Judgements of a Stone
folder
Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,747
Reviews:
1
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Digimon › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
1,747
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 Evening and the Morning Were tirstirst Day
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.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“I love you all, and have done no harm to anyone;
and what have you done to me?”
~ Leo Tolstoy
War and Peace
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
Chapter Four:
In Which the Evening and the Morning Were the First Day
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Three Months Later:
Osamu glared down at the textbook. He was sick of this. He was sick of his simpering parents. He was tired of the interviews and press conferences. And if he had to talk to one more reporter he simply could not be held responsible for his actions. He sighed and dropped his head down onto his book. It landed with a dull thud and jammed his glasses back into his face. He ignored the discomfort.
Get up, Osamu, he ordered himself. Sit up and just do the goddamn homework. It’s not that hard.
He didn’t move.
“Osamu, dear?” his mother’s falsetto traveled through the locked door.
He winced and slid his eyes to the closed bedroom door without moving. What now?! How can these morons expect me to get anything done with all this noise?! Forehead still pressed against the book, he spoke in an almost cheerful and more than slightly mocking voice, a sharp contrast to the murderous fury on his face. “Yes, Momma?”
“Your father and I are going to the Tasakis, dear. Can you watch your brother? I think that he’s asleep in his room.”
“Yes, Momma.”
The woman crooned something in her sickeningly sweet voice before leaving again. Osamu continued to glare at the door until he heard the fronor sor slam. “Idiot,” he snarled under his breath.
His closed his eyes and relaxed for an instant, mind far away from his prison of a bedroom with its academic wardens. For a moment he was almost asleep. Then the nagging voice of responsibility returned. Wake up and get to work. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was just so tired . . . One problem at a time. Get to work. He sighed. Gotta work. What will Momma and Poppa say? What will the other kids say? ‘Ichijouji the genius didn’t do his work! Liar! Failure! Sham!’ What would Ken say . . .? Tearful blue eyes suddenly appeared in Osamu’s mind’s eye and the youth’s eyes snapped open and he lurched upright. He stared down at the book.
Kenny-boy . . . His eyes drifted towards his door. Maybe I should go check on him . . . The boy rose, his legs moving before his mind could quite catch up. I wonder how he’s doing? Maybe we could go blow bubbles. I’ve been so busy lately—Halfway down the hall, Osamu froze, a sudden dread striking him. He hadn’t seen Ken in a while. A very long while. He had been busy. But Ken was always around, no matter what was going on—always underfoot, whining, and pouting, and just generally being annoying when he was least wanted. So where was his ototochan now?
He reached the door at the end of the hall closest to the kitchen. He knocked softly. “Kenny-boy?”
There was no response.
He knocked again, a bit louder this time. “Kenny-boy? Do you wanna go play?”
Silence.
“Are you in there?” He banged on the door. “Ken! You better not be playing around with me, runt!”
He pushed the door open with the full intent of leveling a soul-piercing glare at his baby brother and thoroughly reaming him out and . . .
And found the room empty.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Ken pulled his pants back on, small arms trembling. He hated trembling. He hated crying. Oniisan would have been disappointed. He never trembled or cried. He never did anything wrong. He was per—
“Are you thirsty, my little Ichijouji Ken?” Yukio-san called from the kitchen.
Ken left the bedroom and went out into the living room. He wasn’t allowed to talk in the bedroom. “Yes, se.”se.”
Actually, Ken was not at all thirsty—in fact, he wanted nothing more than to throw up until it came out blood and curl up into a tiny ball. Refusing, however, would make Yukio-san quite angry, and he was always so nice after . . . it. So Ken smiled when he wanted to scream and tried his hardest to do what he knew would make his friend happy. It was a surprisingly useful strategy and it seemed to keep him out of trouble. Even Momma and Papa couldn’t see through it. Osamu Oniichan seemed to know when something was wrong, but he never did anything but glare anyways, so Ken wasn’t sure. It was also becoming much less important that Osamu Oniichan thought or said or noticed. It was even becoming galling . . .
“Orange juice?” Yukio-san declared as he handed the child a plastic tumbler.
Ken smiled a smile that dt tot touch his eyes and accepted the juice. “Thank you.” He swallowed the orange liquid quickly. It was bitter and stung his throat.
Yukio looked at the digital clock on the VCR. 4:48. He looked down at his friend and smiled gently. “I had better get you home. It’s getting late.”
