Caught, tried, and sentenced by a jury of peers?



"NO!" Daisuke watched in sudden panic as the soccer ball flew through the glass pane, the sound of the breakage gaining the attention of the room's other occupants. Koushiro, standing next to him when he kicked the ball, crumpled to his knees in misery, his face hidden in his hands. It had been his yell that tried to call the ball back.

"Uh, jeez, Izzy. I'm really sorry about that." The younger boy stood rather sheepishly by the computer genius that was staring in horror at the window. "I'll, um, pay for that?"

"My mother is going to kill me." He spoke hoarsely, black eyes frightened. The rest of the digidestined looked at the two boys with a mixture of amusement and sympathy. It wasn't everyday that anyone went around, breaking the brand new windows in the Izumi household. The glass had only been in place for six days.

"Maybe it won't be that bad?" Breaking things was nothing new to Daisuke, but by the older boy's reaction, he might have killed his best friend with that badly placed kick. His own parents would simply growl and yell, and replace the stupid thing. They, too, were used to his rather destructive ways.

The door to the Izumi apartment opened, and twelve pair of eyes turned to the smiling couple that entered. "Hello, children, how are-" The woman's voice stopped as she stepped into the living room and caught sight of the hole in her window.

Koushiro stood up resignedly, and faced his mother, but Daisuke interrupted him before he could say anything. "I'm really sorry, Mrs. Izumi! Izzy tried to stop me, but I wasn't paying attention, and I kicked the ball, and please don't be mad at him, because it was my fault!" His friends nodded in agreement, knowing that there wasn't much she could do against Daisuke outside of calling his parents.

She looked from the two apologetic boys in front of her to the broken window, and then back again. The man behind her simply stood back and let her decide what to do. There was no doubt that she was the backbone of the family. With a frown, she addressed them. "Thank you for your admission of guilt, Davis, but that still doesn't leave Izzy guilt-free. Now, what do you think would be a suitable punishment?"

They looked at each other, debating. She held up a hand before either one could answer her, and turned to the others.

"What do you children think would be fitting?" The group huddled, and Mrs. Izumi waited for their reply. Finally, they stood up, and Joe stepped forward with their sentencing.

"We think that the worst thing for Daisuke to have to do would be homework. And for Koushiro, the worst possible thing would be to have to help him do it. We suggest that Izzy be Davis's tutor."
The two in question groaned at the thought of having to spend time together.

"That's actually a good suggestion. Thank you. You guys have to leave now, unfortunately, because I'm grounding Koushiro on top of it." The other digi-destined left, abandoning their friends to the mercy, or lack thereof, of Mrs. Izumi.

"Man, that's harsh." Daisuke ignored the glare that his new 'tutor' sent his way, and plopped onto the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be an antique chair. That cracked loudly under his sudden weight. He looked up fearfully, his eyes wide.

