Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ These Fine Things of Heaven and Earth ❯ To the Edge of the Sky to Escape ( Chapter 5 )

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, Kinslayer just because of all those inspiring fics that have so influenced my work, and Raptor-kun, Jekka-chan, andPeaceKeeper 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- slightly 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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"Friend . . . you. . . may be a wolf."

Ken Kesey

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

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Chapter Five:

To the Edge of the Sky to Escape

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"What the HELL were you thinking?!" It was a hiss, but it sounded like a scream.

Tai frowned slightly as he removed some books and closed his locker. His gaze flickered to Yamato before he spun the dial to be sure it stayed closed. "Oi! You act like you've never seen two people kiss before, Yama."

The blond sputtered for a moment and then let out a hissing breath. "It is one thing to see two people kiss. It is quite another thing to see you pin Ichijouji to the ground and force him to kiss you!!" This time his voice was nowhere near a hiss and several people nearby turned and stared at the pair in surprise.

Tai grit his teeth, forced a smile, and grabbed Yamato's wrist, jerking the blond down the hall and into the closest empty classroom he could find. Once inside, he slammed the door and turned an angry glare onto his best friend. "Think you could have yelled any louder? Why don't you just go make an announcement over the P.A. system?"

"I just might."

Taichi stiffened and Yamato crossed his arms stubbornly. "What is going on with you, Taichi? You're acting like a stranger."

Tai sat down on a desk and regarded his friend coolly for a moment. Yama squirmed uncomfortably under the weight of that gaze. He wasn't used to this side of Taichi and he found that he didn't like it one bit. The blond looked away. "We're worried, Taichi. You just haven't been yourself for a while and-"

"I've got a plan."

"What?" Yamato looked back up to find that the taller boy's expression hadn't changed. "A plan? What are you talking about?"

"Ken," the older boy replied.

Yamato felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he settled on a desk next to his friend. He knew Taichi better than anyone. They had been close friends for almost six years and off and on lovers for three of those six. They had lost their virginity to one another when they were sixteen. There was no one in the world that either boy was closer to and yet . . . And yet all of that suddenly felt old and long-past.

Yamato felt like he was in the room with a stranger. "He's 'Ken' now? I wasn't aware that you and Ichijouji were so informal."

The wild-haired boy grinned, an expression that would have been comforting and familiar if his eyes hadn't been so very cold. "We will be."

"Explain." Yamato crossed his arms. "Explain now."

A shrug. "It's really quite simple, Yama-kun. I'm going to make him fall in love with me, seduce him, fuck him, and leave him."

For a moment Yamato didn't say anything and only stared at his friend in disbelief. Tai couldn't be serious about this, he just couldn't. This was beyond impossible, it just couldn't be real. Yagami Taichi didn't have a vindictive bone in his body, let alone-

Tai pulled a book out of his folder and tossed it to the musician. He flipped it open and found himself face to face with some very explicit photos and highlighted text. He looked at the cover: "The Gay Kama Sutra."

A pair of blue eyes widened with horror and Yamato threw the book back to Taichi as though it was on fire. "Oh, gods . . . You're serious!"

Tai caught the paperback easily and tucked it back in his folder. He set the folder down and sighed. "Yama . . . You make it sound like something horrible."

"It IS horrible!!"

Tai cast a swift glance at the door. "Shh! Do you want to get into trouble?!"

Yamato gaped at him. "Why? What do you possibly think you can accomplish by doing this? If you want to have sex that badly just call me, Taichi. You don't need to-"

Taichi groaned. "It has nothing to do with the sex. Think of it as a bigger dose of what he got at the game."

"So what are you going to do? Beat him up and rape him?"

"No!!" The taller boy shook his head vehemently. "No, no, no! It won't be anything like that! I would never have sex with someone without their consent." He looked appalled. "What do you take me for, Yama?"

"I don't know!" the blond exploded, forgetting where they were. "A week ago I wouldn't have thought that you'd sit down and plan to fuck with someone's head! I wouldn't have thought that you'd even imagine intentionally hurting someone! What you want is worse than physical rape, Tai! That psychological rape! That's emotional rape!"

"I think you're reading into this a bit, Yama."

Yamato's hands flew to his head and for a moment it looked as though he was going to rip out his hair. "Are you hearing yourself, Yagami Taichi?! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

Tai stared at him blankly.

