Author's Notes

Hello everyone. And to those who already know me, hi again. Here's the first chapter of Immortal, which, once I put some thought into the preliminary stages of planning, has turned into a multichaptered fic.

Now, this is the sequel to In Memoriam..., so if you haven't read that yet, I'd recommend you do so otherwise you might get lost here. Emphasis on the might, because you might not. But it's a short fic, only six pages long so it shouldn't take too long, unless you're like my friend who takes the whole of lunchtime to read half a page. But that's only because her other friends (sometimes me included, sometimes not) distract her too much.

Disclaimer: I don't own digimon. I do own In Memoriam... though, and this fic.

Anyway, enjoy everyone. And sorry about the confusion. I promise it'll get clearer later on. But you're more than welcome to ask. Just if you do, mention whether you want anything spoilt or not, because that will impact on the level of depth I can explain things, and to some questions, whether or not I can answer at this stage at all.

Immortal

He wasn't alive. Not truly. Some part of him had died that day. But the others didn't know. But they can tell something's wrong, and they won't stop till they find the answer. But sometimes, it's better off not knowing...

Kouichi K

Genre: Supernatural, Angst

Rating: T

Chapter 1 – Deviation

Most classrooms were rather mundane in appearance, and the one Kouji was currently seated in was no exception. It had the basic structure of any regular classroom though it was slightly smaller; four walls, a roof, and the floor, with the door in the right hand corner and the windows at the back, currently closed to repel the cold mid-winter air. The class itself was warm, and rather stuffy, due to the heater positioned at the back of the class, but no-one wanted to receive the coldness in consequence with the wanted fresh air. As such, the windows remained closed, and the heater on, and the students present allowed their minds to slip into a slight haze in the warm environment.

The room was mostly void of decor; simply the usual desks, chairs and chalkboard furnished it. The desks were arranged by rows, five rows of six desks each with enough space between each two for someone to slip between, forming two thin aisles down the room, with the end desks against the wall. The teacher's desk was slightly longer, and stood apart at the front of the room, in front of the black board which was attached about waist height off the ground, the small ledge under it containing variant chalks and an eraser.

The teacher stood in front of the class, as he usually did at the beginning of any period. Most were present, and occupying themselves by either conversing quietly or enjoying the warmth, snuggled under the many layers they adorned and stifled under the heat that the classroom contained. Except Kouji, who looked as though he was waiting for something, or someone.

Said boy looked up as the door opened. Coincidently, his first period class, mathematics, was the only one he shared with his brother, thus the fact that he was absent from it was not missed by the younger twin. Though the incident which had landed the elder twin in the hospital had passed well over a month ago, Kouji couldn't help but remember his strange reaction when he had brought up the topic of Lucemon's defeat, as well as the odd conversation which had taken place at the hospital.

Neither one of them had brought up the topic again after that, Kouji choosing to leave his brother in the contentment of his sketchbook's return, and consequently the return of the memories of his past.

But he was concerned, because even after the incident, and the resultant shocks, had passed, there was something wrong. Something Kouichi wasn't telling him...

'Kimura-kun,' their teacher, Sujiyama Osamu, stated, not exactly scolding but rather close. Had it been another student, it probably would have been. 'You're late.'

The younger twin leaned sideways on his chair to catch a glimpse of his brother as the elderly male was blocking his view. All he could see was the forest green that was the light jacket he normally threw over the rest of his outfit, before that too vanished as the one wearing it shifted, presumably into a bow, as his voice seemed lower to the ground as he spoke.

'Gomen nasai Sensei,' he murmured, in his usual quiet tone, though no person, student or teacher, had a problem hearing the words due to the current pin-drop silence which currently stifled the classroom save the teacher and student exchange. 'There was a delay on the Yamanote train line.'

'Well...' the teacher moved aside to let Kouichi in. 'See that you don't make a habit of this Kimura-kun.'

'Hai Sensei.' The elder twin bowed again (presuming of course that he had bowed the previous time) before hurrying over to the only vacant seat in the room, coincidently the one between his younger brother and the wall.

Kouji's eyes followed the elder twin as he placed the books he needed for the first three periods on the table, before slipping into the seat quietly, eyes darting to meet the younger for a split second before he diverted his gaze to the front. The younger twin's brow furrowed; he was sure something was different, but his still slightly preoccupied-by-sleep mind seemed currently incapable of piecing the pieces before him together, so he filed the feeling away for future reference and reverted his attention to the front of the classroom.

