All alone, Hikari was floating in liquid darkness.

It seemed as if she had been there for hours, either treading water or simply allowing the tide to carry her onwards. From time to time, memories drifted through her mind, like seaweed borne on the waves. . . .

She had been lying on her bed, her face pressed in her pillow, tears of angry shame burning in her eyes. Her mother had had no right to say what she had said about her and Takeru, or to forbid her to see any of her friends, just as she had no right to make her take the exams for a school she did not even want to get into. As she had been crying, though, something strange had happened. She had felt icy water dripping on the back of her neck, like a cold finger prodding her to get her attention. In confusion, she had lifted to head to see whether there was a leak. She had gasped in shock. Her walls had become waterfalls - water had seeped through the cracks between them and the ceilings. Her floor, inches deep in water, had become a pond. It had shimmered white-silver in the electric light. Somehow unable to speak or to call out for help, she had drawn her knees up to her chest and watched the water rise and rise and. . . .

Scrunching her eyes closed, Hikari willed her mind to be empty, and it was. There was no need for thought or for action here. Memory was equally useless. All she had to do was float and be carried by the tide.

Suddenly, she began to sink, drifting downwards with the same steady swiftness as a pebble dropped into a lake. The waters closed above her head. Arms flailing wildly, kicking her feet with all her strength, she tried to reach the surface and air. But she was too heavy. She carried on sinking, deeper and deeper into the darkness. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that emerged were a stream of brilliant bubbles. One by one, they disappeared into the blackness above her, like dying stars. Desperately, even though she knew that it was no good and that no-one could hear her, she tried to call for help: "Taichi . . . Tailmon . . . TAKERU!"

"Hikari?"

With a start, Takaishi Takeru sat up in the sweaty tangle of sheets that his bed had become and looked around his room. Washed of colour by the moonlight, everything was grey and quiet. The only sounds he could hear were those of cars swishing past in the road, and the occasional chirrup of an insect from the apartment’s gardens. It was only a bad dream, he told himself, glancing at the clock on the table beside his bed. It was just after midnight: the witching hour, if his grandmother’s stories were to be believed.

"While I’m up, I might as well get a drink of milk," he told himself, swinging his feet over the side of his bed and feeling around for his slippers. Putting them on, he jumped up and walked out of his room. The rest of their house was quiet and dark, apart from a single, long stripe of light slanting from the study. Takeru frowned. That’s weird. Mom must be working late again. I’ll ask her if she wants some tea.

"Mom, would . . ." the words froze in his mouth as he reached the study. It was impossible, but Hikari was standing there by the window. The light that he had seen was coming from her. She glowed with a soft, golden radiance that illuminated the entire room. It reminded him of the paper lanterns that were strung across some streets during the old festivals. The candles would shine through their paper cases, casting warm, jewel-like light across the street. Hikari managed to glow in the same way, even in the long, white nightdress she was wearing. If it hadn’t been for her radiance, he would have sworn she had just climbed out of bed. Suddenly, he noticed the hem of her nightgown was wet, and sand clung to her bare feet. The grains glittered slightly in the light. Did she go for a midnight walk on the beach before coming here? The beach . . . . Fear thrilled up and down his neck. No, not the beach. The Dark Ocean.

"Help me, Takeru," she whispered, holding out her hands to him, "I can’t fight the Deep Ones by myself. You have to help me. You have to . . . "

Hikari seemed to shimmer, like the rippling of light on water, and he felt his stomach lurch. I can’t let the Dark Ocean take her again. I can’t let Dagomon have her. I can’t. Quickly closing the space between them, he gripped her hands tightly with his own. He felt her fingers tighten around them as he did so. Warm and damp, they were too solid to be a dream.

"Hold on to me. I won’t let you go, Hikari. I promise you I won’t let you go."

"It’s too late, Takeru," she whispered, "They’ve already won."

"No, they haven't. They can't win if you don't let them. You're strong. You can beat them."

"I'm not strong enough."

To his horror, Hikari began to ripple with the same wet light as before. It seemed quicker and more urgent now. Her image shifted and swayed in front of him, almost like she was at the bottom of a riverbed and he was looking down at her. Her hands slipped out of his, as smoothly and easily as if they had been water themselves. He reached out for her again, tried to grasp her shoulders, but his hands passed straight through her.

"HIKARI! NO!"

"Takeru, I’m scared . . . . " Hikari’s image was beginning to grow transparent. Through her, he could see the night sky, glistening with frosty stars, above the neon city. The radiance coming from her was starting to fade too. It was as soft and as warm as a nightlight now, but there was nothing comforting about it.

"HIKARI! HOLD ON!"

"Takeru, what’s wrong?" Natsuko’s worried, if sleepy, voice asked from behind him. His mother had obviously heard him shout and come to see what was wrong with him. Relief flooded Takeru, as he whirled to face her. His mother would know what to do. She would know whom to call for help.

"Hikari . . . You have to call somebody . . . She’s vanishing into the Dark Ocean and I tried to help her . . . But my hands went through her and she’s still vanishing," he said in anguish. His mother looked down on him with concern in her blue eyes, and he realised that she could not see Hikari. As far as she was concerned, the room was empty and dark. It was like that day in class two years ago, when he had been the only one who had seen what was happening to his friend. No wonder his mother looked worried about him. He had to make her understand somehow.

"Mom, you have to believe me that Hikari’s in danger. . . ."

Natsuko made a clucking sound with her tongue, feeling his forehead with a cool, practised hand, "You’re flushed, and you're definitely too hot. It seems like you have a bit of a fever to me, Takeru. Sometimes, that can make you imagine things that aren’t there. I wouldn’t worry about Hikari. She’ll be fine. You should get back to bed immediately. I’ll bring a damp towel and some aspirin."

"But Hikari . . . ."

"You can see her when you get better, dear," she put her arm around his shoulder and gently but firmly shepherded him back to his room. He struggled to free himself and get back to Hikari, but he could not break his mother’s hold. Desperately, he looked back over his shoulder, but the shaft of light across the hallway had vanished, if it had ever been there. It couldn’t have been real, could it? There’s no way Hikari could have been in our study. No way at all. You heard your mom, Takeru. You have a fever. People with fevers see weird things. That’s all it was . . . It couldn’t have been anything else . . . Could it?

By the time he was tucked into bed and his mother had returned with a glass of cool water, he was prepared to believe it had all just been a fevered dream.