Chapter 41: Of Eggs, Spiders, and Slavery (the Slightly Temporary Kind)
Wherein things escalate, tempers simmer, and someone tries to be rational for once (it's Joe, obviously)
Once the tears were wiped, the hugs given, and everyone had sufficiently awkwardly pretended they hadn't just shared feelings in public, Matt took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and asked the question that had been tap-dancing through his brain ever since Naruto had casually dropped the whole bodyguard thing:
"Wait a second—why do you need protection from Digitamamon? I mean… we've got three Ultimate-level Digimon here now. Shouldn't that be, you know… enough?"
Joe gave a firm nod. "Exactly. If we've got that kind of firepower, shouldn't we be doing the protecting, not signing up to peel potatoes and dodge dishes?"
Naruto, who had been quietly spooning whipped cream into his mouth like it was a form of meditation, glanced toward Piximon.
Piximon, ever the dramatist, fluttered just high enough to catch the light on his wings and said, "Pixi~. Because the one we're hiding from… isn't Digitamamon."
That got their attention.
Piximon landed gracefully on the back of a chair, like a fuzzy pink hawk ready to drop a prophecy. "We were running from her—Arachne. Also known as Arukenimon. A spider-type Ultimate. And one of the most dangerous enemies Minervamon ever faced."
Naruto set down his spoon, now looking a lot less like a sugar-fueled optimist and more like someone replaying a war movie in his head. "She's not just strong. She's… unfair. She toyed with us. Me, Piximon, Raikomaru, and MagnaAngemon—we fought her together, and we barely escaped."
Piximon gave a firm nod. "She was laughing the whole time. Took one lucky shot to get away. She won't make that mistake again."
Matt turned pale. "And she's coming here?"
Joe looked like he was calculating how fast he could dig a bunker using just a teaspoon.
TK, who had suddenly gone very quiet, muttered, "She said… she wanted to eat me. And Patamon."
Patamon gave a nervous squeak and buried his face in TK's sleeve.
Matt didn't hesitate. He pulled his little brother close like he could personally punch a spider demon in the face if he hugged hard enough. "No. Nope. Absolutely not. You're not getting eaten. I just got used to you evolving."
Joe stared blankly at the wall for a moment. "Okay… so, high risk of arachnid cannibalism. Got it." Then he looked at Matt and asked the question that really mattered: "What do we do now?"
Matt sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Unless we've got some reason for Digitamamon to protect us… he'll throw us out."
Joe frowned thoughtfully. "Correction—you all might get thrown out. Matt and I are his official indentured breakfast staff. We're safe, for now. The rest of you?" He gave a sympathetic shrug. "Not so much."
"So we… just let Naruto and the others get kicked out?" Matt asked, clearly appalled.
"No," Joe said with a sigh and the air of someone volunteering for a root canal. "We all sign up. Full team. Service with a smile, egg polish duty, the works."
Naruto blinked. "You want us to become waiters?"
Joe held up a finger. "Not waiters. Survivors. Look—we work here, we stay inside the protective barrier. We train. We get stronger. One year, we'll steamroll Arachne, Digitamamon, and anyone else who tries to turn us into a protein shake."
Matt still looked unconvinced.
Joe, sensing the need for extra logic, added, "And besides—the Digital World's time moves differently. A year here is like… what, two or three days back home? My exam prep can wait."
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For a brief, blissful moment, the group sat there with the warm comfort of a plan in their laps, like a cozy blanket stitched from denial and café menus. The idea of hiding in the digital equivalent of a French bistro while the world sorted itself out had a certain charm to it—until Piximon, ever the prickly conscience of the group, burst the bubble with all the subtlety of a pin to a party balloon.
"I know that's a lovely dream and all," Piximon said, voice dry as toast left out overnight, "but did anyone happen to remember that we're, oh I don't know, trying to save the world?"
There was a long silence.
Piximon fluttered higher and pointed his spear like an annoyed professor with a chalk stick. "If we stay here twiddling our thumbs and shining teacups, the Digital World is going to vanish. Poof. Just like that. And not just us—everything. All the Digimon, this city, the trees, the data, and possibly a fair chunk of the human world, too."
TK blinked. "Oh."
Matt winced. "Right. That."
Joe muttered into his hands, "I was just starting to enjoy not being in mortal danger for five consecutive minutes…"
Piximon sighed, floating down and gently bonking Naruto on the head with the flat of his spear. "You're the leader. Say something useful."
Naruto rubbed his scalp with a sheepish grin. "Okay, okay! You're right, Piximon. Enough cozying up with egg overlords and dessert carts."
He stood up, brushing invisible dust off his jacket with exaggerated purpose. "It's time to go full Naruto."
Matt squinted. "Which means?"
"A trap," Naruto said, flashing a grin that could only be described as very bad news for someone. "The classic bait-and-bash."
Joe paled immediately. "Oh no."