And it was only as the teacher continued his lecture and the general hubbub picked up again did he realise what was wrong with the picture.

The black bound scrapbook was no-where to be seen.

Second period. Science. And Kouji was thrown for a loop for the third time that day, and none too happy that his brother had managed to slip past him during the end of first. Now how that had happened, he had no idea...though he supposed it had something to do with the fact that he had once possessed the spirits of darkness, as well as a certain knack, for lack of a better term, of slipping past people unseen.

Whether that was a good or bad thing overall was anyone's guess.

And so he resigned himself to trying to track down the older twin during the lunch break.

Kouichi breathed freely once he was out of range of the other's vision. Being twins, the two were rather perceptive when it came to something bothering one or the other, and that sometimes complicated matters when neither were willing to tell, though in the end, they were always found out, Kouichi by unspoken means, and Kouichi by the help of his odd knack of sneaking around unseen sometimes coupled with a certain goggle-head's help.

And Kouichi knew that Kouji was well aware something was out of the ordinary. And that sooner or later the others, close as they were, would begin to catch on as well.

But that was a confrontation he would rather avoid. And so he did his utmost to avoid it. After all, he had seen his brother's anger, his hatred, his anguish...even if they had not intentionally been directed at him, or explicitly, and the matter was unfortunately intrinsically complex; it was after all, only with his second near death experience had he been able to concretely define the situation he now found himself in. And even then, not fully.

But in keeping silence, the darkness would one day speak out.

And when that time came, for good or ill, they would all know. And they would judge. Judge him...or them perhaps is more technically accurate.

What can it be called when the murderer and the murdered are the same soul, bonded by spilt blood, scanned data and the touch of death which forever connects a soul to the spiritual plane while at the same time making the link to the physical one permanent?

'Kouichi, what's wrong?' he asked the elder twin as soon as he finally caught up with him after school, the elder twin having not shown up for lunch due to reasons he chose to leave unsaid.

The addressed stopped walking and turned back, resigned but hiding it well. 'What brought this on?' he asked, confusion lacing his voice. Had the younger twin been playing closer attention to his tone rather than worrying about everything else, he would have realised the forced perplexity, but as it was, he didn't, which Kouichi was visibly grateful for, although not when anyone was around to see it.

Kouji sighed, knowing his brother was a hard shell to crack, and a direct question would rarely illicit a direct response. 'Where's your sketchbook?' he asked instead.

'Why are we answering questions with questions?' was the reply.

The younger twin shrugged. 'You tell me, you're the one who started it.'

'True.' The elder then resumed walking, Kouji following for a few paces before realising they were both heading in the wrong direction.

'Hey!' he exclaimed. 'We're going the wrong way.'

'No,' the other rebuked, continuing to walk in the same direction. 'You are. I'm not.'

Normally, Kouichi would stop by the library after school, and since it was a block away from Kouji's house, they would walk home together. Thus the fact that he was breaking their normal routine, simply put, brought Kouji more concern.

'You're not stopping by the library today?'

The other shook his head, pausing about a metre away seeing as though the younger twin wasn't following him.

'Why not?' Concern overlayed his voice, and it wasn't lost on the older twin.

'Kouji,' he sighed. 'Just because I deviate from my usual routine doesn't mean that something's wrong.'

'True,' the other acknowledged. 'But-'

'I need to get home,' his brother interrupted, rather uncharacteristically, seeing as though he was always extremely polite, and rarely cut of anyone in the middle of a sentence, much less his brother. 'Mata ashita ne.'

By the time Kouji got over the shock of his brother's out-of-characterness, for lack of a better term, Kouichi had long vanished into the crowd.

Kouichi slipped his key into the lock while giving an inward sigh of relief for having dodged the bullet, for the time being at least.

He had been slightly surprised when no-one had answered his knocks, but simply assumed his mother to still be at the hospital while at the same time suppressing the rising worry within him. After all, he was early, and Tomoko's shifts were becoming increasingly later, so combining the two, it was quite probable that she was yet to arrive home from work.

The key turned smoothly in the lock, the door opening under his touch to reveal the dim apartment hallway, shadows cast on the wall due to the orientation of the windows. He stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him, bending down to untie his shoelaces like he normally did upon returning from school, only his mother was usually home and he greeted her first.

