An Evening With the Ichijoujis: Chapter 2
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, especially Cynthia, who was kind enough to point out my continuity errors for me. I'm embarrassed to admit I hadn't realised at all, and as I haven't had a chance to rewatch the series (despite the massive delay between chapters), I imagine there'll be plenty more where the last ones came from. I hope you can turn a blind eye to them. Thanks as well to everyone who spurned me to write a second chapter with interesting comments, compliments and...pokings. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Digimon.
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The Ichijouji household was...depressing. Davis was lead out of Ken's drab, tidy bedroom into an equally drab, tidy hall leading into a drab, tidy living room. All of the doors were shut. Seriously, Davis thought, who actually shuts doors behind them? The few pictures on the walls seemed to have been hung with mathematical precision. The ornaments appeared to have been arranged with the same kind of geometric fanaticism.
It was unnerving to think that while the so-called 'digital' world could be so chaotic, the natural one could so precise. So boring. So soulless. Davis was actually beginning to feel more unnerved by this happy family household than the giant, floating fortress he had just left.
He sat on the sofa as indicated, noticing that it had about the same comfort value as a piece of concrete, cowed into an awkward and unnatural silence.
"Sit, stay. Touch nothing." Ken ordered as he disappeared into another doorway, presumably a kitchen. Davis did as he was told and took the opportunity to examine the room about him. Bookshelf. Thick books - probably not just for show or full of Reader's Digests like the ones in his house. Newspaper rack, full of clinically folded newspapers. Wastepaper bin, empty. Plant on window sill, not dead but going that way. Davis was beginning to feel oppressed.
On the walls, amongst the numerous framed award certificates were family photos. Davis looked with interest at the short, flustered looking woman and tall, anxious looking man that must be Ken's parents. It hadn't really dawned on him until now that the kid even had any parents at all. He couldn't imagine a more normal looking couple as the pair in those photos, smiling at the camera, posing outside some landmark, stood on a sunny beach. How in the world had they managed to produce such a monumental screw-up? Then again, Davis thought, spotting a school photograph of Ken smiling angelically, the camera certainly could lie despite the old saying.
He spotted another snap, this one of the whole family. Mum and Dad bore their usual proud expressions, looking somewhat younger than in the other photos. Clinging onto Mum's arm was a scrawny little boy with short, dark hair, grinning like an idiot and waving at the camera. Jesus, was that Ken? Davis smirked, wondering wheather he should compliment the Emperor on his baby snaps when he returned. The smirk faded as he noticed a fourth figure, stood next to Dad with spiky hair and what was unmistakably the Emperor's smug smile on his features. That was Ken, surely. But when had Ken worn glasses? And who was the other kid, then? He'd almost gotten up to see if he could spot a date on the photo when Ken's voice made him jump.
"My mother's running late, she's left a note." Ken reappeared bearing a tray laden with cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits. "About fifteen minutes."
"Oh." Davis nodded, taking the closest cup and examining the tea within with a suspicious eye. He noticed that the handle had a crack in it, which would probably qualify as anarchy in this little house. "I didn't touch anything, if you're wondering."
"I didn't say you had."
"You were thinking it." Davis took a sip of his tea, choked and regurgitated it noisily back into it's cup. "Jesus Christ! Where'd you keep the sugar?" After a life of drinking tea that was almost half it's weight in sugar, the taste of the actual beverage was acutely unpleasant.
"In the kitchen, where it's staying."
"But I can't drink tea without it!"
"Good. It doesn't bother me weather you drink it or not." Ken shrugged. "So long as it looks to my mother like I'm taking care of you, it doesn't really matter."
"Git."
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Mrs ichijouji didn't count multi-tasking amongst her skills, so it wasn't unusual that she had to pause outside her own front door as she tried to juggle three shopping bags, find which of her pockets held her keys, extract said keys from the bus tickets and tissues that lined her pockets as well as the mindlessly cheerful keyrings attached to them and unlock her door.
This time, however, she had paused with the keys themselves in the lock to stare worriedly at the door. It almost sounded as if voices coming from behind it, as if in conversation. She expected Ken to be home, but her husband should have only just finished work by now. Something must be wrong if he'd come home early. Then again, something must be up if the two of them were having a discussion at all. As Ken had become more sullen and withdrawn over the past few months the relationship between her husband and son, never particularly comfortable at the best of times, had become downright tense. Aside from the ritualistic "How was your day" type questions, their discourse, although tersely polite, was restricted to necessities only.