"Wait, wait," Naruto said, already pacing like a general at war. "We use Digitamamon's café as the bait. Takeru joins as a waiter, right? That'll draw Arachne out. She's after him—and Patamon."
Takeru looked up, wide-eyed. "Wait, me?"
Matt snapped, "Absolutely not! We just went through the whole hugging thing!"
Naruto held up both hands. "I know, I know! But listen—he's not alone. He'll be inside the café. Digitamamon is powerful. If Arachne comes for him, she'll have to deal with him first. And while they're fighting—we strike."
Piximon nodded, now intrigued. "You're planning to hide nearby. Let them wear each other down."
Raikomaru—tall, leonine, and ever-so-silent—gave a thoughtful grunt of approval.
Joe, who looked like he was beginning to develop a permanent stress rash, said, "So, what—you're going to wait behind the cheesecake display with a battle axe?"
"Something like that," Naruto said brightly. "Except with more explosions."
Matt scowled. "This is insane."
"This is necessary," Piximon cut in. "Arachne's stronger than all of us. We can't beat her head-on. But if we strike when she's distracted—"
"Then maybe we stand a chance," Naruto finished.
There was a pause as the idea settled over them like dust. Not pleasant. But solid. And, just possibly, their only real option.
Takeru swallowed. "I'll do it."
Matt immediately turned. "Absolutely n—!"
"I'll do it," Takeru said again, louder this time. He stood up, fists clenched. "We can't keep running. I'm scared, but… I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of me."
Patamon floated beside him, nodding slowly. "I'll be right there with you."
Matt looked like he might combust. But then, very slowly, his shoulders dropped. "You're braver than I was at your age," he muttered, voice thick. "Still think this is the worst idea I've ever heard, though."
Joe raised a hand. "It's the worst idea I've ever heard, and I once tried to use a rubber glove as a parachute."
Naruto laughed, and even Piximon cracked a smile.
"Well," Naruto said, clapping his hands together. "Time to turn a humble café into a battlefield. Let's get ready to serve."
Piximon groaned. "You're banned from puns."
"Pixi~."
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The decision, once made, settled over the group like a heavy but necessary cloak. There was no cheering, no back-patting, no triumphant fanfare—just the quiet resolve of people who had run out of choices but not of heart.
Digitamamon was waiting for them outside the restaurant, his glossy eggshell body reflecting the mid-morning sunlight like polished porcelain. His jagged eyes blinked lazily as they approached.
"Well?" he asked, voice like a lid clunking over a boiling pot. "Made up your minds?"
Matt stepped forward, jaw set. "We're signing up Takeru."
Digitamamon's gaze slid to the youngest boy, who stood straight-backed beside his older brother, chin high and eyes clear despite the tremble in his hands.
"With Patamon," Takeru added, reaching down as his partner hovered at his side.
There was a soft glow, and Patamon's body shimmered as he evolved into Angemon with a rush of radiant light. Wings stretched. Staff gleamed. His blue eyes looked calm, unshaken.
"I can work," Angemon said simply. "I won't be a burden."
Digitamamon gave an impressed little cluck. "Well now… an angelic waiter. That'll bring in the customers." He turned, gesturing them toward the back entrance. "You're mine for a year, then. You and the other two."
"Just to be clear," Joe interjected, adjusting his glasses with a wince, "that's one Earth year, right?"
Digitamamon grunted. "Digital time. Equivalent exchange. Don't worry—your home won't have changed much when you return, assuming it still exists by then."
Joe paled again, but didn't argue.
Surprisingly, Digitamamon's tone softened—just a touch—as he turned to the others.
"You brought me a valuable worker," he said to Naruto. "A strong one. I'll honor my word. You, Piximon, and the big cat over there—"
"Raikomaru," murmured the lion-like Leomon with quiet dignity.
"Right. You three can stay for a week. Free meals for today, and any unoccupied building is yours. Pick one, don't break it."
Naruto grinned. "Appreciate it. You'll find us close when the time comes."
Digitamamon didn't respond, just clanked back into his restaurant with the air of someone who had work to do and particularly enjoy doing it.
Inside, Matt helped Takeru into the simple uniform—white apron, black vest, not exactly a suit of armor, but serviceable. Joe was already setting up tables, balancing trays with slightly more grace than when he first arrived. The rhythm of the place was oddly comforting: chairs scraped, silverware clinked, someone shouted for extra napkins.
Takeru stood between his brother and Angemon, surrounded by the quiet hum of a temporary peace.
"I'll be fine," he said softly to Matt, who hadn't let go of his shoulder once since the agreement.
"I know," Matt said, though the crack in his voice betrayed the storm behind his calm. "Just don't go anywhere alone. Promise me that."
"I promise."
Outside, Naruto and the others watched as the door shut behind the three waiters. The trap was set, the bait in place, and the spider would come soon.
Piximon folded his arms. "We have one week. Maybe less."
Naruto's expression darkened. "Then we'd better make it count."
