Special
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+don't you think I'm special?+
by Herongale and Flair

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters.
Never will. End of story.
Plot is ours, obviously.
We disclaim! We disclaim!
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>@


pity the poor black spider
for he is bound and chained
the web of lust, love and desire
leaves nothing to be obtained

pity the still-beating, bloody heart
that needs and yearns for more
it's a neverending room of rejection
and you can never find the door

>@

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+chapter one : fireflies dance+

Why am I here?

New York...practically Tokyo's polar opposite, both geographically and spiritually. Takeru stretched in his seat, and then peeked out the window to look at the clouds below.

"We will begin our descent in approximately 10 minutes. Please prepare to buckle your seatbelts, and thank you for choosing Northwest. We sincerely hope that you have enjoyed your experience flying with us."

Sincerely, huh? Takeru sighed. We'll see about that.

Takeru looked at his ticket stub, and felt a little stupid. Everything about it was so foreign...He knew enough English to recognize the name of the airport... John F. Kennedy International... but the rules and regulations on the back were completely incomprehensible. That didn't matter, though. Takeru knew the general gist: "Void where prohibited."

I think I must be crazy.

This trip was impulsive, a whim. Takeru was hardly the impulsive type, although it must be confessed that he enjoyed being whimsical just a little bit more then your average boy. If he tried to think back on when his... crush... had started, it never ceased to amaze him that he couldn't pinpoint a time. It certainly hadn't begun while he was a member of the original Digidestined, fighting Devimon or Myotismon or any number of Digital baddies. If anything, he had liked Hikari at the time. But that wasn't anything real...at that age, the idea of kissing anyone, especially someone he LIKED, was completely bogus and gross.

It must have been after Mimi moved to America, and her pictures started popping up in girl's fashion magazines. It seemed like every time he turned around, there was another picture of Mimi, courtesy of Hikari and her amazing magazine collection. She was so beautiful, so far away, so much like a princess living in his fantasy world.

She was internationally desired. But Takeru was one of the few people who knew her *personally.* He figured that his chances were slim, but probably better then most. It's not like I have a crush on Britney Spears, or anything... Mimi is REAL...and I know her!

Or at least he wanted to. Yes, I know her, a bit, he thought. But I want to know her better. I want to know her a lot better.

~~~~@~~~~

"Hikari! Mail's here!" Taichi called from downstairs. The pretty brunette sprawled out on her bed in the apartment building in the middle of Odaiba sprang up immediately.

"Coming! Coming!" she called, excitedly. She ran down the stairs, nearly plowing over her cat in her haste, and reached the door just as Taichi opened it. He looked up in surprise.

"Expecting something?" he asked, one eyebrow rising. She blushed. What is wrong with me? she thought. I'm usually never this … excitable.

"Yeah, I'm expecting something," Hikari responded, calmly, smiling at her brother. He handed her a stack of mail, and she rifled through it, tossing things to her brother and other things onto the table nearby, mumbling to herself. "Telephone bill… letter for Tai from Mimi… overdue library book, not again, Tai!" she scolded. She picked up the last piece of mail and suddenly burst into a huge grin.

"What is it?" Taichi asked, in the middle of opening his own letter.

"Uh, nothing!" Hikari exclaimed, pressing the postcard to her heart. "Just… a postcard!" She turned around and ran back upstairs. Not just a postcard, she reminded herself, a postcard from Takeru! She didn't know when this crush began, but she was far too shy to tell the blond boy. And besides, she didn't want to hurt Daisuke's feelings, although he did get annoying once in a while, he was still her friend. Since Takeru had gone to America for a visit, she'd been eagerly awaiting every email and postcard, hoping that one of these times she'd have the courage to tell him that she liked him. She really, really liked him.

Taichi watched his sister run upstairs, stamp dangling from the side of his mouth like the feelers on a catfish. "Strange kid," he muttered, turning to his letters. "I hope she's alright – agh! Fifteen-dollar overdue fine? No way!"

~~~~@~~~~

"Daisuke! Heads up!" Ken yelled, kicking the soccer ball across the field to the brown-eyed leader of the Digidestined, his long hair rippling around his shoulders.

Daisuke blinked and looked up, just a little too slow. The ball slammed into him, knocking him backwards. Half of the team let out a groan, and Ken stifled a wave of panic. "You okay, Daisuke?" he called, thinking mustn't look too concerned, mustn't look too concerned…

Daisuke sat up, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah, fine. Ouch." I shouldn't have been daydreaming on the field! he thought bitterly. But it was so hard to keep his mind off of Hikari. Hikari… he thought, she's so pr – oops, doing it again, aren't I? Heh…

He'd had this… this crush on Hikari for so long, and still she failed to notice him. They were all 16 already, or at least he, Hikari, Takeru and Ken were. Miyako was 17, and Iori was 14. They had all changed a lot, and the only thing that remained the same as before was the fact that Daisuke still had that hopeless crush on Hikari.

It's not hopeless, he thought to himself. It's… a challenge.

"Daisuke?" Ken asked, waving his hand in front of the redhead's face. Daisuke gave a start of surprise. "Are you okay? Do you want to take a break?"

"Uh… what?" Daisuke blinked. Ken sighed, fixing Daisuke with his serious, almost uncanny violet-eyed gaze. Ken had changed more than the other Digi-destined in the last five or so years, in appearance and in personality. He was more open than before, although still very mysterious and reserved, and had let his dark hair grow past his shoulders. He didn't care if people said he looked like a girl – he liked his hair that way. In fact, as Daisuke looked at him, he realized that with his hair grown out like that he looked a bit like a dark, male version of Hikari. "What?" Daisuke repeated.

