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It had been somewhat surprising the first time Takeru offered his mother's apartment for their weekly hangouts. Ken's parents were overjoyed when Takeru started joining him and Daisuke on Friday nights, but they might have underestimated how much noise the addition of another teen boy could contribute. The chosen of kindness had been mortified and apologized profusely when his mother came out of her bedroom to shush them that first night. Takeru and Daisuke offered a sheepish, "Sorry, Mrs. Ichijoji. It won't happen again." The blond boy turned to Ken, suggesting that maybe they start having guy's night at his place. He assured Ken that his mother worked late most nights and they wouldn't be keeping anyone awake if they were up till midnight.
Mrs. Ichijoji was hesitant with the idea of three young boys alone for most of the night but conceded when Takeru told her that the Hida's and the Inoue's lived in the same building. At least if there was an emergency, they had someone they could easily go to. They were thirteen after all. They weren’t little kids anymore.
Natsuko was secretly thrilled that Takeru was finally hanging out with boys his own age. But he didn't need to know that. Outwardly, she only nodded her head with a sigh, "Please don't break anything."
That had been two years ago.
All in all, it had been a standard, if not above average Friday night.
There had been food. (Daisuke's ramen was shockingly good.)
There had been videogames. (Growing up playing against Yamato, Taichi, and occasionally Koshiro made Takeru a formidable opponent. Daisuke knew endless cheat codes. Ken crushed them both regardless.)
There had even been a little roughhousing, with, and without the digimon. (Chibimon was a merciless tickler and Patamon was hardly any better.)
Tuckered out, their digimon lay clustered together on the armchair. They had conked out not long after a movie was popped in. It was a miracle Wormmon was able to sleep when he was sandwiched between such loud snorers.
The three teens sat slumped on the couch, watching a terrible American monster movie with Japanese subtitles. Ken spoke English better than either of the other two and could confirm that yes, these translations were atrocious.
It was late, and Ken was tired. He was more of an "early to bed, early to rise" type of person. His two friends were night owls. They would crawl out of bed in the morning, awakened by the smell of Ken making breakfast, the term 'conscious' being debatable. The spiky haired boy would grouch and grumble until he had a good amount of food in his belly, whereas Takeru would be quite pleasant, but in such a groggy haze that anything he was told went in one ear and out the other.
Despite the weight of his eyelids, contentment swirled in Ken's chest.
Takeru burst into laughter at something on the screen and seemed unable to pull himself together. He was prone to late night cases of hysteria like this. The term ‘slap happy’ came to mind.
"Man, what's your problem? It wasn't that funny." Daisuke tossed a handful of popcorn at the teen in the middle, chuckling lightly himself.
The chosen of hope attempted to sound indignant but fell short, still shaking with suppressed laughter.
"Excuse me, I am allowed to laugh at whatever I want. I'm sorry the joke was so sophisticated that it went over your head."
Daisuke's mouth dropped open, eyes wide in exaggerated offense. Even from where Ken sat, he could see it was fake. Takeru matched his expression mockingly, the teens engaged in a bizarre staring competition.
Ken eyed them warily and slowly leaned away. This wasn't going to end well, but as to who-
Takeru. Why did he even wonder anymore? It was always Takeru. He was such an instigator.
Ever so slowly he was reaching towards the discarded popcorn in his lap. The blond brought his hand up and with a flick of his wrist… and nailed Daisuke right in the eye. The boy yelled dramatically, grabbing at his face and calling betrayal.
"Dude, you cheat! Is this what Yamato teaches you?!"
"I was aiming for your big mouth, you idiot!" Takeru guffawed.
"Jeeze, you'd think playing basketball for so long would make you a better shot."
Ken caught a flicker of pretend outrage on Takeru's face before the chosen of hope walloped Daisuke with one of the couch pillows.
"Oh, its ON man!" Daisuke snatched the offending cushion, held it to his shoulder, and jumped. He landed on Takeru and the impact sent him crashing to the left.
In retrospect, Ken should have sat in the middle. Things like this didn't happen when he sat in the middle.
