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Spectre	By : Sugah Category: Digimon > General Views: 1627 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon: Digital Monsters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
~~Warning � Disclaimer~~
The characters in this story don�t belong to me, they belong to Digimon and its god. The idea, the Mirror, the world of E�Tailh and it�s magic�that�s mine. Stealing, as always, is something that I will dismember people for, so don�t bother trying.
Notes � there�s a bit of a warning for this chapter. Dark and murder-implications. It�s not pretty, but then, this story isn�t supposed to be pretty. Macabre fairy-tale�now that�s what I�d call it. ^_^
Thanks go to M, my lovely detail-catching beta! *snugs*

~Spectre~
:Into the Murk�:

It was raining outside when he stumbled into the shop, soaked and dripping rivulets of water down his skin. He wasn�t dressed for the weather�far from it. He wore a simple tank and baggy jeans, ripped and faded. Comfortable jeans exposed a lean glimpse of a tan belly as the soaked shirt rose fractionally with the lifted shoulders. The bell jingled softly with the movement of the door before sliding shut with a finalizing rasp. Through the windows he saw the sharp blinding stabs of lightning that left faint purple images on his eyelids long after they had disappeared into the clouds again, while thunder spoke in gentle far-away counterpart.

Daisuke made a face, as he rubbed at his bare arms, and turned to look at the place he had stumbled into for temporary shelter. �Ma~an�what a weird dump,� he muttered, squinting in the gloom. And it was. Shelves and cluttered counters stretched before him, filled with small indiscriminate things that Daisuke had never seen before. He noticed half-burned candles protruding from one box, covered in driblets of frozen wax, and swathed in moth-eaten crushed velvet. Another shelf sported tiny shrunken roses, dried to the color black, resting in the porcelain sculpture of a bony hand. Tiny figurines cast in different metals like plain unpolished grainy-looking steel and tarnished gold. Silver glinted deep from the box as he paused, head bent, to peer into a case of what appeared to be dried grapes, or something.

This place is weird, he thought again, and straightened. �Umm�Hello? I hope you�re not closed or anything�I just wanted to get in�um, from the storm?� Water trickled unpleasantly down his back and neck, unnoticed in the resounding silence. �Is anyone here?� he tried again, and raked his fingers through his dripping hair.

He sighed, then, and glanced over his shoulder to where the rain was pounding the pavement in fierce needles, skittering in the gusts of wind. Lightning flashed threateningly, lighting up the clouds for brief and eerie moments while the thunder mumbled overhead.

//Hello�anyone here?//

Daisuke paused in the middle of turning, hearing the faint whisper of sound on the edge of his senses but saw no one in the store. �Um�hello?� Must have been an echo or something�

A flicker of movement, farther down the aisle, caught his eye and was gone, vanished behind a stack of boxes filled with old newspapers and an antique candlestick. More wax was melted in clumps and bubbled knobs, dusty and yellowed. Curious, his heart tripping with the childish anticipation of ghosts or other such frivolities, Daisuke stepped forward. He followed the faint gleam ahead of him, squeezing around boxes of moth eaten clothing and tarnished objects, carefully watching his arms to make sure nothing was knocked over.

He had reached the back of the room, covered with cobwebby dust and shadowed by the lack of proper lighting, by the time he found the source of the gleam. A mirror stood in a delicate ornate metal frame, tilted slightly and partially draped with a pale creamy cloth. He let out his breath in an awed whisper of sound, leaning close. Between the folds of the drape, the surface of the glass gleamed in reflected light, standing out surprisingly bright against the shadows. The metal, chased and tarnished silver by the looks of it, cast a soft glow, cradling the glass in intricate whirls and patterns.

��wow�� Daisuke breathed, and twitched away the cover. A whisper of laughter swirled through his head as the mirror creaked on rusted swivels, tilting slightly. As the drape slithered away to pool on the floor, he saw himself, wet and dripping water on the floor, his shirt clinging to him and beads of water gleaming on his skin. He seemed ethereal, lit from behind by the overhead lights and from the reflected lights as well. His skin almost glowed, taking on the bronzed hue of one who loved the sun. His hair, normally a dark reddish brown, gleamed flatly, wet and dripping as well. He stood, staring into the reflective surface for a long time, ignoring the paler spots on the glass from age, the streaks and dust on the glass.