"Tai . . ." Yamato extended his hands imploringly and shook his head. "Taichi . . . You just can't do things like that. He's not a-a toy. You can't just play with-"

Tai's voice was low and dark. "Why not? After all, he did. Daisuke, me, you, the digimon, the other kids . . . all we were was toys to him. And turnabout is fair play."

Yamato blinked. "What?"

The wild haired boy shifted about on the desk. His eyes were hard and dark, a strange unnatural look. "That day . . . they day they went after him and he had the Bakemon morph into the other kids . . . It was nothing but a game for him . . ."

The blond frowned as he tried to recall what Taichi was talking about.

"He made him cry, Yama. And he enjoyed it!"

Taichi had been over at his house and they had been messing around when the doorbell rang . . . It had been . . .

"Daisuke?" The musician stared. "This is about Daisuke?"

Three seconds after they had let the boy in, he had burst into hysterical tears. Yamato still felt a pang inside him as he remembered the incident. Dai had been so humiliated, so embarrassed. He had kept sobbing over and over again into Tai shoulder, "I'm so stupid, Taichi! How could I have been so stupid?"

It was the betrayal that had made him cry more than anything though. He had liked Ichijouji Ken. He had looked up to Ichijouji and respected him. And Ichijouji had not only crushed that illusion, he had taken a good deal of delight in crushing that illusion.

Daisuke had been devastated. "I liked him, Tai. I really, really liked him. We could have been friends. Why am I so dumb?!"

"No, this isn't about, Daisuke!" Tai snarled, looking angry for the first time since the game. "He's laughing at us Yama! He sitting up there with his fan girls, his tragic genius run away story, his convenient amnesia, and he's laughing at us!!"

"But Tai . . ." Yamato's voice sounded small and he felt lightheaded and lost. "We won."

Taichi shook his head. "No, we didn't! He's happy as a clam and we still have to clean up the mess he made in the Digital World while he does nothing but smile for the camera and win his stupid awards and get fawned over by everyone every single step of his useless life! As long as he's sitting up there safe and happy, we haven't won a damn thing. He still thinks that he can do this to people, but he can't. I won't let him do this anymore. He's gonna get a taste of his own medicine now. He's going to know what it's like to be deceived and robbed and used and betrayed and humiliated and discarded. It's his turn. His life has been nothing but Easy Street. That ends now."

Tai stopped and his friend stared at him with his hands slightly extended in a pleading gesture and a blank confused expression on his pale face. The dark-haired boy turned away from that look; something about it hurt him. He took a deep gulp of air. When had he started breathing this hard?

"He deserves it, Yama-kun."

Yamato dropped his hands and stared. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He shook his head. "No way."

"What?"

Yamato shook his head again. "Just . . . no way. Now way. You can't do this. You won't do this."

Taichi lifted an eyebrow and looked amused. "You think I won't?"

"I think you can't!" Yamato leaned forward with a serpentine grace and Tai blinked, startled. "Ichijouji is smart, Tai. Smarter than me and definitely smarter than you. You won't even make is to second base."

Tai grinned. "Is that a challenge?"

"A challenge? That's-" Yamato suddenly stopped and threw his hands into the air. "No! No! I absolutely refuse to have this conversation with you! Have you lost your mind?"

"Calm down, Yama-kun."

"I am calm!!!" The blond stopped and realized that he was flushed and slightly out of breathe. Tai watched him curiously for a moment and then chuckled. Yama glared at him. "Okay, I'm calm, I'm calm." He sat down on a desk and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm good. But I want NO part in this, Taichi, you hear me? This is going to blow up in your face and I don't want to be anywhere near you when that happens."

The other teen rolled his eyes. "Yama, you're such a worry wart! I'm telling you, I can handle this. I'm only gonna teach him a lesson. It's not like I'm gonna kill him; he'll survive. It's not like it's anything serious or-"

"Something tells me that this is a lot more serious than you think it is, Taichi."

The dark-skinned teen looked over at his friend and was taken back but the serious look in the Yama's blue eyes. Yamato shrugged. "You're making a mistake."

Tai scowled and grabbed his books. "Whatever. Look, can you just take notes for me in Imperial History and Statistics?"

"What for?"

Taichi walked over to the door and open it. He smiled at his friend. "I have to hurry if I'm gonna make the train over to Tamachi."

Yamato's mouth worked silently for a moment. "Tamachi?" But by the time he got the word out Taichi was gone.