She wasn't, but he expected her to be home soon, and then there were the dishes to deal with, left over from their breakfast and preparing lunch for the simple reason that neither could afford to wash them and be late for their respective destinations...although Kouichi had wound up being late anyway due to the train delay.

He shrugged off his backpack, leaning it against the wall and tossing his navy blue jacket on top, before pulling his sleeves to his elbows and turning the faucet on.

After all, he had, in a sense, lied to his brother, or at the very least, given him the wrong impression. Because there was no real reason for him to be at home save the sanctuary the four walls provided from the outside world.

Because only in darkness and silence could secrets be kept.

And even then, not fully, because curiosity was one of the fallibilities of human character. And after all, as they say, curiosity killed the cat.

Though it was rather safe to assume that satisfaction will not, in this case, bring it back. Because with the complexities wrought about his silence, it may just be better off not knowing...

His mother came home about ten minutes later, the weariness sinking into her very bones even as she tried to keep herself in a condition to be able to support her son. It was strange; many secrets existed in their walls, safe for the time being from the outside world. In some cases, like his, the walls kept the secrets from each other, though it was possible, and even rather probable, that had his mother been in a healthier state than a slow deterioration of both the body and the mind, she would have noticed something.

As it was, her exhaustion after the long hours of work she was forced to endure generally led her to bed after her domestic duties had been taken care of. Once Kouichi had found out, he helped as much as he could to lessen the load, but in relation to her work, and her health, he could do nothing, and she would not allow him to help further than cleaning up the house and doing the shopping by dropping out of school and finding a job to help sustain them both.

The suggestion had come up a few times over the course of the weekend, but had been immediately shot down by Tomoko, who insisted the elder twin focused on his studies and spent time with his friends so he could at least be happy, and when he graduated, preferably after completing a tertiary education, find a better paying job than what could be offered to a high school dropout.

She had done well in hiding it; it was only two afternoons ago that he had found out the source of the problems, though he had witnessed the symptoms for longer. It was only then did the two sit and talk, and Tomoko explained the cancer that would eventually take her life.

There had been silence for a long time afterwards, the walls that sanctioned them looking as though it would close in like the woman's already dug grave, figuratively speaking.

The topic was soon dropped, as it was bringing discomfort to both mother and son, and so the four walls guarded the secret brought out into the outer darkness but yet to come into the light, as the chronically ill woman had begged her older son to promise to keep the knowledge from the younger one. Kouichi had, understandable, been reluctant, but it hadn't taken much persuasion for him to relent and give his word, though that could be put more to the slowly settling shock of imminent death than much else.

Now, he stood in the relative darkness of his room. His sketchbook, the prized possession, was in his hands, withdrawn from its hiding spot from under a loose floorboard. The book was open, the drawing he had begun in the hospital complete; wings barely transparent in the background due to the darkened background, lightly shaded over with a mix of yellow and blue, yellow symbolising happiness and the blue, tranquillity, the mask that covered the truth beneath.

Then he slipped the book closed and back into its confines, replacing the floorboard and straightening again.

Soon after, he turned, his gaze sweeping past the door before focusing on the window, clasped shut and the heavy curtains covering the glass which served as a barrier between the inner and outer world. In his room at least, alone, he didn't have to pretend, to paint over the image with the colours of happiness and content. There, he could leave himself in the colours which naturally occurred, the black shadow obscuring him, the white light revealing him, and the intermediate, the most common and to the largest extent on the pastel which was his soul, the grey which represented a bleary nothingness...and far more.

Behind him, the lock clicked into place, as though enough force had been applied to the handle to cause it to fully shut.

He turned back to fixate the blue eyes upon the doorknob, if only to validate the cause, though he didn't need to see the white flash out behind him to know the presence of the almost transparent wings which expanded from his back.

Nor did he want to.

And despite how much he wished they did, he couldn't just shade the truth out of existence, applying colour to eliminate the crude greyness that was his future, and his present.

All he could do was conceal it. For now, till the colour faded to reveal the plain foundations of truth.

Translations:

Gomen nasai – I'm sorry (formal)

Hai – yes

Sensei – A respectful way of addressing your teacher

Mata ashita ne – I'll see you tomorrow (a bit informal)