Review response: I know that Wormmon does have an armor form. I just meant that if it were up to me to show Digimon, his form would appear in adventure 2 (the animated series). It's Pucchiemon, I believe, or some other spelling. I'm too lazy to look it up. Sorry for confusing anyone.
Agh! Sorry this took so long. First, I had to go visit my cousin in a different state, and we stayed for a day longer than we'd planned. Then, the modem broke and the Internet was down for a week. I lost the story within the depths of my memory stick. It turned into weird symbols, so I tried to open it with something else, but then it closed by itself. Whenever I opened it, it would show one line of the story, and then not be able to respond. Word pad gave me snatches of the story with long intervals of symbols replacing the other words. Finally I found the other copy I saved hugs little voice in head that tells me to save a back-up. I know the last chapter was extremely dull, but trust me; it was as fun to read as it was to write. snore Bear with me! I needed to establish the relationship betwixt Dai & Miya! I despise writing the intros… Don't worry, the objective of this ill-started story will unfold soon.
Warning: Daisuke's speech may contain grammatical errors. This is completely purposeful.
Sunlight spilled lazily into the drab gray room, creeping up the walls in vain attempt to brighten the room. More adventurous rays beamed upon the occupant of the room, blinding her with their antics. Miyako ducked her face into the shadows and the sunlight reluctantly retreated from the reflecting home of her lavender hair.
Miyako stretched lethargically, feeling her stiff limbs crack and urged fresh blood to pump quickly through her veins. She stifled a yawn and tested her right leg. To her surprise, there was no longer the searing pain she was used to. Excitedly, she unraveled the bandage with trembling fingers. She gave an odd squeak of joy, seeing that the wound was now only a light scar. Miyako's hand flew to her mouth as she realized the unladylike sound that had escaped her mouth rather loudly.
The door flew open, and in marched a most disheveled and alarmed Daisuke.
"What was that? It sounded like a puking bat! You okay, Miyako?" he asked, brandishing a broomstick threateningly.
Miyako couldn't help but blush. "Um, that was uh…me…" she finished weakly, turning a lovely fuchsia. Daisuke concluded that she was a great consultant on colors; a carnival would plaster itself across her cheeks often.
"So. What was that unpleasant sound for?"
Miyako rolled her eyes and pointed at her leg, still loosely clung to by soiled bandages that reeked of various roots. "My last wound has healed."
Daisuke grinned. "Seriously. I could swear you're made of iron or something. I have never seen anyone heal that fast. Hold on. I think I left something in the other room."
Daisuke turned around and hurriedly walked out of the room, leaving the swinging door open. Miyako's gaze happened to wander down. Turning a brilliant scarlet, she realized that she was still dressed in her silk nightgown. Which just happens to be see-through, she thought.
Dismissing the thought, she swung her legs nimbly over the side of the bed and recalled her dream. Shifting her weight carefully onto her legs, Miyako twirled off the cot and hummed to the melody that she had dreamt of, seeing the magnificent palaces and lush gardens, laden with vegetation. How good it felt to walk without pain!
She danced gracefully to the drawer, singing in a low whisper and imagined the scent of white magnolias, crimson roses, and the crisp autumn air. She could hear the whisper of the wind in the rushes by the stream and the clear water shone in brilliant rainbows. Without opening her eyes, her fingers wrapped around the knob of the dresser's drawer and gently pulled.
The drawer came open in a low groan and Miyako ceased singing and looked upon the contents. She chose a forest green shirt constructed of fine thin velvet, considering it momentarily in the mirror. Miyako dropped it back in, deciding that it would hint that she was nobility and chose a beige cotton shirt instead.
Moments later, Miyako stood before the mirror, attired in her cotton shirt and black riding pants, a russet dress falling from her waist like a waterfall. She frowned at her reflection and ran a hand through her wild lavender hair. After unsuccessfully tackling it multiple times with a comb, she gave up. The lilac locks sat in place, refusing to be tamed and mocking her.
Peeking into the hallway, Miyako timidly stepped forth. Daisuke had still not returned, and her thirst to explore burned. The hallway wall was whitewashed and chalky, the latter learnt by running a finger along the off-white surface. Miyako could see a dining room, a living room, several other doors, a parlor, and the entrance to a kitchen from where she stood, and, curiosity provoked, she headed to the living room.
