Kirai ni Narenai ~ I Can't Hate You
Part Three
by Rb
She'd worked in her family's store throughout her youth, but that
was different -- that was a chore, and if she didn't work she
wouldn't get an allowance. During college, she'd often been a
waitress when in need of some extra cash...
...but this, this was very different.
Miyako chose her clothing carefully. She wanted to look mature,
and adult, and very, very, professional. She put on her
brand-new, smart-looking suit, which was very chic -- Sora had
really outdone herself. She studied herself in the mirror, and
applied makeup with a practiced hand. How should she wear her
hair?
"You look like you're primping for a date," muttered
Mikomi, dressed but with her hair rumpled and her glasses in one
hand.
"Mikomi! Get ready for school!" Miyako snapped, aghast
at her daughter's ill-timed comment.
Mikomi held up a hairbrush in answer, and started brushing out
her own fine blue hair. "You didn't make breakfast this
morning," she accused.
"I'm sorry," Miyako said. "I'm running a little
late. Couldn't you make breakfast?"
Mikomi's answer was a wide-eyed stare.
"I guess I have to teach you how to cook," Miyako
sighed.
"Do you really have to work?" Mikomi asked plaintively.
"Mikomi, we've discussed this. Yes, I do."
Mikomi started to brush her hair even more fiercely, as if
attacking it. The dark blue strands clouded her face.
"Mikomi..."
"I'm hungry. I'll get some fruit. Himeko'll be here
soon." Mikomi left, calling out her younger brother's name.
Miyako bit her lip nervously, stared into the mirror for a bit
longer, and pulled her hair back into a sleek ponytail. Then she
pulled it out and started brushing her hair again.
She really should be making breakfast.
She really should be ready to go.
Instead, she started idly braiding some strands of her purple
hair.
It's funny how the mind occupies itself when you really don't
want to think about something. You start thinking about something
-- anything. Hairstyles. Shoes. Clothing.
Not about the job. Not about the job. Never about the job. Never
about Koushirou.
Really.
---
Ichijouji Mikomi was actually glad when the doorbell rang. As she
expected, Hida Himeko was on the other side.
Mikomi often thought it really wasn't fair for one girl to be so cute.
Himeko's dark hair fell perfectly straight to her shoulders, held
back by her favorite headband. Her huge emerald eyes were
complimented by the pastel green and blue dress she wore, and the
pale yellow skin of her Upamon that she held in her hands just
added to the effect. She was neat and accesorized and absolutely,
teeth-gnashingly perfect.
Mikomi was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt her father had gotten
her on a business trip, white with 'I [heart] NYC' written in
blocky English letters. Her blue hair fell in her face,
practically covering her bespectacled eyes. She felt very
underdressed.
"Ah! Mikomi-chan!" Himeko squealed when she saw her.
"Good morning!"
"Good morning, Himeko-chan," Mikomi responded politely.
"Osamu's almost ready...one second." She turned
inwards. "OSAMU!" she yelled. "COME HERE!"
Himeko delicately winced.
Osamu appeared. "Hi, Oneesama, Himeko-san," he said
gravely. "I was eating a banana."
"We've gotta go to school now. Let's go," said Mikomi,
helping him put on his shoes and adjusting his backpack.
"Poromon! Minomon! C'mon!"
The green worm-like digimon bounced into Osamu's arms just as
Mikomi's pink feathered digimon fluttered around her shoulder.
"Bye-bye, Mama!" called Osamu as they entered the hall
and started on their way to school.
---
Ichijouji Miyako was in a panic. She looked through lists,
shoveled through papers, and ran through mental data.
How could I have forgotten to ask him? she cursed herself.
Miyako, you *idiot!*
"Hawkmon!" she yelled.
"Yes, Miyako-san?" responded the bird digimon's voice.
She couldn't see him.
"Where are you?" she called back.
"In Ari's room," he shouted. "I was about to find
you, Miyako-san. It's an emergency!"
The thought of her baby in trouble was too much to bear. Miyako
jumped up and ran to Ari's room. Technically, it was also Osamu's
room, and her other son's things littered half of the space.