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Rika hummed under her breathe as she folded the wash. It was a soft slow song, a snatch of something half-remembered from her own childhood when her mother cradled her in her arms and rocked her back and forth, assuring the little girl that she was brave and strong and good and life helps those who help others. Rika had grown up on stories like that. Brave knights, shining armor, good and humble peasant women, delicate princesses who were always polite and in style-this was Ichijouji Rika's childhood and she had loved it. It had been a fairy tale life that led to a fairy tale marriage to the handsome, kind, and well-to-do Ichijouji Tsuyoshi, a rising star in the business accounting and financial advising world.

She had married young, graduating from an average high school with an average GPA that she was proud of, but distained to move on to community college once her engagement to Tsuyoshi had been announced. She should have been happy . . . she had been happy . . . Yet somehow happily ever after hadn't followed.

The day she found herself pregnant with Ken had killed whatever happily ever after she might have had. Things had been difficult enough for the couple when Osamu was born. His indigo hair and deep blue eyes set him apart from both branches of the family and had been the cause of a great deal of whispering, suspicious looks, and speculating. Rika had almost felt guilty for bearing a child in the first place. And then she got pregnant again. This child would have been a girl had she carried it to term. Sometimes she wondered if she would have looked like her other children. Unfortunately Rika caught a virus halfway through her sixth month. She had brushed it aside as flu, but left untreated the sickness quickly spread. It killed her baby. It nearly left Tsuyoshi a widower. After that the doctors told her that she had a "weakened womb" and would never be able to have children again.

Rika had actually been thrilled by the news. She had never wanted to have many children and their little 'Samu was starting to grow up. He would be three years old soon and they both had their hands far too full with work and a rambunctious toddler running around. She and Tsuyoshi had actually had fights about getting an operation to ensure that there would be no more children after Osamu and she could feel her in-laws eyes on her sometimes, wondering if she had intentionally killed her child. The news that her womb wouldn't support another infant had been such a relief. They had had the perfect little family then . . .

Until the third pregnancy came upon her. This child was not the dream pregnancy that Osamu had been, nor did he relinquish his life as readily as his unborn sister had. This child had been stubborn and strong and just so damn determined to be born . . . even if it killed his mother. Rika had spent the last five months of her pregnancy in the hospital under close observation. Her newest child, her final child, had been so eager to leave her behind that the doctors were forced to perform an emergency cesarean section when her labor pains started two weeks early. Perhaps he had somehow understood how little she had wanted him inside her.

Ichijouji Ken was not born into the world like a normal boy was, he was cut free of his mother's womb early and brought squalling and screaming into the light, perfectly healthy and announcing his general dissatisfaction with everything quite lustily as his drained, semi-conscious mother stared at his tiny flailing fists with lackluster eyes.

Rika's depression lasted for nearly three months, during which time she refused to even touch the infant, forcing Tsuyoshi to bottle feed the boy and call his sister down from Fukushima to care for him when he was at work. Hikito had never been fond of Rika and made no secret of it during her stay with them, parading about the apartment with Ken as though she had borne him and making everyone feel uncomfortable.

Osamu, who had been five at the time, had not understood why his mother didn't love his ototochan the way she loved him. Despite the sometimes shocking comprehension and memorizing skills he was beginning to display, he didn't understand words like "depression" and "mental fatigue." He just knew that there was something different about the way his mother had carried his brother than the way she had carried him. Sometimes Rika wondered if he ever understood that she had been the one with the problem, not Ken.

It would have been better if Ken had been a difficult child. After his birth Osamu had cried constantly, gotten bored easily, and hated everything from his diaper brand to the Gerber imports they paid extra for in the hopes that he wouldn't throw it at them. Ken rarely cried, ate very little, but seemed to love everything, laughed and smiled constantly, and seemed to do everything possible to make himself appealing to his indifferent mother. The child was alert and seemed to delight in everything, particularly his brother whom Rika still doted on and who spent more time with him than anyone else. Ken loved everything-even her-and she couldn't stand the sight of him.

The woman still cursed herself at night in her heart of hearts when Tsuyoshi's breathing had evened out and if she listened hard enough she could hear Ken's nimble fingers clicking away at his keyboard. She had never been able to bridge that gap between them. She hadn't loved him enough, she knew. That's why he was like this. He had come into the world all wrong. And while she loved him more than anything now, she knew when he looked at her that he remembered her rejection on some level. And she knew that he hated her for it and would never forgive her.

Rika balled the last pair of socks up and wiped her face. She hadn't even noticed that she had begun crying. Sighing heavily, she stood up, a pile of carefully folded clothes in her hands as she made her way to her son's room at the end of the hall.