Takeru was thrown into Ken's side, pinning him to the arm of the couch. Though it was jarring, it by no means hurt. Yet sometimes these guys forgot that Ken did not grow up horsing around with siblings, and that his tolerance for physical contact maxed out at a brief hug.
The chosen of kindness could honestly say he had never been this close to Takeru. Daisuke was pushing them so close together that Ken could see his friend actually had a couple freckles. And a popcorn kernel stuck in his hair. And a little scar on his temple-
Ken felt like he had been doused in ice water.
A pale scar. Just below his eyebrow. It was thin and got lost in his hair for the most part, but it was there.
Ken was terrified of it.
He managed to squeeze out of his position and grab the nearly empty popcorn bowl before he heaved. Takeru and Daisuke yelped, throwing themselves away from him, practically ending up in each other's laps and awkwardly sprawled across the cushions.
"Holy shit, man. Did we crush you? Or did I poison you with my ramen?" Daisuke squawked.
Ken shut his eyes and weakly shook his head. Why was he surprised? Takeru took a heck of a hit that day. God, and he hadn't even flinched. But there it was. Proof that Ken had once whipped a human. A kid. And he was his friend now?
Uncontrollable tears blurred his vision and he fought the urge to flee to the bathroom. He wanted to. To hide from what he'd done. But his friends deserved better than that. He could feel them waiting for some explanation.
It would be so easy to clam up. To get lost in his memories and remembered self-hate.
Ken forced his arms to put the bowl on the table and push it away from himself. Count to four breathing in… six out. Again.
The breathing quelled his nausea slightly but did little for the screaming in his head. On some level he was embarrassed to be having an episode in front of Takeru. At least Daisuke dealt with him on a more regular basis. Heck last month Daisuke had to snap him out of it when he practically went catatonic. That little boy had looked so much like Osamu.
At least this time there were no gawking bystanders asking if he was okay while he hyperventilated in public. Just his best friends who, at the moment, had no idea why he was internally freaking out.
"Ken?" Daisuke prodded hesitently.
The blue haired boy blew out one last breath and grabbed at the last shreds of courage he had. If he didn't say it now, he would chicken out completely. And Takeru was probably nice enough to let him get away with it.
Trembling lips formed the words, but hardly a whisper escaped them.
Shit.
No, no, no, he could do this.
Ken fisted his hands in his lap and tried again.
"It scarred."
The words fell from his mouth like rocks. He was almost startled when they didn't hit the table in front of him.
Daisuke frowned.
"Ken, I don't know what-"
"Oh."
The absolute certainty in the sound made both Ken and Daisuke's heads snap up to look at their third friend. The blond's face was empty of emotion, something that was so unusual it felt wrong. Takeru wore his heart on his sleeve. Not quite in the way Daisuke did, but he always seemed so… open? Easy to read if you were actually paying attention. Now he was closed off. Ken had no idea what he was thinking, and it set him on edge.
Daisuke peered back and forth between them, mouth open, but not knowing if he was interrupting something. Ken hesitantly looked at Takeru, who seemed to be looking right through him as if he were not sitting a few feet away.
For a moment no one moved. Then Takeru blinked and deflated slightly. His brow furrowed in a tiny expression of nervousness that was quickly taken over by determination. His whole body filled with tension, as if bracing himself for something. Ken struggled with the urge to lean away. This was not the same Takeru who was goofing around just a moment ago. This was the Takeru who fought for the Digital World. The Takeru who strategized and gave orders, who never gave up.
The chosen of hope sat up properly, catching Ken's eye for the briefest of moments. Ken was startled to see a flicker of fear under the steel. Then Takeru stood woodenly, looking to the floor, to the table, back towards Daisuke.
"Yeah," he said, completely monotone.
Neither of the boys on the couch knew if that was an answered to an unasked question, or if it was just to break the silence.
Still gazing down at the spiky haired teen, Takeru spoke again in that strange, rigid voice.
"Don't… Don't let him go anywhere."
Ken was pretty sure he couldn't have moved if he tried. His insides felt like lead.
"Dude, what are you…?" Daisuke let his question fade when it was evident their friend was not going to answer.
The blond teen stepped forward so stiffly it looked like he had forgotten how bodies were supposed to move. No one said a word as he picked up the barf bowl and walked out of the room.
