Welcome to the beginning of the end, everyone. ^_^ These next two parts are where everything starts working together. I also start including the digimon a little more -- I really find it hard to write from the digimons' perspectives most of the time, because most of them are really, really flat characters. Face it; Toei thinks that just because a character spends half of its time saying "__Insert name here!__ evolves!" means that it's just a simplified version of a three-year-old. However, I do start having the digimon play a slightly larger role than Toei lets them get.

This fic isn't really doing as well as I'd hoped...reader-wise or review-wise...-_-;; I thought you people wanted to be writers! Must I bribe you all to get people to write a review? What's with this? Please, start reviewing or I'll get wrapped up in a snit and only write really depressing metaphysical original fics about how we're all going to die!

...oh, dear, I'm just encouraging you all.

Anyway, I don't own Digimon or any of its trademarks. I'm also shamelessly borrowing usage of the English language from Merriam-Websters. (You people are so nice, letting everyone speak in English, without saying we're infringing on your copyrights...::sparkle::)

Kirai ni Narenai ~ I Can't Hate You
Part Six
by Rb

Once upon a time...

There was a man, and a woman. And they lived together in happiness.

And then there was a problem. The man was very quiet, while the woman was emotional to the max. While normally this worked out to the best in a balance, there was a time when it cracked.

The two went off their seperate paths, and lived seperate lives from then on, until a chain of events was set off and the two were thrown together again.

Two roads diverge in a wood all the time. That's the nature of roads in woods. What no one ever speaks about is how often those roads come back and become one.

---

Miyako placed her hand on the door that led to Koushirou's room and yanked it open.

It was dim inside, the only light coming from a window; the harsh artificial light of a streetlamp. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a figure of a man lying prone on the bed.

Miyako watched Koushirou's unmoving body for a long time.

He looks, one part of her mind noted wryly, like a fairy-tale princess, waiting for the kiss of True Love to wake him up.

In silence, she walked over to his bed and bent over him, her long violet hair falling on either side of her face. Now she could see the faint marks on his face that were from tears.

With great precision, she bent closer to him, her hair falling in front of her face...

...and rammed a fist in his gut.

"Eeyurgh," said Koushirou wisely as his eyes flew open. "Itaaaai! Ow! Mi-Miyako!"

"Sorry," Miyako said unrepentantly. "But you have a lot of explaining to do."

"Ex...plain...ing?"

"Yes." She sat down on the edge of the bed very primly, her legs crossed. Koushirou also sat up and clambered down to the edge of the bed next to her, leaving about a foot or so of space between them. She didn't look at him, nor he at her. He didn't offer to turn on the lights. Some things are better left in darkness.

"So," he said.

"So," she replied. "Were you being serious when you said you loved me?"

Koushirou winced. "Why must you always go for the zinger?"

"Because."

"Oh. Well."

There was a long silence.

"Koushirou?"

"Yes. I was."

"You were what?" Miyako pressed.

"I was...I was being serious when I said I loved you."

It was Miyako's turn to be silent.

"I do love you, you know. I have for years. I just couldn't say it," said Koushirou, uncomfortable with the current quiet. "I mean, you're just so...so enthusiastic, and outgoing, and emotional, and you're everything I'm not, yet you click so well with me, like a key to my lock. But I couldn't say it, because...because I was afraid, because it was too soon, because I thought -- "

Miyako turned to him and kissed him briefly, deeply, on the lips.

" -- well, never mind," Koushirou finished.

"You idiot," said Miyako affectionately -- at least, he trusted it was affectionately -- and kissed him again. This time he took advantage of her closeness to wrap both arms around her and bring her even closer. Her slender body still felt very much the same as it had nearly twenty years ago, warm and responsive in his grip.

Fire raced up and down his body, spreading wherever Miyako's hands touched him. Even though his clothes, he could feel her delicate fingers racing around his neck, getting snagged on the chain he wore...

...the chain that held the key to his office, and to the computer within...

...his world hiccuped to a stop. What if this is all a setup? What if all she wants is to see Ken's memoirs? What if this is all a game, and she's just faking this?

Koushirou backed away from the woman. His fingers groped around his neck and undid the chain, clenching the key in his hand.