The door was cracked open, so all she had to do push it open with her foot. The woman breathed in deeply as she entered the tidy room. The air smelled surprisingly fresh and reminded her of days when she would take Osamu and Ken to the park and watch them play. She liked to come in here sometimes when Ken was out. It made her feel close to the boy again.

She snorted softly. "You're getting soft, Rika-chan," she chided herself. She moved to the closet and began to put the clothes away, still humming as she went. "What would Papa say if he saw you now?"

Half-chuckling at her sudden nostalgia, she reached up to place some neatly folded undershirts on the top shelf. As she was placing a black shirt up on the shelf, her elbow hit a box that Ken had placed there and it fell to the floor, the contents and hundreds of little pieces of paper scattering everywhere. Rika made a noise of disgust and put the last few shirts away before bending down to pick up the mess she had made.

Somehow Ken always knew when someone had been in his room, regardless of whether or not things had been moved. To prevent "snooping," as he called it, he used to set traps and had went out and bought a lock which he had installed one day after school. When Ken had run away, Tsuyoshi had broken the lock and it had never been replaced. He still seemed to know not only who was in the room, but what time they were in there, what they did, and how long they stayed. It was quite unnerving. She could just see him when he came into dinner tonight. He'd be as cold as he always was, but a little bit harder than usual. "Please be more careful putting the clothes away, Mother," he'd say.

Rika bit her lip. She loved her son. She really did. She loved him more than life itself. She'd do anything for him. But sometimes . . . sometimes when she was alone and it was quiet, she wondered if things might not have been better if he had died in the womb or if he had been struck by the car that had stolen her Osamu . . . And sometimes . . . when things were very, very quiet she wished that he had been.

Her hands stopped their cleaning when she noticed a book that had fallen out of the box. Brown eyes widened as she scanned the cover. "But what is he . . .?" She trailed off and suddenly felt cold.

She turned her attention back to the little papers she had been blindly shoveling back into the box. They weren't papers. Trembling slightly she lifted one up and looked at it, an odd expression of horror and confusion distorting her face. The horror was there because what she had found frightened her and disturbed her on some deep level. The confusion was there because she didn't know why it disturbed her. It was just . . . not right. This was profoundly NOT RIGHT. This was not normal behavior.

The woman sat there for several more minutes, sorting through the contents of the box until her horror managed to evolve into a full blown panic. She stood, the papers on her lap fluttering to the ground. "Tsu . . . I should call Tsu and tell him-" She stopped. If she called him at work, Tsu would tell her she was overreacting. He would tell her to go have some tea and not worry about it-that it was normal. But she was worried and she knew that this was not normal . . .

Rika's hands were shaking by the time she reached the kitchen. She took a day planner out of the drawer and flipped it open to the telephone book. She had opened this book many times and stared at the phone number. Occasionally she even picked up the phone. But never before had she dared to actually dial the number. Tsuyoshi would hate that she had done this without discussing it with him first-without letting him refuse first. And Ken . . . would hate her. Of that she was certain.

Her finger's trembled so badly that she could barely hit the proper buttons on the touchtone. The phone rang three times before it was answered but a crisp female voice on the other end.

"Moshi moshi."

Rika's breath caught in her throat.

"Moshi moshi. Is anyone there?"

"Ah . . . Moshi moshi," the woman stuttered. "I . . ." She closed her eyes and leaned heavily against the doorframe as all her strength drained out of her. "I need your help."

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Ken stared blankly down at his lunch tray. Any and all attempts to focus on anything other than Saturday's soccer game . . . Taichi's lips pressed against his . . . It was most disconcerting. He had actually been caught staring into space in Spanish class and Tanuki had been giving him worried sidelong glances all morning. He didn't know what to do with himself.

He knew what was wrong of course. It was that damned kiss. He just couldn't figure it out and, while Ichijouji Ken was all for tackling a mystery, it was much different when the mystery involved him. He didn't know why Yagami had kissed him, why he had even let the other boy get that close, or why he hadn't beat the hell out of Yagami afterwards. What's worse, he didn't know why his body had reacted that way.

Ken had never had any real interest in sex. Ever. While other boys were concentrating on just how short the girls' uniforms really were and what's-her-face's newest hairdo, Ken had been focused on perfecting black spirals and figuring out just the right time to snap his wrist so that his whip wrapped instead of lashed. Now, other boys were still in the same place, oggling the girls track team and admiring the way so-and-so's cleavage showed when she bowed, and Ken . . . Ken . . . didn't really seem to focus on anything anymore . . .

