Judgements of a Stone
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Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,746
Reviews:
1
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,746
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Digimon: Digital Monsters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
In Which the Light Was Divided From the Dark
Judgments of A Stone
By: Vain
6.2001-11.23.2001
-------------------------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -----------------------------------
-----READ THIS INFORMATION OR YOU MAY BE CONFUSED!!!!!-----
Please Note:
THIS IS A STORY CONTAINING MATURE THEMES, DISTURBING IMAGERY, ADULT SITUATIONS, VIOLENT THEMES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND VARIOUS FORMS OF CHILD ABUSE. THIS IS RATED NC-17.
ALSO, THIS IS UNRELATED TO ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“A person in that situation is God!”
~ Ted Bundy
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
Chapter Three:
In Which the Light Was Divided From the Dark
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
One Month Later:
He had slipped—it was nothing big, but then he fell down the steps. That had been bad. Momma had heard the banging and Ken’s scream and instantly ran to see what had happened. Osamu had heard it too, but he hadn’t gotten out of the apartment and to the stairwell until after Momma. She wouldn’t even let him near Ken as she cradled the sobbing boy.
“Osamu, you were supposed to be watching him!”
What could he say to that? It was true. If he had been paying attention, Ken never would have been outside the apartment, let alone in the stairwell. If had been paying attention, woulwould have been safe in the apartment where he belonged. If he had been paying attention, Ken wouldn’t have gotten hurt.
“Osamu, you know that things are hard right now. You have to help us out! Ken is your brother—your little brother. He’s your responsibility.”
That was true, too. Ken was all Osamu had. He was never too busy for Osamu, or too tired, or too frustrated. He never demanded anything from Osamu except the occasional bedtime story, lullaby, video game, or bubble blowing session. And he tried so hard to be good like Osamu wanted and to stay out of the way . . .
“Now look at what’s happened! He’s just a little boy, Osamu, he doesn’t know how to take care of himself!”
“I know, Momma, I—”
“If you knew, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion, would we?”
“But Momma—”
“Just go to your room, Osamu. I don’t even want to look at you right now.”
Osamu turned and ran back into the apartment, blinking rapidly against the tears in his eyes. He ran all the way back into his room, climbed up the bed, and threw himself face down on the mattress, shoulders heaving with restrained emotion. He didn’t even know if Ken was okay.
Time passed and no one came to see Osamu. The boy didn’t move, keeping his face buried into the covers and shivering occasionally, although not from the temperature. He wondered how Ken was doing. He wondered if his mother would come tell him. Had he been hurt? Bruised? Was he bleeding? Had he hit his head? The questions swirled around the youth’s mind feverishly anrribrrible images arose in his head. What if he was hurt really, really bad and had to go to the hospital? The idea of somebody whisking Ken away to somewhere Osamu couldn’t get to him frightened the young genius more than he was willing to admit.
It was dark by the time his father came home. Osamu stiffened as he heard the big man’s voice ring through the apartment and then he heard his mother’s quiet voice. After more hushed voices, there came a creak as the door down the hall opened—they were going into Ken’s room. The boy was still, concentrating on his own soft breathing, for several torturous minutes. Then there came the noise of footsteps approaching his door, followed a short time later by a knock. The boy pushed himself up, red-faced from lying down like that for so long and guilt swimming in his eyes, as the door was pushed open and Ichijouji Tsuyoshi entered the dark room. The man and boy looked at each other for a long, tense moment before Tsuyoshi heaved a sigh and shook his head.
Osamu’s voice sounded loud and scratchy in the stillness. “Is Ken alright?”
“He’s fine,” the adult said, eyes hard and unforgiving. “But he might not have been.”
Osamu flinched visibly and Tsuyoshi looked away.
“So what do you think we should do with you, Osamu? After all, you were supposed to be looking after Ken and you weren’t. Do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you? He’s practically still a baby. I thought you were smarter than that.”
The painful lump in Osamu’s throat flared and swelled and he felt tears spring to his eyes anew. He didn’t let them fall though. “ I’m sorry, Poppa.”
Tsuyoshi sighed again. “You’re confined to your room for the of of the night. No dinner, no T.V., no phone, and no video games, understand me? You’ve got to learn to be more responsible.”
