Author's note: All these males are so difficult to write. Gah. You can always tell who I've role played as in the past; they come so much easier to me than the likes of Koushiro, Jyou, Ken, and Iori. But hopefully this will be good practice, because I've come to this depressing discovery that my characters are becoming much too similar for my liking. So, raise your glasses to practicing characterization and entertaining my loyal readers at the same time! And people say I can't multi-task. But yeah. Today I made the discovery that this fanfic is further along (and better planned out, to boot) than my story that I want to publish. Sad day. So if you're wondering why sometimes it will take me longer to update than either of us would like, it's because I'm attempting to keep the stories up to speed. So, Chapter ten (technically speaking) won't be coming out until I finish chapter ten of my novel. But I'm making good progress on it, so here's to hoping it's sooner rather than later!

We need a break from that depressing hospital room, so get ready for some good... "not really clean in the literal sense but totally clean in the figurative sense" fun!

PS: Sorry it's really kinda short; my muse is fried at the moment, and I figured something is better than nothing. Consider this a not really important chapter. I really don't like how it ended, but... I don't know, maybe I'll be able to do something with it later. No promises, though. Iori's next. Eep!

"Miyako-san... I don't think this is right," Ken said, looking uneasy at the idea of confronting the headstrong girl while she wielded a wooden spoon and a glass bowl. There were knives around here too. Daisuke seemed to have thought of that first, for while whistling oh-so "innocently", he reached for the knife to move it out of Miyako's reach. But the idea of Daisuke with a sharp, pointy object wasn't exactly comforting either. Ken and Iori exchanged uneasy looks, but Iori only shrugged and sighed. He had given up being worried about them a long time ago; Ken wished he could take his lead.

"Of course it is," Miyako scowled, looking rather offended at the idea of being corrected. However, there was no way she could deny it whole heartedly. Her face fell a little as she looked around the kitchen. Once a warm and welcoming yellow color, it was now powdery white and rather messy. She groaned. Her mother was not going to be very happy with her, and they'd have to clean this mess up eventually. That didn't bother Ken so much as the worry that they might hospitalize Taichi too, if the food was as bad as it looked. It wasn't really Miyako's fault there, though. Neither Daisuke nor Ken had ever had to cook before, and the results had been rather disastrous.

"Maybe we should just order them a pizza," Daisuke suggested with a shrug, the knife still in his hand. Everybody cringed, and his indifferent expression turned into a scowl to rival Miyako's out of frustration. "What?!"

"Just put it down, Daisuke-kun," Miyako sighed. Iori frowned.

"Maybe I'll ask my mom to make some ohagi for them, too. I'm not really sure this is food," Iori said thoughtfully, poking something that was supposed to resemble the aforementioned food. Daisuke's scowl deepened; it was his attempt that Iori was poking. Iori had shown up laden with things from his fridge, thanks to his mother's insisting. She made some of their dinners in advance, just in case Iori was home alone and had to fend for himself because she wouldn't be home till later, or something. He always sighed that she seemed to forget that he knew how to cook, but it had come in handy this time. Her gifts were some of the only edible food they had to present to Taichi.

"Well fine then. I still say we order pizza," he said stubbornly, and everyone heard his stomach grumble loudly. Miyako grinned despite herself, and so did Ken. Unfortunate and miserable as the circumstances might be that brought them all together again, he missed hanging out with the lot of them. It would almost be like old times, if Hikari was with them. But she was... Ken stopped that thought there, because any more and he would bring down the comfortable atmosphere within the filthy kitchen.

He was doing his best to think about it in a detached, but helpful way. You know, like how scientists look at data, or mathematicians look at statistics... or something like that. He was trying not to remember the accident that took his brother's life, his brother who had been... you know, his brother, whatever happened. He was trying not to remember how he had tried to take his place, the way he suspected Taichi would try to take the place of their parents for Hikari. He was trying not to sympathize, but to empathize. When you related too much, you became less helpful. You fell apart.

Ken had fallen apart more than enough throughout his life, thanks. And while they said that you went through several times in your life when you seemingly forgot who you were, lost your way, or regretted the way you had taken, Ken wanted to do his best to avoid those moments. He had enough regret, enough remorse. And see? Here he was, doing exactly what he told himself he wouldn't do. He was thinking too much, instead of doing something.

Maybe Daisuke and Miyako's impatience was contagious. Or maybe, deep down, everyone liked to feel important, and necessary to the daily operations. It was a good feeling to help, whether or not they were secretly being a little selfish about it. Nobody who now stood in Miyako's kitchen, for however much they were failing at their mission, wanted to admit that there was nothing they could do but sit at home and go on with their daily lives until Taichi, Yamato, Takeru, or Yamato called them. Nobody wanted to feel useless.

"Fineeee," Miyako sighed, throwing the soiled wooden spoon into the sink. It landed with a soft "ploop" as the sitting water sucked it under.