"Get him off the field!" someone called, "He must have banged his head harder than usual!"

~~~~@~~~~

I'm too old to be acting like Harriet the Spy. I should know better.

Miyako was hiding under the bleachers, scribbling notes in her journal, and occasionally peeking to watch the soccer practice in progress. It sometimes struck her as odd, to see Ken and Daisuke on the same team, considering that they still went to different schools. It's a travel team, I know... and anyone can join it. But Ken's sure coming a long way out of his way to be on a team that is convenient for Daisuke.

Damn.

That Jogress thing seemed to have created a deep bond between the two boys, way deeper then she had with Hikari, or then whatever was between Takeru and Iori. Although it certainly didn't look at all like a romantic affiliation, Daisuke's continual association with Ken really got in the way of Miyako's ability to establish any meaningful rapport with the object of her affections.

She didn't like that she had to resort to spying just so that she could look at Ken.

After their time as active Digidestined had ended, Miyako had figured that Ken wouldn't have much incentive to remain friendly with anyone who didn't make a special effort on his behalf. Miyako had started out brimful of confidence, convinced that her efforts would more then suffice.

Unfortunately, Ken's natural reluctance and mistrust remained a significant barrier... although Daisuke seemed to be able to cross the barrier readily enough. And THAT had been the problem. No matter how hard Miyako tried to establish a friendship with Ken in her own right, somehow Daisuke was always there.

She'd painstakingly arrange a coffee date, and Ken would casually invite Daisuke along for the ride. She would mention that she had an extra ticket to the movies, and he would suggest that she give it to Daisuke, and he'd buy his own. The only time of the year that she KNEW that she'd be able to get Ken all to herself is when she'd invite him to go shopping with her...for Daisuke's birthday present.

It just didn't seem fair.

~~~~@~~~~

He would hold the memory of the kiss always.

Sure, she had kissed him on the cheek, but it was so close to the lips that in his imagination, he would turn his head and ...there. It would have been incredible, if he had dared.

Wow, was she pretty! Her eyes were warm, a burnished mahogany brown, and they were offset by the coolness of her mauve-brown hair. A little stain of red here, a touch of purple there, and what could have been fated to be ordinary turned out to be nothing of the kind.

He loved her. This wasn't just something he told himself shyly, in the way of other 14-year-old boys. No, his feelings were of a higher order, more like those of a young man would be. He would have proudly told the world about the way that he felt...except for one thing. She didn't love him back.

At least, not yet. Iori was growing up as fast as he could, and if he knew anything about life, it's that things change.

She might love him, someday.

How had that kiss gone, again? Iori was sitting on a swing at the park, watching a soccer game playing off in the distance. The memory was so sweet; he liked to replay it in quiet moments like this. It was only a few weeks ago, and Iori didn't need to concentrate very hard to recall that burning tingle that ravished his entire body when she had leaned forward and pressed her lips against his face, her fragrant hair brushing against his cheeks. It had been a nothing moment... Miyako and he were laughing over a TV sitcom that they had been watching, and she had looked so brilliant, laughing, that he complimented her without thinking.

It came without fanfare, without precedent, that kiss. She had leaned forward, and without ceasing her giggling, had pushed Iori down onto the floor and kissed him playfully. "You're so cute!" That's what she said.

She thinks I'm cute... Iori lifted a hand to touch his cheek. Yes... still burning.

~~~~@~~~~

"Are you absolutely sure you're okay?" Ken insisted, looking over at his best friend with concerned eyes. Daisuke sighed, and for the fiftieth time that hour, nodded his head.

"Yes, yes I am perfectly fine!" Daisuke replied, rubbing his head. "Would I say so if I wasn't?"

"Yes."

"Shut up," Daisuke laughed and mock-glared at Ken, who just smiled back innocently. What Daisuke couldn't understand was why Ken was so overly concerned about him. Sure, they were best friends, but nothing more than that. And Ken himself had been hit much harder than that, time after time, without a thought to his own welfare.

It just didn't make sense.

They walked along in silence for a little while, weary after their ordeal at the soccer field, quite content just to let the sunlight and warmth wash over them, the faint sounds and smells from all around them in downtown Odaiba a mere murmur in the background. If only life could always be this perfect.

~~~~@~~~~

"Hello, may I please speak to Tachikawa Mimi?" Takeru asked politely, trying his best to make his English as impeccable as possible. "Yes, yes I mean Mimi Tachikawa. Uh huh. Yes, I'm a f-friend of hers," he blushed to himself, stuttering over the word. "My name? Takeshi Takeru. No! My first name is Takeru, not Takeshi. I'm from Japan. Yes, I know Takeru is a weird name… yes I… KUSO!" he shouted. "My name is TK Takeshi, and I'm a long-time friend of Mimi's from Japan come to visit, okay, so can I please speak to her?" He gave a long sigh as the person on the other end of the line went to try and find her. "Americans…" he sighed. "I must have been crazy to think of coming here…"

"MOSHI MOSHI, TAKERU-CHAN!" came a bright, sweet and loud voice from the other end of the phone. Takeru nearly dropped it in surprise, his heart pounding itself to pieces.