"What's wrong, Koushirou?" asked Miyako, surprised.

He glared at her, opened his fist, and displayed the key. "This is what you want. Not me."

"What?!" Miyako snapped, startled

"This key unlocks the door to my office. The computer's on. Ken's memoirs are open already."

"But -- " Miyako's mind caught up to what was actually happening. "But -- wait, what about the passwords? You never told me -- "

Koushirou refused to meet her eyes. "There are no precautions. That was all a smokescreen. I...Ken never said anything about you not being allowed to read them. I wanted...I wanted to protect you, I suppose. It doesn't really matter anymore." He dropped the key onto the bed, stood up, and stalked out of the room.

Miyako sat, shocked. Her eyes went from the key on the bed to the door. What to do? Satisfy her burning curiosity about Ken, or find Koushirou?

Wracked in indecision, she tried to assimilate what had just happened, but failed. What should I do?...

...what would
Koushirou do?

She stared at the key for some time more.

And made her choice.

---

About five seconds after Koushirou stormed out of the room, he realized that he'd just quite neatly locked himself out of his own room.

"Crap," he muttered, running a hand through his slightly rumpled red hair.

Well. This house was too big as it was, and there were about half a dozen unoccupied bedrooms. He could sleep in one of them for tonight.

He had a pounding headache starting already. Shouldn't the hangover symptoms wait until AFTER I've had a chance to sleep?

What he felt like doing right then was playing the piano. Koushirou used the piano like how others might have used exercise, or writing, or singing karaoke -- to get rid of the feelings that really had no place in his life.

The only problem was that the piano was in the dining room. Stragglers from his (utterly miserable) party might still be hanging around. His mother might still be there.

Oh, well. He'd risk it. Besides, everyone should have gotten the idea that the party was over, especially since he'd been absent for...he checked his watch...an hour!

Time really can fly when you're having fun. He squashed the sarcastic voice inside his head. Surely everyone would have gone by now. Surely they would have realized it was over. Surely...

...of course, Hida Iori was standing in the dining room, with a very unamused look on his handsome face.

Koushirou tried smiling, but found that smiles -- or any other expression -- felt extremely fake. "Hello, Iori."

"Koushirou-san." Iori inclined his head. "What did you think you were doing tonight?"

"Having a dinner party?" Koushirou hazarded. From the look of disapproval on Iori's face, he knew it was the wrong answer.

Iori sighed. He looked the older man straight in the eyes and spoke to him as if Koushirou was no older than Hitomi. "Having a dinner party is one thing. Storming out of the dinner party, and secluding yourself with a woman you have, in the past, had feelings for, in an undisclosed room -- "

"You make it sound like I had her in handcuffs, or chained to the dungeon wall," Koushirou snapped, nettled. "It was only my bedroom."

Iori's face turned even grimmer, and Koushirou realized that he wasn't helping the situation much. "I think I have a right to know what you're doing with my best friend," Iori returned. "Especially because she's recently widowed. I hope you haven't been taking advantage of her or anything."

"It's not like we had sex, Iori!" Koushirou shouted.

Iori looked scandalized. "What did you do, then?"

Koushirou sobered. "We...talked."

"And?"

"And...and kissed."

Iori tensed. Koushirou remembered that Iori was quite a few inches taller and about three times as strong as the rather scrawny and short computer expert. If Iori wanted to, he could break every bone in Koushirou's body without breaking a sweat. And Iori probably did want to. Iori was incredibly loyal and protective towards his friends, including Miyako. Especially Miyako.

Koushirou was, understandably, not eager for this to happen. "Can I explain?"

Iori pursed his lips. His green eyes were studying Koushirou like an entomologist would study an interesting species of bug. "Go ahead."

Koushirou tried to summarize his thoughts and emotions into something that Iori would understand. Iori, too, carried the burden of knowledge. Iori also liked to have things make sense. Iori would like...

Suddenly, Koushirou had a revelation. Sometimes, things don't have to make sense. Sometimes, things are unorderly. Sometimes, things just are, and don't have to be explained. Like the wind and the waves. Love.

Music.