"Iori and I will clean, if he agrees," Ken offered. Iori shrugged; they were getting along better, a little at least, than they originally had. Well, originally... after the whole "Kaiser" thing, but Ken tried not to think about that either. There was a lot that he tried not to think about.

"Miyako, you have flour on your glasses," Iori pointed out calmly as he began digging around in the cabinets beneath the sink for some cleaning supplies. He began handing out squirt bottles and moist wipes to Ken, who collected them in his arms while Miyako ushered Daisuke out of the kitchen, complaining about him tracking flour onto the carpet; she hadn't seen the flour on his socks until it was too late.

"Things don't really change, do they," Ken observed quietly, as though afraid that Miyako might hear him over the sounds of her thwapping Daisuke upside the head. Sometimes he worried, a little, that she liked him. They had such an outgoing friendship...although albeit, it was a little abusive. She was quieter to Ken, as though he were fragile, like he might break if she yelled at him. It was silly to be jealous of Daisuke; he knew better, for one. But sometimes, you know, it's only natural to be envious of the best friends. Because there was no doubt that they were close, for all their insults and obscene gestures. They trusted each other. And once, there had been something more. Selfishly, he hoped that wouldn't happen again.

"Some things. But other things are about to change a lot," Iori both and disagreed with a sigh. Ken didn't say anything; he understood, he really did. But he wasn't talking about the hospital, miles away in a world so completely inconceivable while they stood in the warm light of Miyako's kitchen. He was talking about here, this moment. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. They hadn't really changed, not from where Ken was standing.

They worked enveloped in a relatively comfortable silence; Iori was a guy of few words unless he felt they were important to speak, and Ken was intent on making the kitchen spotless so that Miyako didn't have to pick up the slack before her mother came out of the other room to see the mess. He had only been scrubbing at the floor for a few minutes, doing a far better job than he had on the stove top, when Miyako came back in. She sounded considerably more chipper than she had upon exiting; Ken had a suspicion that it had something to do with Daisuke pouting as he rubbed the back of his head, but he kept that thought to himself.

" Pizza should be here soon," she announced happily, throwing a sponge at Daisuke and ordering him none-too-kindly to help clean. It was then that Ken noticed the smears of white powder that had not been on Miyako before, and he had a feeling of what had happened. But it was Iori who asked how she got messier leaving the mess. Miyako narrowed her eyes at Daisuke the entire time she spoke.

"Some one thought it would be absolutely hilarious to give me a 'just because' hug," Miyako said, over enunciating every syllable just in case Daisuke didn't get the message. She startled Ken by walking up behind him and putting a hand on his head, although it wasn't a hit like he for some reason was expecting. "You've been quiet tonight." Her tone was completely different; he had no idea how she went from sounding ready to shank Daisuke to sounding all worried and...he didn't know another word for it, sweet.

"Well, we've been working," he explained, without really explaining at all. He was quieter in groups than he was one-on-one, which they all knew by this point. But Miyako always seemed determined to make him speak without them being behind closed doors.

She grabbed another damp sponge from the sink and joined him at scrubbing the floor, making small chatter and such in an effort to get a response from him. He didn't resist, but she wasn't happy with his "I'm fine"s and "I guess; Kaasan seemed happy with it" when she asked him about his test scores in math a few days before. This was easier when it was just them, without Daisuke snickering behind his hand and Iori pretending he couldn't see them if they should choose to start making out right there. As if they would, although he knew Miyako wouldn't object. Ken, however, wasn't into public displays of affection. Particularly while Daisuke was grinning like an idiot.

"Are you thinking about your brother," Miyako asked suddenly, and Ken's hand slipped on the sponge. "Sorry," she added quickly. He raised his eyes to find that her cheeks were flushed deep red, and she was biting her lip in embarrassment. "I was just thinking, and it kind of... heheh." She smiled nervously, as though she expected him to yell at her. But he only shook his head; Ken found it hard to yell at Miyako, although he could yell at Daisuke just fine.

"It's fine. Don't apologize." He sighed, rocking back onto his knees. The kitchen actually wasn't looking like such a disaster area anymore; Iori was tackling the countertops, although Ken could tell that he was listening closely. Daisuke was even being sort of productive, as though afraid Miyako would hit him again. "Yeah. I'm thinking about him." He shrugged, as though it was nothing. But she wasn't buying it. He could see the doubt in her eyes, and the look she exchanged with Daisuke and Iori when she thought Ken had gone back to sweeping up and cleaning. But he pretended not to see; it didn't matter. Things would be different this time.

Hikari and Taichi... they were stronger than him.

-----------------------------------

"I'm fine," he insisted, for what felt like the millionth time, as he tried to leave the Inoue apartment. Daisuke was waiting in the hall, fidgety and impatient. He was talking about hailing a cab, not really in the mood to tackle running in the heavy downpour still going strong outside. Ken wasn't listening to him. Miyako was holding his hand, having grabbed at it to keep him from just walking away without saying anything, and his mind was... you know, not outside. He wasn't sure where it was, actually. He felt absurdly like grinning, but that was so beyond inappropriate given the circumstances of the evening that he was certain that his mind had vacated his head for the time being.