"M-Mimi!" he yelped, his voice far too high-pitched. He cleared his throat, and then tried again. "I mean, moshi moshi, Mimi-sama!"

"What are you doing in New York?" she asked.

"Just visiting," Takeru replied, surprised at how utterly calm he sounded. "I had a two week break off from school, and I decided to come out her to see… to see the sights. And to visit you. And… stuff." Real smooth, idiot.

"Wow, that's great!" Mimi replied, irrepressible as ever. "You'll come see me, right? I'm busy today, but can you come over tomorrow morning at around ten? I'll give you the address!"

"YES! I mean, yes, sure Mimi, that'd be great," Takeru said, cursing his unbridled enthusiasm. Why did he manage to sound like such a dork when he was speaking to his one true love, and like such a smooth-talking charmer when he was talking to anybody else? It just wasn't fair!

"Wonderful!" Mimi said cheerfully. "Okay, the address is 4732 Belle Lane. You think you can find it okay?"

"Yes, yes of course!" Takeru replied, jotting it down on his hand with precise care. It wouldn't do to try and find her tomorrow and end up getting lost. "I'll get a taxi or something."

"Perfect!" came Mimi's bright voice. "I'll be waiting! See you tomorrow, Takeru-chan!"

"S-sayonara, Mimi-sama," Takeru replied breathlessly, and she hung up. He held the pay phone receiver in his hand for a few seconds, staring at it as if it was made of gold. She called me Takeru-chan! Twice! And I'm going over to her house tomorrow, and… I think I'm going to faint.

This was far better than he had ever imagined. Glancing down at the pen scrawled precariously across his hand, he smiled languorously. "4732 Belle Lane," he said to himself. "Belle Lane… Beauty Lane… perfect for her…" he sighed dreamily.

Even though he was in downtown New York, literally surrounded by the decay of the streets and the pushing, shoving masses of people all wearing expensive department store perfume and that odd American clothing, Takeru looked once more at the number on his hand and sighed happily.

"I think I'm in heaven…"

~~~~@~~~~

Ken was in heaven.

Reason number one – it was sunset. The light lay in rippling layers over everything; casting pale orange shadows and making everything look rosy and soft. It had cooled down from the afternoon's vibrant heat, and was now the absolute perfect temperature. Plus the sunset itself was extravagantly beautiful.

Reason number two – he was at an ice cream shop near the beach. The waves crashed nearby, and he had rolled up his blue sleeves and kicked off his shoes, rolling the legs of his baggy gray pants up to mid-shin. A long red spoon was cradled in one delicate hand, and a half-eaten chocolate sundae sat in front of him on the washed-board table.

Reason number three eclipsed both of the others, though –

Daisuke.

Like Ken, he had rolled up his pant and shirttails, showing a great deal more skin than usual which made Ken's mouth go dry and his heart pound double-time. The spiky red hair that so regally crowned the boy's gorgeous face was rippling softly in the wind and glowing with the unearthly light of the sunset. His chocolate brown eyes glinted and sparkled as he gazed out onto the ocean, sporting a colorful bruise on his cheekbone from when he was hit with the ball and fell over earlier, and he half-closed his eyes in pleasure as he slowly devoured his ice cream.

It was enough to drive Ken mad.

Why did he have such a crush on Daisuke? He couldn't be sure, but the very sight of Daisuke nowadays was enough to put his heart into overdrive and his mind into a fog. He could never tell him, though. He was too afraid that it would ruin their friendship, and he couldn't bear living a day without Daisuke by his side.

But how long can I take this, just being friends? How long can I hide my emotions? And would I be able to survive the heartbreak if he got a girlfriend? Or, worse – a boyfriend? At least with a girlfriend I would know I never had a chance. Oh, Daisuke…

A quotation that Sora had once read to the Digidestined rose to his mind, unbidden.

"Don't be afraid to tell someone you love them. If you do, they may break your heart. But if you don't, you may break theirs."

But as he watched Daisuke, barely able to make it look like he wasn't staring and he wasn't worshipping the very sight of him, he felt his stomach knot up.

Truth to tell, though, is that I don't know if I'll be able to stand having my heart broken…

~~~~@~~~~

"No way!"

Miyako laughed wickedly. "Yeah-huh. It's true. I was hiding under the bleachers and everything! You should have come... it was, um... unique?"

"I don't think so. Daisuke has a me-dar." Kari was sitting on the edge of the sofa, sipping a frozen coke that Miyako had swiped from the family store.

"'ME-dar'... the hell?"

"It's a special kind of radar that allows him to detect my presence if I'm within a 200 yard radius of his presence...haven't you noticed?"

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Miyako was sitting opposite Kari in a rocking chair. It was not uncommon for one of the two girls to spend the afternoon at the other's home: today it was Kari's turn to be hostess. Miyako had given up her bonsai-huge eyeglasses some time ago, and now was sporting a pair of sporty frames with a gold tint.

Kari giggled. "Yeah. And then your plot to gather intelligence regarding the 'test subject' would have been spoiled."

Miyako scrunched up her face dramatically, adopting a tragic air. "No, no! What would have happened is that you would have heroically kept Daisuke busy while I seduced Ken."

"Sha'." Kari dismissed this. "You are constitutionally incapable of seducing Ken, a fact that I find quite amusing because you manage to hold the leash on at least a dozen other boys that I'm aware of."

"You exaggerate. Anyway, the reason I don't seduce Ken is because it's not a part of the master plan. Not because I can't!"