Ken returned the tumbler—still over half full—and went to retrieve his jacket. Yukio’s eyes followed him for a moment and the man’s brow creased in speculation. His little Ichijouji Ken was turning into quite a little . . . adult. It was actually kind of odd to see this terribly mature little boy striding about in his quietly capable fashion. This newfound confidence however was not without consequences and Yukio was both pleased and slightly alarmed to see a void springing between the bluenette and his once-adored brother. It was troublesome to see Ken’s personality change so drastically in the past three or four months as he withdrew from his already distant family life and closer to Yukio. It was also revealing amostmost frighteningly cold streak of cruelty in the child. For Yukio, though, Ken was always an absolute angel. Always.
“Ready, my little Ichijouji Ken?”
The boy looked up from where he tyi tying his shoelaces in the doorway—a skill Osamu had taught and was easily mastered when he was barely three years old—and the light caught hiss ods oddly, giving them an almost purple glow, like amethysts. A chill went through Yukio as he stared at the child. With that purple gleam in his eyes, he bore a striking resemblance to Osamu. Osamu gave Yukio the creeps.
“Yes, Yukio-san.”
The man approached Ken the one approaches a poisonous snake when they aren’t sure whether or not it’s deaUponUpon closer inspection he realized that it was not the light at all, but that Ken’s actual eye color had turned to a deep purple.
“Yukio-san? Are you alright?”
“I . . .” he stared down into those narrowed pu eye eyes for a moment, suffocated by their smooth flatness. Stay away from my little brother . . . “I’m fine, my dear.” He held open the door. “Let’s get you home now.”
Ken eyed the adult curiously for a moment. He was quickly becoming an expert at reading people’s emotions and right now Yukio-san looked . . . afraid. “Yes, Yukio-san.”
The door slammed shut behind them and as the faded sunlight streamed through the windows it got caught on the dust in the air and shimmered like tears—like a quiet mourning.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Osamu stood behind a tall bush outside his apartment as the two walked up. His eyes narrowed dangerously behind his expensive glasses as he recognized a blue head bobbing into view: Ken. Walking next to him was a tall man in a heavy black coat. The wild-haired genius stiffened as something stirred in him at the sight of the man . . . He looked familiar . . .
Osamu left the living room and heaved a sigh of relief. He absolutely hated it when his mother fawned over him. He hated it even more when she did it at his brother’s expense, like she usually did. And just where was the squirt anyway? The boy stopped outside the bathroom door as his hearing zoomed in on his brother’s quiet voice. That was odd . . . Ken never talked to people—well, he talked to him, but that was different. He was Ken’s brother. Who else would the child talk to if not him? As far as his brother was concerned, Osamu was the center of the cosmos—and that was the way it should be. So just whom was his precious ototochan talking to?
“That’s a pretty nasty cut, little Ichijouji Ken. What happened?”
Osamu’s eyes narrowed. He knew that voice. That had been the man who needed to go to the bathroom. Annoyance surged through the boy. So just why was he talking to Ken?
“I was hungry an’ Momma was busy an’ Oniichan was studying an’ I wanted a san’which, an’ I cut myself with the knife.”
“Oh,” a brief pause and then, “Okay. You should be more careful, little Ichijouji Ken.”
That was too much. It was one thing for Ken to be talking to someone else, but it was quite another thing for someone else to be telling his Ken what to do. Osamu’s parents didnven ven do that; that was Oniisan’s job. Ken was Oniisan’s responsibility and burden, no one else’s. But now someone else was interfering with him, taking Ken away from him . . . Ken was all he had, but he was also all that Ken had . . . And he’d be damned if someone else came between them. A surge of rage and jealousy shot through Osamu and he pushed the door open.
“Kenny-boy?” Ken sat on the toilet swinging his small legs back and forth looking at a tall pale man in shy adoration. It took all of Osamu’s self-control not to leap across the room and seize his brother when he saw the man finish wrapping a bandage around Ken’s hand. He was touching his Kenny-boy! He was actually touching Ichijouji Osamu’s little brother!! Nobody was ever allowed to touch Ken except Osamu. Didn’t the fool know that?!
Ken’s head snapped up and his blue eyes widened in surprise and fear. Osamu glaat hat him in fury. That brat was in so much trouble . . . “Go to your room.”
Ken flinched and looked at the floor. “But Osamu Oniichan—”
“Go. To. Your. Room. NOW.”
Once his brother was safely away, Osamu glared thunder at the stupid insect that had dared shatter Ken’s untouchability. “Stay away from my little brother.” He slammed the door behind and and stomped down the hall to his brother’s room.
He flung the door open and Ken cringed automatically. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
“You better stop it right now!!” Osamu growled as Ken started to whimper and tears slid down his cheeks and he tried to twist away from him. He grabbed the smaller boy and shook him until his teeth rattled. “You make one noise and I will break your neck right here, I swear to God! Do you understand me?! Shut up! What the hell were you doing?! You don’t know that man!”