"If you say so." Miyako sounded doubtful, and she was frowning as though something in his face would betray his words. Nothing must have, however, because she sighed. Her grip on his hand relaxed a little; it was comfortable, this. It would have been better if Daisuke wasn't grumbling loudly in the hallway. I mean, it wasn't about them, but Ken still found it just a tad distracting. Obviously, so did Miyako. She pouted. "He's so disruptive," she complained, and Ken laughed softly.

"Well, he's my place to stay tonight. So be nice," he teased gently, and she rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything else. Concerning Daisuke, at least.

"You'll call?"

"Tomorrow at the latest. Call us if Takeru-kun has news for us," he said. Good or bad, he didn't say, and she didn't question. Hikari had become a very sensitive topic very quickly. What else would change?

Miyako leaned up to kiss him on the cheek; he had gotten taller, something she often complained about as she hadn't grown much over the past few months. She was much, much too used to being the tallest and the oldest, everywhere it seemed but home. It made him chuckle, although he kept that to himself tonight.

"I will."

"Are you ready yet," Daisuke whined loudly, and Miyako rolled her eyes while Ken sighed. It was goodbye, then. Or see you later. Miyako didn't really like saying goodbye. Goodbyes were like saying Au revoir in French, she had said sternly once, hand on her hip and jaw stubbornly set. Au Revoir meant goodbye until we meet in death, something like that. It was more permenant than A teut a l'heur, or something like that. He blamed it on her deciding to take French as well as English in high school, but still. He supposed there was some alright reasoning in that, very Miyako-like at any rate.

"I'm ready, I'm ready," Ken called back, returning the kiss quickly. New relationships were so weird, testing the waters, awkward and comfortable, embarrassing and yet proud. He was navigating uncharted waters, something unfamiliar to him. Miyako seemed to find it amusing, at any rate.

He was thinking about her way too much. Was that normal?

"Are you coming back to my place," Daisuke asked, pushing off from the wall he had been leaning against as Ken shut the door gently behind him. Ken nodded, and Daisuke grinned. "Yatta!"

"You're surprisingly cheerful," Ken observed. He regretted it nearly immediately; the smile slipped from Daisuke's face and he looked rather dumbstruck for a moment. But the next, it was fixed back into place, as though he simply had to put it back on its hook. Ken both envied and pitied that ability; it must be hard, to smile like that all of the time.

"Taichi's there. He'll handle things," Daisuke said confidently; his faith in Taichi and his ability to seemingly fix everything was unwavering. "'Sides, Jyou's there."

"I'm surprised they're letting Jyou doctor her," Ken admitted with a small frown. "He has a personal connection...obviously." He had to add it; Daisuke looked like he was about to open his mouth to do it for him.

"Maybe it was 'cause Taichi-senpai requested him," Daisuke shrugged. He was never one to be intrigued by the finer details. What mattered was what happened, not the why. But Ken was fascinated and intrigued by "Why" and "Howcome". Sometimes Daisuke joked that he was too curious for his own good, but if Ken was too curious, then Daisuke was too reckless. It balanced out, somewhere, he supposed. How else would they be able to put up with each other as best friends?

"I guess," Ken conceded. He didn't really want to argue. He only wanted to fill the silence, to talk about something sort of irrelevent to ignore the important facts. It wasn't very like him to make small talk, usually. He didn't think he was very good at it, and obviously Daisuke agreed with him.

"It'll be -- OI, OI, TAXIIIII!" he yelled, interrupting whatever he had been about to say as he waved his hands frantically in the air. But it drove by, already claimed by a passenger tucked safely away from the rain in the confines of the back seat. Lucky... Daisuke sighed and dropped his hands, cursing under his breath. Ken agreed wholeheartedly; only a few minutes outside, and they were both sufficiently drenched.

"What will be?" Ken prodded, curiosity predictably peaked. Daisuke looked confused for a moment, before whatever he had been about to say obviously dawned on him again.

"Oh. It'll be fine. Hikari, Taichi. They'll be fine," Daisuke repeated, and Ken wondered for a moment who Daisuke was trying to convince. But maybe it was both of them; maybe he wanted to reassure himself, wanted to hear the words outloud and to believe them. He was worried, too.

"Oh. Yeah."

"You and Miyako, too," Daisuke said, and a smirk was tugging at the corner of his mouth as Ken's face turned hot. He was sure he was bright red, but he feigned stupidity anyways.

"What?"

"You and Miyako will be alright. I can feel it," he said with a wink. And then he left Ken feeling baffled as he returned to shouting for a taxi driver's attention again.

And he had been worried about Daisuke being jealous. Who was the idiot now, eh?