"Whatever." Kari stuck out the tip of her tongue, mockingly.

"You're one to talk, Ms. Lookie-at-the-Postcard-from-Takeru!" The two girls had already spent a good half hour dissecting the small document, attempting to unearth any hidden declarations of love or devotion.

Kari blushed prettily. "It's hard. We've known each other since we were kids! How can I seduce him?"

"Takeru's easy. Jeez! I'd be willing to betcha... dollars to donuts!.... that he's pining over you even as we speak. It's obvious he likes you. You wouldn't have to do much to bring him over into smoochie land."

"I'm not so sure. Sometimes it seems like he's so distant... like his thoughts are after something or someone else. He's a mystery."

"All men are mysteries, if you like them well enough."

~~~~@~~~~


It was extremely unlikely that Takeru was thinking about Kari just then, so no donuts for Miyako. At 6am in New York he was still sleeping, dreaming of his forthcoming day on beautiful Belle Street.

"Mimi, Mimi, Mimi, MimiMimiMimiMi...".

Unbeknownst to himself, Takeru had an occasional habit of talking in his sleep. Just as well; he never said anything profound, and sometimes he would bubble forth with confessions that would embarrass him quite acutely if they were overheard by anyone, especially Matt the Blackmailer.

Everyone knows about the Sleep of the Just. Less commonly acknowledged is the deep, perfect Sleep of the Infatuated. "To sleep, perchance to dream" is the motto of all would-be lovers. Dreams bring fantasy to life, no matter how briefly. Muscles relaxed, Takeru's eyes darted purposefully behind his closed lids, looking upon a romantic scenario that was tailor-made to spike the Child of Hope into delirious expectation.

When he got up (some time later), Takeru stretched, yawned, and smiled.

"It's gonna be a good day."

~~~~@~~~~

strike up the band and make the fireflies dance....

The sky was deepening to indigo, and Venus blazed in the west just over the edge of the city. Daisuke wondered why Ken was being so uncommonly quiet. Maybe it was because he also noticed Miyako skulking in the bleachers?

Daisuke had a good eye and was a quick study. Not only did he catch a glimpse of the familiar floes of purple-kissed hair, he had a reasonable sense of Miyako's Larger Issues. Obviously, she liked Ken. Obviously, she was studying him in an attempt to forge the perfect enticement.

Painfully obvious was her complete willingness to accept whatever indignity necessary in order to achieve her goals.

"We're too much alike," Daisuke mused absently. Ken clipped him a questioning glance.

"We are?"

"Oh, I'm not thinking about you. I'm thinking about someone else."

"Who?" Oddly, Ken looked relieved.

"Miyako. I caught her doing something today I that I probably would have done. It wasn't all that bright, actually."

"Is it something you can share?"

Daisuke gave Ken a slow, appraising glance. If Miyako was an open book, Ken was... a mystery. Who knew what he felt about anyone? On the many three-some "dates" that Miyako had arranged with Ken, and that Daisuke had been dragged into, it never seemed clear what game Ken was playing. Daisuke had never given much thought to why he always was so eager to join Ken and Miyako on their little get-togethers. God knows he never was any help to Miyako. Instead of discretely leaving to allow the two some alone time, Daisuke would remain in-your-face, positively drinking in Ken's apparent obliviousness with unexamined delight.

"Since I don't think I was supposed to find out, it's probably not a good idea."

Ken shrugged, and resumed his moody contemplation of the waves. Daisuke watched his friend in silence for a few minutes. Sometimes Ken would just be like this: unreadable, unreachable. Daisuke didn't like it, because it made him feel shut out, excluded. So he did what any reasonable red-blooded Japanese boy would do: he got up and walked down to the water's edge, and began building a sand castle.

~~~~@~~~~

Ken smiled slightly as he watched Daisuke start digging his preliminary ditches. Daisuke had one prominent weakness, which was that he didn't like to be ignored. But even this weakness could be parlayed into a strength... Daisuke had the sensibilities of an actor. As he had grown up, he had become more and more aware of the way that people responded to him, and had become quite talented at adapting his behaviors so as to make sure that the focus was always somewhat on him.

As if I need any excuse to look at him.

~~~~@~~~~

Good, it had worked! Ken's attention was once more on Daisuke, and the redhead felt the beginnings of a smile. He didn't know why Ken's attention was so important to him, though… but he craved it, like a chain smoker craves tobacco. Just as addicting, but without the side effects… maybe.

Ken wandered down to the beach and sat beside the redhead, making small swirly patterns in the sand by his feet. Daisuke watched him closely – the wind ruffled Ken's dark hair, making his normally pale cheeks flush and his eyes sparkle. A crooked, peculiar smile turned up at the corner of Ken's lips, making him look even more charming, adorable, attractive…

Daisuke suddenly drew in his breath with a gasp. What the HELL? He didn't like the direction that his mind had been going there… What the *hell*, Daisuke! You can't think of Ken… *that* way, man! Get a hold of yourself!

The truth was, this was not the first time that Daisuke's mind had wandered down that particular path. I love Hikari. I love Hikari. I love Hikari… he chanted, his own little mantra of sanity and heterosexuality. Ken is your friend… *friend*… you love Hikari. HIKARI! What the *hell* Daisuke!

"Hey, Daisuke, it's getting late," Ken said, sounding reluctant. Daisuke jumped and looked up from his sandcastle-building and internal chanting, staring at Ken for a moment before realizing that he'd said something.