I have to have this�

For most of his life Motomiya Daisuke had never seen anything as beautiful, simple and elegant as this. He wasn�t a person who cared about wealth and placing value on material�It wasn�t in his nature to place wealth above a personality. He was a person who cared about the inner strength of something, the quality of a piece, of people, of beauty, which was why his small cramped apartment�the apartment of a single young man living more for art than to eat�was full of strange and different things. Nothing matched. Nothing made sense.

Everything, Daisuke believed, had its own beauty. He was a collector of simple things, different things, strange things that called to him without words. He was an artist.

This mirror, tarnished and faded, spotted with age and grime, creaking and slightly wobbly, was beautiful.

He had to have it.

�Can I help you?� a dour and annoyed voice said off to his right.

�Huh? Oh�� Mildly alarmed, Daisuke turned his head, tried to smile charmingly. A young man, sleep-ruffled hair, glasses and reserved expression on his face stood there in tidy but simple clothing. Daisuke dropped his hand from the mirror�s surface, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. �Hi! I�um, it was raining really bad outside, and I didn�t have an umbrella�you don�t mind, do you? I mean, I�ll go if you�re closed or something��

�No, we�re not closed. Is there something I can do�?� the young man regarded him wa raa raised brow and a waiting expression. If Daisuke didn�t know better, he would have said that the man was irritated by his appearance, by his closeness to the mirror.

�Yeah, actually,� Daisuke grinned again, and gestured to the mirror. �How much is this? It�s for sale, right?�

A strange hardened smile bloomed on the young man�s face. �The mirror? So�you�re interested in this? You want to take this home? Perhaps put it in your bedroom and pose in front of it?�

Daisuke shrugged, uncertainly, but resigned himself to giving the older man a strange wary glance. �Eh�� What a weirdo! he thought. �It�s just�I�ve never seen anything like this. It�s like it called me�I�d really like to have it.�

The young man smiled at him again, somehow sadder and more resigned. Perhaps he was pleased at his answer. It was probably a test of some sorts.

�Called you, eh?� The store owner shook his head. �I�m not surprised. Forgive me for the earlier comment, but you see�I had to make sure you would purchase for the right reasons�That mirror�� He paused, stepped up close to Daisuke and reached past him to trace a finger down the edge of a scrolled and blackened silver vine. �It�s very old. Very strange, this one��

The mirror seemed to disapprove of the words, the reflected light dimming slightly�//�not funny//

Daisuke blinked, not sure he had heard the whisper on the edge of his senses again. He strained his hearing, wondering if there was someone else in the room, and glanced at the young man. This close he could tell that the rumpled hair was a dark black, almost blue in the right light. His eyes behind the glasses were sad, a washed-away indigo that seemed to be old for his young face.

�Mirrors remember, you know. They remember the things that were shown to them, hold secrets and pasts and, sometimes, show you what waits for you. Some even say they are doorways to the past�or somewhere even worse.�

�That�s�creepy,� Daisuke shivered. ��I wonder if that�s true with painting�that�s just�� He shivered again, blushed and scrubbed a hand through his hair again, realizing he had been inadvertently calling the man creepy. �Ah, sorry��

The man laughed softly. �Creepy. That�s a perfect word for this, you know. A creepy mirror with its own mind�� He paused, dropped his hand from the mirror�Daisuke would swear later that something whispered again, a muttering of sorts�but the young man was reaching out his hand for Daisuke to take. �I am Ichijouji Osamu. You are?�

�Motomiya Daisuke,� the redhead grinned, and shook his hand firmly. �So I can take it home?�

Osamu smiled again, filled with that peculiar sadness, and nodded. �Let�s draw up the paperwork, shall we?�

~=~

It was a few days before Daisuke managed to scrounge up enough cash to pay Osamu completely, as well as sign his name to a warranty that if it should ever break, he�d bring all the pieces of broken glass if possible, as well as the frame of the mirror itself for �restoration.� During the few days he was waiting Daisuke walked around in a daze, oddly happy and euphoric with his purchase, even though he hadn�t even seen it since.

He walked into the store in the afternoon, blinking in the semi-darkness until his eyes adjusted. �Hey!� he called, and proceeded to walk towards the back again. �Hey Osamu, are you in?�

�I�ll be right there!� the man called out. �I�m taking a call�go ahead, the mirror is waiting!�

Daisuke grinned, skirting boxes and shelves until he stood in front of the mirror again. Like before, it was covered, probably to keep the dust away. �Hello,� he greeted softly, running fingers over the covered carving of silver.