Daisuke gave Ken a look of both confusion and concern. Ken was unable to respond, too busy tracking the padding of footsteps from the bathroom to the kitchen, a muffled toilet flushing in the background. He lost the footsteps in the sounds of water running and cabinets being opened and closed.
"Ken, are you okay?" Daisuke asked gently.
Said teen gave a one shouldered shrug. To be honest he was terrified. Of what he had done. Of Takeru's lack of reaction. Of losing a friend. He was shaking a little, but he was breathing through it. The scar being there or not didn't change what happened, so why was it such a big deal? Why did it make such a difference? There was endless evidence of the cruelties he had committed in the digital world. There were dark towers left crumbling across most of it. He had stumbled upon quite a few of them, and though he had been filled with disgust at the sight of them, he had never reacted so intensely.
There had been something different about that day. About their fight. Takeru had been so angry. So much angrier than Ken had ever seen him. Ken hadn't cared at the time, but he'd goaded Ken into fighting, (not that Ken had needed much prompting), something that seemed out of character now that he knew the boy. The blue haired teen felt sick again. It had been personal, Ken could see that now. But as to what had set off his friend, he had no idea.
"Here."
The chosen of kindness jolted back as a glass of water appeared in front of him. Startled eyes jerked up to look into the suddenly tired face of his friend.
Takeru patiently waited for Ken to take a few sips before sitting on the coffee table in front of them.
Unable to take it anymore, Daisuke muttered,
"What the hell is going on, guys?"
Takeru slumped forward a little, elbows resting on his knees and looked towards the frustrated teen.
"Daisuke, do you remember that day Iori and I went ahead of everyone to find… the base? And I said Ken and I fought?"
Daisuke nodded, a little peeved at the memory of being left behind, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I lied to you. To everyone, I mean. I didn't get that cut when we were escaping the base. I got it when Ken and I were fighting. I, well…" Takeru broke off and caught Ken's eye.
Ken Ichijoji was struck dumb. Beyond the fact that Takeru appeared to be asking permission to tell Daisuke what happened, he lied about the injury? Why would he have done such a thing? Ken felt like screaming. Instead, he said, "I whipped him."
Daisuke froze, eyes darting back and forth between his friends.
"Shit, man."
Takeru took his reaction in stride, shrugging.
"I deserved it."
The outcry was immediate.
"How-?"
"I really doubt-!"
Heart thundering in his chest, Ken swallowed in horror. There was no way Takeru seriously believed that.
"Okay, okay." The blond boy held up his hands, a smile somehow creeping onto his face. "So maybe not getting whipped, but I was asking for the fight, Ken. You can't deny that. I deserved some of those bruises. I said some pretty awful things to you. It felt good at the time, you know? But after I felt disgusted with myself for saying and doing what I did." His face had turned grim. "I'm honestly sorry for going after you, Ken. It was one of my worst moments and I can't stand that I did it."
The chosen of kindness gripped the glass of water tightly. He was apologizing? In what reality did that make sense?
"Takeru, you don't have to-"
"Yeah, I really do, Ken." Takeru cut him off, suddenly looking agitated. "I had no right to march in there and take everything out on you, when honestly I was mad at myself. I was pissed off and you were just there."
It took a moment for the information to sink in. Ken and Daisuke exchanged a confused glance. Neither one of them understood what Takeru was talking about. At the time, Ken hadn't actually known him, and Daisuke had been absent for most of the day's events. The blue haired teen wasn't sure he wanted to know what could have caused Takeru to be so irate as to take it out on the first person he saw. That was so against how the young man functioned. Daisuke was the one brave enough to ask.
"What the hell made you so mad?"
Takeru tensed and gripped the edge of the coffee table. He stared past them at the wall. His knee started bouncing.
Silence stretched long enough that Ken almost took pity on Takeru and told him to forget it. He opened his mouth when his friend turned back to them, eyes blazing.
"What do you guys know about Devimon?"
In the chair beyond him, Patamon's blue eyes flew open.
Ken's heart dropped into his stomach. He had heard a year or two back that Tai's group had faced off against Devimon way back when they were kids. Sometimes Ken forgot that Takeru was there from the beginning, that he didn't come in towards the end when Hikari did. Whatever had happened… This was an old hurt.