“But—”
“No buts. Ken was lucky today. Just be happy that he’ll be alright.” Thn len left the room without another word and the door clicked shut softly, leaving Osamu alone in the darkness once more.
~~~ -+- ~~~
It was 12:03 when another knock sounded on Osamu’s door. The blue-haired boy sat up in bed, his stomach groaning with the motion and hunger. The knock repeated itself. It was a soft, hesitant sound and Osamu instantly knew who was behind his door. The door slid open a crack and a small blue haired head appeared.
“Osamu Oniichan?”
“Come in, Ken.”
The door open and then closed again quietly and Ken entered, carefully balancing a big plate in his small hands. “Momma and Poppa are asleep, so I brought you something to eat, cause you weren’t at dinner.”
Osamu hoped down from the bedndinnding next to his brother with a quiet thump. He grinned at the little boy in his dinosaur sleep suit and accepted the plate gratefully. He pulled out a desk chair and sat down, happily inspecting the plate. It consisted of a poorly made sandwich, six big cookies, what Osamu could only assume was Ken’s dessert from dinner, and a juice box of Fruit Punch Hi-C. He turned back to where Ken was anxiously watching him survey the meal and pulled his brother up into his lap in a tight hug.
“You’re the best ototochaer, er, Kenny-boy.”
Ken sighed at the approval and leaned into Osamu’s chest. He was rewarded with one of the cookies and for a few minutes all that could be heard was the two boys’ contented munching.
After a short time, Osamu settled back and gently rubbed Ken’s back. “You okay, Kenny-boy?”
Ken nodded in the darkness and crammed a huge bite of cookie into his mouth.
“What were you doing out there anyway?”
The boy swallowed hard and turned his liquid eyes to his brother. “I’m sorry I got you into trouble, Oniisan.” His voice trembled a bit.
Osamu sighed and hugged Ken fiercely again. “It’s okay, Ken, I forgive you. I’m your brother; I’ll always forgive you.”
Ken let loose a whimper of pain and Osamu instantly recoiled. “What is it?”
“Nu—nothing . . .”
Ken turned away to avoid his gaze, but Osamu wouldn’t stand for it and clicked on his desk lamp. Taking advantage of his brother’s momentary surprise, he used the opportunity to pull up Ken’s nightshirt and he let out a hiss of painful surprise. There was a large blackish-green bruise on the child’s pelvis and hip. He knew he hadn’t done anything like that it it was too old to come from the fall.
“What happened to you?!”
“Nothing.” Ken tried to twist away again, but Osamu seized his wrist, trapping him cruelly. “Oniisan, please . . .”
“Did somebody hurt you, Ken? Who did this to you?”
“Nobody. Oniisan, please—”
A door swung open down the hall and Osamu released his brother and clicked off the light. They both held stock-still; their parent would be angry if they found out that their sons had disobeyed them. The footsteps vanished down the hall towards the bathroom and a moment later a door creaked closed and a light switch was clicked on. The children breathed a sigh of relief and Ken slid off his brother’s lap.
“Night, Oniichan,” he murmured as he disappeared out the door.
Osamu stared after him for a minute before he took a bite out of his sandwich. He glared at the closed door. “Night, Ken.”
~~~ -+- ~~~
Yukio barely resisted flinching beneath Tsuyoshi’s angry glare and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry, Ichijouji-san.”
“Oikawa-kun . . .” The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “What’s gotten into you lately?”
Yukio opened his mouth to reply, but his boss merely threw up his hands and shook his head. “No, Oikawa-kun. I’ll get it.” Tsuyoshi bent down and began to gather the scattered papers from the ground as he muttered curses under his breath. Yukio stared at him helplessly for an instant and then bent down to try and help him reorganize the scattered invoices and receipts. “No, no, no!” Tsuyoshi snapped, irritably waving the taller man off. “Go do something else. Oriya-kun probably needs help. Go help him.”
Yukio rose and cast another helpless glance at the ground before turning away and heading towards a row of cubicles. What’s wrong with me? He wondered as he sidestepped a mail cart. Why don’t I ever defend myself? Why can’t I ever talk back, redeem myself? But he’s right, of course. I can’t do anything lately. Why can’t I concentrate? Why . . . He stopped and sighed, feeling suddenly drained. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and changed direction, headed towards a water fountain. After washing his face, he wiped the excess water off his face and sighed yet again.
