'The end' is such a hard thing to say. This fic meant so much, it was hard to stop writing it. So here's the overflow, in the happy ending everyone wanted. ^_^ A lot of research went into this part, by using Yahoo to look up "Japan AND weddings". ^_- The flowers were the result of much research (read: Yaho is GOOD) and thinking over various bouquets; I got the meanings from http://www.cybercom.net/~klb/flowers.html. I'm really not certain whether Victorian flower-meanings apply to Japanese weddings, but...aw, hell, I wanted them, and Sora's just good with flower-meanings, okay? All the previously-unseen digimon (i.e. those of the non-Chosen wives, etc.) are real digimon. Thank you, Megchan's Digimon Encyclopedia!

For semantics only, I note this: Normally, I refer to Japanese characters by the Japanese-style of naming (family name first, given name second. For example, with the name Izumi Koushirou -- Izumi is his family name, Koushirou is his given name.) However, for the Chosen residing in America and their children -- I prefer to name them Western-style (given name first, family name second). So I have a fewtimes where first names and given names seem mixed up -- people! I'm doing this logically, not by any real order!

For everyone who has helped me with this and for everyone who has been reviewing: Minna, hontou ni arigatou! Daisuki! [Everyone, I truly thank you! I love you all!]

Kirai ni Narenai~I Can't Hate You~
The Epilogue!
by Rb

A year, in Koushirou's definition, would be the period of time during which Earth completes a single revolution around the sun. Count it as twelve months, fifty-two weeks, 365 days, 8760 hours, 525600 minutes, or 31536000 seconds. It's still the same amount of time.

Thirty-one million and five hundred and thirty-six thousand seconds after Koushirou and Miyako confessed their love for each other (give or take), the Chosen and their families gathered themselves in a Shinto shrine for the wedding.

"But nobody has traditional weddings anymore!" Miyako had protested, laughing, when Koushirou had suggested it.

Koushirou cocked an eyebrow. "We aren't 'nobody', dear."

That pretty much sealed it.

Koushirou wasn't insisting on strict tradition, though, as he was allowing all of the Chosen, their families, and the digimon partners to watch the ceremony, as opposed to the usual restriction of only the close relatives.

As the old Shinto priest and his Tapirmon chanted the opening rituals in unison, everyone was in various states of joy excitement, and (in some) bittersweet memories.

Yagami Taichi, the picture of a proud paterfamilias, stood with an arm around his wife and his other hand holding his hyperactive son's shoulder. Yagami Umi smiled, and held her baby daughter closer to her breast, Pichimon cradled in her arm. Penmon was sitting down at her feet, while Agumon was bouncing Koromon on his head.

Yagami Hikari was a few feet away from her brother, looking both pensive and pleased, with Tailmon in her arms. Takaishi Takeru was a small distance away from her, Patamon in his customary position on Takeru's head. There was a tacit understanding between them that while Hikari could stand on her own two feet after all, Takeru was going to stay close enough so that on the off-chance that she'd fall, he'd be right there to catch her.

Ishida Yamato and Ishida Sora were nearby. Sora's head rested on Yamato's shoulder, and his hand was placed gently on her gravid stomach, feeling for the baby's kick. Touma was sitting on Gabumon's back, while Piyomon was lifting up Tori so that she could see what was happening.

Kido Jyou stared fixedly at the Shinto shrine, one hand on his son Shuten's shoulder, willing himself to stay composed. Beside him, Mimi Tachikawa was quietly translating the priest's fast-paced Japanese into English for her son Shawn. Palmon was laughing at a sly comment of Gomamon's.

Hida Iori and Hida Reika stood together. They weren't touching, but their smiles were alike, as was the look of fond memory in their eyes. Her Labramon was sitting happily on Armadimon's back.

In the front of the small crowd were Yagami Kakeru, Takaishi Mori, Daichi 'Dai' Motomiya, and Hida Himeko. All of them were holding their digimon (or, in Mori's case, having Tokomon rest in his mass of hair), watching the ceremony with the best spots possible. V-mon was sitting down at Dai's feet, wanting to see everything in as much detail as possible.

The center of attention, of course, were Izumi Koushirou and Ichijouji Miyako. They stood in front of the Shinto altar, hands clasped, kimonos (designed by Sora, who had truly outdone herself) flowing.

Koushirou was wearing a formal kimono of a dark blue which, while conservative, went well with his red hair. He also wore a haori jacket and the hakama pants. His voice was confident as he spoke the bridegroom's formal oath, a promise to always be faithful to, obedient to, "and never lie to" one another.

