As you may have guessed by now, the next few chapters will be covering a School Festival arc. Which means a touch of Slice of Life amid all this plot. (Yay!)

Ironically, the SoL parts of Balance have been some of my favorite to plan out. I say "ironically" because I had such a love-hate relationship with many of those parallel scenes in TRI. Part of it was the pacing. It always seemed so disconnecting to have all these casual shenanigans going on when we were led to believe there was a LOT at stake. That's why I moved the timeline of the Festival so far up. Forced normalcy adds to the tension of the unknown, rather than letting it fizzle out by slow-burning back to daily life.

One other major change that I made deliberately was to give more importance to the middle school. For one, because obviously Mimi's arc no longer exists—though don't worry, she has some new stunts to pull in lieu of—and for another, it gives me the chance to play with an entirely new, unseen setting from canon.

Among, you know...other reasons.

o

o

DIGIMON TRI: BALANCE

o

The classroom door slammed open; Sora nearly jumped in her seat, reflexively tucking her cell back into her bag before looking up.

Two of her classmates were staring back. One—she recognized the bespeckled girl as Wantanabe Kino, who was typically so much quieter in her movements—looked starry-eyed and distraught at the same time. The other, a fellow tennis player by the name of Hayakawa Mitsumi, was more focused in her steely gaze. If Sora had any doubts as to whether they were here for her, or the floral centerpieces she'd been finishing for their class art cafe, a single look from Mitsumi dispelled them all.

She waited patiently for them to explain.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Takenouchi-san..." Was that...sadness she heard coming from Mitsumi? Enough to make her a bit nervous. "We're so sorry."

Nervous and confused.

"For what?" Wracking her brain, she glanced around the room. It was empty, save for her and the baker's dozen worth of vases on the surrounding desks. Her mother, in a rare moment of financial generosity, had donated several of her shop's most commonly sought-after types. Sora, herself, had taken up the responsibility of arranging them in exchange for fewer shifts during the week. Not one of her classmates had objected at the time, but… "Did somebody change the schedule? Please don't tell me they let Nanahara-kun in charge of—"

Mitsumi cut her off. "Forget the schedule. This is way more important."

"Way more," Kino, ever her best friend's faithful shadow, echoed sadly.

Sora's brows furrowed, and she moved to stand. Pausing just long enough to rub some of the life back into her legs from having remained in one position for so long. "Okay, I give up. What's wrong?"

"It's...Ishida-senpai."

She froze. Realization slowly dawning on her with all the dread that came with it. She somehow resisted the urge to both groan and bury her head in her hands, and instead settled for an inaudible sigh.

There were perks to being best friends with the school rock star. Sora was not above a small degree of personal glee at knowing she could get floor seats to any one of his shows anytime she asked. Most of the time, she didn't even have to ask. Yamato always put aside a dozen or so for their group. He never told anyone this, of course. But word had gotten out after the last time, and thanks to a certain blonde-haired middle schooler's generosity towards a few of his (female) schoolmates…

"I'm sorry," forcing a pleasant smile, Sora shook her head. "I don't have a way to get you tickets. Or backstage. Takeru-kun had—"

"No, it's not about that." Again, Mitsumi shifted her weight from foot to foot. Impatient. "We got out tickets weeks ago. They're actually decent. Tenth row, almost center."

Now Sora was completely out of ideas, left to stare after them both in silent question.

"Have...you seen senpai today yet?" Kino chimed in.

Hearing their social peers refer to Yamato as senpai would never not feel surreal to her. There had been hell to pay the first year Taichi caught wind of the growing trend, for reasons which were as inexplicable as the boys' tenuous friendship, but Sora usually tried to ignore the thought as much as possible. In her mind, Yamato was just Yamato.

Still...the question itself wasn't overly suspicious. Not yet. She even took the time to give it some real thought, eyes turning toward the ceiling as she pressed a finger to her chin.

"No. I don't think so."

Which brought up the question of why they were asking in the first place. Mitsumi had a penchant for the melodramatic, but this was a bit much even by her standards. Did something happen to him? Or the band? Did they get into another fight, or threaten to break up? Was one of them sick? Scenario after scenario started to play out in her mind's eye. Each more worrying than the last.

