Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon
and its characters, nor am I making any money from this. This is done purely
for fun.
Warnings: This story disregards
the ending of season 02. The Digital World is still a secret except for the
DigiDestined. Oh yes, angst and violence warnings.
As always, I thank my sister for
getting me involved in yet another anime obsession.
To Sleep…Perchance to Scream
"I'm home," Ken Ichijouji called
out to the apartment. Soccer practice
had run late and he was still dressed in his green and black Tamachi
uniform. The collar was ringed with
damp sweat. Practice had been vigorous but Ken loved it. As usual, he had
dominated his teammates. The coach had come to rely on him to direct the plays
from the field. Ken didn't mind, he preferred
being in control. But the real fun was just being able to run. It never ceased
to thrill him while he was pelting down the field after the ball, his slender
body responding to its fullest whenever he called upon it. Even though the dark spore was dormant, it
still gave him a huge advantage over the other kids his age. While they were
struggling to get used to their growing bodies, making them clumsy, Ken
remained as graceful as a black panther.
He paused in the entryway to slip
off his shoes and put on the slippers that his parents had given him for his
birthday. He was just straightening up when he noticed there had been no
answer. The apartment was silent, the noises of the traffic down below on the
streets drifted up through the closed windows.
No smells of supper cooking filled the set of rooms either. Drawing the
conclusion that neither of his parents was home, Ken wandered into the living
room to look for a note telling him where they might be.
A soft noise behind him spun him
around. He looked for the source of the noise, his body instinctively assuming
battle ready position, like his judo instructors had taught him. A shadow lurked near the door to his room,
and he relaxed with a smile. "Hello Wormmon. How was your day?" he greeted his
Digimon partner.
Emboldened by the boy's greeting,
Wormmon stepped out into the light. His soft green hide glowed in the late
afternoon light filtering through windows.
Rising onto his hind sets of legs, Wormmon looked up adoringly as his
human friend. "My day was good, although I missed you," he answered in his
mournful voice.
Ken smiled and walked over, bent
down and picked up the caterpillar.
Wormmon was surprisingly light. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Starving," Wormmon answered
promptly.
Ken laughed quietly and put the
insect Digimon back down on the floor.
"Ok, I'll get you something to eat then," he said and journeyed to the
kitchen, turning on the television set and some lights along the way. Ken didn't
like the dark, even though he was comfortable with it. Too comfortable was his
fear, so he avoided it whenever possible.
The news was on at that
time. As he opened the refrigerator to
find a something for Wormmon to eat, he heard the latest traffic reports. "We
are reporting live from downtown Tamachi, where a section of bridge has
collapsed, killing several people in the debris. Engineers suspect the strain due recent earthquakes in Japan had
weakened the structure, causing the collapse. As of now, the identities of the
victims are being withheld until their families are notified," he
finished. Ken straightened up with a
bowl of leftover veal Parmesan in his hand and looked over to the television,
but by then the newscast had moved to the weather.
Opening the microwave, he slid
the bowl in and set it on high for three minutes. Wormmon crawled into the kitchen and Ken smiled. "Be ready in a
few minutes," he assured the Digimon. Wormmon's antenna quivered in eagerness.
He was starting to look for a
note when the phone rang. "Ichijouji residence," he answered on the second
ring.
"Hey Ken!" Davis' cheerful voice
greeted him and once again Ken smiled.
Davis was his best friend, even though they didn't go the same schools.
Davis was the first person to trust Ken after he finally pushed the darkness
inside of him away, no longer the Digimon Emperor and started being just Ken.
If it wasn't for Davis and his stubbornness, Ken knew that he would have been
lost in that darkness forever.
"Hello Davis!" Ken answered.
"What's going on?"
"Not much," was the reply. "I was
just wondering if you and Wormmon were going to the Digital World tomorrow?"
Tomorrow was Saturday, Ken
thought. "Yeah, we can be there. What did you have in mind?"
"Great! Veemon and I were going
to play some soccer with the baby Digimon in the primary village. I was
wondering if you wanted to join us. I mean, after all, you are almost as good
as me," Davis teased. They both knew that as good as Davis was, Ken was great.
Ken smiled again. "Sure, thanks
for inviting us, Davis," he said. In the kitchen, the microwave beeped that it
was done.