Raikomaru nodded, mane flickering faintly in the light. "Rest tonight. Train tomorrow."
They turned, already scouting out a quiet corner of the city to call home for the week. The air felt still, the buildings empty, like a forgotten stage waiting for the final act.
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The house they chose was nothing spectacular—one of those boxy, rectangular sorts that seemed to have grown out of the ground by accident and then forgotten why. It had three small rooms, no furniture save for mats and some curious jellybean-shaped cushions, and a bath that worked by growling once and spewing hot water like a tea kettle with stage fright.
But it was quiet. It was safe. And it was theirs for a week.
After a long bath (where Naruto accidentally scalded himself by mistaking the hot knob for cold, twice), the trio finally collapsed into their rooms like weary potatoes. Even Raikomaru—who had the emotional range of a mountain—snored softly under a blanket fashioned from curtains.
But peace, unfortunately, didn't last long.
Roughly two hours in, Naruto's eyes snapped open.
He lay staring at the ceiling, its smooth, digital texture glowing faintly like a soft screen. His breath was uneven, and his heart felt like it had been doing sprints in his chest. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead as if he'd run a marathon in his dreams. And in a way, he had.
Memories from a life he was not entirely sure if it was his—of himself from another time—pressed against his mind like a swarm of overzealous butterflies. Joy, pain, love, heartbreak, ramen, more ramen, betrayal, battles, and something called "dating advice from a talking toad" all collided in his head.
"Great," he muttered, swinging his legs over the mat and rubbing his face.
He stood up, wrapped his cloak around him, and tiptoed out. The night air outside was cool, the digital moon above hanging suspiciously still, as though waiting for someone to mention its obvious roundness.
The streets were silent. Houses slept. The city had taken a breath and was holding it.
"Naruto," came a whisper just above his ear.
He jumped. "Piximon! Don't sneak up on people at night! I nearly threw a Rasengan at you."
Piximon floated beside him, arms crossed and wings fluttering gently. "You'd miss. Your chakra's off-balance."
"Gee, thanks," Naruto muttered, but there was no venom in it.
They walked—well, Naruto walked, Piximon hovered at hip height—down the empty road, the quiet crunch of boots on gravel the only sound for a while.
Piximon finally broke the silence. "You're thinking about her, aren't you?"
Naruto blinked. "Arachne?"
"No. The spaghetti-loving spider who wants to eat your friend. Yes, Arachne." Piximon gave him a look.
Naruto chuckled weakly. "I don't know if we can do this. I've been trying to evolve further, but every step is… slow. Heavy. Like pushing a mountain uphill with a spoon."
"It's because you're strong," Piximon said calmly. "Strong digivolutions take more energy. You're not like the others."
"That's what worries me," Naruto admitted, frowning. "We were counting on Raikomaru evolving. That would've evened things out. But now we're stuck here, playing house, and I can't even beat a hairdryer, let alone an evil spider queen."
Piximon floated in front of him, forcing him to stop. His eyes were clear, bright like twin stars. "Don't forget something important," he said. "You're not alone. Two more Digi-Destined have joined us. Matt and Joe have their crests. That's not just luck—that's power. Potential. We guide them, help their partners evolve to Ultimate, and suddenly, it's five on one. That's not a battle. That's a swarm."
Naruto looked uncertain.
"And don't let the darkness win," Piximon added quietly.
Naruto hesitated. "I'm not—"
"You are," Piximon said gently. "I can feel it. You've carried sadness and fear for so long, it's carved paths in your mind. You're conflicted. You've seen loss. You're afraid of finding more. But Naruto…"
He leaned in a little closer.
"Does worry solve your problems? What has it ever achieved?"
Naruto looked at the ground. His hands were clenched.
"Nothing," he whispered.
Piximon floated up beside him again, more gently this time. "Then let it go. Focus on what you can do, not what's beyond your reach. You're not here to carry the whole world. You're here to help save it—with your friends."
Naruto nodded slowly, then looked up at the sky. "I'm trying. I really am. But these feelings… they keep pulling me down. Like I'm drowning. Every step, every breath feels like a mountain."
He exhaled, long and shaky.
"I don't even feel like moving anymore. I'm scared. Of what I'll find, of what might come. The only reason I'm still walking is because you guys… you guys are my friends. And you need me."
Piximon didn't say anything right away. Instead, he floated closer and patted Naruto's shoulder, tiny hand surprisingly firm.
"We don't just need you," he said. "We believe in you."
And for the first time in hours, Naruto smiled.
A small one. But it was real.
The wind blew softly, carrying the faint scent of fried eggs and ramen from somewhere down the street. Probably the restaurant preparing for morning.
"Well," Naruto said at last. "Guess I should try and sleep before I start writing dramatic poetry."
Piximon snorted. "Please don't."
Together, the two turned and walked back to the little house on the corner—two tiny specks of light in a sleeping city, walking a quiet path toward an uncertain, but not unwinnable, tomorrow.