Disclaimer: Hm, I have one on my bio - go read that.
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Sakura.
Sou ka! Sakura.
That's the word I've been searching for -- sakura. Listless petals of rubicund and pale garnet, floating weightlessly through the broad horizon that stretches high above.
Poetic, I know.
But that's what you do to me. I can't help but compare random, usually overlooked items to other devices; any brown is not brown, anymore. You see, it's russet, or the deep auburn of a smoldering sunset on the horizon. I'm sure you'd just laugh if you heard me. No, not at me.
Never at me. Just with me, at the absurdity.
But what's this about those gliding blossoms? Oh, yes, I'm sure you remember. In one of my more enlightening moments, I likened you to one of those roseate works of nature. And I'm sure you remember when you just smiled at me - was that a blush on your cheeks? - and shook your head.
"You talk too much," you murmured, as if wishing not for my ears to hear. Obviously flustered, the rubber sole of one shoe would scuff the ground in an almost adorable manner. My heart would contract painfully, my breath caught in silent praise.
I hate what you do to me. But I like it, too.
I actually desire this irritating feeling of uncertainty more than finding out the unknown. I enjoy pondering over the many emotions always flashing through your eyes. Another puzzle to decipher for said boy genius, hm?
I wish it was that simple, I truly do. I watch when you think I'm turned away, when you think the former Emperor is still not lurking about. And I observe quite well.
Der Kaiser, he always was an interesting topic to discuss, wasn't he? I still remember when you hit me, once when I was too far pulled into my pit of self-pity and disgust. My slim fingers absently pause to stroke that albata flesh of my cheek, feeling a brief flash of .. what was it, indignation? Perhaps.
You see, the once glorious king still lives. Gomen nasai, I wish I could bring myself to destroy him, yet then I would be losing a vital part of myself. I know I'm screwed up, you don't need to tell me so, I can only muse of what you think of me at the moment.
He sits in the corner of my mind, more likely than not toying with a new scheme to revolt and bring me down to my knees. Sometimes, I wonder if my conscience has a bias for him. I've always had dark thoughts, as any competent psychologist could say so. Ever since the experience with my late brother, I seriously doubt my sanity at times.
Osamu. Did I cause his death; were my half-formed, sickening fantasies strong enough to cause that fateful car to veer off course? I don't know, I'll probably never know. For that, I am yet to count my blessings. Some mysteries are best left undiscovered. I'm sure he'd agree with me, my brother, he was the genius.
I merely slipped on his proverbial shoes, and sunk into his classic mannerisms. In fact, I tried to become my deceased sibling, short of changing my name. The way I act now is a latent example. Some would blame my parents.
I blame myself, personally.
But this is much too off topic, is it not? I believe I was talking of the dormant abomination, right? That sounds correct. I'm jumping from topic to topic, so bear with me. I have a lot to tell you, a lot to say.
You have to realize, there are two of me, friend. There's always that saying, two sides to the same coin, two versions of the story? I'm probably the closest thing to the truth of that, the epitome of the two-face. I don't try to shield myself from that fact; I can learn something from subjecting myself to the inner torment.
The eternal lord and master of Dejitarusei lays in hibernation, allowing me to reign freely over my own mind. So who am I, then? Ever since I received my black Dejital device, I had always been the cruel boy with nothing above him - everyone was inferior. I was becoming the emperor, even if I didn't realize it. The waters of that misty lake poisoned me, those years long ago.
So now I finally have about five years unwound off my weighted chest. Where does that leave me, do you know? I have to reinvent myself, my personality, as I now have no abominable Kaiser to guide me through the dark, with the glowing light of a candle. The wick has been snuffed, and the wax has melted into a pathetic pool.
But, I'm Ichijouji Ken. I'm the blessed keeper of Kindness, and beloved partner to Wormmon. I'm the sixth of your once cursed group, you see, and I can't be more content. I know the others don't accept me, and probably never will, but that's their lost. Why dwell? You've forgiven me, and given me unconditional and string-less friendship, and that's all the sustenance I require.