"OK!" Ken could practically hear
Davis jumping up and down. Playing soccer was the one thing that Davis truly
loved to do. Playing soccer in the Digital World, with Ken, was the
Digindestined leader's favorite past time.
"See you tomorrow," Ken said and
Davis hung up. The TV droned on in the
living room. Ken paused for a second, thinking they should have set a time to
meet each other, but then decided to e-mail his friend later. The smell of the
veal brought him back to his original mission, to feed his Digimon friend.
Wormmon was waiting patiently for him, and the sight of his Digimon never
ceased to bring a smile to the usually serious countenance of the former
Digimon Emperor. The fact that he had such an incredible friend, one who had
stuck by him through the dark times, and had even died in order to bring Ken
back to the light, still amazed the young boy.
As Wormmon ate, Ken set his books
on the table and spent some time studying for his calculus test on Monday. Integrating equations was almost second
nature for him, but he still did his assignments diligently. For a while he had stopped studying, trying
to be a normal boy, rather than the notorious genius. But after a while, he
couldn't bear it anymore and resumed his studies. The need to stand out, even though he was no longer under the
dark spore's influence, was ingrained deep inside him. Only now, he took quiet pride in his
accomplishments.
Wormmon looked up at him, concern
written plainly in those large blue eyes.
Ken marveled at how much the small Digimon could express with those
eyes.
"Ken, aren't you going to eat?"
he asked.
Ken smiled at the question. He had found himself smiling more and more
each day lately. "I'm ok Wormmon. I don't need to eat very much." It was true.
With the dark spore a part of him, food wasn't necessary. Lately, he had started eating more to please
his parents, but if they weren't around to express concern about him, Ken opted
not to. If he ate too much, he would almost feel sick. Sometimes Wormmon was
worse than his parents when it came to Ken's health. "Are you full?" he asked.
The small Digimon nodded and Ken
put him back down on the floor. "Get some rest, we are going to meet Davis and
Veemon in the Primary village tomorrow and play some soccer," he said, and
Wormmon's eyes light up with pleasure at seeing his Jogress partner. He nodded eagerly and crawled back to Ken's
room.
Ken watched him go, a soft small
playing about his lips. Deciding he should take a shower, he followed the
little insect Digimon into his room and retrieved a change of clothes and a
towel from the linen closet. A shower would feel good, he thought. After he had
scrubbed himself down and washed his silky black hair, he luxuriated in the
spray for a few minutes, enjoying the pounding water on his body. With a
regretful sigh, he finally turned off the water. As he toweled himself dry, he listened for any sound that his
parents might be home, but there was nothing but sounds from the television out
in the apartment.
He ran the soft cloth over his
slender figure. Ever since that damned spore had become a part of him, he had
become hyperaware of his body. At times
he would swear that he could feel his own blood moving through his veins. Every sensation was enhanced, and every
nerve was alive with extra energy. He
wondered if it was this awareness that made him so very exceptional at physical
activities. His finished drying himself off, then put on a t-shirt that Davis
had given him for his birthday. It was
purple and had the Nike logo emblazoned on the front in gold. Ken's mother
didn't let him wear it in public, but Ken liked it and wore it at home every
chance he got. Most of his wardrobe was given to him from companies that wanted
him to endorse their products. Nike hadn't been one of them, thus his mother's
aversion. Slipping on a pair of simple white boxers and gray sweatpants and
hanging up the towel to dry, he exited the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
His parents still weren't home,
so Ken collected his books from the kitchen table and brought them to his desk
in his bedroom, where he could study some more. He opened his calculus book again and glanced up at his bed.
Wormmon was snuggled under the covers; the slow rise and fall of the little
caterpillar's breathing once again brought a tender smile to the young genius'
lips, and a sparkle to his violet eyes. Then he bent his head down and
concentrated on derivatives.
A knock at the door broke his
concentration, and Ken looked up at the clock.
He had been studying for an hour. The sun was setting, casting long
shadows in his room. The black-haired boy wondered where his parents were at
this late hour, but figured they had been caught in traffic or something. If there were an emergency, they would have
called.
He walked to the door and asked,
"Who is it?" before opening it. Ken was famous, and his mother lived in fear
that someone would try to kidnap him.
So to please her, he always asked who was on the other side of the door.