He was very muwareware of what was wrong with him: guilt.
Guilt over the tears that stood in his little Ichijouji Ken’s eyes. Guilt over the muffled pain andrly rly concealed sobs that he forced out of the boy. Guilt over the trust and adoration that shone from Ken’s face. Guilt over the horrid monstrosity that he had allowed himself to become. Guilt over the fact that he both couldn’t and didn’t want to stop.
What was he becoming? He rubbed his face again. What had he done?
“Oikawa-kun?”
He jumped and whirled around, startled by the sound of Tsuyoshi’s voice. He turned around. “Y—yes, sir?”
Tsuyoshi gently smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at Oik Oikawa-kun. I just . . .” he trailed off and laughed awkwardly, putting a hand behind his head. “Things have been difficult ame lme lately. It’s nothing really, though.” He suddenly became serious then. “Oikawa-kun, you’re an excellent worker and you’ve been invaluable to this project. You’ve been putting in so much time at the office and outside of work . . . well, it’s no wonder you’ve been so absentminded lately. Go home, my friend. Take the rest of the day off. You need time to relax—recuperate somewhere outside of this hectic office.”
“But, Ichijouji-san—”
Tsuyoshi held up a hand. “No, no, no. I insist! We certainly can’t lose one of our most important men, now can we? GO HOME, Oikawa-kun. Relax. You deserve it.”
Yukio flushed. “Thank you, sir. I hope everything works out for you at home.”
“Eh?” A look of confusion painted itself across Tsuyoshi’s face before he chuckled and waved Yukio’s concern away with a casual gesture. “Oh, it’s nothing. Kids, you know? They’re quite a trial. You just go get some rest.”
“Ah,” Yukio uttered noncommittally. He walked away towards his cubicle, a vengeful serpent of guilt coiling itself around his inside and gnawing at him. Rest. Yes, that would be just the thing. Plus he’d see Ken later on today. Ken could always cheer him up. He ignored the serpent as it burrowed deeper into his heart.
By: Vain
6.2001-11.23.2001
-------------------------------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ -----------------------------------
-----READ THIS INFORMATION OR YOU MAY BE CONFUSED!!!!!-----
Please Note:
THIS IS A STORY CONTAINING MATURE THEMES, DISTURBING IMAGERY, ADULT SITUATIONS, VIOLENT THEMES, CHARACTER DEATH, AND VARIOUS FORMS OF CHILD ABUSE. THIS IS RATED NC-17.
ALSO, THIS IS UNRELATED TO ANY OF MY OTHER WORKS.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“A person in that situation is God!”
~ Ted Bundy
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
Chapter Three:
In Which the Light Was Divided From the Dark
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
One Month Later:
He had slipped—it was nothing big, but then he fell down the steps. That had been bad. Momma had heard the banging and Ken’s scream and instantly ran to see what had happened. Osamu had heard it too, but he hadn’t gotten out of the apartment and to the stairwell until after Momma. She wouldn’t even let him near Ken as she cradled the sobbing boy.
“Osamu, you were supposed to be watching him!”
What could he say to that? It was true. If he had been paying attention, Ken never would have been outside the apartment, let alone in the stairwell. If had been paying attention, woulwould have been safe in the apartment where he belonged. If he had been paying attention, Ken wouldn’t have gotten hurt.
“Osamu, you know that things are hard right now. You have to help us out! Ken is your brother—your little brother. He’s your responsibility.”
That was true, too. Ken was all Osamu had. He was never too busy for Osamu, or too tired, or too frustrated. He never demanded anything from Osamu except the occasional bedtime story, lullaby, video game, or bubble blowing session. And he tried so hard to be good like Osamu wanted and to stay out of the way . . .
“Now look at what’s happened! He’s just a little boy, Osamu, he doesn’t know how to take care of himself!”
“I know, Momma, I—”
“If you knew, then we wouldn’t be having this discussion, would we?”
“But Momma—”
“Just go to your room, Osamu. I don’t even want to look at you right now.”
