2315
Bura-sama
Tuesday, April 2, 2002
Tuesday, July 30, 2002

Disclaimer: Digimon belongs in no way to me. I'm making no profit from this sicko story. Really, I'm not. I don't own the characters, I'm merely using them for my sick and twisted fantasies, and no infringement is intended.

Warnings: This is a Kenkeru (Ken x Takeru). This fic features homosexual situations, implied sex, profanity, mutilation, death, suicide, light bondage, and horrible use of writing in the present tense. You have been warned, and any damage this fic might do to your mental stability is strictly your own fault.

Notes: I've had the stirrings for this fic for a while now, but haven't really gotten around to completing it. It gets weird and morbid in here... but I'm satisfied with it enough. Its' certainly not how I planned to end the thing. This is 'dedicated' to my sister and all of my reviewers from part one. Thanks.

An Arrow Through the Heart

Chapter Two

I pick up the phone and dial the same number I've been dialing for days.

I can tell by the silence that he didn't answer. After a moment, her voice cuts through the phone, "Takeru, is that you?"

I sigh into the phone and absently run a hand through my unbrushed blond locks. "I'm sorry I called again, Mrs. Ichijouji."

"That's all right, Takeru. It's good to know that you're doing okay."

I hear my voice start to waver as I speak again, "I'm sorry I keep calling like this, Mrs. Ichijouji."

"Takeru --"

"No, please let me finish, Mrs. Ichijouji. I keep calling, thinking that Ken is going to answer the phone." I hear his mother choke back a sob. I lose my nerve and want that conversation to be over. "I'm sorry I made you cry, Mrs. Ichijouji. I won't call again." I immediately hit the power button on the phone and drop it to the floor.

I really won't call again.

I've called there so many times that it's pathetic. Ken's mother pities me; his father ignores me.

I can't say that I blame him. If my son's body had been found lying naked atop another boy that was tied down to the bed, I wouldn't have been happy either.

I move my hand down from my hair and look at the red marks still on my wrists. Lace is a lot more abrasive then people realize. After over an hour of trying to pull out of the scarves Ken had tied me down with, don't I have an excuse to be sore around my hands? No one understands. They think I tried to hurt myself after Ken did it.

I would never.

I roll onto my bed, and stare up into the ceiling. I pick up the cell phone again, and start to dial another phone number. I stop before the second digit is pushed, and cancel the call. Yamato won't be much help now. I try another number, and cancel the call before hitting the 'send' button. Hikari would be a sympathetic ear, but she wouldn't understand. None of them understand my relationship with Ken.

They think I was his prostitute. They wouldn't be wrong. I'd had a "relationship" with Ken for about two weeks. It hadn't been very profitable, but it had been somehow different from my other... clients.

I throw the cell phone into the wall, and it lands with a soft thud on my carpeted floor.

I reach down onto the spot next to my hip, and pick up the crumbled, bloodied letter. I open it up and look at the smudged writing. I can't read it anymore without the lights on in my room. Darkness has encroached on my world without my noticing, and only a faint stream of purple light remains in my window. It's not as dark as it was the night Ken pulled the trigger.

I don't know why it bothers me so much. I've lost other childhood friends. Miyako in that car wreck a few years ago... Daisuke in that horrible drug overdose just after graduation... They didn't hurt me like this hurt me. But of course, they didn't write me a letter like Ken wrote me. They didn't literally die in my arms just hours after having sex. They didn't leave me ten thousand yen and a scribbled note that proclaimed, "Best I ever had."

Ken's mother took the money, of course.

But the money didn't matter. That sarcastic note didn't matter. But... the letter mattered.

Takeru, I can't believe this is it. How can this be the end of our adventures together?

The phrase from his letter surfaces in my mind, and I try desperately to block it out. I don't need to be hearing this.

When we were children, everything was wrong, and I was so selfish. I guess it's time for me to be selfish again.

The words bring to mind the images of Ken holding the gun against his temple. I'm sure his father wishes that he hadn't given it to him now for protection when he moved into that sleazy apartment two years ago.

I'm sure you're going to wonder what has caused me to do it. I'll tell you. I'm not going to lie to you, Takeru. You are the--

I bring my hands up to my face and try to block the words from stealing across my mind. I'm not reading the letter! I'm not reading the letter -- why should I still be able to hear him reading each word?!

I crumple the letter into a ball and throw it off my bed. Again. I drag myself off of the bed and pick up the scrap of paper. Again. I unwrinkle it, straighten out the creases, and stuff it back into the envelope. Again. The letter is shoved under my pillow.

While I'm up, I pick up my battered cell phone and stare at the display. Hikari's number is still on the display. I push the send button, and jump when the phone begins to ring. I hit the 'power' button before the call's complete, and toss the machine haphazardly onto my bed. I don't need to trouble Hikari right now.

I look out the window again, and stare at the full moon. A thin layer of gray clouds moves between us, and I look away. It's still not as dark as when Ken pulled the trigger.

I close my eyes and try to sleep off that vague feeling in the pit of my stomach. That nasty feeling of premonition that I had had before going to Ken's apartment.

"Fuck this."

"Ken?" A pause. "What are you doing, Ken?"

"You sell yourself, Takeru. I would feel really bad if you didn't get paid."

A gun waving about in the air, only it's not a normal gun, it has a supernatural glow to it. "Ken..."

"Sayonara, Takeru... you damn bitch..."

A loud bang and his body is jerked roughly.

"No! Ken!"

My eyes open without hesitation, and look at the clock. It's been three hours since I fell asleep. It's odd. The nightmares usually don't bother me so soon.

