to get up and flee again – the Champion felt himself infected by the tranquility. The battle had been won, the defenseless Soft Thing had been taken somewhere safe, and they had eaten and played; now, it was beginning to feel like the time to sleep. Already drawn up close to the Soft thing, Growlmon merely rested his head and drew his tail up against the creature, creating a safe and warm perimeter.
The night was still a little cool, but the Soft Thing warmed both itself and Growlmon’s heart by hugging the tip of the Digimon’s tail and scooting backwards across the grass until its back pressed against Growlmon’s chest. It issued the most beautiful yawn and looked up at its protector, meeting eyes with him. It murmured something and reached up to pleasantly bat the underside of his chin. Growlmon’s resulting smile was full and warm, and he embraced the Soft Thing more fully than he had dared to yet. His touch was mighty but gentle, and the Soft Thing showed neither distrust nor discomfort. It exhaled comfortably, closed its eyes, and Growlmon could tell by its rhythmic breathing that it had fallen asleep within only a few minutes, looking as content as a kitten in the embrace of its mother.
Growlmon remained awake for a little while longer, making absolutely sure that absolutely everything was alright. In between monitoring his pet’s breathing and making sure that his grip wasn’t too tight, he raised his upturned ear so as to help ensure that the park truly was the safe haven he had thought. He knew it was, but his priorities had been affected by his new relationship. What he would have thought of as an acceptable level of risk before now had become unthinkable. Fighting seemed out of the question, so long as he had the Soft Thing to take care of. Taking care of the Soft Thing had become his number one priority.
Eventually, the Digimon would fall asleep. Eventually, he would regain his Rookie form and look back on the events of his amnesiac night with a combination of embarrassment and nostalgia. Takato would forgive him, not least of all because of how it had felt for him to have been cared for and worried over by his own creation. But for now, Growlmon and the Soft Thing simply lay there cozily, content and secure in simply being with each other.
A few hours before dawn, Growlmon awoke to the sound of movement close by. Putting his arms protectively around the Soft Thing, he raised his head and looked across the park to where the noise was coming. Something was dancing across the lawn towards them, blown by the wind.
Growlmon was assuaged when he saw that it was just some paper. He thought it might be the empty bag that the doughnuts had been in, and would have ignored it had he not noticed that something colorful and eye-catching was drawn on one side of the sheet. It definitely wasn’t the doughnut bag. Staying where he was, he waited until the paper was blown over to him and then pinned it down with a claw, careful not to perforate it.
Under the moonlight, Growlmon looked upon Takato’s conceptual picture of him. Having fallen out of his pocket during the escape attempt, it was so lovingly-drawn that even in his present state, Growlmon could recognize himself. What was more, he even recognized the Soft Thing riding on top of his back. He recognized the two of them, immortalized in art, and knew more than ever that their being together had not been an accident. He couldn’t yet comprehend the extent of their bond, but as he looked from the picture to the peacefully-sleeping Soft Thing, he acknowledged that he had ceased being master of his darling. The Soft Thing would now and forever maintain exclusive control of his heart, and neither time nor plane would ever change that.
The End
Category Story / Digimon
Species Digimon
Size 120 x 90px
File Size 90.6 kB
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