Osamu turned and ran back into the apartment, blinking rapidly against the tears in his eyes. He ran all the way back into his room, climbed up the bed, and threw himself face down on the mattress, shoulders heaving with restrained emotion. He didn’t even know if Ken was okay.
Time passed and no one came to see Osamu. The boy didn’t move, keeping his face buried into the covers and shivering occasionally, although not from the temperature. He wondered how Ken was doing. He wondered if his mother would come tell him. Had he been hurt? Bruised? Was he bleeding? Had he hit his head? The questions swirled around the youth’s mind feverishly anrribrrible images arose in his head. What if he was hurt really, really bad and had to go to the hospital? The idea of somebody whisking Ken away to somewhere Osamu couldn’t get to him frightened the young genius more than he was willing to admit.
It was dark by the time his father came home. Osamu stiffened as he heard the big man’s voice ring through the apartment and then he heard his mother’s quiet voice. After more hushed voices, there came a creak as the door down the hall opened—they were going into Ken’s room. The boy was still, concentrating on his own soft breathing, for several torturous minutes. Then there came the noise of footsteps approaching his door, followed a short time later by a knock. The boy pushed himself up, red-faced from lying down like that for so long and guilt swimming in his eyes, as the door was pushed open and Ichijouji Tsuyoshi entered the dark room. The man and boy looked at each other for a long, tense moment before Tsuyoshi heaved a sigh and shook his head.
Osamu’s voice sounded loud and scratchy in the stillness. “Is Ken alright?”
“He’s fine,” the adult said, eyes hard and unforgiving. “But he might not have been.”
Osamu flinched visibly and Tsuyoshi looked away.
“So what do you think we should do with you, Osamu? After all, you were supposed to be looking after Ken and you weren’t. Do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you? He’s practically still a baby. I thought you were smarter than that.”
The painful lump in Osamu’s throat flared and swelled and he felt tears spring to his eyes anew. He didn’t let them fall though. “ I’m sorry, Poppa.”
Tsuyoshi sighed again. “You’re confined to your room for the of of the night. No dinner, no T.V., no phone, and no video games, understand me? You’ve got to learn to be more responsible.”
“But—”
“No buts. Ken was lucky today. Just be happy that he’ll be alright.” Thn len left the room without another word and the door clicked shut softly, leaving Osamu alone in the darkness once more.
~~~ -+- ~~~
It was 12:03 when another knock sounded on Osamu’s door. The blue-haired boy sat up in bed, his stomach groaning with the motion and hunger. The knock repeated itself. It was a soft, hesitant sound and Osamu instantly knew who was behind his door. The door slid open a crack and a small blue haired head appeared.
“Osamu Oniichan?”
“Come in, Ken.”
The door open and then closed again quietly and Ken entered, carefully balancing a big plate in his small hands. “Momma and Poppa are asleep, so I brought you something to eat, cause you weren’t at dinner.”
Osamu hoped down from the bedndinnding next to his brother with a quiet thump. He grinned at the little boy in his dinosaur sleep suit and accepted the plate gratefully. He pulled out a desk chair and sat down, happily inspecting the plate. It consisted of a poorly made sandwich, six big cookies, what Osamu could only assume was Ken’s dessert from dinner, and a juice box of Fruit Punch Hi-C. He turned back to where Ken was anxiously watching him survey the meal and pulled his brother up into his lap in a tight hug.
“You’re the best ototochaer, er, Kenny-boy.”
Ken sighed at the approval and leaned into Osamu’s chest. He was rewarded with one of the cookies and for a few minutes all that could be heard was the two boys’ contented munching.
After a short time, Osamu settled back and gently rubbed Ken’s back. “You okay, Kenny-boy?”
Ken nodded in the darkness and crammed a huge bite of cookie into his mouth.
“What were you doing out there anyway?”
The boy swallowed hard and turned his liquid eyes to his brother. “I’m sorry I got you into trouble, Oniisan.” His voice trembled a bit.
Osamu sighed and hugged Ken fiercely again. “It’s okay, Ken, I forgive you. I’m your brother; I’ll always forgive you.”
Ken let loose a whimper of pain and Osamu instantly recoiled. “What is it?”
“Nu—nothing . . .”