Troubled, she hurried to unlock the door, inserting a rabbit-shaped keyring into the keyhole in her haste. When she finally managed to enter her own home, she was greeted with bizarre sight, or rather, absence of a sight. Her husband's coat and shoes were not in their expected places on the racks in the entry way. Perturbed, she hurried through the kitchen without pausing to put down her shopping...and smiled.
Ken was sat in the living room, a room he seemed to avoid these days, with a cup of tea in his hands. Across from him was another boy her son's age, looking at her with an awkward smile from behind his own teacup. Ken had brought a friend home! He'd never done that.
"Ken?"
"Mother, this is Davis." Ken rose and indicated the boy with a wave of his teacup. The boy, Davis, mimicked Ken's actions and stood up to greet her, with an expression of repressed horror she took as shyness on his honest face. "I might have mentioned him."
"Davis." Mrs Ichijouji nodded, not pausing in her surprise to think weather he actually had or not. "It's so nice to see you. I...er..."
"I met him at football practice," Ken promted.
"Oh, of course." Mrs Ichijouji had now freed a hand from her shopping bags and had gripped Davis's warmly. He was slightly unnerved by the honest gratitude in her her expression. "It's good to get to meet one of your friends for a change, Ken." She relinquished his hand and looked at him appraisingly. "You will stay for tea, won't you Davis?"
"Um," Davis glanced at Ken, who nodded. "If that's alright with you, Mrs Ichijouji."
"Of course, of course!" She beamed, retreating back into the kitchen with her shopping, the door swinging shut behind her.
As she unpacked her shopping into the pantry she reflected on how good it was to have a nice surprise to come home to for a change. Things couldn't be as bad as she sometimes thought if Ken was willing to bring his friends home. Davis himself was another surprise. He was exactly what she wouldn't expect Ken's friends to be like, in fact he looked exactly the opposite of Ken himself. His hair was short and messy, his clothes were unkempt and casual. And those goggles - really, what would kids come up with next? Had she not been introduced to him by Ken, she might have dismissed him as a trouble maker. After seeing his awkward manner and shy smile, however, she was certain that he was a very nice boy, indeed.
She felt a little embarrassed to admit to herself that she had become worried about Ken's recent behavior. There she was, thinking he was drawing into himself more then ever, when all the time he'd been out doing the very opposite. Perhaps things were looking up.
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"Woah." Davis hissed to host as he listened to Mrs Ichijouji hum and bustle about her kitchen. "Your Mum's nice. Were you adopted, or what?!"
"I sometimes wonder." Ken smiled wryly at the kitchen door for a brief instant, and then turned back to Davis with his usual grim expression. "Now, you do remember everything?"
"Yeah, yeah. Best behavior." He repeated sullenly, feeling, if possible, more uncomfortable than he looked. He wasn't used to being embarrassed to meet people. Usually, he only needed a brief introduction to someone's parents and it was like he was part of the family. He never bothered to watch what he said or did, because it didn't matter. He didn't hide his personality. He didn't pretend to be someone else. He was Davis, and people liked him.
What was he supposed to do here, though? How could he make small talk with this woman, who had greeted him with such relief and gratitude, without revealing that his dearest wish was to punch her darling son's face in? He looked at Ken, who was staring intensely at him, and wondered why his mother didn't want to do the same. How could she ignore the patronising tone in which her own son spoke to her? It seemed bizarre. But there was something a little more troubling than that.
He scowled and shifted his gaze from Ken to focus on his foul tea. Why was this happening? The situation was absolutely bizarre to begin with. Being taken home by your worst enemy for dinner with their parents? Perhaps he would have bought Ken's reasons before, but not now.
In those few short sentences Ken had revealed that he did not care what his mother thought of him. She was scared of him. She was frightened of her own son and he knew it. He had never and could never care what she thought because, as far as he was concerned, she had no power at all. He couldn't help thinking that Mr Ichijouji, the stout, troubled man in the photographs, wouldn't be any different. The idea of Ken going out of his way to appease these people's worries was downright ludicrous.
He glanced up into Ken's piercing stare and felt more certain than ever. There was something else going on here.