"I have a feeling that I'm going to regret this more than either of you." The woman rubbed her temple, and then turned to her husband to ask him to call the window company.

~~~~~~^^~~~~~~

The next day was the start of their joint punishment. Davis would go to the Izumi apartment directly after soccer practice, which was scheduled after school. He would stay there through dinner, until eight o'clock, when Mr. Izumi would drive him home.

He glared at his new tutor with a stubborn refusal to learn anything in the next four hours. He might have to study, but that didn't mean he had to actually remember any of the information that Koushiro was going to attempt to shove into his brain. It wasn't fair that he should have to study, and learn.

They were in the kitchen, where his mother could watch them, Koushiro sitting patiently by the archway leading into the rest of the apartment, Daisuke in the chair next to him. He had sat down slowly and carefully; weary of the furniture after the events of the previous day. Their jailer was nowhere in sight, and they were both uninterested of starting the session. They stared at the unopened book in front of them with identical expressions of doom.

"I don't hear you boys studying!" The voice came from somewhere near the back of the apartment, where they assumed the Warden, so-called by Daisuke, was hiding herself away doing laundry. He sighed, and then reached out with trepidation towards his math text. He didn't notice the amusement that the look on his face gave to the redhead beside him. Koushiro fought back laughter as the hand barely touching the corner of the book started to shake of its own accord.

Giving in, and taking pity on his cellmate, he reached out and opened the book, catching the nearly inaudible sigh of relief his action brought. "Why don't we start easy? What do you know?" If they were going to be stuck together for the next couple of weeks, he'd be mature enough to work off his time, instead of trying to pull one over on his mother. Hopefully, she'd see how much trouble he was actually going through, trying to teach Daisuke, that she'd let them both off early simply to save him the stress and eventual breakdown.

The dark glare sent his way just increased his determination to make the best of things. "I know that math sucks, and the teacher hates me." Brown eyes moved away to turn their intensity towards catching the offending book on fire. It failed, leaving Koushiro to hope that the boy next to him never found anything combustible within reach while they were studying.

"How much math do you know?" The direct approach should work. If he knew where to start, they'd have something to work from.

"Well. I can't do big multiplication, or long division. I can do formulas, like Force is equal to mass times acceleration, and stuff. But we're not studying that, so it's rather pointless."

"You can do the more complicated math, but not the basics?" That was a surprise. It wasn't everyday that you realized that Davis had a brain, let alone that he was capable of using it in a constructive way.

"Yeah, well. It sucks, because I can't get to the stuff I can do, 'cuz of the stuff I can't." He pulled a pencil out of his bag, and opened his notebook. With determination, mostly to avoid having to talk about one of his more obvious failings, he copied down the first question in the section he had to work on.

Koushiro waited patiently, trying to decide whether he just took a while to think, or if he was having difficulty with the problem. After several minutes of silence, in which they were both surprised his mother didn't remind them to work, the auburn-haired holder of courage and friendship, put his pencil to the paper. And pushed, breaking the tip. He took the offending utensil between both hands, broke it in half, and then threw both pieces over his shoulder.

"Davis?" His black eyes concerned, the older boy leaned back, unsure of exactly what his friend was feeling or planning. "Are you okay?"

A deep sigh, and lashes closed over the frustration and self-directed anger in his brown eyes. "Yeah. Do you have a pencil? That was my last one."

"Of course. Just a moment, I have to get one from my room." He stood up, glad to get away from the table.

Inmates: why mothers make wonderful wardens

He shouldn't have left the room. The moment he stepped into his room, his mother was right behind him. "What's going on?" Her voice caused him to jump in fright, as her footfall had been silent on the carpet, and he hadn't realized that she was there.

"Nothing. He broke his pencil, and I have to get him another one." She nodded, accepting his answer as truth. Then she looked at him.

"Why not him?" He rolled his eyes, not wanting to discuss -that- of all things. "He's a nice enough boy, and he's very respectful."

"He's also one of the most accident-prone people I know, and his level of maturity is below that commonly found among pre-pubescent. He's constantly chattering on inanely about nothing, and he never sits still long enough to have quasi-intelligent conversation."

"So? He's cute, and I'm certain that he's very loyal. He also seems to like you dear. He stuck up for you so bravely yesterday."

"Speaking of which, why couldn't you bring all of this up yesterday, instead of the present moment, when he's sitting barely twenty feet away?" He waved his arm in the general direction of the kitchen, fully aware that Daisuke wouldn't venture into the hallway for fear of being caught.

His mother just smiled at him with motherly affection, ruffled his hair, and went back down the hallway. He smiled after her, shaking his head in mild exasperation, then went to the desk for the pencil that had been his reason for leaving the kitchen. He picked a blue one, and stared out, and then decided that Daisuke might break that one, too.

When he arrived back in the kitchen, he found Daisuke snoring with his head on the table, his hands lying loosely on the table. His face was toward the opening, and Koushiro could see the tiny bit of drool that hung from his mouth.

"And she asks why?" He smirked, wishing his mother could see the boy now. Ever since she'd found out that he was gay, she'd been trying to get him to go out with one of his friends. She never failed to strike him when a friend was over, and he wandered off alone. And he had to offer a different excuse for each of them, why he couldn't possibly be interested in them. It didn't matter if the real reason was his lack of confidence in himself. He might have actually asked one of his friends out if he wasn't afraid of being rejected by one or all of them.

Once, he had come close. When the Kaiser had first returned as Ken, he'd had a long talk with the boy. That had been nearly three years ago, and he'd let the opportunity pass, knowing that the genius was in a strained emotional state. The chance never came again, and he didn't really regret it. And now, Ken was dating Miyako, so he didn't have to worry about the chance coming again.

As for the others. Well, there had never really been anything that drew him to any of them. Jyou, Miyako and Iori were probably the nearest, besides Ken, to his intelligence, which meant that he had to forego actually talking to his date, should he have asked. Iori was dating Takeru, and Miyako was a female. Enough said. Joe was wonderful, but taken by Mimi, and, he wasn't gay.

Looking at what was left, there's little to wonder why he was still single. Tai, the egomaniac, was too pushy, too bossy, and too impatient. He didn't like subtlety, and he hated having to actually discuss anything. Matt was too depressed, in love with Tai, and determined to remain single until the former realized that he, too, loved the latter. How he knew that was a well-kept secret.

That left...Daisuke. Daisuke who couldn't do long division, but new the equation of F=ma. He reached out, curiously, and shook the boy awake. "Hey, Davis?"

"Hn?" A yawn preceded the blinking of his eyes.

"What's gravity?" Another yawn.

"G, in the lowercase. Normally -9.81 meters per second squared." His eyes slid shut again, and he wiped sleepily at his mouth.

Interesting. "And what is Weight?"

"Something Miyako has too much of?" Yawn. Chuckle. Koushiro grinned, and rolled his eyes. Figures. "It's also the effect of gravity on a mass."

Bingo. Now, for the hard stuff. "What's 3,930, divided by 131?"

"I hate you."

"Just answer the question." An aggravated sigh, and brown eyes peeped open.

"Why do you hate me?"

"Why are you stalling?" Koushiro was fighting his grin. Daisuke could do physics, but not division. It was amusing, really, to think that he'd once judged him as entirely lacking in intelligence. He was willing to admit that he'd been half-wrong.

"Because you hate me?" He lifted his head from the table, and glared up at the redhead. "It's...one hundred, and...something." His scowl darkened at the obvious amusement on his tutor's face. "How did you manage to make it to your room without the Warden hot on your trail?"

"Don't worry, she found me." He sighed, realizing that the other boy wasn't going to let him experiment any longer. "Why don't we start? Again?" He set a box on the table, and opened it to reveal nearly forty pencils, all sharpened. "Pick one. If you break it, you will replace it."

"Aw, man." Daisuke reached in, pulled out the blue one that Koushiro had picked up earlier, and grumbled about pencil fetishes. He looked at the book, at the paper, back at the book, and then at Koushiro. "Help?"

"What problem?" That was something that he could do. Maybe they'd be lucky, and Daisuke was only half-joking. Maybe