Whether or not the look on her face gave her troubled emotions away, Kino abruptly turned to her best friend and murmured, "Maybe we shouldn't."

"Hush, Kino-chan. I still say she deserves to know."

"But Matsumi-chan..."

"Know what?" Sora found herself asking.

The pair exchanged glances.

"We saw him talking to a girl this morning." Kino finally stated glumly.

"And? I'm pretty sure he does that every day."

"Yeah, but we didn't recognize this one." Mitsumi placed both hands on her hips, leaning forward. She towered over Sora by several centimeters, and to any who might not have known the girl, they might have found the pose intimidating. There was no actual 'official' fan club for the Teenage Wolves, or any of their members...at least, none that Sora knew of...but if there had been, she was confident Mitsumi would have pulled rank then and there. "Nobody does. We asked around. She's wearing our school's uniform, but nobody knows who she is or where she's from. And she was being very familiar with Ishida-senpai."

"Very familiar," Kino mumbled.

"And the worst part was that he let her! I swear, I saw her invade his person space more than once, and maybe it was because she looks like one of those Jpop idols, but he didn't even—are you laughing?"

What started as a widening grin and light shake of the shoulders quickly exploded into a fit of good-natured giggles. Sora couldn't help herself. She tried to cover her mouth with one hand, but it made very little difference. Tears brimmed in the corners of her eyes. She had to lean back against the desk to steady herself, less she double-over in a skirt (even if she was wearing sports shorts underneath.)

Mitsumi and Kino stared after her incredulously. It was clear from their expressions that they had not expected her to react like this

"Is...she okay?"

"Maybe she's in denial."

"No, that's me."

"Maybe you're both in denial."

"S...sorry..." She finally managed, wiping at her eyes as she straightened. It wasn't even all that funny, if she stopped to think about it long enough, but she'd needed a good laugh. "It's just...I was hoping to see Mimi-chan before lunch today, but it sounds like you found her first."

"You know her?!" Kino's eyes went uncharacteristically wide.

"Is there anybody you don't know?" Mitsumi asked incredulously.

Sora gave a sheepish shrug.

"But..." Kino was still processing. "...she kept leaning so close...and the whispering in his ear..."

Sora shook her head. "That's just...Mimi-chan being Mimi-chan." Her cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much. "We've all been friends since we were kids, and she's very..." Here, she trailed off, trying to think of the best way to describe Tachikawa Mimi to someone who didn't know her like they did. "...American."

Close enough.

The pair were still at a loss for words, allowing Sora the time to properly catch her breath. She moved to gather her things. In a way, Mitsumi and Kino were actually right. Their classroom art cafe would have to wait. Something far more pressing than the centerpieces had just come up...though definitely not in the way they had been imagining.

"Thanks for letting me know she's here." Slipping her cross-body bag over her head, she shook out her hair, feeling the freshly-cut ends tickle her skin at the nape of her neck. "Which direction were they?"

Wordlessly, they pointed right. Kino's mouth was agape.

Sora took the time to bow her gratitude—not bothering to wait until the unfroze long enough to bow back—before heading out the door and into the hallway. Most of that wing was empty, as students were either gathering outside for opening ceremonies or already making plans for off-campus visits.

She started down the hall, listening to any sounds of idle chatter in the distance, when a sudden thought stopped her cold.

"Did they think..." Eyes widening, she slowly turned back towards the room. A second later, she snapped back to the present, furiously shaking her head. "...nah..."

o o o

Ten minutes into her search, she found them.

And immediately understood how an outsider could misinterpret the situation.

Yamato was in his natural habitat, partially illuminated from the sunlight streaming in through the large walkway windows. His long bangs cast a shadow over one eye in a manner more than half the girls (and some of the boys) found alluring, and his posture was cool and at ease. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded and head tilted ever so slightly towards the small video camera his current companion was holding out for him. Mimi, meanwhile, seemed to glow from behind as she sat on a windowsill ledge, legs crossed towards Yamato and in close enough proximity that, occasionally, her long, wavy hair would graze his shoulder.