I look out the window, and smile slightly. The rain has come, and now it is dark enough. The moon can't be seen, and I can hear the heavy downpour on the window. Tonight's the night that Ken will finally be laid to rest.

I leave my bedroom and silently walk until I reach the kitchen. There, on the floor next to the refrigerator, is a cardboard box. It's labeled simply, "Ken." I open the top flap and pull out the cool metal of the urn. It's so empty. So dead.

There's an inscription on it. He saw the light and died in the darkness. I wonder who had it written. It obviously wasn't his parents -- they had been so confused when they first saw it. I tuck the urn under my coat, and slip on my shoes before leaving my low-rent apartment.

The air is cold in the heavy rain. The rain is actually rather warm, but the wind makes it freezing as it touches my skin. Ken had told me once, so long ago, that he longed to rejoin his brother. I am going to see it happen. Ken's mother wanted his ashes scattered in the digital world. She didn't know much about it -- couldn't have known that he'd never find peace there.

I've never been to his brother's grave, so it takes me a little while to find it. The rain's heavier, if possible. I tug off my shoes before walking to the grave, and instantly regret it as the cold seeps through my feet. But wearing shoes just doesn't feel right for some spiritual reason I can't stick a name to.

I read the lettering on the tombstone, Osamu.

I remove the lid from the urn and prepare to throw Ken's ashes all over his brother's long-undisturbed grave. They scatter in the wind and blow right onto my soaking wet body. Horror and the feeling that I'd just done something sacrilegious fill me with a kind of paralysis. Most of the ashes fall onto the ground although some still stick to my skin and clothes.

I empty the urn and set it down respectfully in front of the tombstone.

I try to shake off the ashes that are still clinging to me, but fail miserably. Turning from the gravestone, I pull on my shoes over my muddy feet and run from the cemetery. Nameless tombstones blur by me until I can see the still locked gates in the distance. I shouldn't have broken in. I shouldn't have climbed the fence because now I won't be able to get back over it.

I try anyway and end up clawing at the iron bars. It feels like I'm in a jail. I collapse against the gate and wait for the rain to stop. Ken's letter slips into my mind.

You are the reason I did it, Takeru. I want so very much to be able to do what you do. Not the whoring. Not the sex. But the free will. It's something I've never had my entire life. I was always the puppet. For my brother, my parents... for whatever digimon was plaguing my existence. I've never had the choices. When I realized that you did... I was so envious. You did what you wanted and no one was going to stop you. It wasn't always the best choice you made, but it was still yours to decide.

I saw you and your free will, and I knew I would never have it.

I shut my eyes against the words. Ken and I had never shared a close relationship. He'd never turned to me for help or advice. He was my friend... or maybe just an acquaintance.

The rain slows down to a drizzle, and I can see well enough to pick the lock on the gate. The doors open, and I ease through.

I start my long walk back to my apartment, and let the rain soak into my clothes. The ashes are like a paste on my skin. It makes me nauseous to even think about it. Odd... I was never the one to feel squeamish.

I reach my apartment and lock the door behind me. I collapse down on the couch and feel chills race through my body. My soaking wet clothes are ruining the furniture, but I don't care. Mom would care, though. I roll off the couch and fall to the floor. I can clean the carpet later.

I'm going to be sick. I can feel a fever coming on and the headaches are beginning. I pull the clothes off, and deposit them in a wet pile in front of my bathroom door. I turn on the faucet in the bathtub and wait for the water to get scalding hot. I step into the shower and what's left of Ken's ashes swirl down the drain. The water is too warm for my liking, but I'm not about to turn it down.

Mother's not going to understand why I did it. Father is going to disown me. Not that it will really matter to me from beyond.

I wonder if I'll see my brother when I die.

Ken's letter was winding to a close. I could see it in my mind as I scrubbed the soap all over my body.

You probably don't want to hear this, Takeru. I can understand that. You want to know why I'm leaving you my suicide note. Yes, this is my real suicide letter -- not that sappy piece of shit I left everyone else. Well, Takeru... I've never had any semblance of a relationship with you. I was one of the team. I hesitate to even call you my friend.

I wish that I was your friend, Ken. I had a very loose rule in my little "code of work ethics." I never had sex with my friends. It was just too weird. If Ken had been my friend, I wouldn't have been the one there when he died. He might not even have died.

The soap is long gone from my body, but I still stand there against the water. I collapse down to my knees, and vaguely realize that the water has turn cold. I contemplate just sitting there forever, when I notice it.

A steady stream of blood is swirling into the drain. Alarmed, I look over my body until I realize that the blood is coming from the cut Ken gave me on my neck. Odd... that has scabbed and healed over days ago.

"Takeru... what are you doing here all alone? Slow business week?" I turn to the door to see Ken leaning against it. In one hand he's holding the razor blade. In the other, the gun.

I can't speak. Words won't come. I merely stare at him and wonder...

He leaves his spot by the door and sits down on the rim of the bathtub. "Nothing to say?"

I shake my head and reach to cut the water off. I don't need this hallucination.

His hand stops mine and pushes it back to me. "Leave it on."

The water is now an icy cold, and it's torturing my skin. "What are you doing here?"

"When I... moved on..." He bites his lip, as if searching for the most appropriate phrasing. "I realized that you were desperately in need of my help."

Confused, I just stare at him as he raises the gun and points it to my chest. "... Ken?"

He pulls the trigger without further warning, and the cold bathtub bangs against my head as I fall. It's a cold, piercing feeling. It hurts... feels...

... like and arrow through the heart.

=======================

------ There. Finished. Did Takeru die? Was Ken really in the bathroom? I'll leave that to your imagination. :)