The indigo haired genius scowled and closed his eyes. But Yagami of all people?

Ken had no qualms about homosexuality or heterosexuality-he just didn't care. He had never found anyone of either sex really worth his time, so why should he care? It didn't affect him. He was too busy, too important, to care about such things. Ichijouji Ken could never be seen as caring about such things. To be sexualized in the eyes of his fans . . . his family . . . even, a tiny voice whispered, his long-dead Oniisan . . . That was simply intolerable. Any violation of his purity would be catastrophic in the eyes of the masses. Even in his own eyes now. A lack of such base drives as carnal pleasures was one of his trademarks. "Why can't you be more like that Ichijouji boy?" was not an uncommon phrase to be heard in Tokyo households . . . to lose all that . . .

But this kiss was so unexpected, so new, so forbidden, that he couldn't help but think of it. And every time he though of it, his throats would go dry and he would feel so strange inside . . . It was different from those half-remembered dreams that left him panting and sticky in the night when he body proceeded to do its own maintenance with or without his permission. It was different than the semi-erotic musings he had had about Motomiya and Takaishi and the Yagami girl. Those had all been about shame and torture-about how best to break them. The high, the climax, had been from their pain, not his pleasure.

This kiss business was another thing altogether, though. He had not been in control. He had not been prepared. He had not been given a choice. He had had every power and illusion briefly stripped from him and he was pressed into the mud and touched and held and known with an intimacy and violation that was entirely new. The newness of it coupled with the sudden loss of control (and therefore responsibility) was a potent aphrodisiac. So much so that, as he stared into space in class, he was vaguely aware of the nether regions of his body, an area that had never before rebelled against him except for during those quiet, private nights that Wormmon never questioned, began to stir with a strength unknown during his waking, lucid hours.

It was really quite frustrating.

He stood up and walked over to dump his tray out. Tanuki would most likely be annoyed at him for not waiting, but he didn't feel like putting up with the American at the moment. He knew that he was going to get mobbed by a dozen questions about what happened at the game and why didn't he take his phone calls this weekend, and why was he zoning out all day, and he really did not feel like dealing with anyone at the moment. The Coon meant well and Ken did appreciate it on a distant level, but the other boy's overprotective streak was also extremely irritating at times.

He wandered out of the cafeteria and nobody made any attempt to stop him. Tamachi was a very high-end school that only catered to either the very rich or the very gifted and the students were actually granted an enormous amount of freedom. Nobody ever really abused it, not even Tanuki was willing to push the envelope on that. One disciplinary meant detention. Two, suspension, and three was expulsion. Nobody dared to shame himself or his family by getting expelled-it would be the end of their academic career-so the faculty was fairly relaxed in many ways.

The hallways were almost empty with everyone either in classes or at lunch as he made his way to the back door. He liked to sit on the stairs by the door and look out over the schoolyard. It reminded him of when he was younger and would sit there next to Osamu as his brother told him everything one needed to know about life. Osamu was extremely precocious and everyday would impart some sort of new wisdom to his little brother. Ken's education had seemed to be his favorite pastime.

The boy settled down on the large stone railing to the left and sighed. The wind blew faintly, blowing his hair into his eyes.

"Tell me what you think the most important thing in the world is, Ken-chan."

The four-year-old's face scrunched up as he thought. "Um . . . Bear-Bear?" He grinned with delight as he thought of the stuffed tiger Osamu had given him his first day home from the hospital.

"Bear-Bear?" Osamu frowned down at him. His hatred for the name "Bear-Bear" was well known in the Ichijouji household. "No, Ken. Bear-Bear is a stuffed animal. A stuffed tiger."

Ken pouted. The older boy never missed an opportunity to point out that Bear-Bear was not a bear. "Then what is important, Oniichan?"

"Well, it's certainly nota stuffed animal. And stop pouting. You look ridiculous."

The child did as he was told and looked out over the empty schoolyard. "Oniichan?"

"Hmmm?"

"Am I important?"

For a moment Osamu didn't say anything and nothing could be heard except birds singing. "Does it matter, Ken?"

"What?"

"Does it really matter if you're important or not? Does it change anything?"

When Ken didn't respond after a while, Osamu looked back down at him. "Ken?"

"I think," the child said solemnly, "that Bear-Bear would be very sad if he was not important to someone."