Words exchanged between them were too soft for anyone to overhear, but their body language was clear. Yamato was relaxed and even smiling in her presence and Mimi had a certain twinkle in her eye as she looked far too proud of herself.

...or, at least, it would look that way to an outsider. But Sora was no outsider. She knew them both far too well not to see the polite awkwardness behind that smile, or the way Mimi was way more interested in something on the tiny screen than the boy standing beside her.

"You two are going to start quite the rumours like that," she called out teasingly.

Mimi's face lit up as the older girl approached. "Sora-san!"

"I just had two second-years come find me to make sure I knew all about Ishida-senpai's new girlfriend." Somehow, Sora managed to keep a (nearly) straight face, glancing back and forth between them. "Is there something you two want to tell us?"

Mimi let out a giggle as she shifted her focus back to Yamato, who visibly recoiled back. "What do you think, Yama-senpai? We could be the next hot item in the gossip columns."

"Knock it off." Yamato muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets as he turned away. His cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Tsundere! Yama-senpai's being tsundere!"

"Don't call me that!"

"Which one? Yama-senpai or tsundere?"

"Either!"

"Mimi-chan..." Sora chided the younger girl gently. It might have carried more weight if she hadn't been holding back a fresh bout of laughter on her end. Before her joke got too out of hand, she made a point of changing the subject: "You two are still free this morning, right?"

It was a rhetorical question. She already knew Mimi had been excused from participating in her homeroom's activities because it was technically her first day on campus. There was no time to create a new role in the play just for her. And Yamato's band was only scheduled for afternoon rehearsals the rest of the week.

Mimi nodded anyway. Yamato gave a low snort indicating he was still annoyed at them both.

Sora sighed at the two responses, knowing she brought it on herself. She reached for her bag, digging through its contents to find the cell she had discarded earlier. Once she found it—somehow at the bottom of the bag. again—she flipped the lid open and began scrolling through her most recent messages.

"Koushiro said he left the digimon at home with his mom, so we won't have to worry about them today." Though her heart gave a small twinge at the thought of being separated from her partner even longer, they had all agreed it was for the best. Keeping the digimon together meant they would be safe. And much less likely to get into trouble. "He and Taichi should get to the middle school around—Yamato..."

She cut herself off when the boy's eyes notably darkened at Taichi's name.

"What?" He asked curtly.

"Tsundere~" Mimi murmured in a sing-song manner.

"Don't..." Yamato began, only this time he was the one who stopped short.

Sora had gone still. One might have attributed it to the intense way she was staring at her cell, as if lost in thought or trying to work out something mentally. Except her eyes had gone glassy. Something she read had upset her.

He thought about saying something, but ultimately decided to get Takeru to ask her about it later. He was much better about that sort of thing.

"What about Jou-senpai?" Mimi's voice cut through an otherwise tense silence.

One she had apparently missed; when they looked to her, she was still tucking the camera back in her large messenger bag. It was only then Sora realized she had never actually said what was on there. Odd.

"He's not coming today," she told her.

Mimi's head snapped up. "He's...not?"

Sora was...surprised by her apparent surprise. "I thought you knew. He has another exam coming up a week from today. He'll be home all week, studying."

"It's a miracle we managed to drag him out of his house for as long as we did," Yamato added.

The change in Mimi was immediately apparent.

Her usually expressive features went blank, as if the light in her had momentarily dimmed. She seemed to be processing the news. Thinking. Her eyes alternated between Sora and Yamato, searching for their respective reactions and taking note of the way neither seemed the least bit affected by the fact that one of their closest friends was being excluded.

By choice.

Over an exam.

That was a week out.

"We'll see about that."

The light returned with all the force of a lightning strike. Brighter and bolder than before. She grinned at them both as she hopped down, the click of her heels echoing loudly as she spun on them, towards the exit. Without so much as an inkling as to where she was going. Or even a farewell.

Sora and Yamato watched in mutually resigned horror as she disappeared down the hall.

"...good luck, Jou-senpai..."

o o o

o o o

Iori had assumed he would hear Daisuke long before he caught sight of him. He never would have guessed he'd ultimately track him down by smell.