At least, that's all I used to need.
Wormmon forever has these certain words in his mouth, which he croons softly when he sees my unchecked emotions. There's no way around them, regretfully - and they just make me sadder, though I'd never tell him that. The defeat of the Kaiser has awakened once forgotten feelings in me, such as fear. And pain.
"Genki o dashite, Ken-chan," his mandibles click quietly to the rhythm of my pillow-filled sobs. I wish it was that easy, just to turn around from the traumatic event and give the world a smile, even as it frowns back. I just can't.
Demo, I know you see me too, when you think I won't notice. Those unshed tears mar my vision, and I have to blink a little quicker to prevent them from emerging. I don't think you've seen me cry, but I can never be sure. You're a lot smarter than people credit you for, you know.
I'm sure you'd laugh from that, too. And this time, at yourself.
There is intelligence behind that facade, you don't need to hide it from me. Einstein failed his math classes, but merely because he found it boring. And wasn't he a great of his time?
I can hear your chuckles even now. Chikushou.
Overall, I'm not blind. Your puppy love for that .. that girl, is much too obvious, which is why I wonder over it excessively. I can tell your heart isn't in it, you know, there's something else prowling the fringes of your desire. I can see your indecision in your eyes when you talk of her. Who is it that you want, really?
I think I may know. Matte, I don't want to get ahead of myself now.
Your eyes are beautiful, too. Did I ever mention? Ocher threaded over a chocolate canvas, encompassed with a silken line of midnight hazel. They're like two oceans, ever inflicted with a raging storm - whether you're happy or not.
You're definitely frightful when you're angered. Therein sparks a flash of deadly crimson fire in those spheres, as you rant over the latest atrocity. It's usually you and I seated in your room, both of us equal on the plush carpet, as you retell the events of your sister Jun ignoring you on some level, or how Takeru is plotting a conspiracy against you.
I never laugh, though, and you know it. Your other friends would, and I know it even if you don't. I'm the genius, remember? You're my only companion of the human nature, you see.
Arigatou. You have no idea how much it means to me.
But maybe you do, though. I mentioned of how intellect shifts just below the surface of your quite immature visage, and I can detect it's presence. You're capable of wonderful things, even if you wouldn't believe me. I feel like I'm repeating myself, as I stress this.
Ne, I'd never laugh at you. Not then, and not now.
Saa ne. Perhaps when the Kaiser lived fitfully, he laughed, but he's not me, that I've explained. Scant impressions border my memories of such things, and I recall brief instances where I can actually exist again, in Dejitarusei.
There, the faintest perfume of that world's atmosphere deserving to be bottled; neither salty nor sweet. A musk related uniquely to the different species there. A nearby mass of water would cause a caress of cool, dotted with yet more olfactory triggers.
I do remember, at times, the former emperor would stand upon a hill's crest - gazing at the burning sun sinking below a distant, foreign horizon; eyes flickering behind plastic saffron rimmed and puce lensed glasses. I think he cried too, just like me - but he remained proud and unmoved through the aqueous tracks, and would merely whip the Dejimon that followed him constantly when told to be happy. To not let those saline drops fall. Sometimes, a tissue would be offered, even after the stinging bit of that length of leather.
Happiness was his domination of the world, he convinced himself after a ritual beating of the warmhearted bug. His private vectors of reflectance always let him sink deeper into die Krankheit, the disease, each time floundering back out darker on the inside and more demented. His heart was ice, a large chunk of tainted onyx.
A new plan would form thereafter, one pressing the point of torture to break the wills and souls of his newest servants. No, I know that he just did not slap a dark ring onto a projected arm as most thought, and what was done was done. He wanted to see his prey squirm, to beg him to be released before doing such. Then he'd dash their hopes with that infamous band of night, and cackle gleefully as they served his every whim from there on out.