"What's wrong, Hawkmon?" Closer, she could hear Ari's
amazingly loud screams, and wondered that she hadn't heard them
farther away. I must have been preoccupied, she decided.
"Your baby...stinks!" Hawkmon said, holding one wing in
front of his beak.
Miyako laughed. "He does not...oh, you're right."
Miyako winced and checked Ari's diaper. She wasn't really
surprised to see that it was entirely full. "Urk."
Quickly, she changed Ari's diaper and dumped the used one in the
trash.
"Eeeyurgh," sniffed Hawkmon.
Miyako glanced amusedly at her digimon partner. "You'd think
after watching me raise three kids that you'd be used to
something like diapers by now."
Hawkmon glared back.
"Kidding!" Miyako laughed. "Anyway, uh,
Hawkmon...can you get me the phone?"
Hawkmon nodded and left the room. While Miyako smoothed Ari's
hair, Hawkmon located the portable vid-phone and handed it to
Miyako.
"Thanks," she said, and dialed up Koushirou.
"Moshi moshi?" Koushirou responded, activating his
vid-plate.
"Ah...hi, Koushirou-san, this is Miyako." Miyako
activated her own vid-plate, so that Koushirou could see her
chagrined expression. "I was wondering...well...you never
did give me directions on how to get to work."
Koushirou stared blankly at the phone for a moment, then laughed.
"You're right. I didn't. I'm sorry, Miyako-kun." He
thought for a moment. "I'm about to drive Hitomi to school.
How about I pick you up on the way back and drive you to
work?"
Miyako considered. It seemed reasonable...and this way,
she wouldn't have to go on the subway in rush hour. "All
right."
"See you in a few minutes, Miyako-kun."
Miyako gritted her teeth as she turned off the phone. "I
really hate how he calls me that."
Hawkmon blinked. "Would you rather he called you
Ichijouji-kun?"
"Hawkmon..."
"Or Miyako-chan..."
"Hawkmon!"
"Or Miyako-sama...would you prefer that?"
Miyako blinked. "Hawkmon, you know that I love you dearly,
and that you're my best friend in the entire world and all...but
please, please, please shut up and let me finish getting
ready."
"Yes'm."
---
Ichijouji Osamu tended to notice things that no one else saw.
He noticed how in the cracks between the sidewalks, there was
almost always a little smudge of green fuzz and tiny, yet perfect
flowers sprung forth there. How the veins on a leaf matched the
blue veins on the back of his hand. How, when his eyes were tired
and unfocused, he'd see little lines that shimmered back and
forth, and little dots, red green blue, that no one else could
ever seem to see.
He could only talk about these things to Minomon, who understood
them without explanation. He could explain these things to
Hitomi-chan, explain for hours until his voice was raspy and
tired, and even though Hitomi-chan didn't -- couldn't understand,
she would listen and try, which was good enough.
He could never explain these things to Tori-kun. Tori-kun was
brash and loud, her blue eyes mean. He didn't really like
her, but she was Hitomi-chan's friend, so he had to like her.
Most of the time.
His hearing faded in and out. He could control that. He couldn't
control the noises outside, but he could control his
receptiveness. He could hear the high-pitched voice of his older
sister, the softer voice of that other girl, and the childlike
voice of Minomon muttering in his ear. He heard sounds, he heard
a lot of sounds. It was up to him to consciously interpret the
sounds he kept hearing into actual words.
It was like listening to the English music that his older sister
insisted on blaring. Some of the syllables were familiar, but he
couldn't even think of putting them into actual words that really
meant anything.
He didn't want to, because he knew that Oneesama and the other
girl...his mind supplied a name...Himeko-san...would be arguing,
and he didn't want to hear it. Himeko always wanted to talk,
talk, talk and had even tried attempting talking to him, Osamu,
but he simply deconstructed her words into syllables and from
syllables to sounds until all she said was meaningless, like it
always was. But he sighed, and adjusted himself so that the
syllables made up words that really meant something again.