Koushirou strode over to the piano and started playing, his eyes unfocused. Although Iori didn't know it, it was the same piece that Koushirou'd played earlier for Miyako and the others. There was only one difference, though -- he went on, past the place he'd stopped with the others. The chords grew faster, louder, crashing into each other, tumbling over one another, yet somehow not clashing. Finally, when the music had reached the climax, Koushirou lifted his fingers from the keys, waited a beat, and then slammed them down randomly, creating a terrible noise.

After the last notes had faded away, Koushirou locked eyes with Iori. "That's your explanation."

"That was...beautiful, until the very end," Iori said. "But...who wrote it? I've never heard it before."

"I did."

"What's it called?"

"It's my life," Koushirou answered simply.

---

When Miyako left Koushirou's room, her face was a pale, scared white. She looked around the hallways desperately, searching for Koushirou. She didn't want to see him, yet she needed to talk to him. Scream at him. Cry on his shoulder. All of the above.

He lied to me. He lied...they both lied to me...for all these years, too. Was all of his kindness these past months been through pity? All of his affection been a lie?

"Miyako-san?"

The polite voice nearly made Miyako scream. Miyako turned around and saw, to her dismay, the figure of Izumi Satoe. Koushirou's mother.

"If you don't want to be seen by Koushirou and Iori-san, I'd suggest going out the back way," Satoe advised, smiling obliquely. "I've already called a cab to take you home. It should be here soon. Reika-san and Hikari-san already took home your children."

The older woman's kindness was enough to break Miyako's thin control, and she burst into tears. "Thank you," Miyako whispered brokenly. "Thank you." Miyako awkwardly removed her glasses and wiped her eyes.

Satoe studied Miyako's face. Without her glasses, Miyako looked much younger, like the girl who her son had dated nearly twenty years ago. At one time, Satoe had hoped that Miyako would be the mother of her, Satoe's, grandchildren. Then Miyako had broken her son's heart, and Satoe had hated Miyako -- hated her because she'd hurt her child, and a mother's love is always, always, fiercely protective.

And now, what to do? Satoe had called a cab because she knew Miyako would need one -- she certainly wouldn't be staying the entire night as Satoe'd half-hoped, not with Koushirou storming out like that. Satoe didn't have a mean bone in her body, but to someone who'd crushed her son like that...

Satoe thought about the night that her baby boy had died. It was from a rare disease that she'd never heard of before. She'd been in shock for weeks, and had vowed never to forget the name of the disease which had robbed her of her baby.

That was forty years ago. Now she couldn't remember the name of the disease, the name of the doctor she'd spoken to...or even the name she'd given her child. Time heals wounds, slowly, sadly. The wound of her child dying. The wound of her child's pain.

Satoe searched in herself for anger or resentment towards the crying woman in front of her, but found only compassion and empathy.

Satoe opened her arms and embraced Miyako in a warm, maternal hug. Miyako accepted her comfort. For a brief, private moment they were linked in the most intimate way possible -- not through sweat or blood, but through tears.

They broke apart, and Miyako replaced her glasses on her face, murmuring a quiet "thank you." She felt like she should say something to the older woman, but knew if she started talking, she'd start talking too much. She's start talking about everything that her mind had not quite assimilated yet.

"The cab will be here soon," Satoe said after a moment. "I'll show you the back way."

Quietly, Miyako followed her.

The cab ride home was uneventful, the driver perfectly content to drive in silence. Miyako thought about visiting Iori and Reika, so that they'd be aware that she was okay, but was suddenly too tired to even think about talking to them.

The apartment's lights were on, and Hawkmon was waiting for her when she came in the door. Miyako opened her mouth to speak, but Hawkmon held up a feathery finger -- or his equivalent, anyway.

"The children are all safe at Iori-san's apartment. I don't want you to talk to me right now," Hawkmon said, his blue eyes gentle as he looked at his partner. "I know you've been through a lot, and I know you feel very overwhelmed right now, but I'm really not the right person to talk to right now. Go to sleep, Miyako-san. In the morning, we'll talk."

"...thank you, Hawkmon."

She went to her room, undressed, and pulled on pajamas. She fell asleep, with the events of the day and the words of Ken's memoirs marching around in her head.

"By doing this, I'm going to be living a lie...I'm used to it by now..."

"But I can't
not do this, I have to...my happiness doesn't matter..."

