A hand, decidedly masculine, gripped her elbow. White spots clouded her vision, and the lavender-haired girl couldn't tell if her glasses were still on their perch or if they had fallen in the tumble.
"Please! Let me go! Pl-" a violent, strangled sob interrupted her pleas, and the man stood, dark eyes widened in shock.
"Miyako-san, can you stand?"
Her mind, cluttered with so much other, didn't register her name coming from the supposed-stranger's lips.
Onlookers turned away, deciding that the young girl was in relatively familiar hands.
Her knees, scraped from the tumble, shook as she rose to her feet. Hazel eyes trained themselves on the other person's shiny dress shoes, and dread fell into her stomach like an anvil.
Without looking up, Miyako clumsily bowed, uttering a quiet "Gomen'nasai."
"Miyako-san, you don't have to bow to me. Is everything alright?"
Finally, her eyes drifted upward. Dressed in a pair of khakis and a stormy suit jacket, Kido Jyou stood sheepishly in front of her, hand rubbing his neck (a feeble attempt at calming his own anxieties, no doubt.)
"Oh! It's you, Jyou-senpai. I'm sorry for running into you like that." The words rushed out without much processing; her mind was elsewhere. Her heart continued to pound beneath her sweater, and blood brought an uncomfortable warmth to her cheeks.
"You're fine! I just want to make sure that nothing is wrong." Concern glittered in his eyes, and the lavender-haired girl softened her resolve.
"Everything is perfecto!" With thin fingers extended in resemblance of a gun, Miyako looked almost twelve: a happy, carefree, enigma. Jyou, despite his history of cluelessness, could spot the cracks in her façade: the smile, though bright, was stretched across her mouth too far; her knees still shook, he assumed partly from the cold, but mostly stemmed for the invisible assailant she was running from.
'Invisible may not be the right word.' He mused, studying his friend more attentively. Though she had relaxed from her earlier pose, tenseness settled around her unusually dim eyes. The dark circles underneath spoke of restless nights. In the brief second that he held her hand when helping her rise, he noticed her bloody cuticles and nails that were bitten into nubs. Arms crossed her chest, and Jyou knew she was still embaarassed by her…outburst of sorts.
Thinking quickly, Jyou devised a small plan. It wouldn't be anything grand or robust like Taichi or Daisuke or even Yamato could carry out, but it would suffice the purpose just as well.
"Well, I'm glad I ran into you! My classes have finished for today, and I am absolutely famished. Would you mind grabbing a bite to eat with me?" After a moment's hesitation, he added, "My treat, of course."
Miyako tentatively bit the fleshiest part of her cheek. The opinions weighed in her mind, and her slight deliberation trailed her feet beside her senpai's, searching for whatever that nice smell was.
While Jyou and Miyako settled themselves into a booth, Takenouchi Sora made her rounds, messaging each Chosen privately, longing to make sure they were okay.
Piyomon nestled into her shoulder, and the red-haired girl smiled, forever grateful for the smaller moments her and her partner got to share.
The quietness of her room (her mother was busy at the shop; the holidays always came with an influx of orders) allowed her mind to drift between topics with ease.
Her thoughts would settle on Yamato and his distance towards her and rest ('Why hasn't he answered my calls? Is he losing interest? Did I do something? Did Taichi-kun do something?') As of late, the rockstar took great strides in avoiding his girlfriend. After the event with Meiko, Yamato became even more introverted, going as far as to cancel their dates and send her calls straight to voicemail. The mention of his best friend, however, sent her train of thought up a different track.
Brows furrowed in worry ('How is Taichi-kun holding up? Is Hikari-chan still upset with him?')
Piyomon shifted in her slumber, evidently sensing Sora's worries. A gentle smirk graced the girl's lips, recalling a pair of blushing cheeks ('Is there something going on with Takeru-kun and Taichi-kun's precious little sister?') The thought didn't seem as far-fetched as before.
Her mind focused then on Takeru and wondered idly how his basketball practices were going. His next big game was circled in a fluorescent highlighter on Sora's bird-themed wall calendar.
Daisuke was next; his demeanor has changed so drastically since Before. Instead of cheekiness and mirth, his eyes were dull. A seriousness had set itself in his broadening shoulders. Sora had half the mind to call him, just to hear his voice. Glancing at the clock proved for it to be the busiest time of the day for most people; the call would have to wait.
Jyou was stressed, with his exams drawing nearer each day. Sora hoped that he was eating enough and fell asleep at a decent hour.
Mimi was frazzled as ever, trying to plan Christmas parties and manage her growing feeling towards a different red-head of the group. Texting Mimi at this point would be pointless. The pair already had plans for coffee later that week and their favorite local shop.
Miyako seemed to be doing as well as Daisuke. Her vibrant personality and quick comebacks were replaced with out of character irritability. Her lavender hair hadn't been seen with many of the other Chosen, save for the times the youngest six reconvened. Sora was relieved that she pulled the young girl's name from her own, ragged hat. 'Maybe I can get to the bottom of what is going on with her.'