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AN: Thanks for reading.
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, especially Cynthia, who was kind enough to point out my continuity errors for me. I'm embarrassed to admit I hadn't realised at all, and as I haven't had a chance to rewatch the series (despite the massive delay between chapters), I imagine there'll be plenty more where the last ones came from. I hope you can turn a blind eye to them. Thanks as well to everyone who spurned me to write a second chapter with interesting comments, compliments and...pokings. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Digimon.
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The Ichijouji household was...depressing. Davis was lead out of Ken's drab, tidy bedroom into an equally drab, tidy hall leading into a drab, tidy living room. All of the doors were shut. Seriously, Davis thought, who actually shuts doors behind them? The few pictures on the walls seemed to have been hung with mathematical precision. The ornaments appeared to have been arranged with the same kind of geometric fanaticism.
It was unnerving to think that while the so-called 'digital' world could be so chaotic, the natural one could so precise. So boring. So soulless. Davis was actually beginning to feel more unnerved by this happy family household than the giant, floating fortress he had just left.
He sat on the sofa as indicated, noticing that it had about the same comfort value as a piece of concrete, cowed into an awkward and unnatural silence.
"Sit, stay. Touch nothing." Ken ordered as he disappeared into another doorway, presumably a kitchen. Davis did as he was told and took the opportunity to examine the room about him. Bookshelf. Thick books - probably not just for show or full of Reader's Digests like the ones in his house. Newspaper rack, full of clinically folded newspapers. Wastepaper bin, empty. Plant on window sill, not dead but going that way. Davis was beginning to feel oppressed.
On the walls, amongst the numerous framed award certificates were family photos. Davis looked with interest at the short, flustered looking woman and tall, anxious looking man that must be Ken's parents. It hadn't really dawned on him until now that the kid even had any parents at all. He couldn't imagine a more normal looking couple as the pair in those photos, smiling at the camera, posing outside some landmark, stood on a sunny beach. How in the world had they managed to produce such a monumental screw-up? Then again, Davis thought, spotting a school photograph of Ken smiling angelically, the camera certainly could lie despite the old saying.
He spotted another snap, this one of the whole family. Mum and Dad bore their usual proud expressions, looking somewhat younger than in the other photos. Clinging onto Mum's arm was a scrawny little boy with short, dark hair, grinning like an idiot and waving at the camera. Jesus, was that Ken? Davis smirked, wondering wheather he should compliment the Emperor on his baby snaps when he returned. The smirk faded as he noticed a fourth figure, stood next to Dad with spiky hair and what was unmistakably the Emperor's smug smile on his features. That was Ken, surely. But when had Ken worn glasses? And who was the other kid, then? He'd almost gotten up to see if he could spot a date on the photo when Ken's voice made him jump.
"My mother's running late, she's left a note." Ken reappeared bearing a tray laden with cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits. "About fifteen minutes."
"Oh." Davis nodded, taking the closest cup and examining the tea within with a suspicious eye. He noticed that the handle had a crack in it, which would probably qualify as anarchy in this little house. "I didn't touch anything, if you're wondering."
"I didn't say you had."
"You were thinking it." Davis took a sip of his tea, choked and regurgitated it noisily back into it's cup. "Jesus Christ! Where'd you keep the sugar?" After a life of drinking tea that was almost half it's weight in sugar, the taste of the actual beverage was acutely unpleasant.
"In the kitchen, where it's staying."
"But I can't drink tea without it!"
"Good. It doesn't bother me weather you drink it or not." Ken shrugged. "So long as it looks to my mother like I'm taking care of you, it doesn't really matter."
"Git."
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Mrs ichijouji didn't count multi-tasking amongst her skills, so it wasn't unusual that she had to pause outside her own front door as she tried to juggle three shopping bags, find which of her pockets held her keys, extract said keys from the bus tickets and tissues that lined her pockets as well as the mindlessly cheerful keyrings attached to them and unlock her door.
This time, however, she had paused with the keys themselves in the lock to stare worriedly at the door. It almost sounded as if voices coming from behind it, as if in conversation. She expected Ken to be home, but her husband should have only just finished work by now. Something must be wrong if he'd come home early. Then again, something must be up if the two of them were having a discussion at all. As Ken had become more sullen and withdrawn over the past few months the relationship between her husband and son, never particularly comfortable at the best of times, had become downright tense. Aside from the ritualistic "How was your day" type questions, their discourse, although tersely polite, was restricted to necessities only.