Daisuke wracked his memory.
"He was the first big bad guy you and Tai's group fought, right? He controlled File Island?"
Takeru gave a curt nod, biting the inside of his cheek.
"I hate him,” he ground out.
Ken could read the pain in his friend like a book. His knuckles were white, slight tremors going up his arms from clenching the table so tightly. He stared down at his bouncing knee with an uncharacteristic scowl. When he did look back up at them, Ken's breath stuttered.
There were tears gathering in Takeru's eyes, and he was doing a valiant job at keeping them from falling. Despite this, he appeared anything but sad. He was hurt, and he was furious.
"Patamon died. And it was all Devimon's fault."
Behind him, the little digimon was watching with the most serious look Ken had ever seen on his round face.
Ken's thoughts sputtered into nothingness. Daisuke likewise looked as though his brain had short circuited.
That just didn't compute. There was no way Patamon had been deleted. He had to be joking. Yet his face said otherwise.
"What… What happened? I asked Taichi one time and he just said you guys all worked together and beat him," Daisuke asked in awe.
Takeru snorted mirthlessly. "That was nice of him."
The boy paused, trying to gauge his friends' reactions.
"Listen, you guys have to understand what it was like back then. There was none of this convenient hopping back and forth in the school computer lab. We were in the digital world for months with no idea how anything worked. And a lot of the digimon weren't being controlled. They were just evil. They wanted to kill us to stay in control. Devimon wanted to kill me," he said firmly.
Daisuke looked at his knees, thinking of all the times Takeru in particular had urged them to destroy a digimon that was endangering people in the real world. Of how hesitant they were, especially Miyako and Iori. How scared Takeru was that they wouldn't be able to protect someone if they weren't willing to kill. Daisuke had been enamored by the thrilling tales Taichi and the other kids had spun, but he had never picked up at the absolute danger they had been in constantly. Seeing Takeru like this was a heck of a reality check.
"What happened?" he repeated, softer this time.
"A bunch of freshly evolved adult levels against a massive age-old demon? It was a massacre. We didn't stand a chance. Patamon hadn't even made it to adult yet. So Devimon came for me, and Patamon got in the way…and he evolved into Angemon for the first time."
Ken balked slightly at Daisuke's next words.
"Dude, the iconic 'angel versus devil' fight? It must have been epic."
To their surprise Takeru choked out a bit of a laugh, ending it in a proud smirk.
"Angemon fucking one-punched him."
"Oh my God, awesome," Daisuke breathed in delight.
Patamon's eyes lit up and puffed out his little chest.
Ken inwardly frowned. He could see where this was going. In order to take out such a powerful creature, Angemon must have used up everything he had. To save his partner.
"I mean, looking back, it was amazing," Takeru agreed quietly. "Angemon used the last bit of energy he had to keep his egg there with me instead of having to go to Primary Village. Though…" The boy squinted at the back wall. "Honestly Primary Village was like, right there at the bottom of the mountain. But I appreciate his effort. It meant a lot then."
Reminded of his agonized trek through the digital world, and the time it took to find Primary Village himself, Ken agreed that the effort was worth it. And Takeru had only been seven…
"So," the blond teen interjected. There was no sign of tears now, only a look of honest purpose. "When I saw Devimon was regaining his strength in the dark whirlpool that day… Uh, I was upset. But not at you, Ken. You had no idea what happened, and I still took all my anger out on you. I was wrong, and I wanted you to know why."
Patamon was suddenly at Takeru's side, rubbing against him like a cat and crawling onto his lap.
"You've been spending too much time with Yamato, you're too serious, Takeru." The little digimon plopped himself down and tilted his head back to wink at his partner.
Takeru seemed unable to pick an emotion to settle on until a gentle, amused grin relaxed his face. He ran a finger down the digimon's spine and leaned back on one hand. Cocking his head a little, he inquired,
"Were you eavesdropping? That's rude you know?"
Patamon tutted. "Hard not to sometimes, with ears like these."
Takeru's face puckered. "You tell me all the time that those are wings and do not in any way help your hearing."