He makes me sick with a mere thought.
There were rare moments that I can barely grasp and understand, when he would allow the gentle affection of said creature; it would have been touching to me now, had I not despised the dictator so.
There aren't true images in my mind's eye, no, rather the sensation of dead feeling throughout the events. Like I said, my memories are like pieces of scrambled eggs thrown about in a blender turned on liquefy.
I can sense Wormmon's resent for the once despot's evil, as a twitchy antennae barely stroked over a clothed calf of the persona's leg. I can sense the brewing hatred the being has that is both me and not me, just at the knowledge this worm was touching him. The warmth of dying sunshine I can feel through those layers of his zephyr, skintight body suit. It dared not touch the rime coated heart, though, as hideous ghosts of times pasts haunted those corridors. He was complicated, that much is for sure.
Why did the Kaiser crave this attention at the oddest of times, though? Days after the Chosen children discovered his true identity, he had actually agreed with his Wormmon on taking a stroll on the fortress gardens. This sticks out of my memories like a flag. Did he smile, or at least grin as he indulged himself in the scents and sounds? Wormmon will not talk to me about it, and I don't wish to bring him to tears in an interrogation.
Half-formed thoughts I can also perceive, as the emperor would scowl at his throne, hidden oculi shaded a bit lighter as he watched one certain screen. Static luminescence would wash over him, as he remained in otherwise complete dark - no light was allowed to enter his castle, which is probably why I'm so pale anymore. And what was on that screen? I'm sure you can guess by now. He'd shift uncomfortably on his throne ever once in a while, grunting to the surrounding absence of noise, besides what filtered in from the images. Sometimes he would mute it; just to watch and nothing more.
The fallen king also had his quarters of desire, for companionship - he never called it what I do, though, he dismissed it as lust derived from rampant hormones.
He was a fool. He was as infatuated as I am now, if not more so. But that's why he cried - while inside he struggled against the ebony light that wished to consume the his last slice of humanity; the weak turtledove. Are you surprised, that that horrid leader once was human just as I am? In the end, he lost that battle, and the war with it. Tattered wings of humility fell to dank limestone, as damning claret was spilled over once virgin feathers. The symbol of peace was no more.
No one is inherently evil, I think.
The power did that to him. The half-formed promises whispered to me when I was merely six, kneeling at the edge of a steaming lake, could have awakened him inside me. That's when the tyrant was born -- the dark seed worked it's magic fast and thorough.
Maa na, through those opaque streams felt on the rocky rise, the Kaiser felt something. He could not classify it, despite being the child prodigy, but he knew he did not like it in the least. And it was all revolving around one person - which aggravated him. He wanted to know why.
"Naze da, 'worm?" he would whisper despairingly, allowing his royal mask to atrophy and slip away for a few moments. Bitter, cumbersome; these things he did not like to feel. "Naze?"
The one he addressed would remain silent, though somewhat fearful he would be struck for not answering. No blow would come, though, the coiled weapon was forgotten on the boy's belt. But the most disturbing of all, was the wail that he unleashed to the twilight - a scream of pure, blazing agony. It frightened his Dejital partner, but besides the 'mon, no one else truly cared.
No, he was not originally evil. Otherwise he would not have had these touches of remorse for his actions - though all he did was deny, deny, deny at later dates. But that's how it always was. But, truly, who couldn't see his hesitance with the object of his affections? The most chilling aspect of his sadomasochism implemented, his uses of culinary compliments to toy with and embarrass that Chosen child. That is quite hard to ignore, I digress.
He kept my name during that story-turning soccer game, as well, which still fills me with vengeful, stinking venom. How dare he, with the horrible crimes he committed? At times, my svelte fingers will clench into a fist at my side - muscles terse and twitching.