The house wasn't large; a cottage, she concluded. All the walls were covered in layers upon layers of whitewash; several places were lathered in the stuff. The living room was sizable enough, Miyako thought. Several wooden bookcases lined the walls, shelves bending from the weight of a large variety of tomes. A wicker chair lounged in the center of the room, surrounded by a couch made from fabric and a wooden loveseat. A polished wood table sat humbly in the middle of the gathering, bearing a few weighty books with ripped binding and plate of black round things; candy, perhaps?
The floor was wooden, although the seating place floor was covered in an elegant carpet, and a few rugs scattered themselves in clever places. Miyako was turning to the living room when a hushed voice caught her attention. Interest affectively provoked, she followed the source of the voice—the kitchen.
She stood next to the doorframe, knowing that she shouldn't, but listened anyway.
"…retreated."
"Why would they? Advantage…theirs."
"I don't know. What's important…target. News arrived…pris… escaped."
"…inten…joining them?"
Miyako was utterly confused. The conversation contained a dangerously low amount of nouns, and had no direction. She could identify one of the speakers as Ken, but the other was unknown. He (probably a he) had a smooth and serious tone, one that obviously leaked authority and had strict speech (from what she could make out).
"…your guest?" Miyako was interrupted from her thinking. She froze, contemplating whether to run or stay. She wasn't supposed to be listening.
"Yes, I think that is. Miyako, please come in."
Like a naughty child caught—but still unwilling to admit; Miyako boldly marched in, disproving the theory that she was shy. Ken and his guest—or guests, actually; sat at an elegantly carved round table, mahogany, she guessed. Remembering courtesy, Miyako lifted up the edges of her skirt and dipped in a brief but respectful curtsy.
"A pleasure to meet you," she told the floor.
Miyako looked up at the two guests. The first one, the male unknown speaker, sat in the chair with stiff posture and the air of regality very much like Ken's. He rose from his seat and swept into a graceful bow. Miyako stared at the top of his crown of fawn-colored hair. At least a head shorter than her, he straightened from his bow. His face was set and serious, features stern but attractive. His skin was pale—but slightly darker than alabaster porcelain.
"Likewise, madam. It is a delight to make your acquaintance. I am Iori Hida." Iori extended a thin hand and Miyako shook it. His grip was cold and efficient.
"It's nice to finally know you," Miyako added with an awkward laugh. Iori's eyes, deep jade and dark, seemed to bore into the very center of her soul; like he could see through her.
As he sat down, the other guest stood up from her graceful position perched on the chair. Miyako couldn't help but feel her jaw fall. The girl moved in such refined elegance that Miyako felt sure royalty envied her. She smiled in an angelic fashion, resembling very much an angel. Short hazel locks fell longer in front, amazingly contrasted with beautiful porcelain skin. She smiled, showing pearl hued teeth and pale rose-colored lips.
Extending a thin, elegant hand, the girl tilted her head in a curious manner, radiating refined charm.
"Hello. I'm Hikari Yagami. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!" She clasped Miyako's shaking hand and firmly shook it, not noticing Miyako's awe of her.
Miyako gave her a meek greeting, and sat down in the seat quietly, still unable to take her eyes off Hikari. So this was whom Daisuke kept talking of. He wasn't exaggerating, Miyako thought with a grimace. Once again the comparison of Hikari and Miyako was Aphrodite and the ogre.
So immersed in thought, Miyako didn't notice the plate set down in front of her and as if in a trance, poked absentmindedly at her wheatcakes. She took in the conversation between the other three whilst amazingly ignoring Daisuke's savage table manners. Iori, seeming so strict and quiet, seemed talkative and playful around them, while even Ken seemed to forget his severe expression.
There conversation was a light, cheery banter; detailing various problems that were happening in their kingdom, as well as gossip between the villagers. Miyako scanned the two new acquaintances' attire. Iori was wearing a plain navy blue tunic, low quality linen. Underneath, he had on dark brown colored riding pants and his feet were swamped in worn leather boots that were clearly a few sizes too large. Iori was animatedly still talking about his encounter with the grocer that boasted the largest fruit in the market, but also claimed that they had excellent protein; jabbing at the table with his fingers to illustrate the double meaning impression that he'd given everyone.
