“hold on tight,” daisuke tells him, as if it were easy — as if ken weren’t panicking as he flings his arms around daisuke from behind to avoid flying off his speeding digimon’s back. the air rushing past them is bitterly cold, biting at ken’s cheeks as it tousles his hair, and despite his nerves he can’t help but cling tighter to the comforting warmth that is daisuke, a shooting star of adrenaline and heat cutting through the freezing night. even through his thick vest ken can feel daisuke’s heart pounding in time with lighdramon’s paws on the pavement, and as he presses his chest flush to his back he feels his own begin to synchronize with it before they’ve even jogressed.