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I woke up in my usual fashion, by blatantly refusing to. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, when I realized I wasn't in bed. I was on the floor. A floor, not my floor, I noted as I pushed myself up. My back didn't hurt, surprisingly, as it would after sleeping all night on the floor. Now for some, this experience might be all too familiar, waking up in a strange place on the floor, having probably gotten drunk and migrated here from a party. That's the thing though, I don't. I don't party.

I looked around and found my surroundings to be strange as well. The design of the house around me seemed foreign, not at all American. I decided to stand, despite being somewhat wobbly.

It was then that I realized I was wearing something different. I looked down to find I was wearing jeans and a hoodie, my usual attire, however, neither were mine, nor were they what I usually fell asleep in. The hoodie was black, with a strange crimson symbol on the front, and the jeans were a darker shade of blue than any other pair I'd owned.

I began to wander the rooms of the house, building, whatever it was. The rooms were small, again showing it wasn't American. I continued to poke through the place before noticing a dark wood table with a few ornate carvings in it. On it was a digivice, from the Tamers series.

"Alright." I said, exercising my habit of talking aloud to myself. "Someone's fucking with me." I picked it up, deciding to "play along" with this game. I examined it a bit, comparing it to the toy version I'd had when I was younger. The first major difference was that it was black, not the white or grey that they usually were. The facing or trim or whatever was crimson, notably a few shades darker than Takato's from the series. I also noticed it was sturdy, not like the cheap construction of a child's toy. This thing was tough, and I could feel it. I pocketed it in the pouch of my hoodie, despite the many warnings issued by my dad, "Don't put important shit in the front pocket, you'll lose it."

I had just turned around to leave the room, when I noticed another thing. My shoes weren't mine either. They too were crimson and black, following the scheme of my two favorite colors. The other shocking thing was that they fit. Most nice shoes like these don't come in size 16. When I looked back up, I saw something that someone had pinned a piece of paper to the wall with a knife, upon closer examination my knife, one of them, at least. I walked up to the wall, pulled the knife out, closed it up, and pocketed it as well.

The paper, which had been folded in half, had the words "turn it on" written in graceful brushstroke calligraphy, not printed from a computer, but actually brushed on. I stood for a few moments, simultaneously admiring the skill of the writer and pondering the meaning. After a few more seconds on thought, I pulled the digivice back out to find that it was indeed off. I set the paper aside, on a table near the wall.

"Worth a shot, I guess." I said, pressing the button to turn it on. The display lit up, literally; it was backlit, another difference from the toy in the days of my youth. An instant later, I felt a light presence on my shoulder. I resisted the urge to twist and face the thing, instead opting for a peaceful approach.

"Hands off, please. I don't like to be touched." I said gently, and the presence was removed. I slowly turned and raised my hands to show that they were empty, save for the digivice. As I turned, a figure came into my view.

"Jesus. Fucking. Christ." I said, taking in the sight before me. It was a Renamon.

"Uh..." Repeatedly came out of my mouth. I was put at a loss, a hard thing to do. But then, how the hell would you react?

"You are Caleb?" The digimon in front of me asked. I must have looked like something of an idiot.

"Y-yeah." I stuttered out my response. "Are you... real?"

As if to prove my point, the Renamon reached out with a large paw and poked my face.

My face went from shock to a glare. "Alright, smart ass." The Renamon giggled a bit, simultaneously putting me off kilter a bit and forcing me to crack a smile.

We stood there awkwardly for a minute, me popping my leg back and forth and the Renamon's tail whipping against the ground.

"Stop whipping your tail on the ground, you'll get it dirty."

"Stop popping your leg." And again we were at stalemate.

After a few more minutes of awkward standing, I finally had to ask.

"Why am I here?" The question was necessary, and it shattered the silence and tension of the air.

The Renamon began to shift from leg to leg uncomfortably before responding. "I don't know."

I raised an eyebrow and replied flatly. "What."

"I'm not sure." I brought my hand to my face in mild frustration and confusion.

I thought for a moment, and then picked up the paper. I unfolded it and faced the writing to the Renamon.

"Did you write this?" I asked, gesturing to the paper, digivice still in hand.

The Renamon nodded. Ok, now we're getting somewhere.

"Why?"

The Renamon again shifted from leg to leg before responding, as if unsure about all of this. This definitely wasn't Rika's Renamon.

"I had to. If you didn't turn it on, I wouldn't be able to talk to you."

I stopped everything. I stopped popping my leg, my arm holding the paper dropped to my side, and my brain stopped functioning as it all crashed together.

I recovered a few seconds later, but the shock was still present in my voice.

"Am I your Tamer?"

The Renamon nodded.

I leaned back into the wall and slid down, trying to cope with this.

"That's it, then?" I said to myself, probably confusing the Renamon. "I finally did it. I went crazy." The Renamon tried to pick me up by the shoulders, lugging me upwards and failing.

I looked up at the Renamon. "This is real?"

"Yes." The Renamon replied, obviously irate at not being able to pick me up.

I stood up fully, not slouching anymore to pop my leg and looked the Renamon dead in the eye, enjoying the fact that I was larger than the Renamon. I intensely looked down into the Renamon's eyes.

"You better not be lying." I said with a wicked grin. I put the digivice back into my pouch and began to walk through the house again, looking for a couch.

After a minute of searching, with the Renamon closely following me, I found one, with a television in the same room. I sat and so did the Renamon.

I took the remote in my hand and turned to the Renamon. "I have two questions for you. Answer honestly." A nod was the reply.

"First, are we in Shinjuku?"

The Renamon nodded, "Yes, how did you know that?"

"Call me psychic." I said, shrugging off the question. "Second, are you female?"