Hikari giggled prettily, unconsciously drawing Miyako's attention to herself. She wore a fresh sky blue habit-like tunic, beginning in a v-neck shape and plunging straight around her bent arms, sleeves pooling on the table, emphasizing her slender shape. Underneath, Miyako could tell she was dressed in a crisp white shift, pure as the driven snow. One side of her hair had been held up with a fuchsia colored barrette in the front, complimenting her enigmatic deep amber eyes perfectly.
Miyako burned with unknown jealously that she guiltily squashed down uneasily. The way she spoke with Ken, familiar as family, and the way he laughed at every joke she made; all of this stoked the raging fire of envy growing and growing inside Miyako. On top of that, whenever Miyako had spoken about how others 'sometimes treated me according to my face', Hikari had stared straight at her with those horribly unfathomable amber orbs full of mirth; smiling at her.
After listening further to Hikari talking about her collection of books, Miyako felt she couldn't bear those laughing eyes anymore. Leaving her cake uneaten, Miyako excused herself and scrubbed her dish; having donated the remains of her breakfast to the ever-hungry Daisuke.
Perching on the edge of her bed, Miyako sighed dejectedly. How horrible she must have looked to Hikari! She could hear the scraping of chairs in the kitchen, signaling the leaving of the occupants. Moments later, Daisuke entered her room, manners forgotten about knocking. His brow furrowed into a frown.
"Miyako. Something wrong? You seemed upset."
"No, nothing's wrong."
He raised his eyebrow in question. "Remember what I said? We are the kind of people that are horrible liars. And you, no doubt have just proven my point."
She scowled at him. "None of your business, Daisuke. I'm fine."
He snorted. "You are an awful liar. Spill it. What's wrong?"
Miyako frowned in defeat. Evil Daisuke. "You wouldn't understand," she retorted. It was true enough. Daisuke shrugged with a grin. "Well, if you never tried you wouldn't know. You know, I'm actually a lot more comprehensive than you people think."
Miyako gave up. "I don't think it's funny to be silently laughed at by Hikari."
"What?"
"I can see the laughter in her eyes, you know. Whenever she looks at me, I can see it. I guess…I'm jealous of her."
"Jealous of Hikari? Why would you—besides the obvious—be jealous of her? Sure she's pretty, popular, got royal blood, a great position, okay, maybe you're right, but she's missing so many things. Hikari's parents passed away several years ago, probably poisoned. She knew who it was, but no one listened. The traitor escaped, and now she's only got her brother. She can't see either. Lost her vision in a horrible situation. I would see why she'd be jealous of you, free as a bird, not tied down. When you were talking about your face, she couldn't tell how you looked and assumed you were saying you were treated nicely because you were pretty."
Miyako flinched in shame. "I'm sorry."
Daisuke waved it off. "Come on! Today I brought my sword. I wanted to show you something!"
Before Miyako could respond, an excited Daisuke dragged her off. Past the living room, where Hikari waved to them, hearing Daisuke's rough dragging and Miyako's halfhearted protests, they went. Daisuke invited her to join them, but she politely refused, insisting that she needed to leave soon. Iori and Ken were no different, so Daisuke happily lead Miyako to the garden.
Miyako, having never seen the garden, gazed around eagerly. A multitude of shades of lush green shocked her eyes, varying from the mellowest yellow to the most brilliant neon to jade hues so deep that it could've been black. Herbs and medical plants grew abundantly in a patch half-in half-out of shade provided by an elm, and several tall grasses quivered and whispered at the slightest breath.
A grapevine grew entangled with a thin wire, woven into an intricate design. Although the vine was flourishing and the leaves ripe; it bore no grapes. Near the whitewashed walls of the cottage were rosebushes, branches fat and luscious; leaves darkest emerald. Miyako traced a branch with her finger gently, avoiding the thorns, relishing the smooth texture and reliving moments from her memory.
Something struck her as odd, and her eyes widened in question. "Why are there no buds or roses on these bushes? I thought that this was the season for them," she asked Daisuke.
He sighed heavily, impaling the tip of the wooden stick-that-was-substituting-the-sword-because-the-real-thing-would-be-too-dangerous into the soft dirt. "I guess you'd have to ask Ken. His plants are always weird. Something about 'enchanted foliage that reflects the heart of the master'. I dunno," Daisuke concluded with a shrug, as if dismissing the subject.