He threw the child down one the ground and the carpet muffled his thump. Ken pulled himself up and cringed back while extending his hands in an attempt to pacify his brother.
“Shut up!” Osamu growled again when the little boy’s mouth opened. Not knowing what else to do, he slapped him hard, send the child sprawling, a large red streak blossoming on his cheek. “How is it that you are so goddamn stupid?! I can’t even believe we’re related! Damnit!” Now he was yelling. His parents wouldn’t hear. They didn’t hear anything. They didn’t wanted to.
He grabbed his brother again, knowing that he was hurting him, but too frustrated to care. Didn’t Ken get it? Why couldn’t he understand? It wasn’t that hard. He squeezed Ken’s arms far too hard and the little boy groaned in an attempt not to wail. His blue eyes were large and wild with tears and fright.
Osamu looked at him for a long moment. Then he spoke in an intense whisper: “I am all you have, Ken. All you will ever have! You don’t need anyone else and no one else wants you!! Why would they?! You’re invisible!! You may as well not even exist! Get that through your thick head!”
The expression on Ken’s face didn’t change a hair and Osamu bit his lip until it bled. He suddenly pulled his brother to his chest in an inescapable hug and rocked back and forth. “You’re just so goddamn stupid, Ken, you know that? You’re useless. What would you have without me? Nothing! I am everything to you! You aren’t anything without me! You don’t even exist! You don’t matter! I am the only person on this planet that will ever give a damn about you! I’m the only one who’ll love you. Ever. You’re nothing! Nothing at all!”
Ken burrowed deeper into his brothers arms and nodded his head helplessly. Sobs shook his body was hard that Osamu trembled with him. It seemed like Osamu’s embrace was the only thing that stopped him from breaking into a million pieces.
Osamu glared at the man from his hiding spot. So that’s what was wrong with his Kenny-boy . . . It was that man again. He had thought that Ken had learned his lesson the first time. Obviously he needed to be retaught . . .
His ground his teeth as the man stopped in front of the steps and then bent down and kissed Ken’s forehead. That bastard . . . Oh, yeah; there was gonna be hell to pay for this.
“Goodbye, Yukio-san. See you tomorrow.”
Osamu stepped out from his hiding spot. “No, I don’t think that you’ll be doing that, Ken.”
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.
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
“I love you all, and have done no harm to anyone;
and what have you done to me?”
~ Leo Tolstoy
War and Peace
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ----------
Chapter Four:
In Which the Evening and the Morning Were the First Day
---------- ~~~ -+- ~~~ ---------
Three Months Later:
Osamu glared down at the textbook. He was sick of this. He was sick of his simpering parents. He was tired of the interviews and press conferences. And if he had to talk to one more reporter he simply could not be held responsible for his actions. He sighed and dropped his head down onto his book. It landed with a dull thud and jammed his glasses back into his face. He ignored the discomfort.
Get up, Osamu, he ordered himself. Sit up and just do the goddamn homework. It’s not that hard.
He didn’t move.
“Osamu, dear?” his mother’s falsetto traveled through the locked door.
He winced and slid his eyes to the closed bedroom door without moving. What now?! How can these morons expect me to get anything done with all this noise?! Forehead still pressed against the book, he spoke in an almost cheerful and more than slightly mocking voice, a sharp contrast to the murderous fury on his face. “Yes, Momma?”
“Your father and I are going to the Tasakis, dear. Can you watch your brother? I think that he’s asleep in his room.”
“Yes, Momma.”
The woman crooned something in her sickeningly sweet voice before leaving again. Osamu continued to glare at the door until he heard the fronor sor slam. “Idiot,” he snarled under his breath.
His closed his eyes and relaxed for an instant, mind far away from his prison of a bedroom with its academic wardens. For a moment he was almost asleep. Then the nagging voice of responsibility returned. Wake up and get to work. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was just so tired . . . One problem at a time. Get to work. He sighed. Gotta work. What will Momma and Poppa say? What will the other kids say? ‘Ichijouji the genius didn’t do his work! Liar! Failure! Sham!’ What would Ken say . . .? Tearful blue eyes suddenly appeared in Osamu’s mind’s eye and the youth’s eyes snapped open and he lurched upright. He stared down at the book.
Kenny-boy . . . His eyes drifted towards his door. Maybe I should go check on him . . . The boy rose, his legs moving before his mind could quite catch up. I wonder how he’s doing? Maybe we could go blow bubbles. I’ve been so busy lately—Halfway down the hall, Osamu froze, a sudden dread striking him. He hadn’t seen Ken in a while. A very long while. He had been busy. But Ken was always around, no matter what was going on—always underfoot, whining, and pouting, and just generally being annoying when he was least wanted. So where was his ototochan now?
