This Kind of Hate, a digimon fanfic

[Disclaimer]: The character of Ichijouji belongs to Toei and Bandai. The song was written for this story, and is claimed by the author.

[Note]: The song, still unnamed, is written by me and some years ago, I might have actually made a tune for it. I've written this a while ago when Digimon was actually a decent program to watch. Desolate Ichijouji reflects on his past, after his decision to switch sides. [this has been edited several times.. hopefully this is the last.]

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Azure, peaceful shades of cerulean flowed back and forth between the joyful cries and merry chatter that roamed about the beach. I had laid my head down against the tree trunk, looking up with an open mind.

The shaded oak tree I sat under had strong sturdy branches, limbs that reached out. I would have climbed it… but to risk messing up my hair? Nah—too much effort. It would have been fun to try though. The memory of strong tree branches under my hands... Osamu never climbed, not with me anyway.

// Even deeper, than the untold lies of mine
For who would have dared to say
the lies would come out back again
I feared the rival-
Even though, nevermore
he would be threat to my pride.
for the conqueror shall be challenged again //

Osamu, there had been certain air to him. His atmosphere and his aura cast a warming glow of intellect and hidden ambitions.

As a child, he was no less than a genius to my parents. No less than a prodigy to the world.

For years past his death, I had always wondered if I caused it. The darkness had given me power as an Emperor... was that enough, as a child, to make a wish of death. I never wished it on star, nor any luck charm, but to the desk. And the chair, and the computer which had held the vulnerable entity.

It was not until years later that I discovered its true uses... but when the darkness had reached me, I was still young. Susceptible and exposed, my guilt led me to drown the entity in an ocean. The dark ocean. So when it offered the power-I took it. Then on, as the Digimon Emperor; I no longer spoke of Osamu's death as a curse, but as a sinful blessing.

// I wanted a moment to pride myself
above the rest, among the best
Then it occurred—
I wasn't being all that I could
I needed to cry, someone to hold me
and take away this anguish and pain
But what would I give them in return //

At times the world was a mess; painful voices inside your head, crazed beings trying to take over the world… but at this moment, life was rather peaceful, tranquil and undisturbed.

I could feel my hair falling softly over my face, I smiled gently as children played nearby in the sand. Personally, I felt like a thirty year old bachelor sitting under a this tree, near the beach, reflecting on my past and distressing over the future.

// For all I'm just minion—
calling for sun breaks in the rain
some dreams are broken
mine was just spoken, for me
I wanted to love but I ended hurt
I needed a someone to clear my fate
turning— to this kind of hate //

My guitar was laying at my side, unused and impatiently tapping at my shoulder for me to play. Some times I would start feeling like another Yamato Ishida. We were equally smart and athletic, but in a sense, I felt like I was cheating him out of everything... including music.

Of course, he didn't have the biological chip implanted in his neck. I did though... I had abilities I thought were mine own, but it was only an experiment done well.

I don't know, maybe I was being hard on myself. Guitars weren't my passion, but it felt good to strum out notes and hum uselessly as if I was a famous rock star. Every boy dreams alike, but most turn out with a different future.

// And all I waited for
Its all lost in the day
Forever and for always
Never lasted long—I say //

I picked up the pencil that rested upon the notebook, and twirled it in my fingers. The song lyrics scribbled down suggested nothing in particular. I wasn't aware that such words could come from a person like me... but then again, earning the crest of kindness was a bit of a surprise no less. The top line of my notebook, blank. A song without a title was a bad omen. I thought of some ideas, all of them in mocking way. All of them reflecting some joke about my life.

With the pencil I made soft marks above my lyrics to write, 'This Kind of Hate.' A title to go along with a sad, simple song. I immediately had second thoughts and scratched that heading out. What was a name that would symbolize hate, jealousy, deception, and lust? How about 'Life' I joked.

I shifted my weight so the guitar rested comfortably in my lap and angled with my left arm correctly. Glancing around, I was wary of any people who were close enough hear me—all was clear.

I held the guitar, a classic acoustic, and picked at the tuning. One thing about keyboards—always in tune. Lucky bastards.

The first chord I fingered was very soft, and in harmony with the song-like voices around me. Taking in a little more courage, I breathed deeply and sang the chord's root note. My tone was smooth and even with the instrument, but like any inexperienced voice, a little off pitch. A few more notes—and I was ready to take on the lyrics. Clearing my clouded mind I sang.

My voice was no longer drowned out in the beach activity. People were slowly heading home and I echoed soundly in all directions. The more I realized that I could be heard, the softer I sang. The lustful, sweet tune ended in rit.* The last chord tinged with somber emotion.

The sun still glared at me. A heard a noise and realized a child was staring at me. Embarrassed, I turned away from those wide eyes. It was a little girl, no older than five years. She held beach equipment in one tiny hand. I half expected the kid to laugh at me, but instead she sat down. Was she expecting me to sing?

Another voice reached the child. "Hatsu!" The mother. Hatsu got up and without a sound, ran off. Looking at where she had sat, I noticed she forget her bubble kit. I picked the wand up and blew graceful spherical bubbles into the sky. Osamu had taught me that.

The wind had died down—I had forgotten all about my embarrassment of someone seeing me. And I shouldn't have been ashamed. Enjoying life no longer was a sin for me, Ken Ichijouji. Switching to a upbeat pop song, I smiled. My soul detached from the cold husk of my body and I saw myself sitting there, with a peaceful smile and singing loudly. My original song remained nameless. I thought, this was not a hate.

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* rit.—ritard. A notation in music to slow down tempo but not changing the time.