"I'll marry Miyako...even if she's not the one I love..."

"The one I love..."

"The one I love..."

"I love..."


Mercifully, a deeper sleep claimed her at that point, and her thoughts -- and tears -- ceased.

---

Ow.

Kido Jyou's entire world at the moment could be summed up with that exclamation. Actually, his whole world could be several rather more vulgar epiphets, but 'Ow' was pretty accurate, as far as Jyou was concerned.

His entire world was, currently, a pulsing pain that spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toenails. Even his earlobes throbbed.

"I think he's waking up. Having fun, Jyou?" said a very high-pitched, cheerful, and above all LOUD voice. Jyou opened his eyes -- and, groaning, closed them. No sudden movements for a while, Jyou. Not unless you really want to puke all over the bed.

"Hush, Gomamon," said a second person, this one quieter and recognizeably male. "Jyou's suffering from a hangover. He needs people to be quiet and not disturb him."

"Hangover? Jyou? This is a cause for a celebration! He's finally a real man!" Jyou felt something warm nudge his arm. It shot waves of pain through his entire body. "Jyou! JYOU! You okay in there?"

Jyou had a very rude comment to reply to that, but luckily (or unluckily) he'd apparently lost control of his speech centers, and it came out as "mrgplx."

"JYOU!" shouted Gomamon happily. "He's awake! This is so great!" Gomamon started bouncing up and down on the bed. Jyou could feel the bile rising in his throat.

He was so sure Gomamon was doing this on purpose.

"Gomamon," came the second voice. Jyou recognized Takeru's amused tones. "Maybe you should stay back a little..."

"C'mon! Celebrate!" Gomamon chanted, continuing to bounce. "Jyou's a man! Now all we have to do is find some whores and go screw them!"

Luckily, Takeru had some foresight, and when Jyou actually did throw up, Takeru had a small trash can waiting to hold it all.

Gomamon shot him a look of distaste. "You know, Jyou, if you can't handle the booze, you probably can't handle the whores. This new manly you is still pretty much a wimp."

"Shut up," Jyou moaned. "Not -- "

"Any second now, he's going to say 'not in front of the children,'" Gomamon informed Takeru. "Well, guess what, JYOU? Shuten's not hee~eere, he's with Hikari, and Takeru's not a child any more! So! I! Get! To! Say! What! Ever! I! Want!"

Jyou felt as though his head was wrapped in a fog. He ignored his digimon, who was currently doing some sort of boogie on the space next to him. "Takeru, what are you doing here?"

"Well, in the state you were in, you couldn't get home by yourself, even with Gomamon's help. The little guy was pretty far gone, himself."

"Hey, at least I can hold my liquor!" Gomamon squealed indignantly.

Takeru continued as if there hadn't been an interruption. "So I helped you get home, while Hikari-chan organized an impromptu sleepover for the older boys."

Jyou thought back to last night. It was hard forming thoughts, almost an actual physical effort. Had he really had that much to drink? And had he really...oh, my...

"What happened to Miyako?" Jyou asked thickly.

Takeru's tone was grim. "She...stayed later than I did. I don't know when she left."

"Bet she didn't leave at all!" Gomamon announced happily. "Bet they're still in his room going at it like rabbits!"

Takeru and Jyou turned identical shades of green.

"Thank you for that unnecessarily vivid image, Gomamon," Jyou managed to say.

"Who's thanking him?" said an unsettled Takeru.

"Do you think that's what happened, though?" asked Jyou, in a quieter tone.

Takeru shrugged and ran a head through his blond hair. "Who knows? Probably not. Hikari-chan couldn't get through to Miyako all night, though. Something must have happened."

"This is all my fault," Jyou said. The weight of the hangover was increased by the familiar weight of his guilt. "I was such an idiot."

"Mm," said Takeru -- not disagreeing, Jyou noticed wryly. "Why were you so...direct?"

Jyou wondered if he could erase the events of last night through willpower alone. Apparently not. He sighed. "I...this is so stupid, but...I was jealous."

Gomamon stopped bouncing.

"Jealous?" Takeru questioned.