"What?"

Ken raised one delicate eyebrow, looking very comical and almost cute… banish that thought!!! Ne thinkie pas… or… whatever. "I said it was getting late. We'd better get going – I have to catch the train back to Tamachi, remember, and my mom expects me home by at least 10:00," he said. Daisuke blinked, slowly, waiting for his brain to catch up with the rest of him.

"Oh, yeah, okay," he said, getting to his feet and brushing sand off his (*cough*) rear – not noticing the blush that crept up to Ken's cheeks as the violet eyes wandered there.

"Well, let's go," Ken said, quickly, rising to his own feet. The two of them headed up the beach towards the walkway that led the way back into the main part of town. Ten minutes later they parted at the train station. Daisuke lingered a few moments, watching until Ken's dark head disappeared onto the train, and then until the train disappeared into the dark tunnel.

Then he turned on his heel and ran all the way back to his house.

~~~~@~~~~

"Moshi moshi, is Miyako-san there?" Iori said, nervously, clutching the phone with small, nervous fingers.

"Yes, she is. Who is this?" came the voice of Miyako's brother, sounding bored.

"Uh… Hida Iori," was the stammered reply.

Iori heard the phone being put on a table of sorts, and heard Miyako's brother yell out: "MIYAKO! SOME BOY'S ON THE PHONE FOR YOU… HIDA IORI OR SOMETHIN'. DO YOU WANT TO TALK TO HIM OR IS IT JUST ANOTHER ONE OF YOUR BOY-TOYS?"

The blood rushed to Iori's cheeks as he almost dropped the phone. Oh, god… he thought, gritting his teeth together in agony. Then he heard Miyako's laugh.

"No!" she exclaimed. "It's Iori-chan! Remember Iori?"

"Oh, that little kid that lives near here?"

"Yeah," Miyako replied, and Iori felt sick – little kid? Then there was a click as Miyako picked up the receiver. "Moshi moshi, Iori-chan!"

"Uh, moshi moshi, Miyako," Iori practically mouse-squeaked. "How are you?"

"Great! Hey, guess what? Y'know that new boy in school? Yamakito? Well he asked me out! He's so hot! Not as good-looking as Akiro or Jiro, and definitely not as hot as Ken, of course, but yeah. Have you talked to Ken lately? Did he mention me at all?"

Iori felt his heart sinking with every sentence. Why did he ever call Miyako in the first place? This happened every time… she talked about Ken, or one of the million other boys she had dragging along by a string. The phase "boy-toys" rose again to his mind. But never, ever did she mention him. Oh, Miyako…

"Uh, I haven't seen him since the soccer game today… Takeru and I went to watch… why weren't you there?" Iori replied, smoothing over the sick feeling in his heart with an air of remoteness.

Miyako seemed unnerved by this. "I… uh… was busy," she said quickly.

"I thought Hikari-san said that you would be there, and that you and her were getting together after the game?" Iori asked.

"After the game,"

There was an awkward silence.

"Well…" Miyako began at the same time that Iori said "Miyako…" They both laughed – Miyako in an almost condescending, sisterly way, and Iori nervously. And then before either could say anything, there was a beep on the line.

"Oh, that must be Yamakito!" Miyako exclaimed. "Hey, I'll talk to you later, okay, Iori? Bai!"

Click.

Iori sighed and stared at the receiver in his hand for a few moments before putting it down. Who was he fooling? Miyako would never, ever have feelings for him. She still thought of him as a little kid, a brother…

His fists clenched. That would have to change. He would prove it to her that he wasn't a little kid any more… then she would have to love him as much as he loved her.

Yes… she would have to.

~~~~@~~~~

Ken leaned back in the seat of the train – it was rigid, and dug into his back, but he hardly noticed but for the euphoria he was experiencing due to the last few hours he had spent with Daisuke. First, the soccer game. That was normal enough, until Daisuke got hit with the soccer ball. Then Ken had to hold him and help him to the sidelines – a guilty pleasure, but one he indulged in thoroughly. Then, after the game, Daisuke had mentioned that he had to do some grocery shopping for his mother; Ken had gone with him, to "make sure you don't pass out or something. You did get hit in the head with a soccer ball, after all."

Suuure, Ken.

But Daisuke had bought it, and when they were done and the groceries were unpacked at Daisuke's house, the two had spent an hour or so battling each other at Playstation, and then had a bout of one-on-one soccer in the backyard although Ken was still worried about Daisuke's injury. Ken was thoroughly dead beat after that, but Daisuke was still chock-full of energy, so they decided to go for a bike ride. They ended up at the beach, where they ate a delicious – although not very healthy – supper of hot dogs, hamburgers, and greasy fries, followed up by ice cream sundaes.

And all too soon, it was over, and Ken was on his way back to Tamachi.

Did Daisuke think more of him than just a friend? That was what Ken wanted to know. He had known that he himself had feelings for his own gender, and had known that for some time now, but Daisuke gave no sign of that, himself. He still drooled after Hikari.

But then again, nobody knew about Ken himself. He had hidden it far to well; he was afraid of rejection. Especially from Daisuke.

"What would happen if I told you?" Ken whispered to the ceiling. "Would you – could you – return my feelings?"

A song floated over the radio. Ken recognized it as a classic rock song that he had always liked – it reminded him of himself, in a way. And now, as he listened to it, he felt his heart sinking.

