The Next Morning – Piximon's Camp
The morning sun was barely up, birds chirped in the distance, and the scent of roasted fish and bread wafted through the crisp air. The kids sat around a hastily arranged breakfast setup, their bodies sore from the intense training the day before. They quietly munched on their meals, occasionally groaning and wincing with every move.
Piximon floated over with his usual dramatic flair, arms crossed and a serious expression on his face.
"Today, you'll all train alongside your partners," he announced with a solemn tone. "You will learn what it truly means to be a Digimon Tamer… a true Digi-Destined."
Everyone perked up a little—some with dread, some with excitement. But before anyone could respond—
WHOOSH!
Like a missile shot from a cannon, Tai and Agumon came barreling out of the nearby trees, their eyes wide, mouths watering.
"FOOOOOOOD!!" Tai screamed.
"WE'RE GONNA DIE IF WE DON'T EAT!!" Agumon echoed.
Before anyone could blink, they launched themselves at the breakfast table like twin cyclones. Plates flew, spoons clattered, and Joe yelped as a pancake slapped him across the face.
"Hey! That was my boiled egg!" Matt yelled, diving to protect what little remained of his tray.
Sora leaned away just in time as Agumon inhaled three fish fillets in one bite.
"Oh come on!" Mimi shrieked, holding her plate over her head like a shield. "I put peppermint on this toast! It's a delicacy!"
"YOU MONSTERS!" Izzy declared, scrambling to secure his food with the same energy he used to crack digital firewalls.
"Guys!" T.K. wailed, eyes wide as Tai grabbed the last jam bun. "That was for Patamon!"
Patamon fluttered up with a single tear trailing down his cheek. "It had my name on it…"
Meanwhile, Naruto sat stunned, his chopsticks frozen mid-air. "Are they always like this?"
Piximon sighed like a weary old man watching toddlers destroy a tea party. "Yes. And somehow, they always have room for dessert."
As the breakfast massacre ended, Tai and Agumon leaned back against a tree, bellies bloated, satisfied groans echoing across the field.
"Man… I feel reborn," Tai mumbled.
Agumon let out a tiny burp that shook a nearby rock. "We fight better on a full stomach."
Mimi, now holding a half-eaten strawberry tart with visible teeth marks, looked murderous. "Better hope I don't train by throwing you into a lake."
Sora chuckled, arms crossed. "Looks like our first lesson today is 'how to defend your breakfast like a real tamer.'"
Piximon rubbed his temples and muttered, "At this rate, I'll need a second rebirth just to survive their mealtimes…"
Naruto couldn't help but laugh. It was chaotic. It was wild. But somehow, it felt just like home.
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The scent of toasted bread and wild berries still lingered in the morning air as the children filed into the training grounds—an ancient, circular platform nestled within a grove of whispering silver-leaf trees. The light that filtered through the canopy above shimmered like spilled stardust, casting warm golden patches on the worn stone floor. Though their bodies had ached with soreness mere hours ago, a strange warmth now surged through their limbs—the telltale sign of Piximon's silent healing spell. Or, more accurately, his digital equivalent.
Their eyes widened slightly as they flexed fingers and stretched arms—bruises had faded, scratches were gone, and they felt as if they'd each drunk a small cup of fire. Stronger. Renewed. Somehow… lighter.
Piximon hovered a foot above the ground, his staff spinning lazily in one hand, his glittering wings humming like a swarm of bees mid-lullaby. He surveyed the group, his eyes glinting behind that ever-mysterious mask.
"You've all eaten," he said, voice like a bell struck softly. "Good. Then let us begin."
The children exchanged uncertain glances, each one standing a little straighter, though none dared move forward.
"You stand with your partners," Piximon continued, "but you still do not understand your role. You see yourselves as mere companions—spectators to your Digimon's battles. But a true DigiDestined is never a bystander."
He turned his gaze toward Tai.
"Taichi," he called. "Step forward. You and Agumon."
Tai blinked, surprised but honored, and walked confidently to the center of the arena. Agumon followed with an eager bounce in his step. The two stood side by side beneath the watching eyes of their friends, their breath lightly visible in the morning chill.
"You came back from the Cave of Reflections in a single day," Piximon said, his tone carrying just the faintest echo of approval. "That is no small feat. You've earned the right to lead today's lesson."
He gestured toward Tai's hip.
"Hold up your Digivice."
Tai obeyed, raising the small, palm-sized device. Its screen flickered faintly, as if sensing the anticipation in the air.
"You all must understand," Piximon began, turning to address the group, "that we are digital beings—creatures of data. And data, as you know, can be changed. Modified. Shaped."
He let that hang in the air a moment, letting their young minds catch the thread.
"The Digivice is your wand, your tool, your key," he continued, voice rising. "It connects you to your partner not just through emotion—but through code. It allows you to enhance them, protect them, guide them. And yes—evolve them. But its power is more than just evolution."
Izzy leaned forward, eyes shining behind his glasses.
Piximon floated higher, staff glowing faintly now.
"The Digivice," he said, "also grants you protection. A barrier. A shield—thin as a whisper, strong as steel. Imagine it. Feel it. And it will form."
