Thanks to Rachel Lynn for pre-reading this so nicely. My head is still swollen. ^_^ Also, allow me to slap myself for not thanking Triforce Rocket in the first chapter--I had promised to do so. So, double thanks to you, for being so sweet in your e-mails! When I get internet access at home again, I'll try to mail you. ^^

This story is dedicated to Sylina. If you're reading this, Sylina: you're the bravest person I know. I'm praying for you the only why I can--I send you my love and good will.




When I was five, my big sister sat on me after I snapped the antenna of her dinky radio. Jun's never been fat (only a little chubby, but she'll beat the hell out of you if you just mention that year), but I've never been big, so it was one of the most traumatizing experiences when I was little kid. After a few minutes of her using me as a butt-pillow, I started to get dizzy from lack of air--being me, I was sure that my lungs would explode with an impressive display of gruesome special-effects, and I guess it didn't help that I was screaming like a banshee. I guilted her into buying me ice cream afterwards (after all, it's pretty rare that I almost work myself into a real panic attack), but I still remembered how the pressure felt on my chest and arms and legs, and I haven't forgotten the feeling since.

When I wake up, I can't move for two reasons: There's a weight all over my body--it feels like I'm a living anchor and I'm sinking into the strange lumpy substance I'm lying on--and I think that stupid nightmare has just sent me into some sort of seizure.

I try to move under what feels like a hundred Juns. I can barely open my eyes, and when I finally lift my lids all I can see is a blur of gray and black. I might be yelling, but I can't tell. I'm too busy having a panic attack.

I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe...

There's a groan. Is that me?

I'm struggling, throwing big sisters off one by one. I've closed my eyes again since I couldn't see anything worthwhile anyway.

"Hey," I barely hear over the groaning.

That's not me, I'm sure of that. The voice is higher than mine and clearer.

"Hey!"

The groaning is getting really god damn annoying. There's not much you want to hear when you're doing your best to concentrate on getting air in your lungs, but this is really starting to piss me off. I want to tell everything to shut up, but the groaning keeps getting louder and this other person is trying to say something.

"HEY!"

Something hits my cheek and I hear a loud slap. The groaning finally stops. Oh. It was me. Little bit of a head-trip right there.

Oooh. I can breathe again, even though it feels like some jerk decided to use my head for a bass drum.

As my breathing slows and the pounding on the sides of my forehead finally dies away, my vision starts to clear--the first thing I notice is that I'm propped up on my hands facing the ceiling, looking very much like a crab with my arms bent all funky--and then I notice that while I'm definitely my room (the stench was a dead give-away anyhow), there's something wrong. More than one something, actually.

One--I'm lower than usual. A quick glance to my left confirms that Wow, I am not in my bed. A quick glance downwards and I can see my uncle's tattered old futon bed. I'm tempted to ponder just how a large enough space has been cleared on my floor, but that second something is sort of demanding my attention.

"What in hell is wrong with you?" Ichijouji asks, leaning over me.

I yelp and fall back on the mutant matress.

"Daishuke!" Chibimon leaps from God-knows-where and onto Ichijouji's head, while the Kaiser goes on to say some pretty impressive words. "Don't worry, I've got him covered!" squeaks the fluffball.

I blink. Ichijouji scowls and looks very close to rolling his eyes. Chibimon growls at the Digimon Kaiser and squirms around, messing up the his sleek hair. If I weren't feeling like crap the situation might have been funny.

"Could you please refrain from jumping on my head? It hurts," Ichijouji says lowly, but makes no effort to brush off the blue fuzzball. Chibimon sniffs and stays exactly where he is.

"My everything hurts." I mumble. The words scratch my throat like swallowing a porcupine, and I try to hold back a fit of coughing.

Ichijouji doesn't say anything for a minute, he just stares at me. I don't feel like I'm in any condition to withstand one of his patented Sour Milk Looks, so I decide to close my eyes and fake tired (which really isn't hard to do, considering). Seconds later a sigh and a "squeak!" sounds and Chibimon is smacked off the Kaiser's head to land by my shoulder. As Ichijouji climbs back into my bed, the blue 'mon stands, shakes himself, sends a glare (and a little shake of the fist) upwards, and settles in the curve between my neck and shoulder.

"How does it feel?" Ichijouji asks quietly. He sounds like a robot--I can't even begin to guess what he's thinking or feeling.

"Huh?" I haven't done much thought yet, but it somehow crosses my mind that it isn't quite normal for the Digimon Kaiser to be asking me something so politely.