Osamu looked at him oddly and then reached over to ruffle the younger boy's hair. "You know what, Kenny-boy? I think you may be right."

Ken sighed softly and suddenly felt drained. It really didn't matter, he supposed. It didn't change anything. It had been so long since anything had been important to him that he had forgotten how it felt to love something so much-how to love anything. The lack of memory was a tangible void in him. It wasn't pain, it was merely awareness, but Ken understood that the awareness was something worse than the pain could have ever been. The awareness meant that he knew of the loss-he was just incapable feeling for it. He knew what tears were; he simply could not shed them any more. And how sad was that?

A shadow fell across him, startling Ken, and he whirled around. "Who-?" The word lodged in his throat.

"Nice day, isn't it?"

Ken jumped at the sound of the voice, his thought scattering in his surprise. He whirled around. "Yagami?!"

"Especially since it stormed all weekend," the older boy continued.

Ken scowled and clenched his hands into fists. "What are you-" He stopped when Tai smiled gently and took a step closer to him, forcing him back against the railing. Ken froze and eyed the other teen warily. "What do you want, Digidestined?"

"Relax." Taichi leaned casually against the rail and reached up to brush the strands of hair that fell into the paler teen's eyes. He smiled faintly when Ken jerked away. "I don't bite. I just wanted to come and see you . . . and apologize to you."

Ken narrowed his eyes. "Apology not accepted. Now move out of my way before I move you."

Taichi moved aside and looked at the ground as Ken brushed by him. "Ken-chan . . ."

Ken stiffened and stopped dead in his tracks. "What did you just call me?"

"Why do you hate everything so much? Doesn't anything matter to you at all?"

Ken stared out into the yard and felt something twist inside him. Oniichan . . . Am I important? He closed his eyes. "Why should it?" he murmured.

A pair of gentle hand settled on his shoulders and Ken jumped slightly when he felt warmth on his neck. Ken stiffened beneath the older boy's strong hands. "We're not so bad you know."

"We?" Ken tried to pull away, but Yagami's grip held him rooted to the ground.

The brunette chuckled and it occurred to Ken that he smelled like syrup and warm leaves. Unconsciously the shorter teen licked his lips.

"The world," Taichi explained. "You should really join us sometime. You might even have fun."

"I doubt that. Now let me go, Yagami."

"Now where's the fun in that, Ken-chan?"

Ken jerked himself away and whirled around, violet eyes flashing dangerously. "Stop calling me that! Are you insane? What do you want?!"

Yagami smirked and for some reason Ken found the expression unnerving. "You're such coward. I'll make you a bet then, Ken-chan."

Ken blinked, thrown off by the sudden change of topic. "What?"

"There's a new Starbucks near Tamachi. Meet me there on Friday at five o'clock."

Ken stared. He felt very disoriented and more than a little bit irritated. "You're mad, aren't you? You really are crazy."

Taichi gripped his arm as the boy turned to go. "Wait a minute, Ken! You haven't even given me a chance to-"

"And I don't want to either!" Ken snapped as he attempted to wrench his arm free of Tai's grip. "Now let go of me, Yagami or I will hurt you."

The older boy turned around and frowned at Ken's arm. "You're a coward. Everyone says so."

The indigo-haired boy turned around, a dark frown marring his cold features. "Are you trying to goad me into kicking your ass?" he demanded flatly.

A snicker. "No. I'm telling you the truth. Don't you hear the things people say about you?" Taichi leaned against the wall gave Ken a look the other boy couldn't define. He gestured in an impersonal, offhand fashion. "Ichijouji Ken is beautiful, Ichijouji Ken is nice, Ichijouji Ken is smart and good at sports, but Ichijouji Ken is afraid of people." He smiled slightly. "You're a coward. Are you really so afraid of me that you can't even meet me at a Starbucks?"

"And why should I even waste my time on you, Yagami?"

And then suddenly Tai was right in front of him and gripping his shoulder and leaning down and . . .

Ken relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting in expectation of a kiss. Taichi's lips barely grazed his as he whispered into his mouth. "Because if you don't come, you'll always wonder why I even asked you to."

And then Taichi kissed him, gently pressing his lips to Ken's and slipping the very tip of his tongue past the shorter teen's lip to slowly graze the tip of his teeth. A shiver ran up ken's spine and he tried to lean forward, almost moaning when Taichi's grip on his shoulders tightened painfully to stop the motion. After another moment, the taller teen pulled away and leaned down to whisper in Ken's ear. "Five o'clock, Ken. Don't be late."

