DAISUKE

Sunday, 2 p.m.

Ken eyes the train route, skeptical, but I scoot closer and thread our fingers together as we draw closer to our destination.

By the time Ken finished his bath—and regained some color and energy—I'd eaten, washed the dishes, and come up with a plan for our afternoon. Because he may be able to survive a sedentary life, but I have to move, and I've spent way too long waiting for him to wake up and sober up today to not feel stir-crazy.

And if he's going to blow hot and cold, I'll have to force his hand.

So the moment he was dressed—and the tease took his damn time—I shoved his jacket and shoes on him and dragged him out the door. I didn't tell him where we're going. It's a surprise. Even if Ken hates surprises. He can deal with it.

Okay, I may be a little peeved about his behavior before hopping in the shower.

Just a little.

"Next stop, Tamachi," the automated announcement declares over the intercom.

Ken casts a curious glance my way, but I stay silent.

As the train slows, I rise from the seat, pulling him up with me, and we exit as the doors open and push our way through the crowds toward the station exit.

"What in the world are we doing in Tamachi?" he asks over the noise, keeping close to my side. "We're not visiting my parents, are we?"

I shake my head.

"What else is here that you'd possibly want to see?"

"Hush, Ichijouji." I lead the way up the stairs, and we cross over the tracks and back down to the street level. "It's a surprise."

He hunches over beside me, a scowl on his face. "I hate surprises."

I chuckle. "I know. I've surprised you enough times to tell—besides, the whole 'I hate surprises' speech you make every time makes it pretty damn clear."

"It's hardly a speech. Don't make it sound like I'm so anal."

I squeeze his hand. "You are so anal, but perhaps I am exaggerating."

It only takes maybe five minutes to reach the canal, but Ken hesitates the moment we reach it. The sun won't set for a couple hours right now, but he breaks away from me and heads for the railing, hands twisting around the metal as he studies the calm water below.

I stay behind.

"You know," he says, glancing first to the right, then to the left, "this is the way I walked home." Then, he turns his gaze back on me. "But you already knew that, didn't you, Motomiya?"

All I can do is grin. "It was pretty easy to figure out. I mean, we knew which elementary school you went to and where you lived—you were pretty famous."

He rolls his eyes. "You stalked me."

"Does it really count as stalking if you're eleven?"

"Yes."

"Besides, I had good intentions."

Ken snorts. "Sure you did."

"I did too," I say, stepping forward and taking his hand again.

The large concrete staircase isn't far away, and I lead him down to the edge of the water, tranquil and smooth, right next to the bridge. The same place we stood before so long ago.

I release him then and kneel down to find a rock to toss into the water. "I just wanted to be your friend." My hands wipe off the dirt from a rather smooth one, and I take aim and sling it across the water. It skips once before sinking. "It's not my fault you were so damn antisocial."

He laughs and collapses onto the grass beside me. "We came all the way to Tamachi so we could come here?"

I shrug. "Well, I couldn't exactly take you to the Digital World, could I?"

He frowns but nods.

"I'd take you back to the desert. To where your base crashed," I murmur, just loud enough for him to hear me. "I know a lot of those memories are bad, but they're important too. And it's not like the base is even there anymore."

Last we saw, where the Digimon Kaiser's base once crashed looks nothing like it did when we were kids.

Instead of sand and dust and char and those horrible memories, there's a small oasis. Where there was once so much dark energy, now a hot spring bubbles and gurgles, bringing life to the surrounding area. I like to think of it as a manifestation of Ken's Crest of Kindness, still buried there at the center, though the rest of the base was long ago destroyed by Paildramon.

"It's the place where I first got to see the real Ken," I continue when he doesn't speak. "Not the Kaiser, not the child prodigy. Just Ken."

He searches for a rock as well and sends it skating across the water. "And it's where we first Jogress evolved." Per usual, Ken has more finesse, better aim, and a significantly more gentle touch. A soft smile spreads across his face as the rock skips three, four, five times. "You know, I'm pretty sure my face still hurts from that, Motomiya."

I chuckle. "Sorry?"

He snorts.

"Okay, yeah, I'm not sorry at all." I knock my elbow against his with a grin. "Sometimes, you get too stuck in your own head and you think you can do everything on your own. You forget we're better as a team."