"Daijoubu?" you asked, eyes alight with aureate confusion. You're so beautiful, I would immediately think thereafter. A mere shake of my head would follow, sateen locks of char stained lapis lazuli fluttering about my chin and shoulders with the passing breeze. You'd take me up on my word, at least, though your eyes still held such suspicion. It unnerves me, sometimes. You wonder why you fail at prying me open, from the outside in.
I'm sure you can tell of my anger, though, even if you remain silent to my actions. Your time is soaked up in me, usually, away from the public centerfold - and we are content that way. No matter what, whether lying upon a sloping hill; picking out the different shapes resurrected in floating opal clouds, or doing something else alone. A duck there, an Magnamon over here.
Do you remember the one time, when we found our own secluded area of the park? It was shielded in brush and hedge, the one section unkempt by the usual workmen that scurried about with leaf blowers and mowers, half the time. It held a single sakura tree, just for us, the petals being thrown to the mintcream grass carpet by a destructive wind.
Do you remember when you lit up, as if a light, struck by a thought you considered brilliant considered to my own? You pivoted quite suddenly, and much to my protests, tackled me to the soft, viridian sea spread beneath us. But you didn't stop there, you'll recall, as you struggled to stimulate my most ticklish of places. Barking out a laugh, I could only "fight fire with fire," and launch my own assault against you. After a flurry of appendages and harmless halfhearted death threats, we untied ourselves from a tangled mass of humanity, laughing.
Do you remember when you just grinned goofily after we calmed, as I began to move away, and allow you to breath? Your nimble fingers were then wrapped about my all too thin wrist, strangely warm to the soothing, chilly springtime afternoon air. My mouth twisted, I'm not sure if the tiers went up or down, as my stomach did a flip - and I began to protest to the treatment of your persistent tugging on my arm. You continued your quirky smile, muttering something such as, "Urasai~i, Ichijouji-kun!"
I fell silent.
Dake, do you remember how we ended up? It took much coaxing on your part, and my reluctant cooperation; as I saw it unfair that you didn't have to rest on bent knees. But eventually, the scene followed -- me, adorned out of Tamachi's blasted uniform, which was quite unusual for an appearing in the presence of others. My mother stressed the pruinose articles of clothing I despised, though I still agreed to wear gainsboro slacks, and a feather soft dress shirt, with collar and all. You, always so casual and carefree, that trademark indigo vest draped over a single white-striped obsidian shirt, ending at plain khaki shorts. But who cared for apparel, ne? It was the position we were in, that I found the most intriguing.
Itai, get a tissue for your nosebleed. I know you, baka, you'll be thinking the naughtiest thing.
There we were, I finally accepting the slight twinge of my muscles as I kneeled - my backside resting on curved ankles forced against the ground. I vaguely remember worrying of grass stains, as my mother would later be furious with me, if I'm calling back correctly. Despite this, attention was detracted away as you alarmingly enough leaned back - your head resting quite blatantly in my lap, squarely wedged between the triangle shape of my legs. Who told you that you could do so, anyway? Regardless, you just casually crossed your arms up and above your head; with a leonine yawn. Adorable. My right elbow, separated to your pallid skin by only a fine later of cloth, would rest on the respective bicep skimming my torso's shirt, used to support the side of my face. My fingers, tingling, dug faintly into my silken tendrils of hair - as I felt an immense warmth wash over my entire body, and not because of your own heat. The other digits were more daring than I imagined, and a palm would lower to rest on your side. Right smack dab in the middle, lightly falling on the rough material of your overwear.
You did nothing but smile, though, revealing a row of pearly whites; flashing merrily in the meager shine of the noon-high sun that reached us. Your knees would retract back to your body, arched up, more likely than not out of simple habit of lying down. I returned your expression, though somewhat hesitant and queasy. My digestive track was getting tied up in itself, as every movement of the one I half-held was felt instantly. Every breath in I detected, and likewise any out.
My amethyst eyes leveled up a few shades or so to a shining cornsilk, as I could barely contain my joy for the position I was in. I was foolish, though, to think you did not notice when I began to finger the material of your denim vest absentmindedly. You said nothing for quite some time, despite a bushy cinnamon 'brow raised. I could have sworn my own heartbeat fell in time to yours, through all that.
