Wow. This one is more…intense…than the others. Just warning you, I can't up the rating anymore, but I'm pushing it. This is short, because I wrote it during a Deadline Monday evening (when I stay at school until 9 working on the school newspaper. I had a lot of free time this round)

Warnings: Minor violence, lots of bad language (who knew Kouji had such a mouth?) mention and imagining of rape, bondage, neglect and abuse; and a violent assault on a perfectly innocent pine tree.

POV: 3rd Person

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon or anything related to it. Don't sue me, I think I need the money for therapy.

Account of Abduction

Chapter 6: Venting

"Goddamn bastard!"

Kouji cursed loudly, slamming his fist into the tree with all the might his arm, shoulders and legs could muster. The bark splintered under the force, small flakes falling to the ground in a flurry, and the boy's knuckles cracked painfully, but he didn't care. He paused a second to allow the stinging pain a long moment to subside, then shifted his feet to slam the other fist into the same spot.

"Goddamn fucking son of a bitch!" He swore, effectively using all of the blasphemies that had been spewed at him over his relatively short lifespan. It was being very loud, but was somewhat confident that his mother couldn't hear him. She was still inside the small ground-floor apartment with Inspector Kanbara, the solidly-sealed back door keeping his rather obscene opinions from her ears…and his brother's.

His brother…

The fist connected with living wood once more at the thought, slightly softer than before. His brother was safely inside the house, finally home after all this time. Kouichi had been…missing…for so long, it was such a wonder to think of it he could hardly believe it was true. His brother was home…

The next train of thought sent his blood boiling, sparking the memory of Kanbara-san's explanation. Where he'd found Kouichi, what he'd been wearing…no, forced to wear…and all the things that…that bastard had done to him!

What was his name? Kouji paused a moment to search his mind and came up with 'Higure Koukon', which just pissed him off more as he pounded away again. His father had mentioned Koukon once or twice, always speaking of him very highly. "An admirable success," he always called the blonde, beaming at the newspaper. "Rising from adversity into the realm of glory." To his father's eyes, young Koukon was an 'inspiration to a new generation of businessmen.'

Of course, that had been weeks ago, over breakfast and the morning paper, when the Business and Commerce section was the only thing in it that interested the busy C.E.O., before the headlines were a blaring reminder of his missing son. It seemed like ages ago, but it had only been a few weeks.

Kouji slammed his fist into the tree once more, now ferociously angry at himself. 'Just a few weeks', hah! In those 'few weeks', those endlessly long weeks, his brother had been forced to stay with that damn son of a bitch. In those 'weeks', the most important person in the Kouji's world had been bound, beaten and treated like a goddamn sex slave! What did he have to complain about, after the hell Nii-san had been through?

He'd seen a picture of Koukon once before, in the newspaper. The black and white image of a thin blonde man with an unnaturally stretched smile danced in front of his eyes. . Kouji hated every inch of him, his thin face, cold smile, ragged eyes, everything. He punched at the image and hit the tree again, which now had a decent dent in the wood bared under the cracked, falling bark.

Another image was pushing its way into his head, painting itself across the darkness of the night with an icy, silver-tipped brush, the artist's hand careless and light, accompanied by a dark laugh that sent Kouji's sensitive nerves aflame. The picture moved, slow and fluid, the lines crisscrossing and changing patterns oh-so-slightly, right before his eyes…

He saw his brother there, in a dark room, curled up in the farthest corner possible. His hands, bound in front of him with heavy coils of rope, were clutched as tightly to his body as the bonds would allow, making his already thin form curl into a tiny ball, shrinking into the corner and hiding desperately from sight. He was bare-chested, the long cuts and dark bruises clear as they dotted the pale skin, marring the smooth flesh like so many craters. A pair of tattered black pants were the only thing covering his lower half, hanging open at the top without a button and ending in tattered rages. As though in mockery of the collar and chain leash holding him to the cold stone wall, a pair of felt kitty ears were perched amongst the tangled strands of blue-black hair.

Across the room, a door opened, casting a beam of silver light into the corner. Doe-like blue eyes looked up and instantly flowed with rivers of gleaming saltwater upon the already-damp cheeks.

"No…" Whimpered the captive helplessly, shrinking back into his corner. "No, please. Stay away…"

The blonde man smirked past his long, unruly hair, his thin hands with their claw-like nails slipping to unbutton the classy white designer shirt. "Now now, pet." He scolded, discarding the top as he crossed the room, then leaning down to caress the boy's bruised cheek. "You should know better than to refuse me."

The boy shrank back, silver tears splashing from his eyes. "No…No, no!"

Koukon slapped him hard enough to slam his head against the wall, knocking the kitty ears to their floor. He seized the boy's collar and yanked him forward into a bruising kiss, ignoring his whimpers and cries of pain. Holding the strap of leather with one hand, tightening it to the point of strangling, Koukon snaked his free hand down the bare chest and into the loose brim of the black pants…

"Get the hell away from him, you damn bastard!" Kouji snarled savagely, fists flying. The silver images shattered on impact, falling into a rain of stardust. He continued to pound, fist against wood, again and again, great chunks of bark falling off to reveal the bare wood beneath, raw and white without its covering. He struck again and again, stopping only when a sudden knife of pain rippled up his arm. He stopped then, arm outstretched, knuckles pressed against the tree, gasping for breath.

Behind him, the back door opened and a blanket of golden light fell out. "Minamoto-kun?"

Kouji turned. It was Inspector Kanbara, one hand resting on the doorknob and the other inside the pocket of his blue police blazer, the brown eyes he shared with his carefree son overflowing with parental concern.

"It's late." He said softly. "Wouldn't you like to come back inside?"

Kouji took a deep breath and nodded, feeling somewhat empty inside. In the light he noticed the pale shade of red on the tree's raw white wood and realized that several layers of skin had been removed from the top of his knuckles. His fingers felt raw, and a small trickle of blood was ran from his middle finger.

Inspector Kanbara took this all in without a word, stepping back to allow the teen into his own house. Kouji shuffled in silently, not waiting for the door to close behind him, and made his slow way to the living room.

His brother was there, head pillowed in their mother's lap. A smile of peaceful bliss was on his gentle lips as the woman ran her fingers through his soft hair, gently crooning the lulabye she had lured them to sleep with as children. His eyes, though one of them was slightly puffy, were closed in utmost peace.

Kouji smiled and forgot the pain in his hands, the emptiness inside him lifting away to make room for a new warmth. Inspector Kanbara placed a large, gentle hand on his shoulder supportively. "You think you'll be all right now?"

The boy smirked softly and nodded. "Yeah…I think we will."

TBC…