Story Title: Small Time Magic

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon 02.

Author's Notes: I do use the Japanese names out of preference, but my characterization is based on the US English Dub. That being said, it has been years since I have watched said series, so I am relying on my memory, research, and intuition. I have more 02 stories in the making. Most are Kenyako. Don't know when I'm going to post though…

Thanks for reading. Story inspired by and created with the song "Firelight" by Snow Patrol.

Chapter One: One Night Is All We Need

It all feels like a dream, Ken thought, in that hazy memory, not-sure-if-this-is-happening-but-might-as-well-enjoy-it sort of way. Or a picture book painted in diluted watercolors, more water than paint so that the colors bleed into subtle suggestions of shapes and structures rather than concrete lines and figures.

Ken stood by a banner and waited for his parents. Like many on this warm August night, he wore a yukata, single-color navy blue. Night was just beginning, the fading orange and white-yellow of the day bleeding into the ink of indigo and blues of night. The road to Hajime Temple was lined with carnival stands. Food, games, keepsake stands, sturdily built but easily disassembled, were each more vividly displayed than the last with a rainbow of brightly colored banners and flags, shops distinguished with bold, clear hiragana and kanji, goods pleasingly and eye-catchingly arranged, and well-lit with electric lanterns designed to resemble traditional round paper lanterns. The air was sweet with the wafting scent of yakisoba and takoyaki as the okonomiyaki grills hissed and the bright-eyed children with their families laughed and talked as they pass by.

Obon Festival had a power, like an enchantment more than any physical force, over children. At least to Ken when he was little, much less now that he is a bit older. But it did seem magical when he was five. Especially the way the carnival seemed to sprout overnight transforming the quiet drive to the steps of Hajime into a revelry. After three days, the festival vanishes by morning. The last day is the best. When he was younger, Ken enjoyed the Obon Festival carnival.

Purchases in hand, his parents walked up next to him. Their presence awakened him from his reverie, devoid of significant thought. They continued on their way, up the road and through the steady traffic of fellow families, couples, and solo spectators.

Then Osamu died and after he died, Ken didn't want to go, refused if his parents asked. To a little kid, Obon was just a carnival. His parents told him that during Obon, Osamu like the rest of the Ichijouji family was coming back for a visit and that his mother and father were going to leave gifts and offerings at the temple. The Obon after Osamu died, Ken hid under his covers for three days thinking his brother's virulent spirit was going to drag him to Hell for vengeance for accidentally wishing him dead. Though he was terrified, a part of him desperately wished Osamu would appear that night. But he didn't. It was foolish, but of course, that was then and he was younger.

"Hey Ken!"

Ken looked around certain that he heard his name called. So far, within the ocean of faces, he couldn't recognize anyone. His name was pretty common, must have been for someone else.

"Ken!"

A girl his age smiled and waved. Ken cringed and quietly groaned. She had to be a fan of his, back when being Ken Ichijouji meant perfection, national interviews and press, and intellectual and athletic stardom. Basically when it meant something to be Ken Ichijouji.

His mother tapped his shoulder, "Ken, at least have the courtesy to wave back."

Ken reluctantly complied, smiling awkwardly as he waved. Oh great, she's walking toward me, he thought, sinking into his yukata. Hopefully she wouldn't make a scene. As of lately, Ken's name was just starting to fall into obscurity as a minor blip in the long continuous line of discovered prodigal children. But anyway, the girl…

"Miyako?" Ken barely recognized her.

"Who did you think it was?" She smiled, giggling cutely at his confused expression.

But she was different, still Miyako but not. Her glasses were gone. Her hair down like usual but curled softly in delicate waves, framing her face quite nicely. In a periwinkle yukata patterned with silvery blue morning glories so real Ken was sure their fragrance perfumed the air, Miyako was…momentarily he lost his train of thought just looking at her…Miyako was beautiful.

"Ken? Are you even listening?" Miyako said, annoyance creeping into her voice.

Her critical glare snapped him from his rapt adoration. "Ah! Sorry, Miyako..." He sighed. Different look, same Miyako.

Ken's mother asked if she was here alone. Miyako nodded no saying that she had come with her sisters but they went off with their friends like usual. Certain that she was too young to be left alone, Ken's mother nudged Ken forward and told him to go with her.

"How about it, Ken?" Miyako said. Even the way she smiled seemed more charming than usual.

At a loss for words, he nodded yes.

"Stay together and don't leave the festival. Your father and I will be here the entire time. We'll be watching the Bon Dance later, so if you need us, that is where we'll be. Okay, Miyako? Okay, Ken? Ken dear?"

Ken, his voice still hiding from him, managed to nod in reply before his parents waved goodbye and left. What just happened here? His normally wear a thousand layers in winter so you don't get a cold mother just sort of left him. He wasn't complaining—his mother loosening on her apron strings was the least weirdest thing he had ever experienced—just surprised. And besides, his devoted parents deserved some alone time.