You're amazing - do you know that? You can bring a former emperor to his knees, literally, in silent and unknown worship, with nothing more than allowing such things.
"Ken," came your whimsical mumble, and I had to let my vision stray away from the roseate petals that littered the ground. They fell upon you, still lying there - neither of us had moved for quite some time. You blinked up at me for a moment, hesitant with something you fought over inside. A faint smile would grace you, tender - a completely different sight from the vehement grin of earlier.
Ne, what could he want? "Demo, what is it?" I inquired softly, matching your set pattern of quiet address. My hand paused momentarily, mulling over a brass circlet attached to your vest - having found it quite bemusing for restless fingers. I also echoed your cant of lips, feeling a smile, for once, without having to go through the gnawing of unfamiliarity. I hated the new emotions, but I loved them as well.
Your gaze became wistful, as you continued to watch me - considering me - for a moment or so more. You then let your eyes slip shut, in a wider show of ivory pieces this time; once encaged inside that mouth. "Tell me a story, Ken-chan. One about cherry blossoms."
A rush of color immediately rushed to cool at the surface of my cheeks, and I was thankful you were unable to view my nervous excitement. You never used such a title on me, this '-chan,' before that certain moment. It had always been Ken-kun, Ichijouji, or just plain Ken. But this filled me with an almost drunk giddiness, as I savored the feel of you partly in my arms.
A story about the sakura? I could have managed that.
"The flowers? Well, I do know one nice tale," I replied, feeling a flash of delight cascade over me. Your eyes were intent to focus upon me once they unsheathe from bronze eyelids, and I can almost see my image mirrored in your honey flecked maple ponds. But what did you see when you glanced back at me - the lilac eyes of a monster? You're mein gefallenen Engel, you see. I feel as if a reflection of contempt, sometimes, and I certainly don't feel angelic compared to you. But that's just my opinion.
Dame, do you remember the fiction I wove for you, that day? I do clearly, the story of the wondrous hero and the his adventures around the world. Silly, he used the petals of the your cherished cherry tree as a weapon, implementing them onto throwing stars to bring down his foe. Despite this odd, impossible dream, you seemed quite content with the fantasy. As I talked on, infliction in my husky alto voice, you and I merely gazed at the frolicking branches hanging above us.
As I finally finished, with the hero destroying the greatest of evils in his world, you gave me a thankful nod of your head. But that wasn't the end, far from it, as we remained there - still content to watch the floating petals spiral endlessly to the earth with each minuscule shake of the tree.
We agreed to come back to that spot, when we finally built up the courage to break the perfection of the experience. The day by then had waned into the early evening, most of it spent in complete silence - and I noticed the ocher and sterling bands of light dripping over the ground, and you. You would rise to your feet, I think, and then turn, offering me a hand. With both of us upright, I could see the something deep set in your fathomless eyes; which would leak out a few moments later by the replacement of respect. Glancing at our still joined hands, you'd give a faint laugh, and release me, placing a hand at the back of your neck.
Was it the third time we met, or the forth? I'm not sure what the date was, but I do remember the way you felt. The softness of your pallid flesh under my lips, joined to your own.
I .. I didn't mean for it to happen. It just did. I was already stressed from my ambiguous mother trying to tend to my ever whim at home, and I was in desperate need for escape from my schoolwork. Work on a Saturday, in fact. Something unheard to most children of my age, ne? Regardless, I immediately dialed you up - are you honored? - and asked to be met at our special spot. A short while later, there you were, panting from the obvious run over you had engaged in. You gravitated closer, or was it me? We talked, just standing there, bemused with topics such as soccer and the newest of video games.