"Osamu-chan," whispered Minomon, "are you all
right?"
"Ah, yeah," he whispered back.
"The moron speaks," Mikomi said from above him. Osamu
didn't mind. Oneesama often called him rude words. It was her way
of showing affection, Mama had said once, and Osamu agreed.
"Don't call your brother that," Himeko admonished.
"It's rude." Osamu felt a rush of impatience for the
dark-haired girl, unconsciously mirroring his sister's feelings.
She didn't understand.
"He's my brother, I'll call him whatever I want,"
Mikomi shot back.
Himeko sniffed and readjusted her digimon, a pale yellow sleepy
Upamon, in her arms. "By the way, Mikomi-chan, did I tell
you?"
"What is it, Himeko-chan?" Mikomi said tiredly.
"You know that concert I'm going to be in two weeks, the one
where I'm singing and playing the piano?"
"No, I thought it was the one where you were going to be
dancing in that big fancy ballet..."
"Silly! That's next month! Anyway, the principal announced
the news about my concert in front of the entire school! Isn't
that totally cool?"
"Thrilling."
"Oh, look! There's Mori-kun and Kakeru-kun!"
"Who would have guessed it, they're walking to
school..." Mikomi muttered as Hitomi waved an arm.
"Mori-kuuun! Kakeru-kuuun! Walk with us!"
The two boys obligingly changed directions. Osamu happened to
like Yagami Kakeru, who was kind and quiet. Sometimes, Osamu
thought that Kakeru might understand the world the way Osamu did.
Takaishi Mori was one of those that Osamu mentally classified as
'loud'. However, Kakeru seemed to see something good in him.
Osamu kept a look out to see if it would ever appear.
Himeko started talking enthusiastically to Mori about a soccer
game she'd been to. "You looked totally cool!"
"I know," replied Mori, smirking. Himeko laughed.
Kakeru shook his head, smiling. Mikomi didn't smile. She dropped
back behind the others. Kakeru matched her pace. Osamu saw this,
and slowed down as well. Mikomi didn't notice, because Osamu was
in invisible mode. He'd chosen so.
"Hey, are you all right, Mikomi-chan?" Kakeru asked.
Kakeru was a close friend of his sister's, Osamu knew. His smile
always brightened her heart.
Mikomi smiled wanly. "I guess I'm just a little stressed,
Kakeru-kun."
Kakeru carefully put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it
gently. "Don't worry, Mikomi-chan. It'll be all right, I'm
sure."
"Right. Thank you," she said formally.
The school building approached. Himeko and Mori were the first up
the steps, laughing and greeting other friends. Mikomi and Kakeru
approached more slowly, Kakeru having removed his hand. Osamu
tagged along behind them.
Their first stop was the Digimon Day-Care center, where all
digimon stayed during the day. No teachers allowed digimon in
their classrooms, saying that the digimon were too distracting.
The digimon were well-treated, most of them opting to sleep while
their partners were in classes. Kakeru and Mori split off
afterwards, Kakeru telling Mikomi he'd see her in class.
"Daichi-kun says that in America, he's allowed to bring
Chibimon to classes," Mikomi muttered as she handed over
Poromon.
"But Chibimon has to stay in his bag, like our parents'
digimon used to," Himeko reminded her. "Can I walk
Osamu-kun to kindergarden? He's so cute!"
Osamu sent Mikomi a horrified look.
"Er, no, I want to," Mikomi covered for her little
brother quickly. "Ah, Himeko-chan, I'll meet you at our
classroom, okay?"
"O...kay." She waved goodbye to Osamu, then skipped
off.
Mikomi escorted Osamu to the kindergarden classroom. Yagami
Hikari, his teacher, smiled at Mikomi and exchanged pleasantries
with Mikomi before bending down to Osamu's level. Osamu liked
Hikari very much. Like her son Kakeru, she was kind.
"Hello, Osamu-kun. Are you glad to be back?"
"Y-yes," Osamu nodded.
"Hitomi-chan'll be here any moment. Want to wait with
me?"