"How does the hurt feel?"

"Um," I say intelligently. "Like an elephant took a shit on me?"

There's a pause, then an exasperated sigh. "A little less crudity, a little more detail."

Chibimon snuggles into my ribcage. "Can I ask something first?" I manage to avoid wheezing.

"No."

I'm a little caught off guard. "Um," I say.

"Is that all you can say?" he sighs again.

The stupidness of the situation smacks me. Screw him, Digimon Kaiser or not, I get the first question.

"Actually, no," I growl, "I can say 'screw you' nice enough. That's a start, huh? How about 'shut the hell up, this is my room'? Getting any better? After all, you were the one that attacked me, I say you owe me something for trying to rape me in a dark alleyway." I make it halfway to sitting up before I fall back again. "Ow. Damndamndamndamndamn."

Well, at least there's a short pause before he starts up again. Suppose it counts for something. "You seem poorly limited to juvenile phrases."

"Who asked you anyway, Ichijouji?" I'm conveniently forgetting to be intimidated. Hey, he's up on the bed where I can't see him pull any of his scary faces, why not take advantage of the temporary shield of pillow?

But the pillow does nothing to keep him quiet. "Well--"

"Oh shut up., Kaiser!" Ow. That hurt too. Make a note. Another little something to tell the doctor--I open my eyes and see that he's rolled over to scowl at me--or the mortician. I try not to flinch, and eventually he rolls his eyes and disappears again.

So much for not being intimidated.

A few minutes of silence pass before I start shifting around--hey, I've never been the still type. I've never been the stable type either, but that's different issue... right. There aren't many comfortable ways to lay down when you're sore all over, especially on a lumpy old futon that used to belong to my uncle. I am creating fun new combinations of curse words and grunts with an ease that Yamato-san would envy, so I guess that could be considered a plus. Ichijouji doesn't say anything for a while.

"You okay?" Chibimon asks me after I settle down again.

"Will be, I think. I've had worse during soccer games. Never in so many places at once, though." I want to laugh or chuckle or something, but I get the idea that it'll hurt.

"I'm sorry," Chibimon sniffles into my hair.

"What for?" I can't think of anything the furball would need to apologize for.

"I'm supposed to protect you, Daichuke. I'm sorry." He sniffles again and I hug him the best I can."Aw, you don't need to be sorry about anything, Chibimon. Everyone makes stupid mistakes, and you know I'm no exception. I'll just have to add walking into creepy dark alleys and nearly getting raped by a creepy boy to the list."

He grunts. "For the record, I was not trying to rape you. If I were trying to 'rape' anybody, I'd trust myself to have better taste." Ichijouij's blue eyes glare at me from over my pillow.

"Ha," I say, because I can't think of anything better. It's not really an insult you hear every day, you know?

He sighs, and takes in another deep breath for what I'm guessing is going to be the Unfathomable Insult of the Century...

...but then Jun busts in the room armed with a tray of something steaming, and Ichijouji's face disappears from behind the pillow. Ha.

She glances at the bed and then looks down at me. "Oh, you're up. Good. I don't think you want to experience the whole funnel experience Mom exposed me to when I had the flu." That's good; somehow I don't think I want to experience that either. Drowning in force-fed soup doesn't really sound like my cup of tea.

"Is that soup?" I ask while she's busy kicking her way over to me.

"Yep." Her foot hits something that squeaks. Curiously, she nudges the same area and uncovers a dog toy. Yes, I know we don't have a dog. Maybe I bought it when I was little and feeling hopeful. Or something.

"Did you make it?"

"No, Campbell did."

I'm not complaining, but I smartly decide to avoid saying that in front of Jun.

Jun glances at my bed as she sets the tray on a few tattered science fiction novels. "It's too bad... he looks like he could use some food. I guess geniuses like him don't bother with eating, right?"

"Huh?"

Jun flicks me on the forehead. "Ichijouji Ken. The kid sleeping in your bed. The one that dragged you home after you konked out on the way home and bonked his head into a wall." She leans back. "Really, Daisuke, next time you're not feeling so hot I'll get the stupid groceries. No need to take anyone down with you."

"Uh..." He carried me home?

"Shut up and eat." She stands up, muttering, "Damn lucky, that's what you are." The door closes behind her. Seconds later I can hear Chibimon snoring.

He took me home after I socked him one. Why... I really can't think of any reason why he'd do that.

Bonked... his head?

"Hey." He doesn't respond. "Come off it, Ichijouji, I know you're awake."

