A/N: First of all, I want to say that I can see why there is such a thing as the 'freshman fifteen'...colleges give out so much free food. I won't complain while I attack this cupcake, but...

Consider this another college treat. Like my delicious banana cupcake.

What will comprise this newest one-shot collection? The title is from "My Favorite Things" from 'The Sound of Music.' As that suggests, this is a reflection on various material objects and how they are used/seen by the character most directly related to it. Really, everyone has a signature item. Eight chapters, one for each of the 01 cast. (Should I do 02 as well?) Each chapter will contain three parts: the moment the person in question received the item in question, a random moment with it (usually in the Digiworld), and the moment the person loses or lets go of the item.

The premise for this is exploration, not discovery. Therefore, I can't promise that anything will be resolved. Any problems may remain unsolved. No, I won't leave you in the middle of a major event. I'm referring to smaller things, personal opinions, that sort of stuff. I'm not trying to make the characters happy; I'm trying to follow them for a few seconds in their hectic lives. It gets messy at times. Sorry.

So. There's no order to who gets uploaded when; I'm just going to do it in order of completion. Joe was the first, he was the inspiration-I love writing Joe and Gomamon, and their chapter just came so easily. Unlike the others. I'm almost positive Tai will be last, because we all know what his object will be. (Actually, vote: goggles-which is slightly cliched-or the spyglass?)

So. Thanks for reading, sorry for the long author's note, and enjoy!

"Here, take this." A bag was thrust into Jyou Kido's hands. He blinked, taking in the heavy fabric and red cross on the front.

"Er...what is this?"

Mr. Fujiyama smiled. "This is your supply bag."

"My...supply bag..."

"Yep."

Joe looked up at him. "Why do I need a...supply bag?"

"Why, because I'm going on vacation, of course! You're in charge!" He laughed at Joe's expression. "Just kidding, relax."

"Really, though, why do I have this bag? It's nice and all, but..." He pushed his glasses back up his nose.

His teacher stretched. "Well, you signed up to be a student chaperone, right?"

"...I think so. Though now that I think about it, it doesn't sound really like my line of duty..."

Mr. Fujiyama ignored him. "Student chaperones get these supply bags for their use. They're a few years old, but they do nicely. You'll have a group of students you'll be looking after-just keep tabs on them so nobody gets lost in the woods or gets bitten by snakes or..."

"Lost in the woods? Bitten by snakes?"

"...and you can trade around the bag with your group if you want, so you don't have to worry about it all the time."

Joe was visibly shaking now. It was the first morning of summer camp, and he already wanted to go home. "I'm really in charge?"

A quick pat to his shoulder, and the teacher continued, not noticing his student's distress. "You'll be in charge of six others...normally it's seven, but one couldn't make it, so you've got it a bit easier."

The blue-haired boy repeated himself. "I really am in charge?"

"If you want, consider it more of a...an uncle role. You can have fun and act crazy, but you just make sure no one gets hurt. Okay?"

"No! Not okay! Not okay at all!" But Mr. Fujiyama had already left to give a new bag to another 'student chaperone.'

Joe sighed. He had signed up for the chaperone position because his father said it would give him some "leadership experience." But he had figured being a chaperone meant he would shepherd students into the lunch hall, or make sure the lights were turned off at night. Not that he would have to chase after six younger children and make sure they didn't get buried under an avalanche or eat a poisonous mushroom...he could just imagine one of them recklessly climbing a mountain by himself, or drowning, or breaking dishware.

Still, he was a chaperone. He now had a duty. So he would do his duty to the best of his abilities.

He opened his new supply bag. It was fuller than it looked, stuffed with tissues, a compass that didn't appear to be working (he would end up giving it away to a girl in a pink dress that seemed to be collecting the defective ones), two granola bars (which didn't make it out of that room, because Joe had skipped breakfast), rope, a first-aid kit (which would make his father cry in disgust), a fire blanket, a flashlight, and a list of phone numbers to contact if something went awry. Which it probably would.

Nevertheless, Joe shouldered the bag. This was his, now, and he was in charge.

They were running. They were in a foreign world, with strange talking creatures, and they were running. From another strange creature. At least this one didn't talk. It seemed more inclined to roar instead.

The seven of them-the fourteen of them, if Joe went into specifics-had set up camp for the night, and he, Matt, and Tai had decided to take turns for watch. And, right when Joe had been relieved and finally gotten the ground to be comfortable, something had to show up.

And make them run.

They didn't even know from what they were running; there hadn't been time yet to analyze it with their Digivices, and it was too dark to tell in the dusky world.

But running was good. Or, at least, it had been, until Joe realized something: he was missing his supply bag.

"Joe? What are you doing?" Sora asked as he started to move away from the group.

He winced. "Um. Something I'm probably going to regret later." And, before he could lose his courage, he stopped his momentum and started running the opposite direction-straight back at the random monster that was giving them chase.

Sora was yelling something in the background, but he didn't have the energy to listen. Joe was already regretting turning around; would his life really be worth the bag? Normally, he'd say no, but he was supposed to be responsible. And that bag had medical supplies and a bundle of Digi-dollars Gabumon had somehow managed to secure-not that Joe was entirely sure what the strange currency was used for-and the phone numbers, the latter of which they just might need. If they ever managed to get back home.