Osamu nodded firmly.
True to her word, Hitomi, with her father in tow, bounded up.
"Hello, Hitomi-chan!" Hikari greeted, before turning to
Koushirou. "So, today's Miyako's first day of work,
huh?"
Osamu waved at Hitomi, feeling shy. He hadn't seen his friend in
a whole week!
"Mm, yes." Koushirou looked at his watch.
"Actually, I have to pick up Miyako right now."
Hitomi giggled and waved back at Osamu. Osamu felt warm.
A knowing smile appeared on Hikari's face. "Good luck,
you," she said as Koushirou turned around.
Koushirou jerked back and looked at Hikari in surprise.
"Don't you mean to wish Miyako-kun good luck?" he said,
his tone formal.
Hikari shook her head and smiled.
Hitomi reached out and grsped Osamu's hand. "C'mon! Let's
play with the blocks!"
Osamu gratefully followed.
---
Ichijouji Miyako was ready for work. She was prepared. She was in
control. She was also about to kick Koushirou-SAN's stupid HEAD
open if he took any LONGER getting to her apartment building!
Hawkmon blinked his pale blue eyes at her. "Miyako-san, calm
down."
Miyako smiled at her partner. "I'm just a little anxious,
Hawkmon." She wasn't sure if she caught some rude words
being sputtered in the coughing fit that attacked her partner.
Smiling, she shifted her sleeping baby's weight in her arms as
she waited in front of her apartment. Ari slept peacefully.
Leafmon was balanced in the sling around Hawkmon's neck. Hawkmon
also carried a large portable carrier loaded with tons of
baby-toys and necessities (diapers, bottles, pacifiers, food...)
A large black car pulled up in front of the apartment and parked.
The driver opened the door and walked out. Miyako easily
recognized Koushirou's red hair.
"Miyako-kun?"
"Here," Miyako answered.
His face broke into a genuine smile when he saw her. "Ah,
there you are." He gestured towards his car. "Get
in!"
Miyako started walking. Hawkmon called out piteously,
"Miyako-san..."
"What is it, Hawkmon?"
"I can't move..."
Miyako stopped herself from tripping and falling face-forward on
the pavement just in time.
"Here, let me," said Koushirou. He easily lifted up the
baby things and brought it to the car. "I'll put it in the
back. Tentomon's already there."
"And quite happy where he is, thank you very much,"
came Tentomon's voice.
"Relax, old friend," Koushirou grinned as he stuffed
the baby supplies in the door, then showed Hawkmon where to sit.
"Miyako-kun, you get the passenger seat."
Once settled in the car, she noticed him looking at her --
whether appreciative or puzzled, she couldn't tell.
"Hey, Koushirou-san...like my outfit?" she asked,
raising an eyebrow.
Koushirou blushed guiltily as he realized he was staring. Appreciative,
decided Miyako, grinning, not sure whether to be upset or amused.
Or both.
"It's...nice." The blush faded instantly, and now his
stare was analytical. Too bad.
"Sora designed it."
"Sora's very skilled."
Miyako was surprised at his words -- an outright compliment, very
rare from Koushirou, and the lack of the formality -- is he that
close to Sora?
"It's not...usual, though, to be dressed so nicely, in my
office." He spread his arms, revealing his white button-down
short-sleeved shirt, his neat black pants -- nothing fancy,
nothing special. "Do you think of this as a special
occasion?"
It was Miyako's turn to be embarrassed. "Ah, I'll wear
scrubs tomorrow."
"I'm sure you'll look stunning," Koushirou said dryly,
his face turned away from her as he inserted the key into the
ignition. "As always."
Miyako's face wrinkled into a picture of honest surprise. Did he
mean that? What did it matter to her? It wasn't her fault. She
was just trying to be friendly.
It wouldn't be good to work with someone that still hated her for
something that was eighteen years in the past, for something that
was so utterly insignificant, she didn't know why she could still
remember the precise time of year it had happened --
-- fall, shading to winter, the leaves on the trees almost
entirely gone, the cold wind ripping into her vandalized heart --
-- well, maybe it was important, she wouldn't have married Ken
otherwise.