Miyako suddenly became aware of the other plants in the garden. She scanned the trees that bordered the garden and the forest behind them, cherry, apple, apricot, peach, Hawthorne, pear, crab apple, Miyako named, recognizing the leaves. All beautifully healthy, fertile and verdant, but not a flower bud nor young fruit graced the foliage laden branches.
Miyako turned her eyes back toward Daisuke, burnt sienna silently apologizing to cold umber. Daisuke cheerfully broke the mood by swinging the dirt encrusted freed stick-sword in an elaborate motion. "That would be a plane tree. It's got no fruit to begin with. Do you wanna see me or not?"
Miyako sat down on a wooden bench, absentmindedly stroking the beech wood as Daisuke announced his performance. Daisuke swung his sword around at invisible enemies, naming each maneuver and fierce stroke. Miyako watched with interest as Daisuke severed a head and rendered a limb from the imaginary foe. Watching him dance with his sword as a partner reminded her of the courtiers, how they were forever twirling with such speed and grace that it was dizzying to watch. How she had yearned to join them but was forbidden. She applauded him.
She stood.
"Daisuke, I want to use the sword. I've used it before, and I know how to wield it."
It came out more of a command than the casual question she planned, but it wasn't easy to keep the demanding tone out of her voice now that she had overcome her shyness. At home, Miyako had every comfort she asked for, aside from company, and servants had always bustled and rushed to do her bidding. She winced.
Daisuke stopped spinning it, looking at her in an odd way. He held up the sword, point facing the sky, as if it yearned to pierce the blue.
"You? Can you do it well enough not to kill yourself?" he asked in a solemn tone.
Miyako frowned in agitation. They all underestimated her, didn't think her enough to swing a thin piece of metal. She nodded. Daisuke wordlessly handed over the sword, tip dangling loosely toward the ground, gravity urging it to plunge into the earthy soil. He plopped down on the bench next to where she was previously seated, crossing his legs as he waited to see the display.
Miyako took the hilt, receiving a small shock as she noted that it felt frigid. Cold as the Artic wind. Inspecting the weapon carefully, she observed the simple design, the maker obviously lacking skill. Yet when she swung it, the thin long blade sang through the air and sliced the breeze, having fine balance despite the length of the blade. It filled her with a strange feeling, intoxicating somehow. I have control… The strange ecstasy of power, an aura of some sort that made her dizzy and thrilled.
It felt dangerous.
Miyako mentally slapped herself for being so insane. If you keep doing that, you're going to go insane. It's just a sword. You've handled these before. The voice in her head again. Perhaps her conscience?
Whirling the blade through the air with expertise, Miyako repeated Daisuke's course, also decapitating the translucent enemies and dismembering fearsome foe with grace. The only thing she could do with grace. When she snuck glances at Daisuke, she could see that he was grinning.
Wiping her head of sweat, she dipped in a quick shallow vow and was awarded Daisuke's enthusiastic clapping. Propping the weapon on a tree, Miyako plopped down next to Daisuke and gratefully accepted some water.
"Fancy."
Miyako scowled. "Just fancy?"
"Yup. Too fancy. You learned this for show, I learned it for killing."
"Well, I'm not the one on the battlefield. You're here a lot. Haven't you got any family that would rather have you home?"
"I've got a sister; Jun," he shrugged. "She's working a lot, and not home very much. We have to support ourselves, and I don't make enough, so she has to make up for it. Anyway, when I do get paid, I risk my life, and nowadays I don't get much because I'm not a captain anymore."
"What about your parents? Are they…?"
"My mother, yes. She passed away a few years back. My dad left us a long time ago. He was an alcoholic. We weren't rich, you see."
Prompting him to go on, Miyako successfully pulled his life story out. She held wonders with manipulation.
"I met Takeru and Hikari when I was five or so. I knew Iori and Ken since I was six. I was raised in a village bordering the Kido kingdom. Just my mother, father, sister, and I. We were pretty poor. My mother worked as a midwife, and my dad was a farmer. My mom wasn't paid very much, and she wasn't home often. My father was a horrible farmer and messed up his plants all of the time. So one day when I was eight, he quit and decided to go to the town to find better work. What do you know? He got robbed and drunk. Then when he came home, he's heavily intoxicated and in huge debt. To pay for it, we had to sell the farm. Unfortunately, my mother couldn't do it, because she was with child and sick; but the guy demanded that we pay back the money immediately. My dad was addicted by then, and squandered all of our money on wine. When we ran out, he stole." Daisuke looked at his feet, twitching them pointlessly. His eyes were heavy with emotional pain.