He wasn�t as surprised this time to hear the sub-whisper, a soft barely heard sound, like someone was standing behind him, whispering into his ear. Perhaps he imagined it, or it was a voice in his head that he hadn�t met before, but he was sure that someone, even if it was only him, had responded. Either that or the paint fumes had started to affect him worse than he thought.

//Hello�//

He smiled faintly, brushing fingertips against the cloth-covering, and wondered. Mirrors remember, eh? Wonder what else they�re capable of�

�You�re ready to go?� Osamu said, smiling quicker now that he was assured of Daisuke�s intention of treasuring the mirror. Daisuke got the feeling that the other man regarded the mirror as something special.

It was, Daisuke agreed. It was very special�something told him this, as he stood there, a palm pressed to the covered glass and a faint smile on his face. �I am,� he said after a moment. Osamu clapped him on the shoulder, favoring him with a smile, that odd look in his eyes again, and Daisuke knew it was time.

It didn�t take very long for Daisuke to sign the last sheet of paperwork, clasp hands with Osamu again, and heft the frame of the mirror in his hands. Osamu followed him to the door, silent until Daisuke stood in sunlight and placed the mirror on the pavement.

�I guess this is it,� Daisuke said softly.

Osamu reached a hand to the mirror, tracing it with that faded look of heartrending sorrow flickering in his eyes. �Goodbye, then��

Then he turned to Daisuke. �The mirror has a secret,� Osamu said simply, his eyes shadowed behind the glasses. �I hope to see you again when you discover it.� Then he grinned mysteriously, and vanished into the gloom of his shop. The bell over the door tinkled softly, and Daisuke was left standing alone but for a mirror.

A secret�why am I not surprised�I bet it has something to do with �remembering,� or something like that�or whatever sounds like voices that I keep hearing�

But then again, hearing voices was the least of his worries.

~=~

That evening, after he had carted it home, carefully wrapped and secured upon his back, after he had set it up against the wall in his room, framing it with boxes and unused canvases and paint supplies, after he had wandered in and out several times, he heard the faint whisper of sound.

//What are you doing?//

He barely noticed, wandering in from his living room, absently nibbling on the brush in his hand, the other clutching a sketchbook, and made his way to a half-full box of paints. He spent a few minutes, his mind dismissing the sound as something else in his focus, most likely other students from the university, and bent his will on the current task of find just the right shade of blue to use.

As he left the room, the brush now clenched between his teeth as his hands were occupied with carrying the box, he failed to see the mirror glimmer, and the image of a young man just past the start of adulthood appear, watching him with interest.

~=~

Days passed. Daisuke, after asking several antique dealers about cleaning and restoring old silver, proceeded to find several small brushes, a toothbrush, and rags. It took him nearly a week of careful and delicate applications of different cleansers, polishing and removing the tarnish from the smallest curls of metal.

On the last day, with sunlight flooding the room and the smell of the summer floating in through the open window, he stood back, clad in nothing but ragged jeans, and examined the mirror. It gleamed warmly in the light, glinting with radiance and a solemn be. T. The surface of the glass was freshly cleaned, reflecting true.

Daisuke saw himself standing, arms akimbo and a hesitant waiting expression. He caught himself at that, wondering why he was so obviously waiting for some form of approval from the mirror�it wasn�t alive. It didn�t breath, didn�t move or any such thing.

Except that sometimes I swear it whispers, he thought with a small smile. It would just be his luck that he ended up with a haunted mirror. Shaking his head, he couldn�t resist winking at the mirror in impulse. �Don�t you look beautiful,� he said, and laughed.

�Ugh,� he said a moment later, noticing his dark-stained hands. �Shower�� He walked out of the room, unfastening his jeans as he went through the door with only the faintest of shyness. Yeah, right, like it�s watching�I wonder where that idea came from�You�re going nuts, Motomiya.

//Beautiful?// whispered the mirror. It seemed to contemplate this, the surface shimmering again as Daisuke vanished from view. The young man glimmered into view again, a puzzled look in his eyes and a faint tinge in his cheeks as he pressed palms to the glass, longish black hair fanning out ethereally, his indigo eyes lidded. He pursed his lips, frowning faintly, worried and silent.

//What a strange boy I have found myself wi/

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Spectre