Ken, who was dead.
Miyako shivered, a slight movement barely noticeable. Koushirou
frowned and turned down the air conditioning.
She had gotten this job so that she would work. She was going to
work. She was going to work.
Damnit.
---
How come she looked so beautiful? How could she look so
beautiful? What right did she have to have such a hold over his
heart, even after all these years?
Koushirou silently but profoundly cursed off his altruistic
(masochistic?) streak.
Get your priorities straight...
He was here not to mourn a lost love, not to wallow in self-pity,
and most certainly not to court a newly-made widow. He was here
to work with his new assistant.
Got that clear?
Aye aye.
Still...
Damnit.
---
After a mostly silent drive, both humans being absorbed with
their own thoughts and neither digimon feeling talkative,
Koushirou's car pulled up in front of a huge building.
Miyako's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. "This is where
you work?"
"Yes," answered Koushirou nonchantantly.
Miyako stared at him.
Koushirou sweatdropped. "Miyako-kun, why such a weird
look?"
Miyako managed to get her voice under control as she answered,
"I knew you were RICH, I just didn't know HOW rich."
Koushirou parked -- in a VIP space, Miyako noted absently.
"It's not a big deal...I had some close friends that needed
me to help them set up a new business. They're smart. They
managed to keep it profitable. I just supplied programs and
techological designs, and for some reason people bought them.
Nothing special."
"You're so modest," groaned Miyako.
"Really! I wasn't that interested in most of what I was
doing until the last few years, when I found my true calling.
Money and power has never been that important to me," he
shrugged. "What I wanted to do -- what was important to my
heart -- was to research the Digital world."
They both got out of the car. Koushirou opened the door and
helped out Tentomon, then swiftly picked up the baby supplied
Hawkmon had so recently been overburdened with.
"Thank you," Hawkmon said instantly.
"Not a problem," Koushirou said. He turned back to
Miyako, who was adjusting Ari's position in her arms. "I
remembered that Sora's father Professor Takenouchi and Jyou's
brother Kido Shuu had been researching the Digital world for
quite some time in our youth. Although both had gone different
ways quite some time ago, I managed to get them both to continue
working with me. Along with Tentomon, we make a pretty solid
team. Takenouchi-sensei researches myths, Shuu-san is really good
at correlating events in the Digital world to events in our world
-- you should hear some of the theories he has, they're wild --
Tentomon's simply the best at gathering information -- "
Tentomon took a bow. Miyako stiffled a giggle.
" -- and I take their information, feed it through the
computer, and spin theories for everyone to look at. Among other
things," Koushirou said a bit stiffly.
"Mm." The four of them -- six, counting the fast-asleep
Ari and Leafmon, who was uneasily balancing on Hawkmon's head --
headed indoors. There were a few guards at the front of the
building, but a nod from Koushirou made them all relax.
Koushirou entered an elevator, waited for everyone else to enter
it, and then pushed a button. The elevator immediately started
zooming up.
"So," Miyako said finally, "what am I bringing to
the team?"
Koushirou's eyes steadied on her. Miyako felt like a deer frozen
in a headlght's glare. "Well, your ideas and opinions, which
differ greatly from my own -- in fact, you have the most unique
viewpoint of anyone that I know." From him, it was a great
compliment. "You're very original, and you'll be bound to
make us look at things very differently. You'll also be taking a
load off my shoulders in analyzing data, and you'll be certain to
not let me work 80 hours a week."
"But...why me?"
The elevator stopped, but Koushirou kept the door closed without
lifing his gaze from Miyako. Their eyes were locked.
"Because you're you," Koushirou said finally.
"Because you needed a job. Because I needed someone like
you, whom I could trust -- and I've always trusted you
completely."
The faintest of blushes appeared on Miyako's cheeks.
"But..."