Spicy miso. With a hint of...was that fish? Whatever it was, it made his mouth water. His stomach gurgled in agreement. The pleasant aroma lead him around the far building wing and towards the soccer field, just as he'd been told. It grew stronger as he approached the makeshift stand set up near the bleachers. Several jersey-wearing boys were gathered around. He recognized nearly all of them from past games.

"Yo! Kid!" Suddenly, Iori was the center of about a half dozen sport stars' attention. "I'd be happy to serve you, but Noodle-Head here says we're not allowed for another hour. Try coming back then."

The familiar tuff of spiky brown hair appeared from behind a large pile of boxes. "For the last time, you can't call it a 10-hour broth if you don't cook it for ten hours! I don't make these rules!" With both hands on his hips, he stomped forward, ready to continue defending himself. Then he caught sight of their audience, and immediately relaxed. "Oh. Iori. It's you."

"Hello, Daisuke-san." He lightly dipped his head, maintaining politeness in the face of Daisuke's peers. "I didn't realize I was so early. I can go see one of the others first if that would be easier for you."

Daisuke's mouth twisted to one side. "What? No, you're fine. It's not...hold on." He turned back to the boxes, quickly burying his hand in one until he pulled out two bottles of ramune. "Hold the fort down for me a bit, will you, guys? And don't you DARE touch that pot until I get back. Got it?"

Five of the boys collectively rolled their eyes at him, but nodded anyway.

"Really, Daisuke-san. I don't—" Iori began.

Daisuke responded by tossing him one of the bottles. "Don't worry. I needed to stretch my legs anyway."

Before Iori could protest further, he found herself being lightly dragged by one arm across the field. At the far end, near the goalpost, he caught sight of three more soccer players putting finishing touches on their booth sign. Ramen was spelled out in large katakana between two hand-drawn bowls of noodles. One significantly more skilled than the other.

All three gave Daisuke a quick shout and wave as they walked by, which Daisuke was happy enough to return.

Iori looked away, feeling like he was intruding even though they were all out in public. He turned his attention downward, to the bottle of ramune cradled in both hands. It was Kiwi-flavored. Not his favorite, but he wouldn't have expected Daisuke to know his preferences anyway. He supposed he should have been lucky he didn't end up with wasabi. Or chili oil.

He reached for the film, ripping it off in a single motion. After a moment's deliberation, he awkwardly tucked it into his pocket. Removing the cap to pop out the plunger was a little more challenging while he was still holding the bottle, but he'd done it enough times that it was a familiar process. From there, he needed only push down the marble stopper.

"It doesn't seem real, does it?" Daisuke spoke suddenly.

Iori looked up at him. Then down at his soda. Then up again.

"Not the soda," He shook his head, idly swirling his bottle around. Iori noticed he hadn't even started opening it yet. "I mean...you know...everything."

"I...see."

Iori didn't see.

He and Daisuke had never been that close, which often made it difficult for Iori to discern what Daisuke was thinking . They were friends, sure, and still knew more about each other than most of their other friends, but they had so little in common outside their roles as Chosen. Even during their adventures traveling to the Digital World, Iori had often stuck closer to Miyako or Takeru, while Daisuke was drawn to Hikari and Ken like a magnet.

The awkwardness was palpable on both ends; Daisuke reached up to scratch his head during the lull in conversation.

"The worst part is that, even when I keep wishing Ken was here to agree with me, I know he wouldn't be able to. It's the same with him."

Iori looked up in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"The whole business with his brother. And all that time he spent in the Digital World before he was turned into the Kaizer. I mean, yeah, I was once kidnapped and held hostage with half of Odaiba by a bunch of Bakemon and them..."

They came upon a large ginkgo tree just starting to turn red. Daisuke unceremoniously plopped himself at the base, head turned towards the leaves as he continued to swirl the liquid in his bottle. With one knee propped up, he reached for the film and finally began the process of opening it.

Iori remained standing, for once staring down at the older boy as he watched a series of unusually contemplative expressions wash over him.

"Taichi-senpai had told me a little about the Digital World. So when I got V-mon, I thought it was the coolest thing ever. It was finally my turn to be like Taichi-senpai. And Hikari-chan was with me, and the rest of you, and I could show you all that I was good at something besides soccer."