The orange creature shrugged innocently up at him.
Daisuke leaned against the couch cushions, looking at Patamon with newfound respect.
Ken was barely listening. It was a lot to process. It made plenty of sense why Takeru had been in such a rage that day. Ken couldn't blame him in the least. It wasn't quite the same, but if someone resurrected Chimeramon… Ken was sure he would lose his shit as well. Even knowing all that, there was still something niggling at him. Something that continued to make his stomach squirm. No matter how provoked he was, Ken had still hurt Takeru bad enough to scar. There was something awful about that. It would be there forever. A permanent reminder. Lingering… like he was contaminated or tainted.
The chosen of kindness took his eyes off the now empty glass in his hands and looked solidly at his friend.
"Thank you for telling us, Takeru. But it doesn't excuse the fact that I left a mark on you. I'm sorry that you have to live with it always being there," He blew out a long breath. He felt maybe one iota better for saying it.
Takeru's face crinkled.
"Oh, is that what's bothering you? Here." He leaned forward to grab Ken's hand, but stopped when there was resistance from Patamon. He looked down at his partner. "I'm getting up."
The digimon huffed and crawled up to perch on Takeru's shoulder, little claws firmly gripping the fabric of the sweatshirt.
"Here, c'mon." He grasped Ken's hand and pulled him towards the bathroom. Daisuke followed closely.
The chosen of hope flicked the light on and turned to face his friends.
"Yeah, you hit me and left a scar, Ken. But look how faint it is. Most days I don't even notice it," He peered at his own reflection for a moment, seeking it out. "I'm way more upset about being mean to you than I am about getting a scar. And seriously man, its like the smallest one I've got."
Ken started at that. He'd never noticed anything on the blond boy before.
"Look at this thing," Takeru pulled up the leg of his pajama pants and nodded towards a discolored patch on the outside of his knee. "I got that when Mugendramon blew up the building we tried to hide in and we fell into the sewers. One of Hikari's elbows looks almost exactly the same."
Ken's eyebrows were lost somewhere in his hair and Daisuke chucked appreciatively.
"And this one," Takeru continued, turning around and pulling back the neck of his shirt, revealing a shiny pink mark the size of a quarter on the back of his shoulder. "I got when Metalseadramon tried to burn down the beach hut we were hiding in. I can't be the only one with one of these, but we didn't even notice till that night seeing as we were all unconscious when it happened."
Ken's stomach was clenching and unclenching at the same time and it was making him dizzy. It was obvious Takeru was being honest when he said he didn't care about the scar, but it was also terrifying to hear about how many times he had been injured by someone deliberately attempting to kill him. And he was smiling like it didn't matter.
Takeru tilted his head back and pointed to an odd mark right under his chin.
"That one was when some asshat at my old school thought it would be real funny to foul the heck out of me during a game. I slammed my jaw into the gym floor and dislocated two fingers."
Daisuke coughed, covering up a comment about basketball being for losers anyway.
"And this one," Takeru paused, deliberately making eye contact with Ken as he hooked his foot up on the countertop and pulled off his sock. There was a smattering of white marks there all around the ankle bone. "That happened when Aniki tried to teach me how to ride a bike and pushed me too fast."
Ken stared down at the scars. Takeru loved the digital world. He loved basketball. He loved his brother with all his heart. He loved these things despite the marks they left on him. A rush of fondness swelled in him for the young man in front of him.
"Besides," Takeru continued, oblivious to Ken's squirming heart. "Here, get your foot up here in the light, yeah that one."
Ken complied, not sure where this was going. Takeru gently pushed down Ken's sock, revealing his lower shin.
"Yup, I was right." He leaned back against the counter, holding a hand up for a high five from Patamon. "Daisuke got you pretty good with his soccer cleats, huh?"
Ken looked down and gaped at the inch and a half long white line across his skin. He'd never even…
"Jeeze, dude! Sorry about that!" Daisuke yelped, sticking his face in close to inspect the mark.
"You don't hate him for it do you?"
Baffled, Ken shook his head.
"I don't hate you either. Its just a scar. And anyways," A mischievous grin appeared on his face. "Scars make pretty good stories."
And they knew just how much Takeru liked a good story.