Troubled, she hurried to unlock the door, inserting a rabbit-shaped keyring into the keyhole in her haste. When she finally managed to enter her own home, she was greeted with bizarre sight, or rather, absence of a sight. Her husband's coat and shoes were not in their expected places on the racks in the entry way. Perturbed, she hurried through the kitchen without pausing to put down her shopping...and smiled.
Ken was sat in the living room, a room he seemed to avoid these days, with a cup of tea in his hands. Across from him was another boy her son's age, looking at her with an awkward smile from behind his own teacup. Ken had brought a friend home! He'd never done that.
"Ken?"
"Mother, this is Davis." Ken rose and indicated the boy with a wave of his teacup. The boy, Davis, mimicked Ken's actions and stood up to greet her, with an expression of repressed horror she took as shyness on his honest face. "I might have mentioned him."
"Davis." Mrs Ichijouji nodded, not pausing in her surprise to think weather he actually had or not. "It's so nice to see you. I...er..."
"I met him at football practice," Ken promted.
"Oh, of course." Mrs Ichijouji had now freed a hand from her shopping bags and had gripped Davis's warmly. He was slightly unnerved by the honest gratitude in her her expression. "It's good to get to meet one of your friends for a change, Ken." She relinquished his hand and looked at him appraisingly. "You will stay for tea, won't you Davis?"
"Um," Davis glanced at Ken, who nodded. "If that's alright with you, Mrs Ichijouji."
"Of course, of course!" She beamed, retreating back into the kitchen with her shopping, the door swinging shut behind her.
As she unpacked her shopping into the pantry she reflected on how good it was to have a nice surprise to come home to for a change. Things couldn't be as bad as she sometimes thought if Ken was willing to bring his friends home. Davis himself was another surprise. He was exactly what she wouldn't expect Ken's friends to be like, in fact he looked exactly the opposite of Ken himself. His hair was short and messy, his clothes were unkempt and casual. And those goggles - really, what would kids come up with next? Had she not been introduced to him by Ken, she might have dismissed him as a trouble maker. After seeing his awkward manner and shy smile, however, she was certain that he was a very nice boy, indeed.
She felt a little embarrassed to admit to herself that she had become worried about Ken's recent behavior. There she was, thinking he was drawing into himself more then ever, when all the time he'd been out doing the very opposite. Perhaps things were looking up.
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"Woah." Davis hissed to host as he listened to Mrs Ichijouji hum and bustle about her kitchen. "Your Mum's nice. Were you adopted, or what?!"
"I sometimes wonder." Ken smiled wryly at the kitchen door for a brief instant, and then turned back to Davis with his usual grim expression. "Now, you do remember everything?"
"Yeah, yeah. Best behavior." He repeated sullenly, feeling, if possible, more uncomfortable than he looked. He wasn't used to being embarrassed to meet people. Usually, he only needed a brief introduction to someone's parents and it was like he was part of the family. He never bothered to watch what he said or did, because it didn't matter. He didn't hide his personality. He didn't pretend to be someone else. He was Davis, and people liked him.
What was he supposed to do here, though? How could he make small talk with this woman, who had greeted him with such relief and gratitude, without revealing that his dearest wish was to punch her darling son's face in? He looked at Ken, who was staring intensely at him, and wondered why his mother didn't want to do the same. How could she ignore the patronising tone in which her own son spoke to her? It seemed bizarre. But there was something a little more troubling than that.
He scowled and shifted his gaze from Ken to focus on his foul tea. Why was this happening? The situation was absolutely bizarre to begin with. Being taken home by your worst enemy for dinner with their parents? Perhaps he would have bought Ken's reasons before, but not now.
In those few short sentences Ken had revealed that he did not care what his mother thought of him. She was scared of him. She was frightened of her own son and he knew it. He had never and could never care what she thought because, as far as he was concerned, she had no power at all. He couldn't help thinking that Mr Ichijouji, the stout, troubled man in the photographs, wouldn't be any different. The idea of Ken going out of his way to appease these people's worries was downright ludicrous.
He glanced up into Ken's piercing stare and felt more certain than ever. There was something else going on here.
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AN: Thanks for reading.