Iori's lips parted. He had never heard Daisuke talk in such a self-aware manner before. And hearing his perspective on their first days as Chosen was...strangely enlightening.

Because the sentiment was more similar own than he had ever admitted.

It was finally my turn.

"Except Takeru had to go and ruin my moment, and it never actually occurred to me it was because he really did know what he was doing and how dangerous it really was..." He paused to then shake his head, giving a low snort. "...or maybe I did, and I just didn't care because I wanted to be better than him anyway. I was too jealous to care." Then the humor was gone, and his whole face fell. "But...I'm definitely not jealous anymore. I never even once thought to ask how he and Hikari-chan knew so much about the dangers...what they were going through by going back..."

"...or what they went through the first time," Iori added softly.

Daisuke nodded, then glanced up with an ironic half-grin. "It's not just me, then. Got to you, too?"

Iori nodded, coming to a seat directly opposite Daisuke.

He had dealt with loss before. The death of his father. Taken from his and his mother while in the line of duty. (Ironically, it had been the very trip they'd taken to retrieve his body that led him to his first contact with Digimon.) So when Maki and Daigo described the death of their friend at Piemon's hand...well, the feeling had been too familiar to shock him that much.

But it did reaffirm what he had long suspected about his jogress partner. That there were horrors in Takeru's past he had yet to divulge.

Daisuke sat back, leaning his head against the trunk of the tree. "You know what, thought?" The corners of his lips twitched upward. "I still wouldn't have missed a second of it. Not even knowing what we know now."

Iori quickly realized he was mirroring Daisuke's expression. "It's not over yet."

"I"ll drink to that," Daisuke chuckled, tilting his head back to take a large swig of his drink—

Then promptly spat it back out.

"Gah! Who the hell ever thought chili oil soda was a good flavor?!"

o o o

o o o

The doorbell rang.

Kido Shin looked up from the book he was reading, adjusting his glasses as he stood. A second ring echoed throughout the main room, emphasizing the mysterious guest's impatience. He sighed, wishing Shuu were here to deal with it. He was so much better at that sort of thing,

"Coming!" He called out habitually, shoving a thumb between the pages to mark his place with one hand as he used the other to open the door. "Can I help...you?"

The book slipped from his fingers, crashing to the floor.

A high school girl stood on their front porch. Smiling brightly. His mind barely registered the uniform as belonging to one of the local schools, except she looked nothing like a local girl. Soft, brown hair with streaks of unnatural highlight. Delicate features. For a split second, he thought one of those idol-in-training girls had accidentally wandered into the wrong apartment complex.

She was staring at him intently, eyeing him up and down with far more curiosity than Shin had ever thought he warranted.

"Shuu-san?" She asked.

He wasn't even in the right frame of mind to feel annoyed. "Shin."

"Right!" For some reason, the mistaken identify didn't deter her in the slightest. She even seemed...pleased. "You were the one there with Mama and Papa the second time. I remember you driving up on the scooter."

"I...was?" He was frozen in place by confusion.

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, because she threw her hands on her hips, eyes narrowing.

"It wasn't that long ago. Geez! You'd think watching your brother float up into the sky with his friends would leave more of an impression."

"...ah!" After a moment's pause, it finally clicked. Six years ago. She would have only been...what, ten or eleven at the time? Covered in pink and wearing that absurdly large hat of hers. No wonder he didn't recognize her right away. The others still lived close by. Hikari. Sora. He'd seen them enough times to know their faces on sight. So, by process of elimination… "Long time no see, Mimi-chan."

"You do remember me!" Back to cheerful, this time with a faint giggle.

"Like you said, you all made a pretty strong impression back then." He stepped back, inviting her in and shutting the door while she took off her shoes. "I assume you're here looking for Jou. He isn't in trouble, is he?"

Her smile didn't waver. "I haven't decided yet."

"I see." Biting back a growing smirk, he gave a slight jerk of his head towards the hall. "Last door on the left."

o o o

"Jou-senpai!"

The boy in question nearly fell out of his chair as Mimi came bursting through his bedroom door in all her unabashed glory.

"Mimi-kun?" He blinked the stinging from his eyes, adjusting his glasses to make sure he wasn't starting to hallucinate. "What…?"

