For They Shall Be Filled
By:
Vain (Vainglorious696) 5/31/2001
__________________________________________________________
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. I am not that fortunate. Digimon is owned by Fox Kids, Saban (I think),
and a bunch of now-wealthy Japanese people.
Lucky bastards. Moreover, I am American. I take French.
If you want to know French words, names, and
spellings, e-mail me. Do not ask me for
Japanese.
I
love Asian culture, but I can't spell anything Asian worth a damn.
Hell,
I can't spell anything in English worth a damn.
If
I have mauled Japanese names (particularly for places and digimon),
PLEASE
FORGIVE ME AND E-MAIL ME CORRECTIONS.
Also,
this is one of the reasons why I use the American names
(despite the fact that I prefer the names
Osamu, Iori, and Yamato over the English).
Please
don't sue me or steal from me; I'm poor and a real bitch when it comes to my
work.
Feedback
is a rose in December--novel, beautiful, and always welcome.
ENJOY
THE FIC.
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~For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world
and loses his own soul?
Or what will a man give in exchange for his soul?
-Matthew 16: 26
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Leafmon gently
bounced up and down on Ken's back in the darkness, listening as his partner's
frantic gasps for air slowed down. The
little green digimon hopped off Ken and bounced his way to the head of the bed
to softly nuzzle Ken's chin.
"Ken?"
The boy shuddered
violently, but remained silent. The
baby digimon sighed.
This was the ninth
time that Ken had woken up screaming tonight, and, while three, sometimes even
four, such incidents were not unusual for the former Supreme Ruler of the
Digital World, Leafmon was really beginning to fear for his partner. Next to him, Ken's body shuddered again and
the baby digimon resumed his nudging, almost expecting to be smacked off the
elevated bed and across the boy genius's orderly room. That was what the Digimon Emperor would have
done. Provided that he had even let his
partner this close to him as he slept in the first place.
Leafmon sighed
again. Poor Ken.
"Ken?" he called
timidly.
This time Ken
looked up; his were eyes sunken hollows bored into his pasty, sweat-streaked
face. His hair clung to his skull as he
stared into the blue eyes of his digimon. Leafmon surpressed a gasp of horror at Ken's appearance; the boy looked
terrible.
Seeing the
expression in his partner's eyes, Ken lay down again and curled up into a fetal
position, burrowed deep within the covers, yet shivering uncontrollably. The two were silent for a moment.
"Why?" he
whispered, voice barely audible.
"What?" The little digimon hopped closer to Ken,
listening to the ragged breathing. Ken,
he realized, was crying.
"Why what?" he
asked, uncertain how to help his friend.
The human's voice
was thin and tortured. "Why? Why did you stay? Why did you return? Everyone else always leaves me. Everyone. Can't you see I'm a
monster, Leafmon? I destroy
everything. Everything I touch,
everyone I love, I destroy . . . I
caused . . . I reveled in it
all! I loved it-- all of it . . ." The young man trailed off, words swallowed
by tears and thoughts drowned in sorrow. "Why?" he whispered at last.
Leafmon frowned,
eyes shining worriedly. Ken was sliding
into these depressions more and more often. The darkness in his soul plagued him more and more often. And it frightened Leafmon. It frightened him because he didn't know
what to do or how to stop it. It
frightened him because Ken would not--could not--confide his terrible pain to
another; such a thing simply went against his nature. And it frightened him because he was terrified beyond anything
else of losing Ken to the darkness again. He didn't think his heart could survive another Digimon Emperor; and he
knew that Ken's could not.
Ken abruptly sat
up and pulled his knees to his chest, resting his head upon them. He did not speak.
Finally, the
little digimon could stand the silence no longer. "Ken?" he said, doing his 'hold-me-bounce.'
Ken took the hint
and lifted the little green fuzz ball gently, almost as though he would
break. Leafmon looked deeply into his
partner's eyes, unhidden by the "Camera Face" and washed clear by unfullfilling
tears. He looked past Ken the genius
and saw Ken the little boy. A terribly
frightened and lonely little boy who was lost in the bad world without anyone
to protect him. His protectors had left
him to the harsh realities of life and those realities had been more than his
gentle soul could accept.
Leafmon felt a
strong warm suffuse him even as a sharp, causeless pain filled his eyes with
tears. What could he say to this boy
who knew so much and so little? Who had
stared right into the abyss and, not only felt the abyss stare back at him, but
had also felt the abyss become him?
The soft creature
pressed himself against the boy's chest and felt the other's human heart
beating within his ribcage like the final throes of a dying bird. Humans have such fragile hearts, he
thought sadly. Tears slid down
Leafmon's cheeks and vanished into the hot material of Ken's nightshirt.
"I love you,
Ken. You're my best friend. Without you, I am alone. I don't want to be alone anymore Ken. It's hard . . . Alone."
Ken cradled his
digimon to him like the precious gift he was. His sharp mind locked onto Leafmon's last words: It's hard . . . Alone.
Someone else had
said that to him. Who was it? Ishi . . . Ishida. Matt.
It's hard
alone.
But it's worse
with another, the youngest
Ichijouji thought bleakly. It's so
much worse.
The light from the
streetlights outside was resting on something reflective on his desk,
illuminating it through a small crack in the curtains. It was a photograph. Against his will, Ken's eyes flitted over to
and rested upon that photograph. It sat
right next to his computer where he would always see it-- and always remember .
. .
Sam . . .
Yes, it was hard
alone, but it was worse with another. When you were alone, at least, there was no one to hate but yourself, no
one to hurt but yourself.
The boy shifted
and then frowned. There was something
in his bed. He looked down to his side
and freed a hand, brushing at the mattress in the dark. It felt like . . . Wet sand?
Sleep did not return to Ken Ichijouji that
night.
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