"But nothing." Koushirou's tone grew faster and harsher
as he went on. "You're a Chosen, just like me. You
understand, in a way that Takenouchi-sensei and Shuu-san could
never understand, the pressures and difficulties of being a
Chosen, of the Digital world. You know it instinctively, without
even thinking about it. You would never, ever sacrifice any life,
and would do everything in your power to stop harm coming to the
digital world. "
"Kou -- " Miyako started, but Koushirou cut her off
with a wave of his hand, obviously inflamed about his subject
matter.
"Did you know that right now there are no less than a
hundred radical groups plotting on how to destroy the Digital
world? They're jealous and afraid of digimon of all kinds, and
want to cut off the Digital world -- forever. That's what I want
to solve. I want to save the Digital world again, even though I'm
too old for active fighting. I want to protect it so well that
none of these groups will ever succeed in their evil plans -- and
they are evil, you know, just as much as any of the evil digimon
we both fought. Just because they're humans doesn't mean we
aren't in a battle. And I want...I want to fight this one my own
way. With your help, we could win. That is...that's my heart's
secret wish, my passion." He took in a deep breath and
smiled sheepishly. "That's why I need you to help me."
Miyako's amber eyes were wide. "Koushirou..." she
whispered. Abashed, she corrected herself, adding the proper
suffix.
His smile grew a shade more stretched. "Tell you what,
Miyako. I know you're not comfortable with calling me -san, and
I'm not thrilled with calling you -kun. While we're in the
office, it'd be best to address me politely, but when we're
outside of the office...well, we're friends, right? Address me as
you'd call a friend. I stopped using suffixes for most of my
Chosen friends long ago."
"Yes," said Miyako. "Koushirou."
"Miyako."
He released his hold on the button holding the elevator shut, and
they all trooped out. Hawkmon and Tentomon watched their
respective partners with wariness. They both knew that something
had gone on that wasn't usual, but neither could name what had
happened.
---
Miyako threw herself whole-heartedly into her work almost
instantly.
It was good for her to get away from the apartment she
had shared with Ken for hours at a time, forcing her away from
the memories and the sadness.
It was good for her to get out and into the world,
expanding her horizons. She hadn't realized how chained she'd
been -- how she'd chained herself -- until she'd become free.
It was good for her to be earning money. She didn't want
to have to depend on the charity of her friends, no matter how
generous they were. She wanted to do her own work, fair and
square.
It was good for her to have such fascinating work, which
really was fascinating. Every day, she'd learned
something knew. Every day, the new data served to completely
boggle her mind and make her think in completely new ways she'd
never dreamed of before. Even from day one, when she was just
going over the procedures and learning how to work with the very
advanced equipment she'd been provided with, she realized that
this was what made her heart sing. This was her passion.
It was...it was good for her to get over the almost
paralyzing fear that had controlled her for years whenever she
saw Koushirou. Now that she was over that -- she was over all of
the hard feelings -- she could concentrate on how friendly and
nice he really was, and how considerate, and especially how
brilliant he was, like her childhood sempai.
The one she'd...
...no...
...fallen...
Stop it!
Part of her was still attached to him. Part of her still hated
him. She knew about both parts and ignored them in her best
imitating-Izumi fashion.
There were differences between the Koushirou she knew now and the
childhood Koushirou, and even from the Koushirou she'd dated
throughout college. This Koushirou was just as focused but a bit
more laid-back and flexible, able to adapt to different
strategies. More open. She suspected it was fatherhood which had
thrust these changes on him, but she couldn't be certain.
He solicited her opinion quite often. It almost embarrassed her,
how much he trusted in her ideas. She hoped her thoughts weren't
as stupid as they seemed to her. He never acted like they were.
Miyako rode with him to his house every day to pick up Osamu. She
saw how gentle he was towards his daughter, how respectful he was
towards his mother, how nicely he treated herself and her
children, never being anything less than genuinely warm and
courteous.
Unbidden, a thought crossed her mind -- he's kind.
Mimi Tachikawa-Lyon's apartment was, like Mimi herself, perfectly
coordinated and elegant. The walls matched the floors, the floors
matched the furniture, and the effect was like stepping into a
magazine.