"I am Detective Satoshi," was the
answer. Frowning, Ken opened the door and looked up at the tall, dark-haired
man standing respectfully a few feet back from the door. He was dressed in a
rumpled suit and overcoat that looked like it had been slept in. Seeing Ken,
the man flashed his badge. Ken studied the badge, reading the name and number
for future reference. "Are you Ken
Ichijouji?" the man asked, his voice seemed slightly hoarse.
Ken looked at the policeman and
asked, "Yes I am. Can I help you?" Satoshi seemed harried, dark circles ringed
his tired eyes, and there were lines around his mouth from frowning too much.
But when he looked at Ken, he seemed more sad than anything else.
The man shifted uncomfortably and
said, "Can I come in?"
Ken debated for a second, but
opened the door to allow the detective inside the apartment. If the man was up
to no good, Ken had no doubt that he could take care of him, with Wormmon's
help. Ken followed him into the living room, where the television set was still
on, running the local sports scores. The young boy picked up the remote control
and hit the mute button. Then he turned to the policeman and waiting for him to
get down to business.
The man looked at Ken and
gestured for him to sit down. Once again Ken debated, but did as he was
bidden. As he sat on the couch, a
strange feeling was starting to form in the pit of his stomach, and distantly
Ken wondered if maybe he should have eaten something after all. He was aware
that his heart was beating a little faster than usual. Then Detective Satoshi
took a deep breath and spoke.
"Son, I have some bad news for
you. At three thirty this afternoon, a section of bridge collapsed in downtown
Tamachi, by the train station. There
were fifteen people buried in the rubble. We were able to identify two of them
as your parents," he stopped and looked at Ken, who looked back at him, his
violet eyes wide.
"I saw that on the news. Are they
all right?" he asked, the strange feeling in his stomach growing with each breath,
and his mouth was curiously dry. He licked his lips, trying to work some
moisture into the dry tissues.
"I'm sorry son," the detective
shook his head. "They were pronounced dead on arrival at Tamachi General
Hospital."
For a few seconds that stretched
into an eternity, Ken didn't move. He
seemed even more aware of his surroundings than usual. He could hear the hum of the muted
television set, as well as the muffled sounds of the cars on the street below
the apartment. He heard himself draw a breath and let it out; all the while he
stared straight at the police detective in front of him. The police detective
looked back at him, the sorrow in his gaze was unfeigned.
Ken swallowed. "Are you sure?"
was the only thing he could think to ask.
Satoshi nodded and approached the
young genius. Placing a hand on Ken's shoulder, he said, "I am very sorry."
Ken hated to be touched and drew
away from the hand that offered the comfort of a complete stranger. It might have had something to do with that
damned spore inside him, but he avoided physical contact with most people.
Touching was too intimate for the hypersensitive boy. There were very few
people he let touch him.
Seeing Ken draw away, the
policeman dropped his hand. "Is there someone you can call?" he asked gently.
He saw the utter shock in those huge eyes, noting absently that they were so
blue they were almost violet. A rare and vivid color to be sure. The boy would
break hearts one day, if not today, Satoshi decided. But that was not the issue
now. Having seen that look of shock on too many times on too many faces in his
lifetime, the detective knew that Ken shouldn't be alone at that time. "Son?" he asked, trying to get through to
the pale boy sitting on the couch.
Why was he calling me son? Ken wondered.
I'm not his son. My father is…dead? Ken went utterly numb, for a second he
couldn't even feel his heart beat. Then he slowly shook his head, still staring
at the detective. "No," he whispered.
"I'm sorry son," the detective
said again. Why did he keep saying that? Ken wondered. "Do you have any
relatives?"
Ken shook his head again. Both of
his parents were only children, as was Ken now that Sam was dead. All of his
grandparents were deceased. His family was gone.
And just like that, Ken realized
that he was alone.
"Is there someone whom you can
stay with?" Satoshi persisted. He knew that for all of the poise the young
genius possessed, he was still only eleven years old.
Ken tried to think, but for some
reason, his thoughts were fuzzy, like a camera out of focus. Who could he stay with? Why couldn't he stay
here, at home? But Satoshi was waiting for an answer. Who was there? The first
person he thought of was Davis. Ken was confident that Davis would let him stay
at his place for a night. He noted the concerned look on Satoshi's face. "I
have a friend and his family," he said. His voice was surprisingly calm.