Ken laughs, but there's no humor to it. "That's funny, considering I always thought I relied on you too much."

"Not possible, Ichijouji." I reach for him, determination hot throughout my body. "We're supposed to rely on each other. That's what partners do."

Tremors spread through him, even as he entwines our fingers. "I distinctly remember telling you not to use that word, Motomiya," he teases, but his voice wavers.

I squeeze his hand. "Yeah, well, you didn't tell me; you asked. Besides, I've never been that great of a listener."

He bites his lip—and I resist the urge to kiss him right here and now. "That's not entirely true, Daisuke. You may talk a lot, but you've always listened when I need you to." He casts a glance toward our joined hands, then back toward the canal. "Why did you bring me here?"

"This is where I first asked you to join us, to be part of the team," I say with a shrug.

Ken smiles. "Even though no one else would even consider working with me."

My jaw clenches, face hardens. "No one else saw what I saw." I leave no room for argument.

His eyes widen slightly at my tone. "What did you see?"

"I saw you." I scoot closer, pressing our arms and shoulders together, holding his hand tight in mine. "From the moment I saw the Golden Digimental, I knew you were good. There was never any question in my mind."

His smile fades, though. "You were the only one sure of that, Daisuke. Well, you and Wormmon." He heaves a sigh. "You always believed in me, even when I couldn't believe in myself."

"You never gave me any reason not to."

He rolls his eyes. "I gave you hundreds of reasons not to, but you are the most stubborn person I've ever met. You found the one reason to believe and latched onto it until you managed to convince the rest of the Chosen—and me." This time, his smile is genuine, even affectionate. "No one else could have done that. Really, Daisuke, you perform miracles."

It's rare for mere words to embarrass me.

When you grow up as the person everyone laughs at, whether you're meaning to make them laugh or not, you get pretty used to things that most people would find embarrassing and uncomfortable. It's a side effect of everyone treating you like you're ridiculous, and either you run with it or you resent them for the rest of your life.

Me?

Well, I was never good at holding a grudge, and honestly, I like making people laugh.

But sometimes, Ken says the most amazing things, and my normal talent for talking—even talking nonsense—disappears entirely.

Heat rises to my cheeks. I open my mouth to respond, but no words come.

Ken simply beams at me, and after a moment, he releases a content sigh and leans his head on my shoulder. "And so modest too," he says between laughs.

"Shut up." My hand tightens around his, and I rest my head against his.

"You're incredible," he says, amusement tugging at his voice. "I could insult you twenty different ways and you wouldn't bat an eye, but the moment someone says something nice, you look like a fish out of water."

I pout, even though he can't see my face. "You know I don't do compliments well. Especially when you're the one saying them."

"I suppose I should feel special then."

"Shut up, Ichijouji. You know you're special."

His body shakes with laughter. "Am I now?"

I pull back and turn to look at him. "Absolutely." When he lifts his head and meets my eyes, I drag my fingers through his hair. "Is now a good time to talk about last night?"

But he looks away. "I don't think I'm ready to talk about last night, Daisuke," he whispers.

I sigh. "When will you be ready? Because I don't want to wait another twelve years to get this thing between us sorted." And I definitely don't want to wait another twelve years to kiss him again—I'd prefer to be able to do that every day.

He frowns but doesn't turn to me. "Another?"

My fingers trail down to his chin and direct his attention back to me. "Okay, how about this?"

"Hmm?"

"You need time?"

He nods slowly.

I take a deep breath, but force the words out. "You have till tonight," I say, firm, then shake my head before he can protest. "Nope, sorry. You know better than anyone how impatient I am, and I need to talk to you about last night, about the last twelve years, about everything, even if you don't say a word. I have no idea how long it'll take for you to be ready—you probably don't either—and I can't wait. Not after last night."

Ken's eyes flutter shut, his breathing shaky, but he nods.

"So tonight," I say, tracing a soft finger pad along his hairline, "after dinner, I'm taking you somewhere—yes, another surprise—and we're going to talk."

His "okay" is small and feeble, but I'll take what I can get.

Only three chapters left, folks! Stay tuned!