Distant Heart

Izumi Koushiro made his silent way down the gray, nondescript hallway, staring straight ahead and wondering which of two upgrade options he would choose for his computer on the bridge. He was seven years old, but that failed to prevent him from having a place on the starship's team of computer experts, who gathered vital information, analyzed it, provided security, and bypassed enemy security measures. His thoughts were deeply entrenched in the pros and cons of each upgrade when someone grabbed his left shoulder and smashed it into the steel wall.

Koushiro was very small, even among his peers, and the impact jarred him greatly, half winding him. He gasped for air and tried to identify his attacker, but his face was pressed into a stomach. Whoever was bullying him was roughly twice his size, but that information didn't really narrow down the pool of suspects. He pushed out instinctively, trying to put some distance between their two bodies so that he could breathe. His defiance earned him another rough shove, but the other child backed off enough for Koushiro to get some air.

Glancing up, Koushiro took in the jeering, ovular face of the boy standing over him. His eyes were hard, small, dark, and beady. He had brown hair, cropped very short. It was Masa, who was famous aboard the massive starship for his nose and ears, which had, for some mysterious and unfortunate reason, grown much faster than the rest of his features. Resignation, hopeless and heavy, settled over Koushiro. A quick check down the long hallway told him that there were no adults to interfere, which meant that a beating was sure to follow. But, as Masa's fist drew back, there were no accompanying feelings of fear or dread. There was only numbness, and the faint wish that this encounter weren't taking place.

The blow connected with Koushiro's face, shoving his head into the wall with enough force to blacken his vision. The child made no noise, gave no real indication that he had been hurt at all, save for his sudden inability to support himself. He leaned heavily on the wall and stared at the floor, waiting for his senses to return. There was pain, of course. The blow seemed to shove his entire body beneath a heavy, cold layer of water, and whatever Masa was saying to him was drowned out by a high-pitched ringing. Worse yet, the collision of his head and the wall seemed to make his brain slosh around in his skull, causing shock waves that resulted in deep, debilitating hurt. By the time Koushiro came back to himself, he realized that Masa had pulled out his pocket knife and was using it to pop off the buttons of his gray uniform jacket. If he could have, Koushiro would have rolled his eyes and sighed. Masa was so predictable.

As he had expected, the larger boy ripped his jacket off, leaving Koushiro in an undershirt and gray slacks. Masa grabbed his left wrist and snorted, then shoved it into the wall, pulling it upward to draw the arm to its full length. It didn't hurt physically, but Koushiro was already aware that there were many varieties of pain.

"Hey, crip," he growled, staring at the appendage. "Gimme your arm. I could use a back scratcher." Koushiro forced himself not to look at his prosthetic. He had certainly spent enough time with it to know its appearance without the reminder. His mechanical limb was composed of steel rods shaped like the skeleton housed within the flesh of an arm. It had a full range of motion, and it was much stronger and more durable than his right arm. However, he had no sensation in his left arm and hand, could receive no tactile input from the prosthetic. Its temperature varied wildly with his environment, and the design was such that his left arm seemed a lot thinner than his right. It wasn't too terribly obvious when he was wearing his uniform jacket, but when it was exposed like this, the difference between his two arms was very much emphasized.

Koushiro took a deep breath and forced himself to stand using his own strength. He could easily bash Masa on the head with his prosthetic and be done with this encounter. Having it was like carrying a blunt weapon with him at all times, but he had never used it for that purpose, no matter how many times he was bullied. His submission was due to a mixture of apathy and guilt. Masa and the other children who tormented him had no way of knowing that he had lost something much, much more precious during the attack that had cost him his left arm. They were ignorant of the fact that Koushiro dimly saw each blow as a way to assuage the guilt set deep within his heart, like some sordid pearl in an oyster beneath the still waters of the open sea. And it was highly unlikely that they were aware of just how little he cared for himself, given his lauded technical skills.

Masa roughed him up some more, but with nothing so fierce as his opening blow. It didn't take long for Koushiro's lack of response to eat away his enthusiasm for hurting him, and soon the larger boy wandered off. Koushiro bent to pick up all of his buttons, then tucked them neatly in one of the front pockets of his jacket. This wasn't the first time that this had happened, and the laundry employees would know where to look for the buttons when they found his jacket in the bin settled below the chute. When his task was complete, he placed the jacket over his shoulders and continued on his way down the hall, ignoring the pounding, drumming pain in his face and head.

Another layer of ice settled around his heart without his willing it, pushing it further from the reach of the world.

Author's Comments

Disclaimer: As a disclaimer for the entirety of this story, I do not own Digimon. This is a non-profit fan work.

When I start a story, I like to give some info for how names will be handled and things like that. I'll say much, much less in the future.

This is a sci-fi/fantasy story (I've always been a bit unclear on exactly what separates the two, and this story has elements of both). I'm very, very excited about this story, as I'm a fantasy writer in my heart. I'm hoping that you'll see the real strength of my writing with this one, but don't we all hope that with everything we do? XD

Anyway, this story starts out rated T for violence and dark situations. Eventually it will be bumped up to M, but whether it's for descriptive violence or adult romantic scenes is hard for me to say. I'm not sure which one will come first (they will both be in there, though).

Here's the house keeping for this story: although it certainly does not take place in Japan, I will be using a mixture of Japanese names and dub names, and I will be using some honorifics. However, it's a pretty loose thing. Some characters will use honorifics, others won't, but I'm hoping it will come out pretty naturally (for example, Koushiro will use them, and he'll address people by their Japanese names, while Taichi will ditch honorifics whenever he can and refer to people casually by their dub names). See wikipedia for a refresher on Japanese honorifics if you're a little rusty :) And here is a handy name chart for you, if you don't remember all of the Japanese names versus dub names.

Japanese/English Dub/Nicknames

Yagami Taichi/ Tai Kamiya

Ishida Yamato/ Matt Ishida/ Yama-honorific

Takenouchi Sora/ Sora Takenouchi

Izumi Koushiro/ Izzy Izumi/ Kou-honorific

Tachikawa Mimi/ Mimi Tachikawa

Kido Jou/ Joe Kido

Takaishi Takeru/ T.

Yagami Hikari/ Kari Kamiya

Motomiya Daisuke/ Davis Motomiya/ Dai-honorific

Inoue Miyako/ Yolei Inoue/ Mi-honorific

Hida Iori/ Cody Hida

Ichijouji Ken/ Ken Ichijouji

Ichijouji Osamu/ Sam Ichijouji

Anami Eimi/ Amy Anami

Please keep an eye on my profile for hints of when the next update is scheduled to occur :) And, as always, please read and review. I want to be a better writer. That's all, thanks for reading!