Ken turned away to avoid his gaze, but Osamu wouldn’t stand for it and clicked on his desk lamp. Taking advantage of his brother’s momentary surprise, he used the opportunity to pull up Ken’s nightshirt and he let out a hiss of painful surprise. There was a large blackish-green bruise on the child’s pelvis and hip. He knew he hadn’t done anything like that it it was too old to come from the fall.
“What happened to you?!”
“Nothing.” Ken tried to twist away again, but Osamu seized his wrist, trapping him cruelly. “Oniisan, please . . .”
“Did somebody hurt you, Ken? Who did this to you?”
“Nobody. Oniisan, please—”
A door swung open down the hall and Osamu released his brother and clicked off the light. They both held stock-still; their parent would be angry if they found out that their sons had disobeyed them. The footsteps vanished down the hall towards the bathroom and a moment later a door creaked closed and a light switch was clicked on. The children breathed a sigh of relief and Ken slid off his brother’s lap.
“Night, Oniichan,” he murmured as he disappeared out the door.
Osamu stared after him for a minute before he took a bite out of his sandwich. He glared at the closed door. “Night, Ken.”
~~~ -+- ~~~
Yukio barely resisted flinching beneath Tsuyoshi’s angry glare and looked at the ground. “I’m sorry, Ichijouji-san.”
“Oikawa-kun . . .” The man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “What’s gotten into you lately?”
Yukio opened his mouth to reply, but his boss merely threw up his hands and shook his head. “No, Oikawa-kun. I’ll get it.” Tsuyoshi bent down and began to gather the scattered papers from the ground as he muttered curses under his breath. Yukio stared at him helplessly for an instant and then bent down to try and help him reorganize the scattered invoices and receipts. “No, no, no!” Tsuyoshi snapped, irritably waving the taller man off. “Go do something else. Oriya-kun probably needs help. Go help him.”
Yukio rose and cast another helpless glance at the ground before turning away and heading towards a row of cubicles. What’s wrong with me? He wondered as he sidestepped a mail cart. Why don’t I ever defend myself? Why can’t I ever talk back, redeem myself? But he’s right, of course. I can’t do anything lately. Why can’t I concentrate? Why . . . He stopped and sighed, feeling suddenly drained. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and changed direction, headed towards a water fountain. After washing his face, he wiped the excess water off his face and sighed yet again.
He was very muwareware of what was wrong with him: guilt.
Guilt over the tears that stood in his little Ichijouji Ken’s eyes. Guilt over the muffled pain andrly rly concealed sobs that he forced out of the boy. Guilt over the trust and adoration that shone from Ken’s face. Guilt over the horrid monstrosity that he had allowed himself to become. Guilt over the fact that he both couldn’t and didn’t want to stop.
What was he becoming? He rubbed his face again. What had he done?
“Oikawa-kun?”
He jumped and whirled around, startled by the sound of Tsuyoshi’s voice. He turned around. “Y—yes, sir?”
Tsuyoshi gently smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry I yelled at Oik Oikawa-kun. I just . . .” he trailed off and laughed awkwardly, putting a hand behind his head. “Things have been difficult ame lme lately. It’s nothing really, though.” He suddenly became serious then. “Oikawa-kun, you’re an excellent worker and you’ve been invaluable to this project. You’ve been putting in so much time at the office and outside of work . . . well, it’s no wonder you’ve been so absentminded lately. Go home, my friend. Take the rest of the day off. You need time to relax—recuperate somewhere outside of this hectic office.”
“But, Ichijouji-san—”
Tsuyoshi held up a hand. “No, no, no. I insist! We certainly can’t lose one of our most important men, now can we? GO HOME, Oikawa-kun. Relax. You deserve it.”
Yukio flushed. “Thank you, sir. I hope everything works out for you at home.”
“Eh?” A look of confusion painted itself across Tsuyoshi’s face before he chuckled and waved Yukio’s concern away with a casual gesture. “Oh, it’s nothing. Kids, you know? They’re quite a trial. You just go get some rest.”
“Ah,” Yukio uttered noncommittally. He walked away towards his cubicle, a vengeful serpent of guilt coiling itself around his inside and gnawing at him. Rest. Yes, that would be just the thing. Plus he’d see Ken later on today. Ken could always cheer him up. He ignored the serpent as it burrowed deeper into his heart.