Satoshi smiled. "Ok, I'll call
them and let them know what happened," he said, right before his cell phone
rang. Satoshi looked annoyed but answered it.
Ken just stared up at the policeman who, with a few words, had forever
changed his life. Ken tried to feel something, grief, rage, pain, anything, but
the cold numbness that pervaded his body refused to lessen.
Satoshi growled into his phone
and hung up. "I'm sorry son, but there is an emergency and I have to go. Will
you be ok on your own?" he asked worriedly. He hated to leave the child alone
under such horrible circumstances, but he had no choice. The criminal elements
in Tamachi were working overtime lately, and all the police departments were
stretched to their limits. It killed
Satoshi that one child like this was left to suffer alone, but he was helpless
to do any more for young Ichijouji.
"Call your friends and let them know what happened. I'll be back to
check on you later. I am sorry, son." With one last worried look, Satoshi let
himself out of the apartment, cursing whatever gods had allowed this tragedy to
happen to that boy.
Ken heard the door close, but it
only registered in the back of his mind. It was just one more sound to catalog
and file away like all the other information that was unconsciously processed
throughout the day. Instead, the young
boy sat still on the couch and tried to comprehend how the bottom had completely
fallen out of his world in such a short time.
He wasn't sure just how long he
had sat there, on the couch, staring at the mute television and not seeing the
popular sitcom that was now airing. Ken tried to think, but it was hard. Why
couldn't he think? What had happened? Satoshi had said that his parents were
dead, killed in some freak accident. No, he decided, that was wrong. His
parents were not dead. They would be coming through the door any minute, and
start asking him about his day. How did he do on his computer science test? And
how was soccer practice? They couldn't be gone. The thought was ridiculous.
He jumped as the phone rang loudly in the silent apartment. For a
few seconds, he stared at it like he had never seen the device before in his
life. Then the thought that it might be his mother was finally calling to tell
him that she and his father were running late, and to help himself to dinner
occurred to him. With a wild hope, he
reached out and grabbed the phone.
"Ichijouji residence," he said,
waiting expectantly to hear his mother's breathy voice apologizing for not
calling him sooner.
"Hello, is this Ken?" a man's
voice asked. He heard strange sounds coming from the background, like a lot of
people shouting. It wasn't his father
and Ken felt a surge of annoyance. His parents were probably trying to call him
right now and this fool was tying up the line. "Yes, this is Ken. Who is this?"
he asked, a trifle rude, but Ken was not in a chatting mood.
"This is Brad Taiga from the Tamachi
Herald newspaper. I was wondering if you would be willing to give us a
statement about the accident that killed your parents today."
Ken's violet eyes widened in
renewed shock. He gasped and dropped
the phone as if it had stung him. As if in slow motion, he watched the receiver
fall to the carpeted floor. On the other end, he could still hear the reporter
blathering on. He swallowed and with
numb fingers, reached down and picked up the phone, pressing the off button and
hanging it back up on its cradle. As
soon as his hand released the phone, it started ringing again. With a cry of a
wounded animal, Ken reached over and ripped the cord from the phone, cutting it
off in mid ring.
Silence once again filled the
apartment. Ken ran shaking hands
through his straight black hair, trying desperately to get a grip on
himself. If only he could think. Why couldn't he think? He was supposed to be
a genius, and right now, he could barely remember his name. He became aware of
a sound finally. It was his own breathing, coming in hard pants. The reporter's
call had completely shattered his budding illusions that his parents were
running late and just forgotten to call.
Reporters. They would find him.
He didn't want that to happen. They mustn't see him like this. They could only
see Ken Ichijouji, the cool young genius with nerves of steel. They couldn't
see the newly orphaned eleven-year-old boy who was shaking so hard that his
teeth were chattering.
A sound in the hall outside the
apartment brought him out of his paralysis.
There was someone out there. Oh no, the reporters had found him. They
were mad that he wouldn't talk to them on the phone, so they had come to his
home. Nearly panicking, Ken ran to the door and slid the bolt home. He was
breathing hard like he had just run a mile at his best speed, the sweat was
pouring down his face. For a minute he just leaned his forehead against the
wooden door and gasped. Then he turned around and leaned his back against the
door as his knees slowly gave out. Ken slid down until he was sitting with his
back against the door and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms
around his legs and leaning his head against his knees.
He wondered if he was going to
cry.
He didn't.
TBC…