"What?" he drawls.

"What did you do to me? Why were you in the alley? Who do you think you are, lying to my family like that?"

Silence.

"Hey, earth to genius boy! I asked you a question!"

Finally, he speaks. "Several, in fact."

I'm getting less intimidated and a lot more pissed off. "And?"

"You can't expect me to answer them all at once."

"Then answer one at a time." I grind my teeth together.

"In what order, taskmaster?" he asks snidely.

"Will you STOP avoidng the subject?!" Sitting up isn't a good idea, but I do it anyway, and I hardly notice that it hurts.

"I didn't realize that there was a subject."

"What the hell happened?!" I'm almost yelling--not good, considering that Jun is two cheap walls away.

I can guess what his face looks from behing the pillow--bored, arrogant, asshole-ish... "You were an idiot, as usual."

I'm standing up before I know what I'm doing, the comforter falling to my bare feet. It hurts (the whole standing up and moving thing, that is), but I still manage to stumble over to my bed on stiff legs and literally fall on Ichijouji in an attempt to strangle him.

He looks suprised (giving me at least some satisfaction), his eyes wide for just a second before he narrows them in a snarl. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He jerks, trying to get me off of him. Hah, no chance of that.

"You're the idiot." I retort, pinning his shoulders down as I drop myself into a more secure position on his stomach. Okay, so I won't strangle him. I will try to get some answers out of him, and there's nothing better I can think of than the old sitting-Motomiya tactic.

"My," he sneers, "I didn't realize your interests ran this way, Motomiya-kun."

Huh...? Oh... oh. Eww. I'm not going to think about what he just said. Not thinking about it... damn it. Stupid freaking imagination. Ewewewewew...

His sneer grows a little wider and he raises his eyebrows just a bit. Damn it.

Hopefully Ichijouji can't hear my nervous swallow. "I'm not that stupid," I say, "Stop trying to get out of this."

His sneer fades, just a little, and he glares at me.

"What did you do to me?" I ask again.

For a minute he has a strange expression on his face, like he was a kid that just got told off by a teacher. Kind of--what's the word?--vulnerable. "I bit you, dumbass. I thought that much was obvious." Then again, maybe I was imagining things.

So he did bite me. I can remember the feeling of something pricking my neck, and then there was the warm feeling... "Why?" I ask, because I can't seem to think of anything else to ask.

"There are numerous answers to that question," he sniffs, looking over my shoulder.

"Fine. Give me one."

He shrugs. "You were there."

Annoyance level rising... "Give me another." I lower my face closer to his and do my best to look menacing.

Pause.

"...I..." he glares at me. "...fuck you."

I'm a little caught off guard. "What?" I heard him well enough, but... er, yeah. I wasn't expecting a polite admission, but this is a little too much.

"Fuck you," he growls and starts to move around like he's trying to get loose, "fuck you!"

"Hey!" I hiss, "Shut up--Neechan'll hear you!"

He tenses, and it feels like he's a rubberband stretched to its snapping point. "FUCK YOU!"

As if it weren't predictable enough, Jun chooses to walk in this very moment. "What's all the--" she stops and stares. "Um." Her mouth does a strange kind of twist, like she'd just swallowed something sour and ticklish, as she looks at us. "You're both awake. Feeling better, I guess." She blinks and bites her lip. "T-that's good." She's about half a second away from laughing her ass off, I can tell. I'd try to stand up and wipe that stupid grin off her face, but Ichijouji's hands had gotten ahold of my wrists while he was going psycho, and he's not holding them very lightly. I look down. Oh, and my feet are tangled in the sheets by Ichijouji's knees.

Aw hell, this looks really wrong.

"Call me when you're, erm, done." Giggling, Jun shuts the door behind her.

My mouth is already open when I finally say something. "JUN!" I finally screech. "That was SO not what it LOOKED LIKE!"

I can hear Jun practically scream in laughter down the hall.

"JUN!" I scream. It's useless. "What the hell are you laughing at?!"

"I'm not laughing," says Ken, but I can feel him shaking and he's got this really familiar look on his face--the "I'm Gonna Bust Out My Evil Cackling In About Five Seconds" look. Trust me, I've seen it before. But he isn't laughing. Not yet, at least.

"You're not," I finally agree, because there's not much else I can do.

He looks away, but I can still feel him shaking, like he'd just downed a whole gallon of extra-sugar jelly beans.

"You think it's that funny?"

He looks at me. The weird look is still there, but somehow it's different than before.

"No. I think you're funny."