Mimi was also a gracious host. When Daisuke and Daichi Motomiya
appeared at her doorstep -- unannounced, but still appreciated --
Mimi barely blinked before ushering them both in.
"Carl's out on a business meeting," she said
immediately as she prepared some tea. "He won't be back for
a while. Shawn's in his room. Dai," she said, smiling at the
younger boy as she used his American nickname, "why don't
you join him?"
"Okay," chirped Daichi, and walked off. Since Daisuke
and Mimi were the only original Chosen to be living in America,
they'd become good friends over the years. The Motomiya men were
a common sight at Mimi's apartment -- or, at least, had been
until recently.
"So, Daisuke," Mimi said, reverting to her childhood
Japanese as she poured the tea, "what brings you here? I
haven't seen you since...since Ken's funeral a few months back,
in fact, and you really didn't stay for very long."
A look of uncharacteristic bitterness crossed Daisuke's face.
"I'm sorry, but if Ichijouji Ken had meant half as much to
you as he did to me, you'd see why it's been hard for me to
really relate to the outside world."
Mimi took a sip of her tea. "Mm." Using her teacup as a
cover, she studied Daisuke's face. His face was in the grooves of
sorrow. She made an instant decision. "We all loved Ken very
much."
Daisuke, who was in mid-sip, choked and turned red.
"I suppose it was harder for the younger Chosen, who knew
him best," Mimi said, seeming to study her teacup.
"Especially you and Miyako."
Daisuke made a valiant attempt to speak, but ended up only
sputtering.
"It's funny, what everyone thought...that Miyako was in love
with Koushirou...that you and Ken were so close -- "
Daisuke gave her a dark look. "I thought so too."
Mimi continued on her litany. " -- that Takeru and Hikari
would eventually get married, that Sora and Yamato would stay
together for eternity..."
Daisuke cut in with tones that could have cut cheese. "That
you and Jyou would stay together."
Mimi sighed in response to his barb. "How come the only
marriages that seemed to really last were the ones made by the
only two Chosen smart enough to marry out? Taichi's marriage is
still strong, same with Iori, and they both married non-Chosen
women."
"I disagree," Daisuke said unexpectedly. "Takeru
married a non-Chosen, and his wife died after only a few years.
That wasn't happily ever after. My wife ran off, and she was a
non-Chosen -- but she left Daichi with me, and she wasn't that
great, anyway."
"I always wondered about her," Mimi said. "I
always thought you could do better."
"Right. Koushirou and Hikari never married, although they
both have children -- Koushirou adopted, and Hikari..." He
trailed off and got back on firmer ground. "Mimi, you've had
two non-Chosen husbands. Neither have been exactly stellar
material."
Mimi made a face. "I'm determined to make this marriage
last."
"Carl's an idiot. Make it last with someone worth your
time."
Mimi's eyes suddenly got sparkly. "Ahh~h, you're such a
charmer, Daisuke-sama! Please save a spot in your heart for me,
Daisuke-sama!"
"I know. I'm not your type."
"What?"
"Daisuke," Mimi said, staring him straight in the eye,
her pretense of innocence dropped. "Why did you come to my
home without V-mon?"
"I didn't want V-mon to know about this. I knew Dai'd be
occupied elsewhere, but V-mon would have insisted to stay. I
don't want him to know."
"What's 'this?'" Mimi asked.
Daisuke sighed, and pulled out a large, padded envelope. He
handed it silently to Mimi.
"That's...that's your name, in Ken's handwriting," Mimi
said, puzzled.
"I know." Daisuke's tone was suddenly drained, as if he
was too exhausted to move or even emote, an old, tired man.
"I know."
Mimi turned the envelope over, noting its weight. "May
I?"
"You might as well." Again, the 'dead' tone.
Mimi slit it open skillfully.
Pictures poured out.
Not just any pictures -- pictures of Daisuke. Hundreds of
pictures of Daisuke. Daisuke smiling, Daisuke laughing, Daisuke
acting up, Daisuke fighting with Takeru, Daisuke with an arm
slung casually around Ken's shoulders, Daisuke from the time he
was twelve to a time in his early twenties. There were so many,
no two the same.