"I...I...you know, if Koushirou'd had his way, he would have had Miyako completely devoted to him by the end of the mourning year, and they would have been married after a year or so, some reasonable time, and everything would have worked out all right for them, and you know it. And they would have been happy. But for every happy person, there are two people who are desperately unhappy. And I've...always been the person who suffers as a result of other people's happiness, and..."

"And?" Takeru repeated, probing gently into Jyou's deepest wounds.

"And...Koushirou was needling me, not really on purpose, about how I mope because Mimi's no longer with me. And I...that hurts, more than he knows. Because I do miss her, and I do wish that she and I were still married. But..."

"But?"

"I don't like how he gets a second chance, while I never will." Jyou sighed again. "I keep thinking, what if, what if..."

Gomamon nudged his head under Jyou's heavy hand. "You can't build on 'what ifs', Jyou," he said softly. "You have to build on happier tomorrows."

"I know," Jyou said. "But sometimes, I doubt if any tomorrows will be worth being happy in."

---

Hawkmon watched carefully as Miyako slept. He loved her, after all, and there is very little more rewarding than being able to watch someone you love sleep.

Sometimes Hawkmon had to wonder at the responses he got when he said he loved Miyako. People seemed to find it strange or weird that he had such strong feelings for his partner -- even some digimon didn't understand the bond that was between the two of them.

Something that Miyako had said one day when she was a teen had stuck in Hawkmon's heart:

"If you have love for someone, why hold it selfishly in your own heart, where no one but yourself can feel it?" she'd said passionately. "It's better to let everyone know, especially that special person you like best in the world! It's not like it can hurt you in anyway, and to that special person, it'll make all the world of a difference!"

Of course, she'd gone off and confessed her latest crush to the boy-of-the-week the next day, and she'd been horribly crushed and ranted for three hours about how stupid the male gender was -- "'cept for you, Hawkmon, and Iori, and Takeru-kun and Ken-kun, and sometimes Daisuke -- but only sometimes!" -- but the principle itself was sound.

Hawkmon had considered Miyako's statement, found it to be true, and had thusly confessed his love for the special person he liked best in the world -- Miyako. Miyako had smiled and said "I love you, too."

To her credit, Miyako had been right. Knowing Hawkmon really, truly, loved her had bolstered her self-confidence. Miyako vowed to only give her love to those who were capable of matching Hawkmon's love for her. It didn't exactly cut down on the number of crushes Miyako had, but it did crank up the quality a notch or two. And all of Miyako's serious boyfriends had their own digimon partners, understood the relationship between Miyako and Hawkmon, and did their best to love Miyako with the same simple devotion Hawkmon did.

It was just the people who didn't understand the words "ai shiteru," I love you, which really caused the problem. The words 'ai shiteru' were always overused by people who didn't realize what it meant. Saying you love someone doesn't mean that you want their body or that you want someone else for your own sake. It means that you want someone else to be.

Hawkmon had been created for the purpose of protecting Miyako and saving the digital world. He hadn't really had a choice in either -- it was his destiny. The latter...he'd never really questioned his duty. But the moment he first protected Miyako -- not because he had to, but because he wanted to -- in that split-second, he had loved her. And he would continue to love her, forever.

Miyako stirred. Hawkmon was at her side in a second.

"...uh...uh...Hawkmon?" Miyako sleepily muttered. "Head...hurts."

"Here's some painkillers," Hawkmon said instantly.

"Than'you," Miyako mumbled, swallowing them. Hawkmon watched her face intently.

After a few minutes, Miyako screamed, "I can't believe that -- OW!"

"I guess your memory of last night is coming back," Hawkmon said sympathetically. "It's about time you woke up. I was getting worried."

"What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

"I've gotta call Hikari! And Sora!"

"They've already called. They're going to be busy this afternoon." Miyako's face fell. "But! I didn't call Mimi-san yet." Miyako's face instantly brightened. For you, Miyako, I would move the world, just so that your smile would always be there...

"Time difference...uhh...oh, to hell with that, Mimi won't care if I wake her up, as long as it's mee...Hawkmon! Where's the vidphone?"

"On your bedstand..."

"...oh." Miyako snatched it up and dialed.

---

Mimi was awake, but preparing for sleep. Her face was encased in the green facial mask that Palmon had recommended, so she didn't turn on her viewing screen. "Hello, Tachikawa residence, who is it?"