He released ken roughly, almost tossing him to the side, and when Ken opened his eyes, the other boy was gone. He stared around with a blank empty-eyed expression for a moment, cold all over. "What the hell . . .?"

The bell rang loudly. Lunch was over.

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Tanuki growled in irritation and rapped on the locker once. Ken was late. Ken was late and he was never, ever late for anything. The boy scowled at the ground and looked down at his watch. It was 3:15. He was very, very late.

A girl walked over and began to fiddle around with the combination on the locker next to Ken's, keeping her head down so that her long red hair fell over her face and she didn't have to make eye contact with the boy. The Coon looked up and his blue eyes narrowed.

"Himozu Tsuji."

The girl flinched at the sound of her name and she froze, dropping her head even lower as though she were trying to hide. "Y-yes . . ."

"You are in Class E with Ichijouji Ken, aren't you?" he demanded.

She nodded.

"Have you seen him lately?"

She looked up and he was momentarily caught off guard by how green her eyes were. "He's out back. Sitting on the rail right by the door."

He blinked. "Um . . . Thank you, Himozu san . . ."

He turned to go, but was stopped when she laid a gentle hand on his arm. He turned around and found himself confronted by her enormous eyes again. "Tanuki-kun . . ." She trailed off and blushed a dark rose color.

He sighed and tried to tug his arm free. "What?"

"They say . . . They say . . ." she blushed darker and started to stammer. "They say that you have an ear with Ichijouji-kun . . ."

Tanuki sighed. He hated it when this happened.

The girl fidgeted. "Would you please tell him . . . I have had a locker next to his for two years and . . . He is so quiet . . . Tell him . . ." her head snapped up and her eyes shone with determination as she said the next words so fast that she nearly screamed them, "Would you please tell Ichijouji kun that Himozu Tsuji likes him and admires him greatly?"

The girl paled and then turned bright red before turning around, slamming her locker closed, and fleeing down the hallway at a dead run.

Tanuki turned around, picked up his case, and stuffed his free hand in his pocket. He scowled angrily. "What an idiot."

He found his friend sitting on the right side of the back door on the thick cement railing that followed the eight shallow stairs down to the ground to end in a plain swirl at its base. Clouds covered up the sun, making the day drab and gray, the same color as the stone railing and their uniforms. Ken was sitting with one leg tucked under him and the other knee pulled up to his chest. His arms were resting on his upright knee and his chin was on his arms. His eyes were closed. He could have been asleep.

Tanuki leaned back against the rail opposite him. They were alone, the last remnants of their classmates at the other end of the yard waiting for rides or goofing off. The Coon frowned and glared at the black leather of Ken's schoolbag that was resting on the ground against the rail.

"You skipped out on me at lunch."

"Mmmm."

"Then you stood me up at the lockers today."

Ken kept his eyes closed and shrugged.

Tanuki looked out at the yard and watched some of his classmates as they played around. "What's up, Ichijouji? You've been in la-la land all day."

Someone shrieked and started laughing in the distance and Tanuki heard Ken shift restlessly near him.

"Ai . . . Tanuki-kun . . ?"

The quiet sound of his friend's voice made the paler boy pause and give Ken a hard look. What he saw disturbed him. The slender boy had pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, making his body as small and compact as possible. Tanuki frowned when he saw how pale the other teen's face was beneath the long blue strands of silk that he was hiding behind. The hard veneer that normally hid the famed genius's eyes was gone, giving them a vibrant luminescence that he had never seen there. For an instant Ken looked young and fragile-breakable.

The Coon shifted, extremely uncomfortable yet unwillingly enchanted by this secret version of his friend. "Ken . . .? What's wrong with you?"

"Tanuki-kun . . . what do you think of me?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think of me, Tanuki?" Ken looked up and his eyes seemed to shimmer. "Am I a bad person? I mean . . . When people look at me, what do they see? Do you really think that I'm . . . untouchable . . .?"

The other boy stood up straight, snorted and waved a hand through the air dismissively. "Pah! You are the Ichijouji Ken!!! You aren't like other people; you can't be broken down like that. You're beyond all that shit!" Tanuki's eyes gleamed as he put his hands on his hips and smirked. "And if anyone thinks any different then I'll teach them otherwise."

Ken blinked once very slowly like a cat and then sighed and turned away again. Tanuki frowned. He wasn't used to his wit and threats not being able to fix things. Ken normally did not demand things from him and he wasn't sure what he was being asked for or if he could give it.