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

No one knows what it's like
To be hated
To be fated
To telling only lies

But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

Could Daisuke ever love him? Ever? Him, the former Digimon Emperor? Sure, they were best friends, and the whole Digimon Emperor thing was put behind him; Daisuke had been the first to forgive him. But there was no sign… he liked Hikari… he… he…

He was a he.

"Maybe someday, though…" Ken whispered. "I wish I had your courage, Daisuke… I'd tell you…"

Next stop, Tamachi> the voice blared over the loudspeaker.

Ken stood up, exiting through the nearest sliding door into Tamachi station. The haunting, winding melody of Behind Blue Eyes floated out after him, tracing his steps and making him wonder if he was ever going to be worthy of Daisuke's love.

No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you

No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through

But my dreams
They aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be

I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free

When my fist clenches, crack it open
Before I use it and lose my cool
When I smile, tell me some bad news
Before I laugh and act like a fool

If I swallow anything evil
Put your finger down my throat
If I shiver, please give me a blanket
Keep me warm, let me wear your coat

No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes

~~~~@~~~~

Hikari needed her fix, and she needed it now.

After Miyako had left, she lay on her bed for a good long while, holding the postcard up above her head, randomly snuggling it and giggling. She loved Takeru's handwriting, because it made her think of Takeru's hands, which led her to wonder about how those hands would feel stroking her neck, her arms, her cheeks... everywhere.

Hikari brushed the postcard over her lips.

Gatomon watched this by-play with amused affection. "Stop making love to the Empire State Building! It's not that cute."

Hikari responded to this by tossing a pillow at the tiny cat-styled Digimon, and continued her paper kiss.

Unfazed by this levity, Gatomon shrugged and jumped off the bed gamely. When Hikari got in these sorts of moods, it was pointless to stick around. "I'm off to play checkers with Agumon, then. Come find me if you find any demons that need slaying... or any Takerus that need cuddling. That, I must see."

"Mmmm...alright love." Hikari replied absently.

Having to share a room with Tai while growing up had been...a challenge, to say the least. Hikari had accommodated to this by setting up a curtain over the lower bunk that she could pull at will, and installing lights and a small shelf for the keeping of her Most Personal Mementoes. When Gatomon left, it wasn't to go to another room, but merely to leave Hikari's private space. Hikari could hear the soft conversation of the partner Digimon off in the corner, but she had long ago accommodated to that, too.

Hikari had become quite adept at accommodation.

After a blissful interlude humming and tracing out Takeru's glorious handwriting for the 46th time, Hikari lit upon an idea for a story. Unbeknownst to anyone, even Gatomon, Hikari had begun to compose a grand epic of love and triumph, starring thinly veiled cyphers that represented herself and her chosen love. Hikari eagerly pulled out the story notebook now, an unremarkable looking girly affair covered in pink plaid and an picture of the crest from Marmalade Boy. Opening the notebook quickly in an inspired rush, Hikari flipped passed the front page, which threatened dire consequences to Tai if he ever dared read it, and began to write.

The Complications in Hope and Light, by Kamiya Hikari

He was a tamer, and knew he was the best. His hair glistened in the sun... in a way, it was as if a piece of the sun had broken off and rested upon his head...and it blew cunningly in the breeze. His eyes were blue like the sky, like the bluest sky. His face was beautiful, his body strong and yet thin like a razor wire. His beauty on the outside was only exceeded by his internal loveliness, a fusion of form and spirit perfectly in sync [N-Sync! Cuties!] with his personality. He embodied the highest virtues the Digital World had to offer, and yet still, he strove for more.

He was restless. He =definitely wanted more [me!].

He wanted the touch of a familiar hand, a sweet voice in the night telling him things would be alright. He wanted love of the highest order.

And so, the boy named Promise [too silly? Mmm.] betook himself upon a quest.

A quest for love. For a soulmate. He hoped to find himself in the abyss of another's soul. He hoped to lose himself in the heights of another's passion. [ooh, I like this part! I rock!]

Hope defined him, and complicated him. Hope was his calling, and his curse. Because hope... without light... maybe is dead. Or perhaps it is the other way around?

Or perhaps...perhaps... the two things need each other.

Hikari smiled to herself. "Ooh, that's not too subtle," she chided in a whisper, looking over the words that she had just written, wanting to spend more time describing the way that Takeru...er... Promise... thought. And moved. Yes, Hikari could spend hours chronicling how Tak...er...Promise!...moved.

Writing this story made her feel all squishy inside. She knew that the quality of the story could barely aspire to fair, and yet Hikari did not care, because she was pouring all of her own love and her own hope into it. Hikari chewed on her pencil thoughtfully, as she tried to figure out how to incorporate as many steamy kissy scenes into this chapter as she could.

One day, the tamer had a dream....[mmm!]

~~~~@~~~~


"Why are we called Tamers, really?" Miyako wondered aloud to Poromon and Iori, gathered together in Conference at Iori's apartment, as was her occasional weeknight habit. Upamon was playing with Iori's smallish collection of Bandai transforming toys, effectively excluding himself from the conversation, and making a terrible mess that made Iori sigh when he thought about cleaning it up.

Clearly, if The Digidestined were technically "tamers," Iori had failed miserably.

"I think it has something to do with our evolutions," Poromon squeaked uncertainly. As Hawkmon, Miyako's Digimon probably would have offered a more erudite and confident opinion, but things were always... different... between forms.

