Korri: I've always wanted to write a Digimon Adventures 02 fanfic with the adult characters way in the future where the Digital World and the Real World are combined, so I suppose it's time to start working on my 'dream fic' of the year. This may take a while to complete, but I do hope you'll stick with me and enjoy my amateur spewings.
Edit(03/21/05): Since Lithrael has asked so nicely I have taken out the random Japanese (excluding honorifics). It's pretty silly anyways-and I'm honored the amazing fanartist commented on my fic. Bwaha.
Warning: If you don't like big descriptive paragraphs go home and don't bother flaming me on the first two chapters you've read; no one asked you to read this story and I definately didn't force you to read through the horridly large paragraphs against your will.
Disclaimer: Digimon and all related characters are owned by Toei Animation and not me. So don't sue me.
Notes:
Set 28 years into the future , the Chosen are older:
Ken Ichijouji (39); Miyako Inoue (40); Daisuke Motomiya (39); Takeru Takaishi (39); Hikari Yagami (39); Iori Hida (36), Taichi Yagami (42), Yamato Ishida (42), Sora Takenouchi (42), Koushiro Izumi (41), Mimi Tachikawa (41), Jyou Kido (43).
The Chosen's Children have their ages messed up:
Keiko Inoue (18), Kenji Ichijouji (16), Shigeki Inoue (12), Daiki Motomiya (17), Tsukiko Yagami (17), Akiya Takaishi (19), Eri Hida (14), Etsuko Izumi (11), Nagaharu Tachikawa (13), Jouichi Kido (15), Kaishi Ishida (12), Heita Ishida (10), Chiyuu Yagami (14).
Shinpi Naru Mu
"The Mysterious Nothingness"
You would think being a detective gave you the right to say "I have seen it all," but standing there during the dawn of a cold winter morning, Detective Ichijouji could only watch with a mystified stare as they traced around the corpse with scrapings of chalk against pavement-what was left of the poor carcass, anyway.
It had been attacked by a Digimon while it was still part of a living human being, the most abnormal crime in the world.
The ADGW protesters will have a field day with this once the media gets a hold of it.
While the group of cops stood around stamping the snow off their black boots and straightening the lines of their uniforms, some attempting to adjust the kevlar and chrome digizoid lined uniforms encasing their bodies beneath thick weather-worn trench coats, the lone detective merely leaned back against a white and black police car. Watching with a disinterested gaze of amethyst set in a haggard countenance, his vision panned towards his comrades before the pouting line of his mouth pulled back into a more hard-pressed expression shifting focus onto the remainders of their latest victim. Apparently a young girl had been taken down by a rogue Digimon not even four hours ago, the mutilated body having been discovered shortly after by a shopkeeper. Yes, they had confirmed it was an organic shopkeeper, as rare as they were in these days; after all, why not take advantage of convenience instead of surrendering your own precious time to do something as petty as open up a butcher up at six in the morning? Most of the American-influenced individuals of Tokyo left those chores up to their servant bots and computer systems designed by the faceless multi-million dollar geniuses of their time. Was he one of those? Well, his time of being Tokyo's Prodigy came and went, the famous household name of 'Ken Ichijouji' fading with the many lives of their older generation. It was quite sad to think of really, comparable to a fallen star, but he supposed living a seclusive life of a crime-fighter was good enough for him.
"Ken-chan..."
Slender ebony eyebrows drew together in a thoughtful knot of brooding concentration as the dark-haired introvert barely picked up the concerned inflections in the voice of his partner. Taking a moment for the interruption to finally register, Ichijouji-san jerked his head up to stare into a pair of burnt crimson eyes reflecting the gaze in their emotionless way. Two long ribbons of antennae twitched and drifted lightly in the brisk draft coming from the west as the dim sunlight occasionally slashed it's grudging way through the clouds to envelope the sky above in rays of awakening yellow beams. Not that they reached into the dark crevice of their current position between the looming skyscrapers, but the fleeting light managed to shed some radiance enabling the investigative group to see without the aide of flashlights, even brightening the crime scene enough for the years old detective to distinguish his dark green inhuman friend from the cover of shadows. "...Stingmon?" The cordial response was soft, breezing into the air on a white puff of warm breath before dissipating into winter's lungs.
"You're brooding again, Ken-chan."
The corners of his salmon-tinted lips curved upwards into a bemused smile expressing a half-hearted apology, considering his eyebrows hadn't budged from their furrowed position to enhance the look into sincerity. "I apologize, Stingmon, I'm just thinking..." His deepened voice rumbled in his throat, having left the prepubsecent tones of boyhood years ago (what seemed like a millennia ago). Pausing a moment for any response that may be on the approach, he drew in an icey breath of air and released it in a white cloud of a sigh while leaning back against the modernized car and slipping his hands into the tanned pockets of his trench coat. Turning his head away from his partner to look over his opposite shoulder at the scattered police officers and their Digimon helpers, mostly Data class, the Detective shook his head and pushed himself back onto his feet after the corpse was safely placed in a body bag and shipped out towards the morgue. The removal of the remainders was a sign the crime scene was basically being packed up and moved to the labs; time for the Detective of the case, him in other words, to head off and look for reasons as to why it happened. Of course he was used to the routine by now, having done this grueling job for years.
"Let's go, Stingmon," the gruff order was unintentional on his part, though he didn't bother to do any sort of apologizing as he lurched forward into motion with a sullen and brooding vibe wafting around him like steam from a heater. With his shoulders slumped over and his head low enough for the upturned edges of his collar to brush the lobes of his ears, the sequestered detective maneuvered through the dwindling swarm of Tokyo's finest with a massive and forceful (if needed) Champion loyally trailing after him.
Thursday, March 17-18, 2005.
Questions or Comments?