"Mimi?"

"...Miyako!?" She covered up the mouthpiece and whispered (as capable as Mimi was of whispering), "it's MIYAKO!"

"Yes, Mimi, I guessed," Palmon smiled.

Mimi turned her attention back to the phone.

"I'm so glad I could reach you, Mimi. I really have to talk to you. As soon as possible."

Mimi touched a finger to her facial mask. It would be hard in a few minutes, and then her complexion would be youthfully smooth and -- what was Palmon's wording? -- looking like a flower just after a rainfall! Add in time for makeup and hair, and...

"I can be ready for viewing in half an hour." Behind her, Palmon facevaulted. "Shawn's with his dad, and Carl's...well, I'm free of any obligations, let me tell you! Where do you want to meet?"

"The digital world." Miyako thought for a moment. "I know! Meet me at the gate cloest to Digitamamon's restaurant!"

"Okay!"

"See ya!"

---

The digital world was even more beautiful, Palmon thought, than in the days when Mimi and the others had had to fight to save it. The vegetation was lusher, the water crystal-clear, the whole land filled with an aura of peace. The butterflies rushing to and fro on the madcap breeze only added to the effect.

Mimi hadn't done too badly, Palmon judged. She was only fifteen minutes late. The pair of them strolled to meet Miyako and Hawkmon under the bright digital world sun. Palmon could feel her flower petals freshening. It's close to noon. Japan time, right? She liked the digital world sunshine and peace much better than the harsh neon lights and smog of New York City.

Maybe I can tell Mimi how much I dislike being cramped in that apartment, and when we're not filming for our TV show, we can travel the digital world, like we did when we were kids. Or maybe we can visit the rainforest again -- that was sooo much fun! And we could visit all of our friends in Japan, we barely ever get to see them anymore, 'cept for Daisuke...

Palmon was off in her daydream and didn't notice that the others were already entering the restaurant until Mimi embarrassedly yanked her inside.

"What do you want?" Hawkmon asked the others, hovering over the order pad attached to the table.

"Hmm. I'll take a black tea," Miyako decided.

"Fat-free hot chocolate for me," Mimi said cheerfully. "Too late for anything else."

"Sparkling water," Palmon said a bit sheepishly. She didn't like the taste of anything else, it seemed so unnatural and...icky.

Hawkmon punched in the order, adding another tea for himself. In a few moments, the order appeared through a small door in the table. Digitamamon had gone through a lot of improvements over the years, and -- far from being the struggling, mean-tempered restaurant manager Yamato and Jyou had run into all those years ago -- was now one of the richest digimon in the entire world.

Even though the Chosen didn't get to eat for free, they did get a three percent discount on their meals, as penance for the times that the Chosen had saved him from being controlled from evil spires and his restaurant from destruction.

"So," Mimi said, after a sip from the delicious cocoa. "What happened, Miyako?"

Miyako stirred her tea, collecting her thoughts. "It started with...with Koushirou's job offer, I guess."

"You accepted it, didn't you?" Mimi asked, perplexed at this interest in 'ancient history'.

"I didn't...not at first. I was going to refuse...I did refuse. But...Ken had left Koushirou a package, and he...hadn't left me one." Intent on her tea, Miyako didn't see the slight widening of Mimi's eyes, or the guilty knowledge that had crept onto her face. "Koushirou's package was Ken's memoirs. Koushirou said...he said Ken had requested that I wait a year before looking at it, and the only way I would be able to see it after that year was to work for him."

"He blackmailed you?" Mimi gasped, surprised.

"It felt like that...but at the same time, I didn't feel...anything. I mean, I didn't feel anything bad." Miyako looked up and met Mimi's eyes. "He was genuinely sincere about giving me the job...he didn't want it for any bad reasons, just to help me. He wanted to help me, and...I didn't see it before." The younger woman looked very close to tears. Hawkmon placed a comforting wing around Miyako's shoulders.

Palmon finished a gulp of her water and watched Miyako intently. "So...what happened? It sounded like you liked your job a great deal."

