Disclaimer: No rights of Digimon's characters, whatsoever.

Author's Note: Have no worries, this story is purely Taiora. To clarify things, B.R Wells, Jyou is not the person that Sora dreamt about, in fact, he was one of her first friends, which will be essential later in the plot. A Jyoumi romance? I have no idea, maybe, perhaps; but do keep in mind, the canon pairing is Taiora.

Hehe, I adored the reviews and appreciated them greatly! Reasonable criticism is adored. Without further ado, Part I. Forgive me, if it's a tidbit boring, or rather quite lame.

Thanks,

Von.

P.S: Sorry for the delays, homework + major projects had kept me away from typing away this work.

Summary: AU As a girl, all Sora had dreamt were images of him; his looks, his habits, and his voice, but never once did she dream of his name. Now, as a high corporate executive of a blooming fashion and flower industry, she hadn't had the time to think upon such trivial things, not until he appeared upon her doorstep declaring himself as her fiancé.

Categories: Drama, Humor, Romance, and Action/Adventure.

Phlegmatic Me

PART ONE: AGUMON… WHAT THE HECK?

Having adjourned the dreadful, tedious meeting between my fellow executives and me, I was at last freed to sneak over to my spacious office and serve myself a grandeur feast, worthy of a petite queen. I was practically giddy, as I stepped across the threshold, and neared the entrance of my office, when Mimi, out of nowhere, tackled me against the wall; her eyes fervent with merriness. "Sor," She addressed cautiously, her head turned left to right, as if suspecting some foreigner on overhearing our conversation; poor Mimi and her stupid secret-agents-action-packed-movies. She bobbed her head up and down, once she realized that no one was in hearing distance. "Guess what!" She shrieked, as she spontaneously jumped.

"What?" I answered flatly, my mind being intently focused upon the idea that any delay on my part, would cause my chicken-poached-egg-fried rice adorned with a variety of vegetables, and daikon radish soup to become cold. After all, no one preferred, or liked the idea of eating his or her favorite food cold.

"Jyou did it! He got us those tickets to see the Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man in action, at the concert hall!" Mimi squealed, while pushing me back and forth against the wall, in her anxiety of spilling the beans.

Not fully comprehending what was occurring or what had been said, I lightly nodded, and placed a hand on Mimi's chest to stop the madness. "Okay, now spell it out slowly." I emphasized, while rolling my eyes upon seeing Mimi pound her chest, in order to calm her flustered self.

"JYOU, your best boy-buddy, got us the tickets to see Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man!"

HOLY CRAPPERS. Did Mimi just say that Jyou, my nerdy soon-to-become the next Bill Gates, got us tickets that were nearly impossible to possess? This was incredulous; this had to be the biggest bullcrocky I've ever heard. First off, Jyou had no interest whatsoever in the Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man saga, and heck, he didn't understand the blasted series! Second off, he didn't appeal to anything that was mainstream, but rather streamline or rarely noted. Third, Evil Soapy Suds Bath-Man was an ingenious villain that possessed wit and a distinct hatred toward anything that had the words, or were synonymous to, 'dirt'. The fact that Jyou was a mechanic, working daily with a truckload of deep, drenching, and thick oil and grease, seemed to make the chance of him watching a show dedicated to extreme hygiene, least probable.

"I thought Jyou didn't like Evil Soapy Suds Bath-man?"

"He doesn't." quipped Mimi.

"Then…?" I waited for a response, my mouth turning into a frown; knowing that the situation was turning quite suspicious. Were Mimi and Jyou trying to play matchmaker and hook me up with one of their never-ending relations? I sincerely prayed with all my heart that such a thing was not true.

"… Well you know, Sor, I'ven't been on a date recently, and you know… since tomorrow is somewhat, my half-birthday, I was thinking that maybe we could celebrate this event, together with a few of my guy friends…" Mimi rambled; her eyes were downcast and avoided all eye contact.

"Mimi," I said with a noticeable hint of aggravation, "would you just cut the crap, and get on with it?"

"Alright, alright, alright! Jyou and I are worried about your social life! Ever since you've been dumped by Izzy, you've been avoiding social events and hangouts."

"Nu-uh! Just recently I went with you guys to the mall to buy a pair of tweeds." I obstinately and pathetically mumbled that lame excuse.

"Oh, Sor, that doesn't count love," Mimi said with a nanny-accent, whilst rolling eyes. She continued her speech, "When was the last time you had an enjoyable night with friends, or had a wonderful date with some sexy guy with an accent? Huh! ANSWER ME! C'mon Sor…" Mimi spoke with such fervor, that I couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated and awed at such dedication to my welfare.

"Alright, alright." I conceded, my hands were raised in the air, surrendering. When Mimi madly desired you to perform something, you do it without question or else the consequences were an earful of lecturing or even worst, endless nagging.

"So, anyhow," She reverted back to her nonchalant mood, "Tonight, Jyou, you, me, and the guys and gals, at concert hall by Northern Plaza, at 8 o'clock, after your shift. Dress in casual wear. See you there, and please don't ditch with that lame excuse, "Oh, but Senor Martinez, required me to type up a new financial set." or "I need to make a fresh chicken stock, 'cuz Mole is thirsty." Make up something witty and impress me, if ya wanna ditch." Mimi smirked, as she took her cue to leave.

"Oy vey," I said aloud, as I tiredly dragged my body and strutted toward my office. Upon entering my office, I quickly latched the door shut, and pressed my body firmly against the door, heaving a moan of agony.

