Summary: Taichi—every time he "uses" magic, his body grows weaker. Can Yamato save him before it's too late? Yamachi/Taito

Disclaimer: Owns neither Digimon nor any of its characters.

Cursed

By: splintered

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By the time Yamato got home from the park, it was almost midnight and his father was waiting for him. Then his father had to leave for a business trip for the week. But still, Yamato kept preoccupied thinking about the boy with the most hauntingly beautiful eyes. The way the browns and golds ran into each other. The way he could get lost in the other's stares. But despite their beauty, there was something very unsettling about them. Yamato had seen the look that the brunette had given the bully. It was like something was missing---and it sorta frightened him. And also the way that the boy reacted afterwards. The words..."I'm not right. I'm not right." That was definitely not normal, the eight year old knew. Yamato sighed. For the past few weeks, he couldn't get that strange boy out of his head. And I don't even know his name...

The blond sighed again as he sat behind his father's desk. His father had come home just in time for "Take Your Child to Work Day," and consequently, Yamato had decided to forgive his father for not making up with his mom.

"What's wrong with you?" Hiroaki Ishida asked as he briefly turned away from the computer to stare at his son. He knew their relationship was shaky at best. The boy had taken the separation so hard---often refusing to talk. "Yamato?" he tried again.

I never did get a chance to thank him, did I? The blond thought, as he continued to think about the incident that preoccupied his mind. I wonder who he is...if I'll ever see him again...

"Yamato, are you there son?" he asked awkwardly.

Yamato blinked, finally realizing that he father was talking to him. "Yeah, Dad?"

"Uh," Hiroaki paused, trying to figure out what to say. He was never good with this fathering business. God, she was so much better at this than he was... He finally settled for a general neutral question. "...are you okay?"

"Yeah, Dad," the eight-year-old answered, puzzled at his father's sudden question. His father didn't talk much. It was "Take your Kid to Work Day" and so far, his father had just made a few grunts and comments. Maybe his old man was trying to explain what he was doing, but so far, Yamato didn't make little sense of it. Even if his dad was trying to explain his work, Yamato paid little attention. The strange brunette still preoccupied his mind.

"Um...Yamato..." Hiroaki mentally sighed. Perhaps it was time for that talk. "...Yamato," he began again. "You know that the thing with your mother and I...it was a mutual disagreement...uh, our divorce. It wasn't your fault...and I don't want you to feel like it was your fault." Didn't the therapist say that sometimes children blamed themselves for these things?

"I know, Dad," Yamato answered nonchalantly. "I know it wasn't because of me," the boy reassured him.

"Good," Hiroaki sighed in relief, but such relief only lasted momentarily. If the boy wasn't troubled about the divorce, then what did trouble the boy? He knew that from the way the boy scrunched his brow, the boy was thinking awfully hard about something. Hiroaki racked his brain. Could it be...a girl? Did boys even think about girls at this age? Hiroaki knew that at this age, he still thought that all girls had cooties...but then again, Yamato had always been mature for an eight-year-old. It must be a girl, Hiroaki finally decided. But unfortunately for him, that was another conversation that he wasn't prepared to discuss. How could he discuss girl troubles to his son when he was dealing with them himself? Instead, Hiroaki did was he knew best. He delved back into his work.

"You see, Yamato, this is the...." He pointed at the computer screen as the boy absently nodded.

He knew he was a workaholic, but it was so much easier this way. Perhaps that's what got him into so much trouble in the first place.

--

"Hey, what's going on?" a man in a business suit yelled at the big burly police officer holding the crowd back, annoyed at the sudden hold up. He didn't know why the police officer wasn't letting the crowd cross because the traffic light was clearly red, signaling a safe crossing. And if he was going to be late for work, he would at least like to know why. Others seemed to agree with him as more shouts and obscenities were heard.

"Please, sirs, if you would calm down," the traffic police said rather calmly, whistle in his hand. "There has been an accident."