Miyako was radiant in her bridal kimono, a magnificent creation.. Layers upon layers of white silk surrounded her, topped off by a bright red and orange flowered kimono. Her violet hair was in an elaborate style of immense proportions. Weighed down by the weight of her clothing and hair, she was only able to take small steps, but it didn't stop her smile.

She held a bouquet of red roses, white lilies, and orange blossoms. Sora had instructed Koushirou on what to buy. "Not only are the colors traditional, they mean something special. Red roses for love, white lilies for purity. Orange blossoms mean 'your purity is equaled by your loveliness.' It fits her perfectly. And don't you forget it!"

Surrounding the altar in a loose half-circle were their immediate family -- Koushirou's mother and daughter, Miyako's parents, siblings and children, and all of their digimon. All were beaming in their happiness, even Mikomi.

The only person who wasn't smiling, in fact, was Daisuke Motomiya, who was standing in the back so that no one could see his face. His eyes weren't focused on the ceremony taking place, but on the altar itself, his features fixed.

This is the wedding that should have happened so many years ago, he thought bitterly. This is the wedding that should have been, instead of the wedding that took Ken away from me. How come Miyako couldn't have thought before flinging herself at the nearest man?

Hush, Daisuke.


Daisuke started. The voice in his head didn't sound like his own unhappy thoughts, but rather like...

"Ken?" he whispered, eyes widening.

Don't get angry about the things that have happened on the past. Dwell on the future, not what's behind us already. Weren't you the one that taught me that in the first place?

Daisuke stared at the shrine. It was very like the one that Ken's ashes were stored at, and if he looked hard enough, he could almost swear that something was coalescing in the air above it...

But it wasn't Ken, not in the flesh, not the Ken he'd known. This Ken was...a spirit? A ghost? Daisuke shivered. In all of the ghost stories he'd heard, only souls with something left unfulfilled came back as ghosts...

"It's so hard, though," he said softly. "I miss you."

I know, came the voice. A pause. I miss you, too.

The bride and groom were now taking the ritual sips of sake, warm rice wine, in the San-San-Kudo ritual, but it didn't matter to Daisuke. "Ken..."

Shhhh. I'm still watching over you, don't worry.

Daisuke had a sudden impression of movement, and had a strange image of Ken's spirit counterpart floating over to him and embracing him. A feeling of peace rushed over him. He could almost feel the cool, featherlike touch on his cheek.

Now, the large earthenware bowls were being passed along to the families. The wedding was almost over. Daisuke suddenly wanted it to last forever, because he knew somewhere deep inside his heart that when the wedding was over, Ken would disappear from him. Again.

I'll always be with you, came the thought of Ken's voice. Daisuke's right cheek felt a sudden breeze -- Ken's breath? His kiss?

"I want...I want to be with you, to tell you -- " Daisuke stammered, but Ken's spirit cut him off.

No. Not now. But some day, we will be united. Some day. But not yet.

The ceremony was over. There was cheering, joking, laughter. A kiss shared. Smiles. Daisuke was alone, feeling Ken's spirit leaving him alone -- again.

But not completely alone. At the reception, Daisuke sat down at his assigned seat and found a small bouquet of flowers he had never seen before lying on his plate. Surprised, he asked Sora, who was sitting next to him, what the small red and yellow flowers were.

Her forehead creased as she lowered her eyebrows in concentration. "Mountain ash...and ambrosia. Huh, not a common mix at all."

"What do they mean?" Daisuke questioned her.

"The mountain ash means 'I watch over you,'" she said slowly. "And the ambrosia means -- love returned."

Ecstasy filled Daisuke's body from his head to his toes. Love returned. Love returned. The feeling that he could never get up the courage to express -- it was returned. He was loved by the person who had meant the most to him. He smiled for the first time in what felt like years.

Sora noticed, and smiled in return. "Daisuke, do you have a secret admirer who would be sending you flowers?" she asked him gaily.

Daisuke shook his head. "No. Not someone secret."

Ken...I'm glad you're waiting for me. I'll wait, too.

---

Jyou was slightly uncomfortable sitting next to Mimi. It was very distracting. He kept watching her, noting the length and style of her hair, the sweet scent of her perfume, the graceful way she used her chopsticks...

"Soo~u, Jyou," she said turning to him and flashing a smile. "How's Shuten doing?"

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "he's pretty serious...focused on his schoolwork...he does play with Kakeru-kun and Mori-kun sometimes, but not often...he's rather quiet."

Mimi tsked. "Sounds like he need a woman's influence."