"Well, technically..." I stopped the Renamon mid-sentence.

"Don't give me the "technically digimon are data so we have no gender" bullshit. You and I both know digimon have gender. It's a binary data point."

The Renamon didn't seem to enjoy being cut off. "I was going to say, technically, yes. I haven't developed fully, but I am a female."

She turned away and I turned on the TV.

We sat and watched for a few minutes before my urge got the better of me. I _ever so subtly_reached over and stroked down her arm. She returned with the most wide-eyed look I've seen from any person or digimon.

"Sorry." I said. "Couldn't resist."

After _that_awkwardness passed, I spoke again.

"I have another question."

"You seem to be full of them today."

"Wow, has my smart ass demeanor already rubbed off on you?"

"Yes." Blunt.

"Anyways, have you been here for a while? In this world, I mean."

She pondered for a moment. "I crossed over a few days ago and have been living in this house."

I nodded. "Have you seen a girl in a trenchcoat walking around, possibly with a Renamon like yourself following her?"

She looked confused. "Yes. How did you know that?" So, that's about where I am chronologically. Crap.

"Where I come from, this entire reality is a work of fiction. Anyone who's seen it could tell you the events to follow. Unfortunately, I haven't watched it in years, so I can't remember plot details."

Renamon looked at me queerly for a moment. "A work of fiction?"

"Yeah, I know, it seems unbelievable. The thing is, you and I weren't in the original work. That's going to screw things up a bit."

"So you have a rough idea of what will happen?"

"To a point, but I remember certain things better than others."

"Like?"

I pulled out the digivice. "I know how to work one of these things pretty well. That, and I remember how to get you to digivolve."

"Really? Do it then!" She seemed giddy, as any digimon would at the prospect.

"I can't yet." Her expression fell. "I know how, but we aren't strong enough as partners to be able to yet."

"What do you mean?"

"We have to grow as friends."

She paused for a moment. "We're... friends?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't we be... Aw, come on, tell me you don't buy into the whole 'tamer is master' crap?"

"But... aren't you?"

I sighed. "No, I'm not. I don't want to be your master. That would make you my slave. We are equals. I respect you, I hope you do the same for me. We are two parts of a whole."

"So... we are friends?" She said slowly, seeming to finally get it.

"Yes. I care about you. I just met you, but as your Tamer, part of my job is to take care of you and train you. As my partner, you have to help protect me and work with me. Symbiotic."

"Good. I like you, Caleb." She reached out and stroked down the side of my arm. Oh, great. She thinks that's our thing now.

"Don't start doing that." I said, feigning seriousness.

She seemed taken aback. "Sorry, I was just teasing you."

"I know." I said, then I stoically turned my head to her and cracked a smirk. "So was I."

She lightly smacked me. "You have a very dry sense of humor, you know that?"

"Do I? Or am I sarcastic?" I quipped, never losing the smirk.

"I'm not too sure what you are." She said, a bit of confusion falling over her face.

"Suppose that makes it difficult for me, then. I know a lot about you, you know nothing about me." I said, absentmindedly watching the television, using it more for flashing lights than entertainment.

"How do you figure that? You may know about that other Renamon, but not me. I'm entirely different. And don't think I haven't picked up on a few things from you."

I turned back to her with genuine interest. "Good point on you, but what have you picked up about me?"

"Well, given that statement, I'd guess you like a debate. Not a fight, but a friendly debate. Most people can't see the difference."

I nodded. "That's exceptionally perceptive of you, given how different digimon are characteristically from humans."

"And that. Three words that are usually too large or complex to fit into an average person's vocabulary."

"Hmm. Seems I'm giving you a little too much ammunition, let's hear another, since this sentence probably gave you nothing."

"Well," She said, thinking for a moment. "The clothes you're wearing. I assume they are your usual attire." I nodded in response. "By that, I can assume you are something of an informal person, who likes the cold."

I rolled up the sleeves of my hoodie, no doubt proving her right. "How do you figure those things?"

"Informal, due to the fact that I can see no collar on your shirt, a thing I noted most professionals do have, along with the fact that no one wears such simple clothing to a formal event, so far as I've seen."

I was impressed. "Very good." I praised, patting her on the head mock-condescendingly. "And the cold bit?"

"That is a fairly thick jacket, plus you rolled up your sleeves, which shows the room is too warm for it, but you won't take it off."

"So, that means I like the cold? I mean, yes I do, but that is hardly evidence."

"But you taking my bait and admitting to it, are very much so." Now her turn to smirk, as I lost mine.

"Crafty. Very clever, my dear Renamon." I paused, wondering something. The name seemed long, ill-fitting.

She seemed to notice. "What's wrong?" She asked, a slight franticness in her voice. "Did I assume too much?"

"No," I said, expressionless, "But you are right, don't assume, it makes an ass of you and me."

She was not pleased. "Funny. But really, what are you thinking about?"

I opened my mouth, then paused, pondering once more. "Renamon, do you want a name?"

She stalled at the question. "Huh?"

"Well, there is another Renamon about. For sake of sanity, and just for a personal touch, would you want a name past the generic?"

Now it was her turn to ponder. "I suppose, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I always have liked the name Raia. If you like that, we could use it." (A/N: Pronounced like the "riah" in Mariah)

She took a moment to roll it through her mouth. "Hmm. Righ-uh. Riiiigh-uh. Hmm."

I sat, enjoying her scrutiny of the name. A name is nothing to be wasted, especially when you get to choose it yourself.

"So? What do you think?" I asked after she stopped.

"I think..." She said, pondering a bit more. "I like it. You may call me Raia."

"Glad to see I have the privilege, Raia." I said sarcastically.

"Oh, shut up."