But as the crocus sparkles fell over your eyes just so, caused by a shield of luteous leaves and still clinging blossoms, that's when it happened. I swear, it was much too abstract to actually believe it occurred. My hand, on your shoulder .. and then you were pressed roughly against me, and I'm not sure that was me doing such.
Bliss. We eventually pulled away from the other, my petite hands having come to loop about your upper back. You hands, as still as they were, I could feel clinging to my thin hips. You took in a few deep breaths, again that interesting something making a flyby through slightly glazed irises. Whatever it was, I liked it. But you suddenly, regretfully, pulled away from me - a hand touching your chest as you coughed; needing air, presumably.
Then you left the clearing.
I stayed, too. But why am I not sad, or worried that you truly don't feel the same for me? Why it can't possibly end in heartbreak, and I merely turn over the fact you probably need to reevaluate your feelings for me? I felt that kiss as much as you did, and I could sense your want for me. Not to be egotistical, or anything - ne, you taste of licorice and sugar, too.
Demo, sore wa himitsu desu?
Iie.
Because as you left, you turned your head back to catch one last glimpse at me. But it was unlike any other parting glance I had ever felt; there was a warmth swimming in your frosted brunette eyes - almost lightened to the shade of your auburn streaked hair. I know what I saw.
Namida. Naze da?
There they were, glistening diamonds collecting at the corners of your beatific oculi. They are seriously the window to your soul, you know, and I hope you never shut the blinds and pull down sash to me. They weren't falling because of pain, nor fear. It was happiness, and you made no jump at hiding that. Something stirring there told me you'd be back.
I shouldn't have blown that kiss. It just made you run faster once gone, after all. Gomen for the tears, but perhaps it is what you needed the most. I know I've shed enough to fill an Olympic sized swimming pool, pinned with pain and not cheerfulness.
Onegai shimasu, hayaku! Your decision I await with spread arms, love. Don't disappoint me, all right? Ne, don't worry, you could never upset me.
The phone's ringing now, and I don't even need to note the identification table to know it's you on the other end. That mechanical screech of the device is calling me from my composing of this .. what is it, a narrative? A letter? Perhaps I will give it to you one day, and you will finally understand all there is of me and my distraught past.
Yes, it's you, my mother has finally answered the whirling alarm and is calling for me. Any inquiry to who it could possibly be as already been answered. Casually, I will make my way down the hall and retrieve the cordless slice of plastic, and listen as you talk.
Aaa, here's the phone. What do you have to say, koi?
"Ken, I need to talk with you," then comes a pause. A heavy breath is released, as if you'd been holding it back to talk. You sound relieved, when I agree - responding. "In our meeting spot, you know? Ja ne!" Click. And you're gone, a dead buzz knocking me from my phantasy reverie a few moments later.
I hang up, grinning brightly. Reaching over, I scoop up the slate hued jacket that was hung neatly over my computer desk's chair. Pausing, I muse over the situation, and whether I should keep you waiting just a little while longer. But parish the thought, torment you with a longer wait than need be? You're probably already there right now!
I glance at Wormmon, who had been watching me write this work with wide lampblack pupils. Flashing him a double thumbs up, I finally make my way out the door, heading towards you.
Ganbatte, Daisuke. I won't be too long.
-owari
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Foreign Phrases
* = german, others are japanese
sakura
cherry blossoms
sou ka
I see
*der Kaiser
the emperor
gomen nasai
I'm very sorry
Dejitarusei
Digital World
genki o dashite
cheer up
demo
well
chikushou
damn it
matte
wait
arigatou
thank you
*die Krankheit
the disease
naze (da)
why
daijoubu?
are you alright?
urasai
shut up
itai
ouch
baka
stupid, fool
*mein gefallenen Engel
my fallen angel
dame
but, however
sore wa himitsu desu
it is a secret
iie
no
namida
tears
onegai shimasu
please
hayaku
hurry up
koi
love
ja ne
see you later
ganbatte
don't give up, hang in there
saa, maa, etc.
just sound effects
.. jaa~a!