Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Lies, Crimes, and Punishments ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Quick note: This will be updated once a week, a chapter at a time. I'm committed to turning this into one of those fantastic weekly serials AND committed to getting this DONE. It's been a long time coming.

This is based loosely - inspired by - Fyodor Dostoevsky's monumental work Crime and Punishment.
God, that man had talent! Read it if you haven't. It's worth the several weeks it will take you to finish. :)


Obligatory disclaimers:
   I do not own Digimon, and I've never claimed to. This is written to exorcise my creativity (what still remains) only and not to infringe upon anyone's god-given copyright.
   Do not read if you are offended by religious or sacreligious themes, homosexual themes, or are simply easily offended. Flamers are disregarded as being lower forms of life. Don't waste my time or yours. :)
That said, if you love yaoi Digimon as much as I do and have a dark streak, read on!
Reviews are welcomed, as are corrections to my horrendous grammar and spelling. Muchas gracias.




Lies, Crimes, and Punishments



He slunk in through the high, arching doors that shut out the worldly noises and trash. His black stocking cap clung tightly to his equally black, long hair. It touched his shoulders and was there soiled by melting snow. Like the curtain that floated through the air and muffled everyone, the closed doors now cloaked the man in an uncomfortable silence. The silence of aristocratic funerals and proletarian basements. His grey hooded sweatshirt was brushed clean by a gloved hand and the frozen water fell in a pile by his midnight-shod feet. He didn't dare walk any further, intimidated by the comforting candles and burgundy upholstery. An old, white robed man emerged from some hidden side door and began extinguishing the flames with a brass snuff. The solemn head turned.
"Oh, hello. I'm sorry if you're here for mass, we re-scheduled it for earlier this evening. On account of the weather." His hand waved expansively although the outside was safely shut out.
"No, father. I'm actually here for confession. Am I..." His voice hid under his furrowed brows and the weight of the evil world.
"Oh! I'm sorry, it's off over to the right." Again, waving his hand, he smiled broadly, calmingly. The black-clad man nodded slightly in recognition and shuffled pensively to the small structure built into the wall. Taking off his hat, he sat silently on the bench inside. He could barely see through the screen - enough to know no one was inside. Getting comfortable, he brushed his hair behind his ears and waited. About two minutes later, someone stepped into the accompanying room. Mumbling, he began.
"Bless me father, for I have sinned..."
"Konbanwa, my child. What is it that is plaguing your soul?" The voice was consoling and familiar. The poor sinner began fidgeting with his fingers, humbly embarrassed.
"Father... I..." He gave a great sigh. "...Have lusted..."
"Oh, that's a common sin. Are you in a vowed relationship?"
"You mean married?"
"Mmm, yes."
"No, no, and I never have been." The priest's tone now turned confused.
"Well, back in more chaste times, lust of any kind would've been considered a surmountable wound to your chances at everlasting peace, but today... Well, if you're not devoted to someone, then the church doesn't consider that a major sin."
"But I thought here at St. Barnard's, you were more... strict... conservative?"
"That's true, my child, but we've seen a steady drop in our fellowship and our funding... Ashamedly, we've..." He cleared his throat. "...broadened our world-view."
"Oh. So, that's it? Am I now forgiven?"
"Um, usually we delve a little deeper into the nature of one's particular sin... So as to prevent further temptation. Where was this woman you lusted after?" The confessor grew noticeably more nervous.

"Well, father... it wasn't exactly a woman..."
"Oh, I understand... Please don't take offense, but was it a man, child, or animal?"
"What?! Oh, no no, father... Um, it was um, a man. Am I now going to hell?" The cloistered one repressed a laugh.
"Um, oh no, not if you're sorry for your sins. You are, right?"
"Oh, yes father... Can I ask..." He trailed off.
"If?"
"If you've ever felt like this... I mean, probably not - but... I feel so alone and I just... can't help myself." The priest let loose a sigh.
"Contrary to modern trends, not all Catholic priests join the ministry to escape their urges for children. But... to answer your particular question," he was stalling for time. "I... actually joined the church to get away from such feelings towards men. I don't know how to help you in your particular situation... Because I ended up running away from mine and seeking refuge here." Defeat was evident in his voice.
"And has it helped? I mean, is that what I should do?"
"Each person has to chose their own path in life... Instead of joining the church, perhaps counseling would work for you... Or distancing yourself from your obsession - like - like working at a women's college..."
"You didn't answer my first question, father..." His tone was nearly menacing.
"Well, I certainly have found refuge and solace here..."
"But?" The priest felt oddly trapped.
"...But... I still feel those empty urges... I thought..."
"...That every disconsolate man that walked through those massive doors wouldn't trigger your need to sympathize and simultaneously turn you on?" This 'sinner' was getting bold.
"...I, uh, believe we're closing soon. Um, it's pretty late at night and the snow's just going to get worse-"
"Father..."
"-and you are forgiven. Bless you, my child. Please return this Sunday for mass, we just bought a new set of Bibles..." The priest's red hair could be seen moving rapidly out of the confessional. The black haired man opened his own door and followed the retreating form as fast as modesty would allow. Just past the right hand line of pews, he caught up and spun the father around.
"Izzy?!" The man's eyes were wide and white with shock.
"Ken!?" The priest's face matched his swept back hair and the pew cushions in a startling crimson. For a few moments, both stood with their mouths hanging open. Tight laughter followed.
"I... never expected... What are you doing in Kitami? I thought you went to..." Ken shook his head, trying to jog a memory.
"Boston. Yeah, I did, but half-way through college, I - found my place here and..." He waved his hand expansively and Ken pursed a small laugh. "What are you doing here? Not still in Tokyo?"
"Uh, evidently not... I... got my B.S. and a job was waiting for me here." A pause. "Well... that's what I tell everybody..." Father Izumi was confused. "Truth is... I got into some trouble after high school and - and am trying to start fresh here. ...Not exactly succeeding..." His voice was a whisper and his downcast eyes told Izzy not to push the subject.
"So, do you have someplace to stay? I mean, it's not summer out there."
"Tonight? Not exactly." A tired smile played across his lips.
"Then, I guess it's my job to offer uh... hospitality." His arms spread in a gesture. "The two other minor priests are away on a fund-raising/charity trip, so you can occupy one of their beds." Ken followed through a different door in the paneling.
"Then who was that older man I saw earlier?"
"Father Hiromiya? He's the bishop here and - due to his age - he thought it best if he didn't venture out in this weather."
"Good idea." Ken really wasn't paying attention, marveling at the ornate woodwork on the myriad of hallways they were passing through and the back of a certain priest's head. "I thought you alluded to some financial trouble, but this place is unbelievable."
"Well, that's only recently... This church was built in the 50's during the American occupation and although the budget is steadily dropping, we're nowhere near to having to sell it." Another expansive wave. A smirk, hardly benign, rippled across the taller man's face. "...And here's the bedroom we share. Father Achikawa is nearly as tall as you are; there's a bathroom to the left," he followed the pointed finger, "so you can shower in there and borrow his night-clothes." Ken took the tan cotton of the shirt and slacks from Koushiro.
"Thanks, Izz... I, um..." He paused and smiled, "feel better already."

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