The wind blew, ruffling their hair as the voices of their schoolmates were carried to them from the yard. Tanuki stared hard at the back of Ken's hair, his mind working furiously to find a reason for this sudden malaise. A bird chirped somewhere and the Coon sighed; Ken would say something in his own time. He didn't have to wait long.

"I was thinking the other day." His voice was faintly muffled by the way his head was turned. "Why do you think we're here, Tanuki? Alive, I mean."

"I dunno." Tanuki shrugged in disgust, suddenly feeling annoyed by this line of conversation. "To grow, learn, and play?"

Ken uncurled and slipped off the edge of the railing to stand in front of Tanuki. When Ken turned back to him and his eyes were hard again, but there was still something empty in them-ice over a shimmering lake. "No. There is no reason."

Tanuki lifted an eyebrow and settled back against the stone railing. He was feeling much more comfortable now that he was faced with this Ken. He knew what was expected of him. "Mmmm . . . How's that?" he drawled carelessly.

Ken's eyes narrowed and he looked around for a moment, searching for something. A brightly colored butterfly fluttered past his face and his hand snapped out suddenly, startling the white-haired boy in spite of himself, and effortlessly capturing the insect in a loosely closed fist. As Tanuki watched, Ken gently brought the fist holding the butterfly close to him and reached into it with his free hand to gently grip the fluttering creature by the wings and extricate it from the prison of his hand. It kicked its many legs and jerked pitifully in his grip.

Ken held it out and scowled faintly. "Look at it, Tanuki," he ordered as he gave the butterfly an unnecessary shake. "Look at it. It would shake itself to pieces to escape my grip even though I'm not hurting it. It would tear off its own wings. Foxes chew their own legs off to escape traps and what is it all for? If I release this insect what will it do? Fly away, drain flowers, mate, and die. What is the point of that?"

Tanuki swallowed hard. "Ken . . ."

Ken made a noise of disgust and suddenly tore the butterfly's wings off. Tanuki stared and felt a chill go through him. Ken tossed the kicking, wingless butterfly onto the stone railing. He watched it twitch and writhe in agony for a moment. "Do you see?" he muttered as he stared at it with a contemptuous sneer warping his delicate features. "It still struggles, even now. Even when it has nothing to live for, it still keeps trying!! Why?!" Ken clenched his hands into fists. "What is it all for?! What the hell is this all for?!"

There came a loud slapping noise as he suddenly slammed his open hand down onto the rail, crushing the butterfly. For a moment he stood stalk still, his eyes closed and his chest heaving as he took deep, hungry gasps of air. Tanuki looked at him emotionlessly, oblivious to the people who had stopped to stare at them at the sound of Ken's enraged shriek.

The wind blew again, tossing Ken's hair about his face mischievously. It absently occurred to the Coon that his friend look beautiful like that, with his hair going everywhere and his eyes closed like he was sleeping. Tanuki smiled.

Ken opened his eyes and smirked, a cruel expression. "What's it all for?" he demanded again in a quiet, almost sultry, voice. He lidded his eyes and tilted his head to the side with a serpentine, swaying motion. "There is no point. How can there be a point to all this . . . shit," he held up his hand revealing a long yellow and blackish streak running across his red palm, "when it all ends up like this?"

Tanuki frowned and pushed himself upright. "So then what's the point of anything? What's the point of even living?"

"There is no point. Better to be dead, I think, than alive. Better to just close your eyes and . . . sleep." Ken closed his eyes and sighed. "I'm tired, Tanuki."

The two stood in silence for a moment and then Tanuki did something rare: he grabbed both their bags, gently wrapped an arm around Ken's shoulders, and steered the slightly shorter boy down the stairs.

"Let's go home, mon Capitan-kun."

"Home?" Ken opened his eyes and blinked in that slow cat-like way of his again. "I'd like that, Tanuki kun. I'd like that very much."

The two walked in silence for several moments, Tanuki gently steering a limp and unresisting Ken down to the sidewalk. Any stares were met with a harsh blue-eyed gaze.

". . . You know . . . Himozu Tsuji likes you."

"Himozu? Who is that?"

". . . Nobody, really, mon Capitan kun-probably just some fan girl. Nobody important anyway."

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Chapter Six:

Une Image Sans Visage

Fluttering photographs. Plus, Rika has company over . . . a decision that pleases no one.

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