Tai blinked, confused at first—but then held the device close to his chest, closed his eyes, and focused.
A pulse of pale blue light shimmered around him, a gentle ripple like a bubble forming in still water. The wind rustled gently outward as the barrier took shape, encasing Tai in a dome of translucent digital energy.
The other children gasped.
"Woah…" Matt muttered under his breath.
Sora blinked. "It's like... he's wrapped in glass."
Agumon grinned. "Cool!"
Piximon nodded slowly. "That is only the beginning. As your bond grows, so will the Digivice's power. The Crest you carry will amplify this further. Each of you holds a unique virtue—and that virtue is what modifies your partner's data most."
He drifted back down, looking at each of them with eyes that carried centuries of knowledge.
Though the shimmer of Tai's barrier still hung in the air like morning mist, Piximon's voice broke through it, sharp as a quill snapping against parchment.
"Well done," he said, nodding once. "But that was merely the foundation."
The barrier faded gently from around Tai, its last pulse dissolving into the ether like a sigh. The Digivice in his hand flickered again—this time brighter, more aware, almost as though it had awakened.
"Now," Piximon continued, his wings fanning gently to hover mid-air, "you will learn what it truly means to support your partners—not just with bravery, but with strength, with speed, with wisdom."
He lifted his staff, and the earth beneath their feet trembled slightly—no more than the rumble of a growling stomach, yet it echoed into their bones.
"Each of you holds potential. But the Digivice is not a toy. It is a living conduit—driven by data, yes, but also by spirit. And your spirits, children, are still young fires. We must stoke them carefully."
He gestured again, and Tai's Digivice began to glow with a subtle red hue.
"You, Taichi. Your affinity lies with power. Think of nothing else but increasing Agumon's strength. Will it into being. Focus. Feed your intent through the Digivice."
Tai furrowed his brow, heart pounding. He glanced at Agumon, who nodded in quiet encouragement. Holding his breath, Tai gripped the Digivice tighter and imagined raw, unfiltered might coursing from his hand to his partner.
A surge of crimson light arced from the device, wrapping around Agumon like a crackling aura. The ground around him quivered slightly as his claws flexed and his eyes widened in surprise.
"I feel... stronger," he gasped. "Like I could punch a mountain!"
Matt stepped forward, his own Digivice responding with a pulse of blue. Gabumon's muscles tensed as a similar aura surrounded him.
Sora was next—her Digivice glimmering gold as she whispered her focus: speed. Biyomon flapped once, twice—and in a blink, zipped from one side of the platform to the other, a blur of feathers and delighted squawks.
Piximon drifted above, watching closely. "Each of you is attuned to a different frequency—your natural virtue. It's easier to begin with what comes naturally, but you must master all functions. All support skills."
He waved his staff, and magical runes—a matrix of digital glyphs—swirled in the air above them.
"Increase in strength. Increase in speed. Energy boost. Defence boost. Recovery. Healing. Anti-poison. Sonar. Tracking. Each one will serve you in your journey. Each one draws from you."
The runes flickered, then vanished into their Digivices with a hum.
Mimi gasped as her Digivice shimmered green. Palmon let out a giggle as her wounds sealed, the scratches on her vine-like arms vanishing instantly.
TK's eyes lit up as he focused on healing. The gentle warmth that pulsed from his Digivice felt like a lullaby in his palms, soothing Patamon's wings until they fluttered anew.
Izzy, of course, had his eyes locked onto the data streaming across his screen. His Digivice had quietly activated the sonar function, mapping out their entire surroundings like a radar sweeping a dungeon in an RPG.
Joe's Digivice glowed silver, resonating with the quiet hum of defence. Gomamon stood straighter, his fur thickening slightly, his posture firmer.
"You see?" Piximon said, pleased. "You are not just tamers. You are extensions of your partners. You are not meant to command from afar. You are meant to stand beside them, even if you bleed."
His voice grew a shade darker. "But do not grow arrogant. Your energy is not infinite. Just as your Digimon cannot spam energy attacks, you too are limited. Every pulse, every barrier, every boost... it draws from you."
A new glow formed on each Digivice screen—a circular meter, like the moon gradually eaten by night. The children watched in awe as segments darkened every time they used a skill.
"This," Piximon said gravely, "is your stamina gauge. Your spirit. When it empties... so will you."
The air turned still. The children glanced at one another, unease rippling between them like wind on still water.
"What happens if we use too much?" TK asked quietly.
"You fall unconscious," Piximon replied simply. "You become dead weight. Worse—you leave your partner vulnerable."
Mimi paled, clutching her Digivice close.
"But," he added, tone softening, "with discipline and time, your capacity will grow. Your Digivice will evolve with your bond. Someday, you may even be able to combine skills—to empower your Digimon with layered enhancements. But first…"
He twirled his staff and a dozen training dummies appeared, their forms flickering like digital illusions.
"...we start with the basics. You will rotate roles—offence, speed, defence, healing. Push your limits, but do not break them."
He paused, then smirked beneath his mask.
"And try not to faint on the first day. I detest dragging bodies."
The children groaned.