So leaving the bag behind wasn't in anybody's best interest. And if collecting it wasn't necessarily in his, well, he'd deal with that later.

The Digimon loomed ahead of him, some sort of crazed dinosaur-maybe a dragon? Joe saw teeth and tried to quell his fears. He had to do this.

He dodged the creature, which seemed momentarily confused at one of its prey coming back at it. Some hard sprinting-and now the monster was chasing him-and he saw his bag, lying on the cold ground, as if it were content.

Maybe he'd let TK draw on it later to teach it a lesson. And maybe he was a little slaphappy, to think that a bag could have personified emotions.

Nevertheless, he scooped the bag up in his arms like a baby, quickly turned, and starting running in the opposite direction once again. The poor chasing Digimon paused and tilted its head to the side. This strange boy was running at him again-weren't prey supposed to run the other way?

Its new confusion gave Joe enough time to run between its legs and get enough of a head start to catch up with the rest of his companions in a small enclave of trees.

"Joe! That was awesome!" Tai was saying as Joe caught his breath. Gomamon was glaring at him, as was Sora, but the rest seemed impressed. Joe himself wasn't impressed; he wanted to sleep more than anything else.

"Sorry," he finally said to the two members that weren't happy for him. Sora shook her head and walked away, but Gomamon continued to show a dissatisfied expression. "Gomamon, we need this bag if we want to survive."

"I'm not glaring at the bag, Joe."

"Look, why are you mad at me?" The others were spreading out for sleep again, and Matt was retaking his watch. "I did what I had to do."

The seal shook his head. "You didn't do everything you were supposed to do." Looking toward the trees around them, Gomamon set his head down. "I'm your partner. You're supposed to ask me for help if you need it."

"I...there wasn't time..."

"I'm glad you got the bag back." And, with that, Joe's partner closed his eyes.

Joe stared for a few moments before glaring at the bag he had worked so hard to reclaim. It wasn't the inanimate object's fault, he knew, but without a mirror it was rather hard to berate oneself.

"Mom? Dad? Anyone home?"

"It doesn't look like they are, Joe."

"Shh! Do you want to get dissected?" Joe held his squirming Digimon.

"Let me go! I tired of being manhandled! And they won't dissect me, Joe. They're not evil, are they?"

"Well..."

"Do they have fangs?" Joe shook his head. "Horns? Can they speak to snakes?"

"...that's random."

"Can they?"

"...no..."

"Then they're not evil."

Joe rolled his eyes and cautiously entered his family's apartment. "Gomamon, did Etemon have fangs, horns, or the ability to speak to snakes?"

Gomamon jumped out of the bag before Joe could stop him. "That's beside the point." He shuffled forward, looking around. "This place is..."

"What?"

"Boring."

Normally, Joe might argue. Sure, the walls were a beige-white; sure, the furniture was slightly lumpy and the pictures were mainly copies of degrees and stock family portraits, but it was home. After the Digiworld, however, he was getting the same vibe that his Digital partner was feeling. His house was boring.

"So. Where's your room?" Gomamon asked nonchalantly. Joe hesitated for a moment before resigning himself to showing his friend his own domain. For his part, the seal monster wasn't overly rude: he stared at the bare walls, but he managed to compliment his collection of books around his study desk. As he searched through his drawers, Joe sat down on his bed.

They were back. They really were. They had a mission, sure-find the Eighth Digidestined Child, save the world, yada yada. But this was home again.

It felt strange. Almost too quiet. He'd call Tai later to figure out what to do next, but this break felt wonderful.

However, there was one thing he wanted to do, before he got too comfortable. He was sure his brother had a duffel bag that he didn't use anymore.

Joe had been ready to board the bus back at camp when Mr. Fujiyama had called him over. "Yes, sir?" he had asked cautiously, trying to inconspicuously make sure that Gomamon still had his head in the bag.

The teacher was looking at that bag. What if he knew something about what they had done? Would they take Gomamon away? Would he get in trouble for leaving the camp ground?

"We'll be needing that back," Mr. Fujiyama pointed at the bag. "Remember?"

Joe rubbed the back of his head. "Oh, right. Sorry." He pulled it off, taking his Digimon out of it. Gomamon remained still. "Here you go."

"Hmmm..." The teacher was looking at the bag, curiously. "It looks like this one is pretty worn out." He pointed out the frayed edges, the faded colors, the several holes that he had tried and failed to sew nicely shut. "And this model was supposed to last a few more years..."

Before Joe started to mumble about how of course he hadn't been travelling cross-dimension for the last several months, Mr. Fujiyama had smiled and held out his hand. Joe took it, blinking.

"Well, thanks for all the help, Joe. I hope you consider stopping by next year!" And off he had gone.

Joe was oddly pleased, and displeased. Part of him was happy that the bag was gone. Too many memories of running away and fighting monsters. And it was starting to smell like old fish and mildew, which couldn't be good for his sinuses.

However, that bag had survived the entire trip through the Digital World. Joe had worn it proudly during those weeks-that-no-longer-existed, using it as well as he could. And seeing it go...he almost missed it.

Sighing, the boy picked up his partner and ran to join his friends on the buses.

And now, back home, Joe was scouting for a new bag. One that could hold supplies, in case something strange happened again. Since it surely would.