Not mine. Just Read.
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Memory Loss
(do I really want to keep that as the title?)
Chapter 3

~By Shimegami-chan

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Regardless of the fact that I'm uber-pissed at FFN for killing my support services when I sent my renewal payment a MONTH ago, I shall continue writing, because I know you all cannot subsist without me. ^_~

...right.

More Memory Loss coming your way. This will be posted after I get my Services back, and I apologize. Baibai~!

(BTW, some of this is rehashed from Memory Lapse. Sorry about that.)




"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Daisuke exploded, staring incredolously at Ken. His patience had been tried over and over and over again that day...and now this!? "Tell me you're joking, Ichijouji."

"Ichi...?"

Daisuke blinked and allowed his breathing to return to normal. "You're not joking, are you? You honestly can't remember?"

Ken slowly sat up, looking intently at the palms and backs of his hands. The only light in the black cave was the screen of Daisuke's D-3, which cast an eerie glow on the face of both boys. "I don't understand...I can't remember anything! Who are you?!"

"Whoa, Ichijouji, don't freak out there...I'll help you. If there's anything I can do, that is." It was Daisuke's turn to worry now. "What have you forgotten?"

"Well, if I knew, I wouldn't have forgotten it!" Ken seethed.

It seemed he hadn't forgotten how to insult people. "Well, you certainly have the same personality."

Ken stopped short. "...I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. Without you I dare say I'd be even more confused. What was your name again?"

Taken aback at Ken's sudden shift in attitude, the younger boy stammered, "Mo--Motomiya Daisuke."

"Hajimemashite." Ken reached out and shook Daisuke's hand, Western-style. "Now, uh--Motomiya-san, is it?--who am I?"

"-kun is fine," Daisuke assured him. "Or even just Daisuke. And you're Ichijouji Ken. You're from Tamachi, Japan; eleven years old, you play soccer and know judo, you're really smart...euh...I don't really know a lot about you, actually, now that I think about it."

"Did we know each other well?"

"Well, kind of." Daisuke hesitated to mention the whole Digital World bit--if the Digimon Kaiser was out of commission for a while, why push him back into it? "We played soccer together. I'm from Odaiba."

"Odaiba. Tamachi. Soccer." Ken repeated Daisuke's words, seemingly absorbing them. "All right, another question; what happened to me?"

"You...fell," Daisuke said slowly, uncertain how to phrase what he needed to say. "You and I were....fighting...and we both fell from one of the mountain ledges. You hit your head pretty hard."

"Fighting?" Daisuke prayed that Ken wouldn't ask too much. He was fortunate that the ex-Kaiser was taking this all so well; then again, he had always seemed like a patient and composed person. "A physical fight? What were we arguing about?"

"It's not really important, Ichijo--er, Ken. Just a minor disagreement."

"But you're helping me now, so we must have made up."

"You could say that." Daisuke grinned. "We may have had our differences in the past, but I wouldn't leave you behind when you were hurt. And you are hurt, so you should lie back down."

"Right." Ken lay back again, pillowing his head on Daisuke's jacket. "Thanks a lot for taking care of me...Daisuke."

"No problem...Ken."



Later in the night, Daisuke sat in the dark nursing his sprained ankle. I wish V-mon was here.

His D-3 was glowing only faintly, barely enough to cast a shimmer of light over the sleeping Kaiser's face. I wonder what he's dreaming about? It must be tough losing everything like that. I feel sorry for him.

What would the others say if they knew I was helping him...?

They wouldn't have left him there to die. Would they?

No, he decided, they wouldn't have. Not Miyako, or Takeru, or Hikari...not even Iori. That made it easier for Daisuke to beleive that he was doing the right thing. That he could help the Kaiser, maybe even convince the Kaiser to turn from his evil ways...for the good of the group.

Certainly not because Motomiya Daisuke had a soft spot for the dictator. No way.

Right?


@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@~*~@


When Ken next came to, light was beginning to filter through the mouth of the cave and leaked toward the place where the two boys were dozing.

The indigo-haired boy leaned on his elbows to watch his savior, the mahogany-haired child who lay sleeping a few feet away, shivering with the early-morning chill. Daisuke...the name was familiar to Ken, but the memory was just out of reach. He tried out the name, whispering it softly. "Daisuke. Daisuke."

The other boy did not stir, merely turned over in his sleep, whimpering slightly as he moved his leg. Ken noticed a splint wrapped around it. He's hurt, and somehow he got us both here okay. This boy...is admirable.

Another word swam up to Ken's consciousness. Friend.

Mustering up his strength, Ken crawled to Daisuke's side and lay back down beside him, spooned against the other boy's back. He then draped the bomber jacket over them both, and curled tightly against Daisuke, feeling his warmth seep into his companion's cold skin.

My friend.




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Shi-chan: Hope everyone liked this chapter. (Sorry it was short.) I'm trying to slowly develop the Kensuke, else it won't be realistic. More soon. ~^_^~