He reached the door at the end of the hall closest to the kitchen. He knocked softly. “Kenny-boy?”
There was no response.
He knocked again, a bit louder this time. “Kenny-boy? Do you wanna go play?”
Silence.
“Are you in there?” He banged on the door. “Ken! You better not be playing around with me, runt!”
He pushed the door open with the full intent of leveling a soul-piercing glare at his baby brother and thoroughly reaming him out and . . .
And found the room empty.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Ken pulled his pants back on, small arms trembling. He hated trembling. He hated crying. Oniisan would have been disappointed. He never trembled or cried. He never did anything wrong. He was per—
“Are you thirsty, my little Ichijouji Ken?” Yukio-san called from the kitchen.
Ken left the bedroom and went out into the living room. He wasn’t allowed to talk in the bedroom. “Yes, se.”se.”
Actually, Ken was not at all thirsty—in fact, he wanted nothing more than to throw up until it came out blood and curl up into a tiny ball. Refusing, however, would make Yukio-san quite angry, and he was always so nice after . . . it. So Ken smiled when he wanted to scream and tried his hardest to do what he knew would make his friend happy. It was a surprisingly useful strategy and it seemed to keep him out of trouble. Even Momma and Papa couldn’t see through it. Osamu Oniichan seemed to know when something was wrong, but he never did anything but glare anyways, so Ken wasn’t sure. It was also becoming much less important that Osamu Oniichan thought or said or noticed. It was even becoming galling . . .
“Orange juice?” Yukio-san declared as he handed the child a plastic tumbler.
Ken smiled a smile that dt tot touch his eyes and accepted the juice. “Thank you.” He swallowed the orange liquid quickly. It was bitter and stung his throat.
Yukio looked at the digital clock on the VCR. 4:48. He looked down at his friend and smiled gently. “I had better get you home. It’s getting late.”
Ken returned the tumbler—still over half full—and went to retrieve his jacket. Yukio’s eyes followed him for a moment and the man’s brow creased in speculation. His little Ichijouji Ken was turning into quite a little . . . adult. It was actually kind of odd to see this terribly mature little boy striding about in his quietly capable fashion. This newfound confidence however was not without consequences and Yukio was both pleased and slightly alarmed to see a void springing between the bluenette and his once-adored brother. It was troublesome to see Ken’s personality change so drastically in the past three or four months as he withdrew from his already distant family life and closer to Yukio. It was also revealing amostmost frighteningly cold streak of cruelty in the child. For Yukio, though, Ken was always an absolute angel. Always.
“Ready, my little Ichijouji Ken?”
The boy looked up from where he tyi tying his shoelaces in the doorway—a skill Osamu had taught and was easily mastered when he was barely three years old—and the light caught hiss ods oddly, giving them an almost purple glow, like amethysts. A chill went through Yukio as he stared at the child. With that purple gleam in his eyes, he bore a striking resemblance to Osamu. Osamu gave Yukio the creeps.
“Yes, Yukio-san.”
The man approached Ken the one approaches a poisonous snake when they aren’t sure whether or not it’s deaUponUpon closer inspection he realized that it was not the light at all, but that Ken’s actual eye color had turned to a deep purple.
“Yukio-san? Are you alright?”
“I . . .” he stared down into those narrowed pu eye eyes for a moment, suffocated by their smooth flatness. Stay away from my little brother . . . “I’m fine, my dear.” He held open the door. “Let’s get you home now.”
Ken eyed the adult curiously for a moment. He was quickly becoming an expert at reading people’s emotions and right now Yukio-san looked . . . afraid. “Yes, Yukio-san.”
The door slammed shut behind them and as the faded sunlight streamed through the windows it got caught on the dust in the air and shimmered like tears—like a quiet mourning.
~~~ -+- ~~~
Osamu stood behind a tall bush outside his apartment as the two walked up. His eyes narrowed dangerously behind his expensive glasses as he recognized a blue head bobbing into view: Ken. Walking next to him was a tall man in a heavy black coat. The wild-haired genius stiffened as something stirred in him at the sight of the man . . . He looked familiar . . .
Osamu left the living room and heaved a sigh of relief. He absolutely hated it when his mother fawned over him. He hated it even more when she did it at his brother’s expense, like she usually did. And just where was the squirt anyway? The boy stopped outside the bathroom door as his hearing zoomed in on his brother’s quiet voice. That was odd . . . Ken never talked to people—well, he talked to him, but that was different. He was Ken’s brother. Who else would the child talk to if not him? As far as his brother was concerned, Osamu was the center of the cosmos—and that was the way it should be. So just whom was his precious ototochan talking to?