Ken and Miyako continued up the street. Neither had said a word to the other. I don't know what to do, what to say, Ken thought. Not like I've had the chance to hang out with her outside of the Digital World. I was never alone either… Without the company of the other Chosen Children, Ken found it hard to stir up casual conversation with Miyako, though if you asked the others, they'd probably say that out of all of them, Miyako had the most in common, interests-wise, with him. Then why couldn't Ken think of anything? She knew more about him than he knew about her. Gaaah! Ken never felt so frustrated in all his life. Say something! Don't let this become awkward!

Or has that Digiegg already hatched? Ken sneaked a look. So far, she was happy. Smiling as ever before. Ken sighed. Calm down, it's Miyako, he reminded himself. Then why couldn't his heart stop fluttering? Or keep his mind straight? He caught another secret glance. Her eyes…how pretty the shine of her eyes were, basking in the warm glow of the paper lanterns hanging above…

"I really look different, don't I?" Miyako said. Ken nearly jumped out of his skin. "You don't have to stare, y'know. Just say it already."

"You do," he focused on the ground. How long did she know he was looking at her? He felt his cheeks turn pink.

"Contacts. Thought I would like them. Thought no one would tease me anymore." Miyako explained," BUT everybody ignores me now. So I'm going back to glasses. It's so frustrating. I make one little change and everyone goes weird on me."

It may have not been the conversation he was expecting, but at least they were talking. "You do look a lot different without them."

"Ken, you didn't even notice me!" Ken winced, realizing she was right. Miyako groaned and hung her head. "My own family forgot I was even home. They thought I was one of my friends."

"It's not just the contacts," Ken said shyly.

"My sister Momoe did my hair for me. But of course mine doesn't curl very well. Look! It's practically straight again…" Miyako, fed up with seeing it, flicked her hair back and away from her face. Her hair was supposed to look like Mimi's new glamorous curls but the plan backfired. Literally. The curling iron caught on fire.

It doesn't look bad to me…Ken wanted to say but the words stayed in his head. Too nervous and shy, he kept his mouth shut in fear of sounding stupid. His stomach was all coiled in knots. His heart raced. Wasn't sure if he looked calm, but Ken tried to maintain some scrap of composure on the outside, even if his insides were quivering gelatin.

"I wanted to look nice…" Miyako pouted, staring downcast at her feet. If only for one night and especially now she was with Ken. Why couldn't she, Miyako Inoue, have one night being cool and beautiful and not the least bit of a dork? Maybe it was never meant to be. Like something in her chemical DNA that makes her flub up every time. She turned to Ken. "Do I look bad?"

He blanked, absorbed in her eyes, adorable even now in sadness. If only he could get the words out. Don't stammer. Don't stammer, he mentally repeated. But answer her. Quickly!

"No," he simply replied. Whether she believed him was another thing entirely.

Which she didn't. Miyako averted her gaze and returned it to the ground, "Thanks for trying but I know you're just saying that because you basically have to."

He stopped walking. Miyako followed suit. That's not true... His heart sank. Why won't you believe me? Ken, bottling all the courage within him and praying for more, held his bunched fists in determination at his sides and hung his head. "No, I'm not," he shut his eyes and blurted his feelings as swiftly as possible, "You really look cute tonight, Miyako."

Silence. Ken raised up, slowly opened his eyes, and met her gaze. Miyako was frozen, eyes wide and lips slightly gaping in surprise. Red spreading across his face, Ken looked away, feeling some awkwardness settling in. Does she or doesn't she believe me? Ken desperately wondered, wishing he could read her thoughts. Miyako's smile glowed as she too averted her gaze while a blush warmed her cheeks. They began walking again, leisurely. As they passed a goldfish-scooping game, they met eyes once more. Ken and Miyako demurely giggled at themselves and each other.

"This can't be happening…" Miyako chattered excitedly. "This is usually the part in my dreams where I wake up." Ken raised a brow at her statement, regarding it curiously. Cliché as it was, she closed her eyes and pinched herself, just to be sure. Eyes open, everything was as it was. Miyako never felt so lucky in all her life! She and Ken…not fighting for their lives…together alone…and he actually complimented her! Miyako was lightheaded with joy.

Up ahead, a shaved ice cart, gleaming white among the lanterns, stood. Seizing the opportunity to make this the most magical night of her life, Miyako smiled, "Ken, let's get some." Taking his hand, she rushed him along.

Overly eager as usual, Miyako nearly yanked him to the ground when she grabbed his hand. But it was worth it, even if she had. The back of Ken's hand lay embraced in the curve of her palm as her fingertips wrapped in the space between his forefinger and thumb. Her thumb brushed the inside of his hand. It tickled. Her hand was warm and gentle like the rays of the morning sun, and as silly as it may have sounded, Ken wished he could wear her hand in his forever.

Unfortunately that was only as long as it took to reach the cart. As Miyako drew her hand away, Ken still felt her presence tingling on the surface of his hand.

"But I don't have any—"

"My treat, this time," Miyako interrupted as she removed a small purse from her vermilion obi sash.

—end chapter

Author's Notes: Originally, this was a simple oneshot, but it grew. By a lot. So how is it? Part two, a.k.a the ending, is on the way.