Author's Notes

Yep, another story. They need to know when to leave me alone so that I can finish the ones in progress. But nope. Will not hear of it.

The migraines I mentioned are a result of head trauma from falling down the stairs. They actually become rather important as a…well, you'll have to wait to find out about that one. But they are important. The actual plot however hasn't shown up yet. Still trying to work out how to introduce it.

Enjoy, and tell me what you think.

Slaves to the Trade

Money. Power. Domination. These things caused his world to be stripped away. 'You may hold my body, but my soul is free.' Can that truth be saved, or is it doomed to be forever squelched beneath a master.

Character/s: Kouichi K

Genre/s: Drama/Angst

Rating: T

Prologue

He had a headache. That was, unfortunately, sadly common ever since his spill down the stairs of Shibuya station a year ago. The entire incident had caused quite the stir, namely because of the massive "electrical discharge" that put the lives of more than a hundred people in jeopardy between the power failure at the hospital and the sudden loss of power on the trains en route. Sadly, the precious minutes it had taken for the electricity to redistribute itself, some on life-support had passed away as the machines failed to revitalise them, and a collision between several cars and a train that had been unable to stop had caused more fatalities. He had been extremely close to joining those funeral fires, if it hadn't been for his family, friends and the Digital World. Whenever he thought about that, which was unfortunately quite often as the migraine attacks served as a sharp reminder, he would also remember the heavy heart of guilt while watching the grieving families mourn for their deceased loved ones.

It was a rather painful conflict in thought. On the one hand, the question always arose as to why they hadn't been able to save those people too. They had set out to save both the Digital World and their own, but so many lives had been lost along the way that it quickly dampened the brief euphoria that came with the hard earned victory. Even for him, who hadn't even witnessed the very miracle he had, in essence, brought about by the sacrifice that had, in turn, been reversed as the story came around in a full circle. The digimon, whosoever had given or lost their lives in that cause, effect or simply as innocent bystanders watching their world spiral into destruction had, to their knowledge, been revitalised along with the world, but the ten minute interlude that passed in the real world cemented the failure buried in their success. Of course, the lives of fourteen people was a small price to pay for the salvaging of their world, but the question would always remain as to whether they could have spared that price as well. To all of them it was a burden they could not lightly abandon, but knowledge of what they had achieved at that price somewhat lightened that heavy load, along with the additional knowledge that it was not they, but Lucemon, who had brought that demise. Perhaps they could have stopped it, but then the question arose as to what else it would have cost them. Perhaps it was impossible, and that was where the circle would end. They all knew, in their hearts, that they had done their best. The guilt they carried was simply that of circumstance, not of fault. It wasn't one they could leave, but it was one that eased with the passing of time and the constant reminders of what they had achieved.

Of course, when the headaches reached their threshold, he tended not to think about anything else.

Faintly annoyed, he shoved the pain aside, trying to focus on the text being read. They were studying Ochikubo Monogatari, and while there were a few people, like Kouji and himself, who didn't approve of the stereotypical depiction of the stepmother, and a few others who believed themselves to be a little too old for reincarnated fairy tales, there was still something dancing within the words that made the classes, and the novel itself, interesting.

The problem was, his headache was mounting to the point that he simply could not concentrate.

He stuck his hand up, and it wavered slightly without support till his Sensei called on him.

'May I…be excused?' he asked, haltingly, feeling a sudden nausea rise in his throat.

He saw the brown eyes look at him, but everything else got lost in a haze. He felt a hand grip the upper part of his arm in a vice grip, and he struggled to turn his head, but colours and shapes just flashed and jumbled themselves together into a haze of pain.

He could hear someone calling to him, screaming to him from far away. He had heard the voice before. He was positive, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. He could make no sense of what they were saying though; everything had just merged into sludge.

The next thing he could definitely tell from that sludge was something cool draped across his closed eyelids. He forced them open, rising up almost on reflex before a strong yet gentle grip stopped him.

'Easy Kimura-kun,' the voice of the school nurse told him soothingly, helping him sit up and hunch over the bed, rubbing his back as the disgusting bile rising in his throat threatened to escape again. 'That's it, let it all out.'

He coughed and spluttered, stomach acid and other digestive contents he really didn't want to think about falling into the container the woman held for him, before gasping for air once he was fairly certain the rest of his stomach contents would remain tame.

'Get it all out Kimura-kun?' the nurse asked sweetly.

'I-I think so,' the other gasped, not nodding in case to reintroduce the nausea.

She frowned worriedly at him, handing him a glass of water which he took with shaky hands, almost dropping it.

'Have you seen a doctor yet?' she asked. 'These migraines of yours are getting worse.'

'No,' the other said softly, speech clearer now that pain and discomfort had both settled, though there was still that uncomfortable flush on his cheeks and the sweat, the latter being soothed by the wash cloth still maintaining its position by a single arm.

'Well, I've called your mother, and she's coming to take you home. I'll recommend she take you to a Doctor first.'

Kouichi said nothing to that. Even if he wanted to argue, his body and mind were both exhausted. He didn't understand it any better than anyone else. His head was hurting more and more lately, and while he could feel someone calling him, he could not fathom who or why. Or what it was they were trying to tell him.