“That’s a pretty nasty cut, little Ichijouji Ken. What happened?”
Osamu’s eyes narrowed. He knew that voice. That had been the man who needed to go to the bathroom. Annoyance surged through the boy. So just why was he talking to Ken?
“I was hungry an’ Momma was busy an’ Oniichan was studying an’ I wanted a san’which, an’ I cut myself with the knife.”
“Oh,” a brief pause and then, “Okay. You should be more careful, little Ichijouji Ken.”
That was too much. It was one thing for Ken to be talking to someone else, but it was quite another thing for someone else to be telling his Ken what to do. Osamu’s parents didnven ven do that; that was Oniisan’s job. Ken was Oniisan’s responsibility and burden, no one else’s. But now someone else was interfering with him, taking Ken away from him . . . Ken was all he had, but he was also all that Ken had . . . And he’d be damned if someone else came between them. A surge of rage and jealousy shot through Osamu and he pushed the door open.
“Kenny-boy?” Ken sat on the toilet swinging his small legs back and forth looking at a tall pale man in shy adoration. It took all of Osamu’s self-control not to leap across the room and seize his brother when he saw the man finish wrapping a bandage around Ken’s hand. He was touching his Kenny-boy! He was actually touching Ichijouji Osamu’s little brother!! Nobody was ever allowed to touch Ken except Osamu. Didn’t the fool know that?!
Ken’s head snapped up and his blue eyes widened in surprise and fear. Osamu glaat hat him in fury. That brat was in so much trouble . . . “Go to your room.”
Ken flinched and looked at the floor. “But Osamu Oniichan—”
“Go. To. Your. Room. NOW.”
Once his brother was safely away, Osamu glared thunder at the stupid insect that had dared shatter Ken’s untouchability. “Stay away from my little brother.” He slammed the door behind and and stomped down the hall to his brother’s room.
He flung the door open and Ken cringed automatically. The door closed behind him with a soft click.
“You better stop it right now!!” Osamu growled as Ken started to whimper and tears slid down his cheeks and he tried to twist away from him. He grabbed the smaller boy and shook him until his teeth rattled. “You make one noise and I will break your neck right here, I swear to God! Do you understand me?! Shut up! What the hell were you doing?! You don’t know that man!”
He threw the child down one the ground and the carpet muffled his thump. Ken pulled himself up and cringed back while extending his hands in an attempt to pacify his brother.
“Shut up!” Osamu growled again when the little boy’s mouth opened. Not knowing what else to do, he slapped him hard, send the child sprawling, a large red streak blossoming on his cheek. “How is it that you are so goddamn stupid?! I can’t even believe we’re related! Damnit!” Now he was yelling. His parents wouldn’t hear. They didn’t hear anything. They didn’t wanted to.
He grabbed his brother again, knowing that he was hurting him, but too frustrated to care. Didn’t Ken get it? Why couldn’t he understand? It wasn’t that hard. He squeezed Ken’s arms far too hard and the little boy groaned in an attempt not to wail. His blue eyes were large and wild with tears and fright.
Osamu looked at him for a long moment. Then he spoke in an intense whisper: “I am all you have, Ken. All you will ever have! You don’t need anyone else and no one else wants you!! Why would they?! You’re invisible!! You may as well not even exist! Get that through your thick head!”
The expression on Ken’s face didn’t change a hair and Osamu bit his lip until it bled. He suddenly pulled his brother to his chest in an inescapable hug and rocked back and forth. “You’re just so goddamn stupid, Ken, you know that? You’re useless. What would you have without me? Nothing! I am everything to you! You aren’t anything without me! You don’t even exist! You don’t matter! I am the only person on this planet that will ever give a damn about you! I’m the only one who’ll love you. Ever. You’re nothing! Nothing at all!”
Ken burrowed deeper into his brothers arms and nodded his head helplessly. Sobs shook his body was hard that Osamu trembled with him. It seemed like Osamu’s embrace was the only thing that stopped him from breaking into a million pieces.
Osamu glared at the man from his hiding spot. So that’s what was wrong with his Kenny-boy . . . It was that man again. He had thought that Ken had learned his lesson the first time. Obviously he needed to be retaught . . .
His ground his teeth as the man stopped in front of the steps and then bent down and kissed Ken’s forehead. That bastard . . . Oh, yeah; there was gonna be hell to pay for this.
“Goodbye, Yukio-san. See you tomorrow.”
Osamu stepped out from his hiding spot. “No, I don’t think that you’ll be doing that, Ken.”