"I did! He really respected me, and made me feel like I was important. And he was kind, and he cared about my children...he gave me advice about how to treat Mikomi when I had problems dealing with her, and he never minded when Ari cried, and he was able to give very accurate diagnoses...I don't know if that's the right word...about how Osamu acted, and he let the kids stay with him while I was working, and he was just such a great help..."

"He sounds practically perfect," Mimi said with a slight trace of bitterness in her tone. She twisted her hands, and Miyako noticed for the first time the absence of a wedding ring on her fingers. "What was the problem?"

"Last night, he threw a 'quiet' dinner party for me, so that I wouldn't be alone on the six-months' anniversary of Ken's death, even though I didn't request one. He invited all of the other Chosen. And..at first he was alone with Sora, and then Sora was joking with me, but she wasn't being funny, you know? And there was too much wine being served, and...and...Jyou..." Mimi jerked slightly. "...he...he accused Koushirou of loving me."

Mimi's jaw dropped. Palmon looked similarly dumbstruck.

"Did..does he?" Mimi asked after an eternity of silence. Hawkmon turned to Miyako, waiting for the answer.

Miyako turned pink and looked at her black tea as if it held all the answers in the universe. "Yes."

Palmon couldn't help it -- she squealed. "And what do you feel, Miyako?"

Hawkmon's gaze grew all the more intense as he stared at his partner.

"I..I feel like..." Miyako stammered. She stirred her black tea again, as if receiving strength from it. "I feel like...like I could look at him for an eternity and never get bored. Like he could look at me forever and I'd never feel embarrassed. In fact, I...I want him to. I want him to look at me and only me, in some desperate way. I want him to have me in my thoughts. I want...I want..." She could not finish her thought out loud. I want him to hold me in his arms and never let go...

Gentle fingers wiped away tears Miyako hadn't realized she was crying. Mimi smiled kindly at the younger woman. "What do you feel about him?"

"I...I love him." An instant wave of guilt washed over her -- so fast do you forget the one you were wedded to for years! -- and an instant flare of anger matched it -- I was never the one he wanted, I'm justified.

"That's not it, though," Miyako choked out.

"Miyako-san?" Hawkmon asked concernedly.

"We...in his bedroom, we...I followed him when he stalked out, and I followed him to his bedroom." Hawkmon looked scandalized. "We didn't...we just...we kissed, but...it would have been more, but...I...my fingers brushed the chain of the key, and he must have thought -- "

"The key to what?" Mimi queried.

"The key to his office. The key to the computer which Ken's memoirs were stored on. He...he was upset, and he let me into the room...he gave me the key..the memoirs were open on the screeen."

"You read Ken's memoirs?" Mimi asked, worry making her voice shriller than normal.

Miyako met Mimi's eyes. "Yes. I read them. I think you know what was in them, yes?"

Mimi nodded wordlessly. "I'm so sorry, Miyako."

Hawkmon and Palmon looked at their partners inquisitively. "We don't know," pointed out Palmon with infinite tact.

Miyako smiled a bit wistfully at the plant digimon. "Ken...he...he wasn't in love with me. He was in love with a different person. But he married me out of necessity, anyway. And he never let me know he loved someone else...I only discovered that last night, and it's...very painful to talk about." Indeed, Miyako sipped her black tea and looked as though she wished she was somewhere else.

The conversation drifted onto other things at that point, but nothing very important. In a few minutes, Miyako was claiming other duties to attend to, and after promises to call and e-mail if anything happened, the four split up.

When Palmon and Mimi were back in their apartment, Palmon finally voiced the question she'd been thinking about. "Mimi, was the person that Ken loved...Daisuke?"

Mimi looked shocked. "Ye~es...how did you know?"

"Because Daisuke moved away from Japan just weeks after Miyako and Ken's wedding. I always thought that the events were connected."

"You were right. Weddings do have some unexpected reprecussions." Mimi looked very thoughtful, and after a moment's pause, Palmon retired to her own room to do some thinking herself.

To be continued. Aren't I a rat? Anyway, there's still another part in which I have to wrap this up! Will Koushirou and Miyako stop dithering? Why did Sora and Yamato divorce, anyhow? What's going to happen to poor Dai-san? Does anyone remember all of the childrens' names? I'll give anyone who can (without looking in one of the earlier parts, cheaters!) a brownie! ^_-