Iori and Ken remained quiet and respectful around their older friends. 'The only ones who know how bad they are hurting are probably those closest to them,' the Chosen of Love mused, absentmindedly stroking her partner's feathers.
Her back rested against the headboard of her bed; her feet tangled themselves in folds of pastel duvet.
"Piyomon," Sora began, gently nestling her bird-like partner awake, "what do you think of Miyako-san?"
Large eyes blinked open, and ocean blue met hazel.
"Wadduya mean?" the small Digimon questioned, words slurred with slumber.
"Well, I'm not sure what to get her for Christmas. I haven't truly had a decent conversation with her in about a year. With all these recent events, she seems even further away than before."
"Hmm, that's not like Miyako-chan at all! I know that Hawkmon is worried about her. She has all kinds of bad dreams and wakes up crying. Once, he tried to comfort her, and as soon as her touched her back, Miyako-chan went into a fit!"
'She never mentioned any of that when I called.' Instead of calling Miyako directly, as that would have been too confrontational for a serious subject, Sora decided to call her closest and best friend.
After two short rings, an airy, angelic voice greeted her ears. "Moshi moshi."
"Hey, Hikari-chan. I'm sorry for calling without notice." Picking up on background conversation filtering through the brunette's speakers, Sora quickly added, "Is now a good time? I can always call back!"
"I'm free to talk now, if Taichi-san would please turn down that awful show." The younger girl added pointedly. A goggle-headed sigh was loud enough to be heard on Sora's end, but the disappearance of white noise clued her in on his compliance.
"Have you talked to Miyako-chan recently?"
Hikari hummed thoughtfully, and Sora could imagine the slight crease in her brow. 'We both worry far too much.'
"After…everything that happened, I talked to her at least once a day. Recently, she hasn't been around a lot. I know she works at her family's convenience store and is studying for her entrance exams, but she used to always make time for her friends."
Piyomon, listening intently to the conversation, nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry to ask you, Hikari-chan. This isn't something you should have to worry about."
"But it is!" the younger girl protested, voice uncharacteristically shrill. "She is one of my best friends, and I know close to nothing about what she is going through. I've tried to call her and message her, but they always go unanswered. At school, I tried to confront her, but she panicked and had to be excused from class. The worst part is that even when she squeezes in time to be with us, she never looks us in the eye. None of them do. What have we done to help them? To support them since they've been back? Nothing."
Her tone was harsh, and the implicaton of her words trickled shame into Sora's heart.
"I-I had no idea it had gotten that bad. Hontōni mōshiwakenai, Hikari-chan."
What had once been a breathless anger had calmed into baited breath. "It's not your fault, Sora-san. It's nobody's fault that these things happened, but we all must be held accountable for not being there when our friends needed us most."
The lunch was awkward at best. Every slurp echoed off the walls of empty air, and the tap tap tap of Miyoko's shoe resembled the jack hammer that droned outside.
Jyou droned on, filling the silence in his anxious way, drifting from one topic of conversation to another. Long hair flung over one shoulder, she listened sparingly. Her food had long gone cold, but the atmosphere was pleasant enough. Miyako was not ready to go back home after the argument with Iori.
"…Miyako-chan?"
'Shit, he was talking.'
"Hai, Jyou-senpai?"
He paused, and Miyako calculated his emotions through his eyebrows, a trick Takeru once taught her.
"I know we aren't as close as the others, but I want you to know I am always here for you." His gray eyes turned stormy and refused to meet hers. The quiet blush was the only indicator of his embarrassment.
The soon-to-be high schooler was powerless to the crease that furrowed deep in her brow. 'Yeah, always there for someone unless he has homework or an exam or literally any other responsibility.'
Immediate shock registered in her senpai's face and hurt glazed his eyes. Her stomach seemingly dropped into her intestines; her pulse hammered in her ears. Shame bathed her cheeks in crimson.
A feeble cough failed to cover the quiver in Jyou's reply, "It's no secret that you all feel that way, but I'm trying my best to do what is right."
"What is right? You have no clue what 'right' is! Tell me something, Jyou-senpai: will there be any hospitals open if you continue to let your friends defend the entire fucking world without your help? Is a degree worth the fate of both worlds? The fate of your friends that would drop anything to help you?"
Her voice silenced the small café, wispy bangs clung to the enraged sweat on her forehead. Hazel eyes lit with the fire of a thousand suns, and Miyako swiftly ended her opponent. "Gomamon deserves better than that; he deserves better than you!"
The screech of Jyou's metal chair startled the patrons around the pair. For the first time in her life, Miyako saw fury in her senpai's features.
Mouth taunt, the Chosen of Reliability gritted out one last parting statement, "You have no clue what I have to deal with, Inoue-san."
Throwing several yen onto the table, the dark-haired male swiftly her baffled (and humliliated), pink lips open in surprise.
