Our Way

"Onii-chan," Hikari asks one day, "do you like Sora-san?" I pause, ready to blow it off with an answer like, "duh, so when did you notice?" or "yeah, we spend half our time together 'cause we secretly can't stand each other and want to break each other's legs," or something like that. But instead, I just shrug and say, "Yeah."

"As in, 'like' like Sora-san?" Hikari repeats cautiously, drawing in her lip.

What's the big deal? "Nah." That's kind of a lie, and I know that Hikari knows that too. "Kind of" because I don't, y'know, have a crush on her or something lame like that. Not in that mushy chocolate-and-sealed-note way. But we're not friends in the way where you can casually sling an arm over their shoulder and think nothing of it, either. Even if we used to be like that. We're older. And Sora -- one of my best friends and the bearer of Love -- is pretty.

See? I can admit that.

And that's not the only change, either. I mean, look. She doesn't play soccer anymore: no more endless conversation about whether Matsuoka kicks Ooka's ass or if it's the other way around. She doesn't wear that helmet, but she can court a mean backserve on the tennis court and talk to her mom more easily. That's all good stuff.

So, Yagami, I think, why does it still bother you? And what do you tell your sister when you realise, "I don't care about that dating crap, but I wouldn't really mind kissing her?" For all I know, that part could be related to Sora's Crest.

Hikari's next question floors me.

"Well, then, what about Yamato-san?"

She can't be serious. "What about Yamato?"

"Do you like him?" she says, shifting her feet uncomfortably. She doesn't mumble, but her voice is very soft.

"Jeez, Hikari, what do you think?"

"I don't know! That's why I'm asking you." Her voice is a lot more grave than it should be, like my reply decides the fate of two worlds again, not a silly crush. She's more cheerful than she used to be, but sometimes I see the flickers of her old self, like she's bound to an invisible weight that's dragging her down. (That reminds me of Yamato, actually. He does the same thing. I'm surprised they don't get along better. Then again, maybe not; they are years apart.)

Like the person she's struggling to be is being blocked by the past.

If it were up to me, I'd make sure that she never looked like that again.

"Ahem," I say, clearing my throat loudly. "Yamato's my best friend, but last time I checked, he doesn't swing that way." Nicely evasive, Yagami. 'When did you check?' I think, as that nagging inner voice rings in my head.

Hikari doesn't seem impressed, though. "You know what I mean, onii-chan."

I give up. "Seriously, I have no idea. I guess, I like both?" I attempt to joke, "Why settle for one when you can double your fun?"

She groans.

That's somewhere near the truth, to be honest. I'd never wanna be all lovey-dovey with Yamato, like, buying each other stuff and making out on the sofa (could you imagine that? he'd probably sock me in the face first), but there is this undeniable sorta thing between us.

Not exactly in the buddies-for-life way like with Agumon, and not exactly in the run-to-each-other's-aid-whenever way either, though that's closer. Both are true in their own way, but it's different.

Like three years ago, when I was lying on the ground and Yamato ran up to me after our group was crumbling into shambles. When he came there after so long, and I knew that I could count on him. I could barely breathe, but at that moment, something in me burned just a little brighter.

Hikari's more poetic; she might call it strength or something like that. Maybe a blazing fire. But all I know is that I felt more solid, like the cracks that had been forming within me began to melt away in a rush of warmth.

I wonder if he felt the same way, too.

And then when we went to high school, he was different. Before, he was one of those guys I always thought of as a jerk: popular with girls, but horrible to talk to. Icy, aloof, and condescending to boot. But then I realized he wasn't like that. He was moody and annoying sometimes, but in his own special Yamato way, bless his poor retarded blond heart.

I don't know if he was always like that, or if the Digital World just changed him.

But I think the Digital World changed us all.

And the same goes for Sora.

I've known her for so long. Before Agumon, before these Crests, and before going to the Digital World. In some ways, she's the first real friend I've ever had. When we were on the soccer team and nobody wanted to play on my side, Sora stuck up for me. When we ran to get ice-cream in the summer and she got the last triple-scoop sundae, she always shared it with me. And when she started crying about her mom one day, I felt like I was right there alongside her.

In the Digital World, I wasn't even sure she needed Birdramon, because she always ran like she had wings of her own.

So it doesn't matter so much that she's started folding flower stems (that's what she does, right?) in perfect symmetry or whatever it is her mom does now. Or that she actually likes wearing sleeveless yellow sundresses and going shopping in the summer. Because? I know Sora. And part of the Sora I know is always going to be with me no matter what.

It doesn't matter if Sora and Yamato start dating. They're my friends. And I care about them both.

As I decide that, a voice breaks me out of my reverie.

"Huh?" I say, and look at my sister, who gazes at me with a bemused, half-curious smile on her face.

"I never thought that you were the type to overthink things, onii-chan," Hikari teases.

"Yeah, neither did I." And that's true. Frankly, this is way too much reflection devoted to the subject for one night.

But my sis starts to talk again, and for some reason, I feel like I should keep listening.

"You care about both of them, right? But you've been different lately--"

My eyes widen, and she continues.

"Almost like you're scared you'll lose them. Because you haven't seen them in a while, and because you feel like both of them are blocking you out. Like you've been left on the outside, looking on at them. That's it, isn't it?"

I nod, dumbfounded. I crane my head, and wonder if the muscles in my neck are still working.

"But silly as it sounds, onii-chan, I don't think that's the case. I mean, I'm not sure how to explain this," and for all I know, this signifies a world shaped by boundaries yet undefined, "but I don't think they would leave you alone. Ever." Her voice drops like a lit wick.

"And that's what you're worried about, isn't it?" My expression gives her the answer she wants. She looks a little searching, a little contemplative, and a little contented all at once.

How does Hikari even know all this stuff? I swear, she picks up more than guys twice her age--she takes two and two and bam! everything falls into a perfect four in her hands.

So naturally, I throw a pillow at her.

"Hey, what was that for?" she shrieks through a mouthful of feathers and fluff, eiderdown sticking to her hair. "Onii-chan, you're so immature!" Look, younger sisters have to pay a price in some way. And I like seeing her act her age. Oops, should've checked to make sure that pillow was still close--

Wham. I spit out feathers from the pillow I'd just aimed at her. Hikari is merciless when she wants to be. She picks up the next two pillows, conveniently lying right next to her, and starts pummeling me with them full force. Heave, fling, toss; hey, is it fair that almost all the pillows are on her side of the room?

Ladies and gentlemen, the delicate Yagami Hikari.

Okay, so I did start it. I throw a pillow back at her again, and that's the end of our discussion.

And beneath it all, I start wondering when I can see Sora and Yamato again.