Disclaimer: What makes anybody think that producers even read fics most of the time? Um-- I don't own Digimon and I'm sure you wouldn't want to sue me. At the moment, I don't even have a dollar to my name.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic contains things that may disturb some people. Simply, implications of crossbreeding and Lee cooking. =P I think I may have this wrong, but I think Lee is his last name, right? Enjoy!
I stop at the door of my house and turn around to look at the moon. I love the Moonlight. Like my mother, I suppose. She tells me that when she was younger, she was always out and looking at the stars, because she believed they held some answer for her. She no longer does that as much. Then again, she also doesn't seem to ponder about things as much as both she and my father say she did.
My name is Kiiroishi Lee. I'm not sure of the meaning of my last name, but my surname means "Yellow Rock", as in the Moon. I told you my mother loved it. My name is a mixture of Chinese and Japanese, if you do care to know. My father's name is Jenrya Lee. He is half Chinese, half Japanese. He's a rather thoughtful man, very much inclined to periods of deep thinking. He works with a governmental agency trying to protect the rights of Digimon.
I'm the reason for that.
Me. Yes, me. Because if there had been such an agency before the time I was --- created is the best way to put it, I think, I would not exist. I am nothing much more than an experiment, to those who created me. My parents of course do feel differently, so don't worry about that. But to explain things...
I am a hybrid. My creators, an unnamed governmental agency, decided to see if humans were compatible with Digimon. The answer appears to be yes. Mind you, this was neither of my parent's idea. This agency had managed to obtain DNA from my father, and my mother's data to create me against their will. There have been side effects. I am not just a normal human. For example, I can use attacks like any Digimon can. A weaker version, mind you, but I still have that ability nonetheless. However, unlike a Digimon, I cannot load a Digimon's data. I cannot Digivolve. Which in all honesty, is probably a good thing.
Physically, you'd probably never guess any of that. I look like a normal thirteen-year old boy, if there is such a thing. I do have hair the color of my mother's pale yellow fur, and oddly pale skin which I most certainly did not get from my father. Those are the only real indications of my true origins. Aside from my retractable and never-used-except-in-family-pictures-hair-and-tail. However, my parents decided on the story of my mother being a deceased American woman named Rena. So, I'm known at school as the kid with a dead mom.
Despite the whole eccentricity of the situation, I do love my parents. They're great, and we are a family, though only my parents' friends and my father's family do actually know about my mother. My mother, who has just appeared behind me and given me a hug, interrupts me in my thinking.
"Mom!" I cry out in suprise. My mother chuckles softly and ruffles my hair, then lets me go. I scowl at her, which causes her to smile. Our porch lights flicker on, and my father calls out from inside the house. He scolds my mother for scaring me.
"I didn't scare him, Jen. Right, Kiiroishi?" My mother calls out.
I sigh softly. "Right." I call out.
She puts her paw over my shoulder. "Let's go inside," she says, giving me a grin. "Your father cooked tonight."
I grimace, in remembrance of my father's various attempts to cook, but do slowly make my way inside the house.
The click of a camera, and a graying-sunglass wearing blond man in a navy business suit shoves the camera into his pocket.
"Do not forget you are my creation, hybrid." he murmurs softly, then crosses the corner into another street.
Review, perhaps? Flame, I prefer you not, but whatever. Just put something!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic contains things that may disturb some people. Simply, implications of crossbreeding and Lee cooking. =P I think I may have this wrong, but I think Lee is his last name, right? Enjoy!
I stop at the door of my house and turn around to look at the moon. I love the Moonlight. Like my mother, I suppose. She tells me that when she was younger, she was always out and looking at the stars, because she believed they held some answer for her. She no longer does that as much. Then again, she also doesn't seem to ponder about things as much as both she and my father say she did.
My name is Kiiroishi Lee. I'm not sure of the meaning of my last name, but my surname means "Yellow Rock", as in the Moon. I told you my mother loved it. My name is a mixture of Chinese and Japanese, if you do care to know. My father's name is Jenrya Lee. He is half Chinese, half Japanese. He's a rather thoughtful man, very much inclined to periods of deep thinking. He works with a governmental agency trying to protect the rights of Digimon.
I'm the reason for that.
Me. Yes, me. Because if there had been such an agency before the time I was --- created is the best way to put it, I think, I would not exist. I am nothing much more than an experiment, to those who created me. My parents of course do feel differently, so don't worry about that. But to explain things...
I am a hybrid. My creators, an unnamed governmental agency, decided to see if humans were compatible with Digimon. The answer appears to be yes. Mind you, this was neither of my parent's idea. This agency had managed to obtain DNA from my father, and my mother's data to create me against their will. There have been side effects. I am not just a normal human. For example, I can use attacks like any Digimon can. A weaker version, mind you, but I still have that ability nonetheless. However, unlike a Digimon, I cannot load a Digimon's data. I cannot Digivolve. Which in all honesty, is probably a good thing.
Physically, you'd probably never guess any of that. I look like a normal thirteen-year old boy, if there is such a thing. I do have hair the color of my mother's pale yellow fur, and oddly pale skin which I most certainly did not get from my father. Those are the only real indications of my true origins. Aside from my retractable and never-used-except-in-family-pictures-hair-and-tail. However, my parents decided on the story of my mother being a deceased American woman named Rena. So, I'm known at school as the kid with a dead mom.
Despite the whole eccentricity of the situation, I do love my parents. They're great, and we are a family, though only my parents' friends and my father's family do actually know about my mother. My mother, who has just appeared behind me and given me a hug, interrupts me in my thinking.
"Mom!" I cry out in suprise. My mother chuckles softly and ruffles my hair, then lets me go. I scowl at her, which causes her to smile. Our porch lights flicker on, and my father calls out from inside the house. He scolds my mother for scaring me.
"I didn't scare him, Jen. Right, Kiiroishi?" My mother calls out.
I sigh softly. "Right." I call out.
She puts her paw over my shoulder. "Let's go inside," she says, giving me a grin. "Your father cooked tonight."
I grimace, in remembrance of my father's various attempts to cook, but do slowly make my way inside the house.
The click of a camera, and a graying-sunglass wearing blond man in a navy business suit shoves the camera into his pocket.
"Do not forget you are my creation, hybrid." he murmurs softly, then crosses the corner into another street.
Review, perhaps? Flame, I prefer you not, but whatever. Just put something!