"Hikari was the official picture-taker of our group, but Ken
could -- and often did -- take his own pictures," Daisuke
supplied in an ironic undertone.
"There are...so many."
"I'm a ham. I always volunteered to pose for Ken's camera. I
didn't realize...or maybe I did, but I didn't care."
"Oh." It wasn't enough, and Mimi knew it.
"Why?"
Without even seeming to look, Daisuke swept his hand through the
pictures and picked out a sheet of personal stationary, neatly
folded. Rare, for 2028. Nearly everything was on computers.
Daisuke handed it to Mimi. Mimi read the words. She blinked, and
let them sink in.
They were common words, words said again and again and again,
with different depths of emotion each time. When written down in
flawless handwriting like Ichijouji Ken's, they took on forms of
precious gems, of diamonds, etching themselves in the heart.
Mimi didn't need to read them out loud. But she did anyway.
Unconsciously, she adopted Ken's soft tones as she read them out
loud.
"Daisuke. I love you. Ken."
The words hung in the air, balancing in the echoes of time.
Daisuke gave no physical reaction at first. Slowly, as if he was
stuck in syrup, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a
cigarette and lighter.
"Don't smoke," Mimi said, breaking the spell.
He blinked at her, uncomprehending. "There are ashtrays
here."
"Carl smokes. I wish he wouldn't."
"I wish a lot of things. I might as well have an early death
on that list."
"No," Mimi whispered. "Ken wouldn't want
that."
"How the hell am I supposed to know what Ken wanted?"
Daisuke asked softly. "He's such a screwed-up person. He
wished for his brother to die. He tried to take over an entire
world -- and would probably have succeeded, if not for some dumb
luck and miscalculation. He fell in love with his best friend,
but was too cowardly to accept that part of him. When his other
friend was distressed, he proposed -- leaving everyone around
them in turmoil and destroying three romances in the process.
Only after his death was he able to confess. What a coward. What
a pathetic person."
Mimi's eyes were wide. "Daisuke, you don't mean this. You
can't."
Daisuke looked at her, eyes half-lidded -- with amusement? With
pity? "Mimi, I have to stay angry at Ken. I have to be mad.
If not...I'll start crying, because I love him, and now he's
really gone forever."
Mimi was speechless, but only for a moment. Her maternal
instincts took over. She walked to where Daisuke was sitting and
folded her arms around him, mingling her tears with his and
comforting him in the only way she knew how.
Every hour, every minute, every second he was with Miyako, his
heart soared. He smiled because he knew he would see her. His
world was better because she was there.
He loved her.
More to the point, he was in love with her. Totally,
completely, absolutely.
He loved being in love with her -- his new perception, his
heightened senses, the feeling that he was drowning and it wasn't
that bad, not at all.
There was only one problem, and just thinking of this problem was
a splash of cold water on his face.
She didn't love him back.
She couldn't love him back. She was in mourning and
probably still in love with Ken, her heart too fragile to even
think of having him touch it. She only thought of him as a
friend, and even that was iffy. He'd had his chance with her
already, and soundly blown it.
Koushirou wanted to go back in time and slap his younger self for
screwing things up so blindly.
"Are you stupid?" he'd shout. "How can you not
appreciate what you have? Wait until you go without her for ten,
almost twenty years, starved for love and knowing that you were
the one that caused your own misery? You'll see how your work is
no comfort then, no matter how much effort you put into it."
He couldn't, though. Too bad. He had a lot to say.
He should appreciate his friendship with Miyako, and be happy
that she still allowed him, ignorant buffoon that he was, to be
near her. Allowed him the pleasure of working with her for the
time that he had left with her, before her mourning year was up
and she started looking outwards again, for a father to her
children, for a husband.
He'd keep her for as long as he could. He'd keep his hold on her,
damnit, and he wouldn't let go. He wouldn't let go.
He loved her. He was allowed to be stupid. It came in the
description.
He needed a cold shower.
---