~~~~~~^^~~~~~~

Maybe the floor of the kitchen would open up, and swallow him whole. Actually, he wished it would swallow Daisuke, and get him as far away from him as possible. He had lost any hope about Daisuke's math skills ten minutes after starting the first question. An hour later, he'd given the boy a calculator. Now, at eight o'clock, he had a headache that would never go away and they'd gotten nothing done.

Two problems. That was it. Two problems in four hours of work, using a calculator. He watched as his father came in. "Time to go, Davis." Brown eyes lit up, and he jumped up, shoved his things into his bag, and ran to the door. Mr. Izumi frowned in confusion, looked at his son, who shrugged, and followed.

His mother came in. Maybe the floor could swallow her? "Well?"

"Two problems." He let those two words speak volumes; saw her frown, and the hesitation in her eyes. She sat down in the chair that the boy in question had abandoned, and sighed.

"I'm sorry. No wonder you don't like him. I know that want someone you can talk to." She looked up, suddenly hopeful. "Maybe math just isn't his thing. I'm sure that the two of you can find some kind of common ground. Just give him time, and a chance."

A chance. "Have you even considered the fact that he might not be gay?" He pointed out something that he, too, had thought over in the last several hours. It made her pause, but only briefly.

"Have you considered the fact that he may be?" She reached over, and touched his hand. "Look, honey. I know that you're afraid of someone saying no, but unless you ask him, he can't say 'yes', either. Have faith in yourself, dear. I think your perfect, and I know that your friends think pretty highly of you, too. Don't be so worried about your own shortcomings, that you refuse to see past those of others."

She got up again, and left him to think over what she had said. Mothers were great for advice.