She lingered in the doorway just long enough to cross her arms over her chest and give him a good once-over. Not unlike how she'd done for Shin. The difference being, this time, she already knew who she was looking at and was more assessing his current state. Fashion-wise...well, she had expected much worse. Despite being at home, he had still found the time to dress in his usual school uniform, his button-up only slightly wrinkled and his pants crisply pressed. Good. That would save time.

"I came to get you." She told him, as if it should have been obvious. "You do know what day it is?"

"Monday?" despite his certainty, he still glanced at the calendar on the wall out of habit.

"School Festival Monday," she corrected. "And yet, here you are, stuck inside instead of spending it enjoying the main reason I insisted that Papa have all my enrollment paperwork done before we even got back."

He wanted to be surprised. The thought that Mimi would actually hunt him down over his notable absence that day should never have crossed his mind. It was just...such a Mimi thing to do. And a small part of him was actually touched she would go this far on his behalf.

Unfortunately, the rest of him was too busy.

"I have to study, Mimi-kun," he stated gently, not wanting to risk offending her further.

"You have all week to study!"

"No. You don't understand." He shook his head. Hesitated. Bit his lip. His eyes glanced to a certain drawer in his desk, and he weighted the pros and cons before finally deciding to open it, pulling out the slip of paper he hadn't let anyone else see until then. Not even Shin. "I spent five days straight studying for the last one. And...this was the result."

Her arms uncrossed as she entered the room, socked feet padding softly against his hardwood floor. Once she was within arm's reach, she took the paper and leaned against his desk to study it intently.

Jou watched her face out of the corner of his eye with uneasy trepidation. He was ashamed of the number scrawled across the top right corner. Afraid his parents would learn of his literal failure and be even more disappointed. Frustrated that all the work he'd put in hadn't been enough. That he needed to work even harder. Maybe harder than he was capable.

He would have loved nothing more than to shove that stupid exam in the bottom of the trash, but it served as a reminder. And, now, proof.

"See?" He asked after a moment, trusting that she would.

Mimi's answer was to crumple the paper with both hands, forming a ball she used to toss into the corner wastebasket.

"Mimi-kun!" He exclaimed, voice cracking. "What—"

"Which books are you using to study?"

"I..." She was going too fast for him. His mind was still reeling from watching her throw away his failures with such ease, and he reflexively indicated to the books piled up on his desk.

"That's what I thought."

His knapsack was resting along the side of the desk. She must have recognized it from the previous weekend, because she picked it up without much thought and began shoving his texts inside the main pouch, one by one. Then his notebook. Then the packaged sandwich sitting unopened next to it.. Then his half-empty bottle of iced green tea. Then the pen he'd still been holding in one hand. Only when she'd shoved the pack into his chest and dragged him to his feet did he finally remember himself. And his voice.

"Mimi-kun...what are you doing?"

"I'm making a deal with you." Her hand slipped into his free one—the one not still clutching his knapsack like it was his lifeline. "One hour. Give me one hour at the Festival, and I promise I'll spend the rest of the afternoon helping you study."

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

He knew exactly what to say. He even knew, more or less, how to say it. Mimi was one of his dearest friends, and he would trust her with his life...but she was also two years younger than him. And this was one of the rare situations in which that actually mattered, because it also meant she was two years behind him in school.

She must have seen the hesitation in his eyes, because in the next moment, hers had softened: "I have an idea. I promise. Trust me on this?"

There was something in her tone…

Jou relaxed his shoulders. A resigned smile appeared.

"Is there anything I can say that will get you to let me sit back down?"

"Nope!"

"Then...alright, Mimi-kun. One hour."

o o o

o o o

Laughter. Footsteps. Wheels rolling along the flat pavement.

In the distance, a teacher's distorted voice came through the speakers, announcing the start of the day's activities. All eyes were turned to the main stage. Hundreds of them. Some taking pictures. Others chatting with groups of friends, making plans.

Not one of them noticing the unusual way the wind seemed to pick up. Air swirling in unnatural patterns. Faster and faster, until-

A flash of light.

Two small figures emerged.

It took less than a second for them to take in the new surroundings...then they both took off in opposite directions.