"Am I really over Izzy?" I murmured to myself, as I fell to the ground. This was the third time, I've felt misplaced; I felt as if I were an awkward, floating head guided through some unknown force and pressure, to the unwelcoming/maybe welcoming arms of a stranger. A knock interrupted my lamentation, and brought me forth into the present era, rather displeasingly.

"Sora!" Screamed a treble voice behind said door, in alarm, that I had not responded.

Opening the door, I came face-to-face with Jessica, my appointed secretary, and the cause of almost all of the office's gossip concerning Senor Martinez and myself. "Mm." I said in a muffled tone, after all my mouth was parched, as if the saliva in my mouth had evaporated, leaving nothing but a dry, white-caked tongue.

"Are you okay?" Faux concern was etched in her face. If possible, the concern located within her face was putrid and represented everything that did not revolve or was remotely related to the words, caring, generous, etc. She popped her gum impertinently and impatiently at my face, when I had not answered in her 12-30 second comprehending range.

"Yes, I'm fine. Any reason why you didn't bother to just buzz me on the intercom? stupid bitch." I murmured the latter comment, beneath my breath, as I waited for her intelligent, lamely-put response.

She pretended not to acknowledge my profanity, or simply had not heard, and continued her rambling. She claimed that it was awfully silent and that I had looked miserable when I had returned to my office. Believing that I was about to commit an irreversible task, such as suicide or cutting, she had lunged directly for the door and began pounding extraordinarily at the door, till an answer was voiced. Her dramatic tale was atrociously told, and further more each lie was exaggerated to the extreme that I couldn't help but shake my vapid head in disdain at the fabrication.

"Sora, is something wrong?" She had recognized that shake of disdain, and once more asserting inside her walnut-sized brain that this was a sign and indication for the need of empathy, she had extended her hand and squeezed my shoulder. "There, there… would you like company tonight?"

Bull's-eye! That witch had most likely had overheard my conversation with Mimi concerning the tickets, and now was finding a way to ease into the clique, and garner an invitation for herself. Haha, boy was she a fool to manipulate Sora Takenouchi. "How about tomorrow night, instead of tonight, for I believe Senor Martinez may need you to work overtime." I calmly suggested, while studying her face for a reaction – my face as placid as ever; I knew for a fact that she had always possessed a desire to be promoted. Further propelled with rumors that had sparked concerning the subject of Senor Martinez being a sex fiend, something that was altogether ridiculous, she had been on the lookout ever since.

"Aah, alright." She laden her voice with a hint of phony disappointment and marched away, her shoulders upright, a smirk probably tainting her face; she'd ignore me for the rest of the day, preparing herself for the nonrealistic meeting with Senor Martinez. Could you guess that I was elated as that bit of information processed into my mind? You bet.

Now alone in the confines of my office, I quickly removed my lunch from beneath the desk and unwrapped the delightful parcel. I immersed myself in the gentle wafts of steam that the food emitted, my tongue watering with utmost ecstasy. Supplying endless thanks to whatever deity existed for keeping my food in a solid lukewarm temperature, I burrowed into the rice, savoring each treat with such delight that members who had passed by my office, most likely had cocked their head, curious as to the noises of extreme pleasure. My joy would soon come to a halt with a slip under the door; a sign that a secretary from the ominous office of Senor Martinez had issued a task that needed to be done, or perhaps I had received mail from outside sources. Curious as to whether the task would buy an excuse to ditch Mimi Joe, I picked up the packet. Scrawled on a pink post-it was an utmost illegible sentence; something that Senor Martinez could never have written, for he was a man who prided himself upon his beautiful penmanship. With even greater curiosity gnawing away at my fingertips, I opened the packet and found it to contain a regular eight by eleven sheet of paper with three neatly typed sentences.

"Please visit this website: http: www. digi7al - revolution . net

Username: Ingénue

Authorization Code: 021805."

"Ingénue?" Indignation flooded my cheeks as I dropped the letter hastily onto the ground, and with the heel of my sneaker began crinkling and puncturing the paper as best as I could. How dare the sender address me as an ingénue? Evidently piqued by the word, my inquisitive nature eventually conquered the irritation, and I picked up the sheet and laboriously transferred the information onto the computer. Immediately, the screen went aflame with leprechaun-ish digital animated creatures flaunting the screen, and then out of nowhere, a title smacked against the screen.

DIGITAL – REVOLUTION: PROCEED?

Clicking the affirmative button, I waited patiently as the company computer began processing the influx of data; Senor Martinez ought to be angered when he learned that one of his elevated employees had spent eighteen minutes checking out an animated website. I almost giggled at such a prospect. The data loaded and I entered the provided username and password like the computer directed. All of a sudden, the computer screen had blanked out, as if a virus had corroded the hardware. Alarm infused into my fingers as I hurriedly pressed keys, in hopes of retrieving any fragments of important company documents. However, all of this was made in vain, when the computer screen regained its vibrant pigments of activeness to my relief and suspicion.

The colors adjusted to form two recognizable images and a blurred shadow.

In the foreground, an animated orange-lizard titled Agumon cried to be fed.

In the backdrop, Koushirou Izumi stood in all of his glory with a text-bubble adjacent to his lips, "Miss me?"

Agumon, a stuffed lizard doll, was Izzy's gift to me on our first anniversary.

I. Emptied. My. Stomach. Of. Its. Contents. In. The. Nearby. Trash. Receptacle. Dizziness. Pandemonium ensued. The world turned black.

End Part I

End: Once more, sorry for the delay. A cookie to anyone as to what sparked the idea of Digital Revolution.

Hope you enjoyed this part. Part II is currently being worked on.

Chapter Two: Sora meets the set-up date! Uh-oh, chaos or perhaps familiarity?