Jyou blushed. "Well, no...it's pretty much a bachelor's pad with us..." Why did she have to keep making those kinds of comments? Did she get some kind of kick out of me blushing or something? he thought.

Tee-hee! He's so cute when he blushes! Mimi giggled to herself. "You know, Jyou," she said, "the next season of Palmon's and my TV show is going to be shot in Japan."

"Really?" Jyou asked. "Are you going to live on-location?" Is she coming back?

"Well...that depends."

"On what?"

"On whether I'll be able to find an open bed to sleep in," Mimi said coyly. "Among other things." Her efforts were rewarded with the sight of Jyou's face turning beet-red -- and then purple, as he choked. Mimi helpfully pounded on his back until the blocked windpipe was cleared. "Better?" she asked sweetly.

"Much."

"Well?"

"What?"

"Will I be able to find a bed?" Jyou realized suddenly that her hand was still resting lightly on his back, and that she was leaning ever so slightly towards him, so that her shoulder was touching his arm, and her face was centimeters away from his ear. "Even half a bed will do," she said brightly. "But I do require an adequate number of pillows. Three, for preference. And I don't want all of my covers stolen during the night, like they used to be."

Jyou, his heart racing, hesitantly lifted up his arm and stroked the ends of Mimi's hair. It was as soft as he remembered. "I'm sure I can find arrangements, if it's for you."

"I'm glad," Mimi said, her eyes sparkling.

Sometimes you have to go out and make your happiness, instead of having it handed to you. But that kind of happiness is worth even more, because you know the price of it.

---

The reception went on. Everyone had fun.

Well, mostly everyone.

Reika blinked at her husband. "Iori, is something wrong?"

Iori sighed. "Am I that obvious?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Don't take this the wrong way, but..." His voice lowered. "I'm still a little upset Miyako-san married Koushirou-san."

"But why? They're so in love, it brings a smile to your face just to look at them."

"He hurt her once before. He might hurt her again," Iori said stubbornly, tracing a pattern on the tablecloth with his finger.

Reika placed her hand over his. "Iori, I know you might not want to hear this...but Miyako's a big girl now. She can make her own decisions."

Iori scowled. "I've been protecting her since I was nine years old. You can't expect me to stop just because she's grown up."

Reika laughed. "No, but I can expect you -- and make you -- to stop interfering."

"How?"

Reika gently kissed his forehead. "That's how." Iori flushed bright pink. Reika smiled. "Koushirou-san'd be an idiot to let her go again. Look at the way he looks at her. He really, really loves her. He's not going to give her up for quite a while. If ever."

"She deserves the best," Iori said stubbornly.

"She does deserve the best," Reika agreed. "But she's never going to get it."

Iori looked at his wife in surprise. "Why not?"

Reika laughed again. "Because I have you."

Iori blushed redder. Reika thought about kissing him again, but restrained herself. Iori was a traditionalist in every way, shape, and form. Public affection wasn't something he was comfortable with.

"I guess -- " Iori started.

Reika shook her head. "Don't 'guess'. For once, be definite that Miyako was able to do something by herself. You and Hawkmon and everyone else guard Miyako like dragons with a precious jewel that never got to sparkle in the light. It's about time that she was able to love because she, herself, decided to love."

Iori blinked, then smiled. "I was about to say 'I guess we should dance,' dear."

It was Reika's turn to blush. "Oh."

"Well?"

"Of course."

---

At a moment when neither of them would be missed, Izumi Koushirou and Izumi Miyako slipped out of the reception party and outside, to where a car was waiting for them.

They'd argued over where to spend the honeymoon.

"Paris! It's sooo romantic!"

"Dull. How about Amsterdam?"

"Oh, come on! What about Madrid?"

"Not the right season. How about Cape Cod?"

"Are you kidding me? What about New York City!"

"You go there about once a month!"

"It's always worth it!"

"What about space?"

"That costs millions and millions of yen!"

"I have some to spare..."

Laughing, they'd finally compromised. But first, they were going to the Izumi residence to sleep.

Well, sleep for part of the time, anyway.

They were going to be in the bedroom, anyway.

Let's give the honeymooners some private time, shall we?

But, before they started, she asked him a question.

"Koushirou, is it possible to lie to yourself?"

He blinked, confused. "No, I don't think so. Not for any prolonged period of time, anyway. You can attempt it, but sooner or later, your true self will show through."

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

"Yes."

"Good."

That being said, they surrendered to the night.

Author's notes are in the next part. They aren't truly necessary to read, but you might find them interesting. Or not. ^^;; Thank you all so much!