"What do you mean, Poromon?" Miyako asked gently, but not without a friendly squeeze. She couldn't help it... Poromon was just so damn adorable.

"I think it's this... you see... you know how we can't evolve spontaneously without your assistance? It's because we change." Poromon blushed, finding it strange that Miyako had never thought to ask these questions before, and feeling embarrassed to have to address it now in front of Iori. It seemed too... intimate... to share like this.

"Of course you change…" Miyako began impatiently, but before she could say anything further, Iori cut in.

"On the inside?" Iori asked quietly. "Is that what you mean?" He was far more introspective then Miyako, and these were questions that he had already worked out with Armadillomon a long time ago. Getting a fresh perspective from Miyako's Digimon, however, would be fascinating.

By now it should be obvious that Iori found anything related to Miyako fascinating.

"Yeah." Poromon affirmed. "Digivolving... it's strange. It's as if the data that makes me up flies apart, and is reassembled...including whatever it is that makes me 'me.' And if there is a *me* in all that activity, you'd think that it would be lost altogether and Hawkmon would have a new soul to match his new body... but you..." He looked up at Miyako, a winsome look in his soulful eyes.

Miyako nodded thoughtfully, impatiently. "Yeah?"

"Normally, Digevolution is linear," Iori broke in. "When a Digimon evolves, he doesn't usually *devolve*, unless he dies and is reformatted. OUR Digimon, however, seem to be able to evolve multidimensionally. Although we can help the Digimon evolve at will, it seems to me that the real gift that our association gives them is the ability to look back, to see themselves as they used to be, and to be that person..er, mon... again."

Frowning, Miyako ruffled Poromon's feathers. "So what is it that we tame, exactly?"

Iori looked over at the girl he dared to love, and smiled a little. "Their souls, which we hold together with our personality and gifts. When Poromon digivolves to Hawkmon, he isn't completely reformatted… he can return to the way he was, without ever losing sight of what it is that he can become. For Digimon, this is a pretty rare thing."

"Is it like love?"

Cody raised an eyebrow. "Rare, you mean?"

"No, silly. When you are in love with someone who loves you back, and you've been together for a long time…well, it's like this." Miyako tapped her index finger on the floor, trying to find a good way to explain. "… hmmm. That person remembers you throughout all the changes you've been through…and ideally, never leaves you. And so, that person is like your lynchpin, your Southern Cross, whatever. When you want to conjure up the person you once were, all you have to do is look into your lover's eyes… and there you are! So in a way, love is like Digidestiny… only with fringe benefits."

Cody shrugged. "Yeah. Another way of thinking of it is that our connection with the Digimon is a kind of necromancy, a raising of the dead."

Miyako shivered, and hugged Poromon tightly. "Don't put it that way. Poromon is not dead."

Poromon cooed in agreement. Iori had spared him the indignity of explaining the issues of Digivolving, but it was still left to him to deal with his uncomfortable guilt over being so privileged.

And of course, it did nothing at all to explain why Poromon, a male Digimon, was partnered to the lascivious Miyako, a female human.