The man looked alarmed as he looked around, finally realizing the size of the crowds around them. He certainly didn't see any cars gone awry. With four traffic lights and two traffic police, he couldn't see how there could be any accidents in Odaiba's busiest intersection. However, he did see a woman behind him, clutching her baby, muttering soothing words to the infant's shrieks. He saw those around him gasp as they pointed and shouted (rather loudly) in his ear. He felt the crowd push against him, as he did the same, each trying to get a better view at the front. He felt the crowd's shoves, as someone elbowed him rather hardly in the ribs. He felt himself lose grip of his briefcase as he was jostled along with the crowd. He saw the drivers in the front of the vehicles as puzzled as he was. He heard the policeman's whistle as he repeatedly tried to quiet the crowd. He heard a distant siren grow louder and louder. He heard and saw and felt commotion and he finally figured out why.

While Yamato Ishida was sitting in an office building with his father, three floors below him, the strange brunette lay bleeding on the asphalt in one main intersection.

"Please, calm down," the big burly police man tried again as he looked at his partner for help.

Alice shook her head sadly as she paid more attention to the boy while Bob dealt with the crowd. The boy's condition didn't look so good. Sure, the boy was breathing---even if it was rather hard and labored---, but from the awkward angle that the boy had landed, it didn't take someone from the medical field to conclude that something was definitely broken. The boy's leg was probably twisted, the female officer concluded as she watched the contorted expression of agony on the boy's face. Not to mention his head...The boy did fall rather hard and Alice was sure that she had felt something sticky as she ran her hand through his soft brown hair. Would the boy know who he was when he woke up? the woman wondered.

She was glad when the ambulance finally showed up. And he's so young too...he couldn't be older than eight...and even that's a stretch. He must be even younger than my own son. She watched as the medical personnel tore her away from the boy, her motherly instinct went out for him. He was so small...so pale...against the stretcher as the two people carried him into the car.

"Alice." She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Relax." She suddenly realized how tense she actually was throughout this whole ordeal.

"Relax," Bob repeated. He sounded tired, probably from pushing the crowd back. "He wasn't Tom."

Alice breathed in a sigh of relief. Afterwards she felt guilty for being happy. Even if the boy wasn't her own son, the beautiful brunette boy must have belonged to somebody.

--

"Dad?"

"Hmm..." Hiroaki answered as he continued filing his paperwork. He did get a lot of paperwork.

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Hiroaki turned to find that he son wasn't sitting by his desk anymore. No, instead Yamato was standing by the giant glass window looking down at the flashy lights, the crowd, and...Yamato couldn't be sure, but that boy looked awfully like the one who he had been thinking about...and if it was...that's twice that he has seen him...and both times, the brunette had been hurt...

Yamato turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder, realizing that his father had left his work. He felt his father's grip tighten around his shoulder in almost a hug. "You know I love you, right?" There was something so troubling in watching a hurt child. It makes one realize that there is more to life than just work.

Yamato nodded before answering, staring outside the window as the ambulance and the sirens took the brunette away. "But what about that boy?" he finally asked. "Do you think there is someone who loves him too?"

Hiroaki stared long and hard at his son, wondering how to answer the boy. He could go with a little white lie the way most people did, but Hiroaki felt that Yamato could handle the truth. "I don't know. I really, honestly don't know."

--

TBC?

Author's Note: Don't you love it when you have a million things you're supposed to be doing and you're writing a fic instead? Yeah, I know the feeling really well. And some of the things I'm supposed to be doing are really important too... Anyways, you're glad that I updated, right? I hope you are, even if it has been a while. As always, I would love to hear from you. Thank you krad, Courage Sun, and for reviewing the last chapter. Even though, this chapter may confuse more than answer any questions... Well, thank you all for reading and reviewing. I really hope to hear from you...even if I can't promise any timely updates, I hope you will be patient and more than willing to keep reading this fic.

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EDITED: 01/17/09