"The law caught up with him eventually, and he ended up in prison, still with debt. To bail him out, Jun had to sell the farm, but she couldn't argue her way to a fair deal. We got paid less than the farm was worth. When we bailed our father out, he wasn't the father we knew. He didn't know us, and continued stealing. All of that time, our mother was falling ill more. To get the money for a doctor, Jun sold herself as a servant for two years. When the doctor came, all he did was subscribe expensive medicine, like powder of unicorn horn and tiger whisker with ground pearls."
There was a cold tone in his voice; sharp as the sword blade he toyed with.
"Then when she was ready to deliver, all we could afford was an inexperienced midwife. The baby was born dead. My mother was hit hard. She died a few weeks later, whether from the illness or grief, I don't know. We sold everything we had to buy her a coffin. And what did my father do? He gambles everything away to get more wine. We tried talking to him, but he just ignored us or hit us. He said he didn't recognize us. In the end, we buried our mother by the forest with a rock we painted for a marker, with no coffin. Eventually, Jun manages to work two jobs, a servant by day and a rat catcher by night. I worked in a field, gathering onions and potatoes and everything else in the ground from dawn to dusk. We managed to get a small rundown hut. Jun would come home sometimes and collapse in the doorway. I was so scared that she would die of stress. We survived on the wages we made and the produce I stole from the fields. It was really risky, and I could lose much more than my job if I was caught," Daisuke traced sloppy circles in the dirt with the sword point. He held out his palm and Miyako could see the traces of old blisters that had probably come from pulling weeds with razor edges and stubborn roots. She placed her hand under his and gently traced the blisters with gloom, as if she could make them disappear.
Not withdrawing his hand, Daisuke continued, "We were actually lucky, compared to the other orphans on the street. They couldn't work and had no home. The patrols would often drive them away or beat them. Then one day, Jun happens by Hikari and her brother, Taichi. They're nobility; nephew and niece of the Yagami King. So when she tells them her story, they go home and convince their uncle to help them. They were only children, so he didn't take them very seriously, but we got a nicer home and I got a place in the army as a messenger and assistant with medicine. Jun got an apprenticeship from a blacksmith. By then Takeru had disappeared. I was ten years old. So, here I am now."
Miyako sullenly gave him her sympathy. He masked his pain well. She would never have guessed at the depth of his eyes, always so cheerful. She'd always prided herself on reading people's eyes.
"Don't be. My father's probably in debtor's prison, and I don't care. I've got an awesome sister and great friends. I have a roof over my head and enough to eat that I don't go hungry. Who needs him?" Daisuke grinned. "Now that I've spilled my life story, I think it's time you tell me who you are."
Miyako grimaced. He was right. Oh well. They were bound to find out. But Daisuke probably won't tell anyone. I'll be all right. Compared to him, my life was luxurious and I was ungrateful.
"Alright. But promise me you won't tell anyone." Daisuke nodded. Miyako inhaled deeply. Here goes.
"I'm the second daughter of King Inoue. The 'Ugly Princess'." She sat back and waited for Daisuke's reaction.
Ugh, that was a terrible ending. Sorry this took a month. Even though I promised myself that I wouldn't be like those other authors that take so long to update, I still took just as long. Okay, I've tried to make Daisuke's past interesting but it didn't really work.
On my Microsoft word document, the side bar (the one that controls the up and down of the document) has disappeared. I can't find it. It's version 2000. If anyone could help me with this problem, I'd appreciate it.
From now on, I am determined to finish at minimum a chapter, (3000 words at least), every fortnight.
There were only two reviews last chapter, but I stick by my word. I'll finish as long as there is at least one review, but please! A minute out of your life to leave a sentence of critique will be greatly appreciated.
If anyone would like to beta for this story, please contact me. I'm not really in need of one, but I often have writer's block and am horrible at humor. So preferably someone that has a lot of ideas and a sense of humor, and can respond within five days.
Next chapter: Follow as Miyako meets Yamato (?), meets Taichi, finds out Ken's past, sees Hikari's home (?), and develops a bond with Iori.