Some things are just beyond questioning.


~~~@~~~

No one hears the cricket in Times Square.

Certain kinds of reality are impossible where humanity reigns. That which is small must bow to that which is larger… and the very memories of these small realities are washed away in the bustle and rush of what mankind has deemed to be Important. The fact that there is a cricket in Times Square is indisputable. But not only is his song unheard, his existence is often forgotten. And with no other cricket to hear his wordless pleas, the song itself is futile.

Does he sing anyways?

Mimi was leading Takeru by the hand, expertly weaving through the crowd at about twice the pace that Takeru could have managed on his own unassisted. Takeru enjoyed the novelty of the scenery not at all… his whole world was focused on the way that it felt for Mimi to guide him, hand to hand. Was she not the prettiest person that he had the privilege to know? Was not her skin soft and smooth? Did she not smell wonderful?

Well, hmmm… actually, the only thing that Takeru could smell was hotdogs. But from this day forth, the smell of hotdogs would be blessed.

Holy ketchup! Blessed relish! Sainted… pepperocinis! Yumm….

Mimi looked back, and laughed when she saw the way that Takeru was sniffing the air, eyes closed and appearing slightly dazed. "Do you love this city or what?"

"Mmm… chilidogs!" Takeru said, opening his eyes quickly. He collected himself from his reverie, and put the charm on overdrive. "Yep, this city rocks. It's certifiable."

"I'm going to show you NYU in the Village. Wouldn't it be cool if you came here when you graduate?" Mimi's hair was cut short and dyed purple, with long glimmering pink highlights near the front. She flipped the longer locks out of her eyes and grinned.

"America is bad ass."

"Oh really?" Mimi looked amused at Takeru's enthusiastic response. "I'm not sure I'd go that far, but it does have its moments."

The two walked in silence for a while, Takeru drinking in the loveliness of Mimi. He hadn't known what to expect of Mimi's place on Belle Street, but when he found her in a loft with three roommates (two girls, one gay boy), he concluded that her hipness was unequalled. She was dressed in a simple, casual outfit; tight white t-shirt, red gym shorts, and Skechers. Her nails were painted an iridescent purple, and she wore pink lipstick… a gentle shade called Innocence. Mimi…YOU are bad ass, Takeru thought to himself quietly. He didn't know anyone else who could touch Mimi's innate levels of coolness.

Mimi lived near Union Square, and so the walk to the main campus was only about 10 blocks down Fifth Avenue. For Takeru, it was like walking down the gold-paved roads of heaven... but arriving at Washington Square Park was the best of all, because Mimi stopped right under the big arch in the square. It created quite a romantic scene, the brick building of the campus all around, the sheer majesty of the colleges. Love seemed... inevitable.

"So, Mimi...?" Takeru asked shyly.

"Yeah, Te-kay?" Mimi smiled, running her fingers again through her purple hair. Her hair is cut and coloured the way Ken's used to be... sort of… but could there possibly be a more different person?

Mimi is so vibrant, so alive...

"Umm.... let's go sit down on a bench..." Takeru felt like he wanted to make his confession, and the scenery couldn't be any more perfect. It was SO "When Harry Met Sally," the light warm, and the leaves of the trees just beginning to turn. But still... it would be good to sit.

Accordingly, the two found a bench. "So, Takeru-chan... do you like my city so far?"

"Yeah! And this is where you go to school?" He gestured around.

"Pretty much. Look...there's Waverly... and Hayden Hell...er... I mean, Hall. That's one of the officially sanctioned residence halls. If you ever come here, get an apartment. Really! That place sucks."

"Okay." Takeru felt very warm over the suggestion that he might come here for his undergraduate education. From Mimi, it almost sounded like an invitation. His toes curled in his shoes... this was just too much.

"There's so much to do here in the Village... movie revivals, cool ethnic restaurants, art shit, all that. There's this funky house nearby that's only about 10 feet wide...can you believe it? We can check it out after lunch, ne?"

"Whatever you want. I'm at your disposal."

Mimi started punching Takeru gently. "Don't be that way. What do you want? Today is all about you."

Takeru looked around, not knowing where to train his eyes as he felt a blush surface on his all-too-responsive cheeks. His eyes caught on a college-aged fellow, looking really scruffy as he played his guitar without a care in the world, all sandals and dreads... "Come mothers and fathers... throughout the land... and don't criticize what you can't understand... your sons and your daughters... are beyond your command.... mmm... and the times, they are a' changing."

It was mesmerizing. "I wouldn't mind being a part of this world. It's so... interesting."

"Yay! Does this mean that you are seriously thinking of coming here? God, I was half kidding, but that would so totally rock if you did! Yes!" Mimi exuberantly drew Takeru in for a happy little hug, and rubbed her nose against his, cutely.

"Yay!"

Takeru probably can be forgiven for what followed. Very gently, he kissed Mimi on the nose. "It would be cool."

She pulled back slowly, giving Takeru a sly little smile. "Are you flirting with me, Takeru-chan?"

"Maybe." Takeru put his hands in his trousers, trying to look non-committal as he began to whistle tunelessly.

"You are! Damn, that's adorable." Mimi had stood up to hug Takeru, and she drew him up when she did, but now she sat down on the bench and began giggling. "Takeru-chan, cutie cutie! You are so priceless! I love it!" She gestured for Takeru to sit, and he did. Really, he needed to... his heart was racing beyond reason.

"You... do?"

"Yeah." She leaned her head on Takeru's shoulder. "Be honest. Did you come here just to see me, sweetie?"

"Ummm...."

Mimi sighed, but was still in a good humour. "That means yes, hmm?"

"Yes..."

"I don't mind saying that I want to flirt your brains out... you are so cute it's not even funny. But you are Matt's little brother, and a fellow Digidestined. I made a vow to myself, no indiscretions with the Saviors of the World, okay? Not even with Jyou, even though he pestered me for years. I like you, Takeru. But....mm... I've had this feeling all morning that you've been taking my flirting a little too seriously. Have you?"

Takeru didn't even know how to respond to this. He hadn't even made his confession yet, and already it seemed like Mimi was drawing him along some pre-arranged script that had very little to do with him, or his feelings. Is it possible that a heart can beat so fast that it stops?

Is it?

After a few minutes of waiting for Takeru to reply, Mimi sighed again, in earnest this time. "Damn, fucking damn. How is it possible that you can have it so bad for me, Takeru-chan? You hardly even know me, and Matt tells me that you are a big-league flirt in your own right, back at home. I thought... Damn. Oh, we aren't playing the same game here, are we?"

"...Not really..." Takeru managed.

"Do you know what I am, Takeru? I'm Purity. That's what the Digital World told me I am, anyway. I thought about that alot, because I like boys and want to be intimate with them and all... but there's just a part of me that's frozen, and has never been touched by love. Maybe that's just sad. But never having been in love, I really am in no position to miss it. I've seen how it changes people... you, Jyou, Taichi, Sora... it's not pretty. Is it worth it?"

"I don't know. Why.... Mmm... Are you saying that you never will even try?"

Mimi smiled sadly. "I'm not sure it's possible for me, Takeru. Look at you. You are cute beyond description, and lots of fun. If I were to fall in love with anyone, I'm sure you'd be my type, definitely right up there. But love doesn't happen for me. It never does."

"But you do date...don't you?"

Mimi nodded. "Of course. I date people who don't matter to me. Because I know I'll hurt them, it just can't be helped. Actually, that's why I made my vow about all you Digidestined. My issues are my issues, and I... care... enough not to want to spread that damage around. I won't hurt you all... I won't."

Too late.

Takeru wasn't so sure that he liked the smell of hotdogs anymore.

~~~@~~~