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These Fine Things of Heaven and Earth	By : Hanakai Category: Digimon > General Views: 8798 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
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These Fine Things of Heaven and Earth
By: Vain 10/16/2001-

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I only own Tanuki-kun, Hanamura-sensei, and the plot—everything else belongs to Toei, Bandai, and / or *shudder* Fox Kids.

This story has yoai, shounen-ai, and mature themes including self-mutilation, psychological and emotional abuse, general angst, and one lemon scene—meaning that the rating will go up.

Special thank you’s are extended to Herongale for beta-ing and letting me bounce ideas off her and Raptor-kun, Jekka-chan, and PeaceKeeper A for listening to me fuss with plot at 2 am on a weeknight.

This all takes place one year after the episode “The Crest of Kindness,” and while Ken does have Wormmon, he did not go looking for his heart, nor has he had any contact with the Digidestined since his defeat. Please keep in mind that Taichi –is- OOC at times; there’s was just no real way around it, though. Consider it artistic license.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::: PLEASE REVIEW :::::::::::::::::::::::::::
And keep in mind that all homophobic flamers who think that I’m gonna burn in hell for this will be laughed at and probably sent a particularly nasty response that will be published on various ml’s, regular flamers will be ignored, and all reviewers will be cherished for the wonderful people that you truly are.

If you’re squeamish and expected me to be writing about flowers and bunnies: A) You’ve obviously never read my work and B) If you continue, I don’t wanna hear anyone bitching about the plot and what a terrible person I am.
If you’re not and you didn’t, then please:
Enjoy the fic.

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“ ‘When you’re huntin’ somepin’ you’re a hunter, an’ you’re strong. Can’t nobody beat a hunter. But when you get hunted—that’s different. Somepin’ happens to you. You ain’t strong; maybe you’re fierce, but you ain’t strong.
I been hunted now for a long time. I ain’t a hunter no more.’ ”
-John Steinbeck
The Grapes of Wrath

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Chapter One:
Le Petit Prince
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His eyes were distant—they were always distant, Rika knew, but today seemed special. He seemed just a little bit colder today. She gingerly placed the plates on the table. Every time he moved nowadays she wanted to flinch. Every time he spoke, she’d hold her breath like what he was saying was something precious to be remembered for eternity. He didn’t speak often anymore, at least not to them, and sometimes she ached to hear his quiet analytical music. Every time he so much as shifted his weight she would stare. If she blinked he might disappear again. Sometimes she wondered if he already had and she just hadn’t noticed yet.

Tsuyoshi came in, head buried in his newspaper. Had he always read the newspaper so much? Rika wasn’t sure and it wasn’t really that important at the moment. The food was getting cold. The petite woman moved quickly and gracefully from the dining area to the adjacent kitchen. Deft hands lifted the pot and returned to the dining room. Three trips later, the table was set and Rika stood patiently behind her chair. Tsuyoshi remained standing and still read his paper. He wouldn’t put it down until he had to—dinner was not exactly a pleasant event in their household anymore. But they wouldn’t be ready until he stopped staring out the window and came to the table like he was supposed to.

. . . Like he was supposed to. He always did what he was supposed to. Perhaps that was the problem.

He still didn’t move. Rika wondered if he was still breathing. Itldn’ldn’t surprise her if he had died standing there like that, standing so still like that. He could have stopped breathing and stayed frozen there, staring out of the window like it held all the secrets to life—like it could save him.

“Ken?”

Tsu looked up from his paper as her voice shattered the silence.

Their son didn’t move.

“ . . . Ken . . .?” The The boy turned around slowly and flowed over to the table. Ichijouji Ken didn’t walk—he flowed. He stood behind his chair patiently. It was a tradition, older than Rika knew, that Tsuyoshi sit down first. The head of the Ichijouji household folded his paper and sat and then Ken and Rikao too took their places. The boy stared down at his plate blankly. His mother cast him a quick glance before turning to her husband.

She smiled a painful plastic smile. “So how was work, dear?”

Tsu looked up, not surprised by the question, but merely taken aback by the discord between the smile on her face and the look in her eyes. He shouldn't be anymore, though. A pald fad fallen over the entire household after Ken had vanished. It had intensified when he returned.

The man smile his own tense smile for appearance’s sake and reached for a bowl of rice. "It was alright. The project will be done soon, maybe even by the end of next month. I might be home more after that. It depends on how well we do."

Rika nodded a bit. She knew that he wouldn't be home more--he was never home--but the fiction was pleasant and harmless enough as those sorts of things went.

Ken remained silent and accepted the rice from his father.

"How was school today, sport?" the man asked as he piled some sort of meat product in a watery brown sauce on his food. It was his turn to go through the motions.

Rice landed on Ken's plate with a splat. "Fine."

". . ." Tsu cast his wife a glance, pleading for help. She seemed to be able to draw Ken out at times. The boy's father had never really been able to relate to his youngest son. Now Osamu . . . there was an uncomplicated boy that a man could be proud to call son.

"What did you do today?" Rika asked hesitantly. "You had a physics exam today, right?"

He looked up then, violet eyes flat and almost clinical. He looked like he was staring at some sort of unknown insect that had happened to wander onto the slide of his microscope for his viewing pleasure, not like he was sitting at the table and looking at his mother. She shifted in the heavy silence, the edges of her lips twitching as though holding onto that fake smile was too much strain.

The youth cocked his head a bit, his statement never changing. "I got a 100." There was no arrogance or pride in his voice. He was merely stating a fact. "It was the top mark in the class. I signed up for a chess tournament as well. Also, tomorrow’s soccer game was postponed. The league has discovered that the other team was cheating and now they have to reschedule it with one of the other semi-finalist teams."

He picked up his chopsticks and looked at his rice again, duty completed.

Rika's face relaxed a tad as she let that awful smile fade a bit. It had been a report--nothing more, nothing less. There had been no revelations or insights or emotion in it. He may as well have been discussing the proper use for a ballpoint pen. But at least he had answered. That was all they could really hope for these days. That he would answer and, for just an instant, that they could be part of his world. That he would even condescend (for they now recognized it as a condescension for him) to give them a sliver of his precious attention. It was amazing the things that you could learn to live with.

Halfway through the meal Ken placed his chopsticks down on the table. "I'm not that hungry."

His parents said nothing as he stood, pushed his chair back in, and left the room, headed towards his bedroom. Nothing that they could have said would matter. Ken's rice, the only thing that he had put on his plate, was untouched and had gone cold by the time Rika cleared the table.

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These Fine Things of Heaven and Earth