Author's Note: This is going be a happier chapter. Maybe not like, skipping through the forest with a basket full of cookies happy, but it will be happier than Taichi being all sadface and blah. But aren't you all proud of me, I've updated more than one story in less than one month! Happy holidays, guys! Also, I've still got that Digimon RPG if anyone is interested. I know you can't send links themselves in private messages, but I've got other means. Just say in a review if you're interested.
Thank you, MLIA, for all the inspiration you give me when my brain runs dry.
Also, I want to say thank you to a dear friend for helping me figure out why this chapter was proving so difficult to write, because once you face your fears and your insecurities head on, they seem a lot less scary than they did before. Or at least, they stop being elusive and intangible. You can give them names, assign faces and figures. When we can picture our fear, it's a lot more manageable. ...And I'm sure that babble meant little to nothing to everyone. The point? I don't know: don't be afraid to face your fears, I guess. You can be afraid, but don't let fear control and consume you. I do believe that is also a lesson underlined in Digimon. Seriously, where would my moral state be without that show?
And I thank you all for seventy three reviews thus far of this story. It makes me happy and keeps me wanting to continue it farther than I've ever continued a story on FF, as I've mentioned several times before.
Sora couldn't remember having ever seen Taichi cry before. It was kind of numbing, truth be told. He was always the strong leader, you know? Always the one who had the answers, the one who Yamato had once accused of spending so much time looking forward that he never paused to look behind and remember. He was looking back now, and Sora wished he wouldn't. Sora wished he'd keep plowing forward the way he always had.
Yamato disagreed.
They didn't talk much when they were around each other. They hadn't in months, except for short nods or "thanks" or "whatever"s when they were all hanging out together. They only spoke now because they were on the same side: help Taichi. As far as Sora knew, Yamato didn't hold her relationship with Taichi against the latter at all. His 'beef', as Mimi had put it during one of Sora's rare heart-to-hearts over the phone, was with Sora. Taichi wouldn't have dated Sora if Yamato hadn't told him it was alright and if Taichi hadn't believed it. Sora knew that. She didn't like the tension, maybe. She hated the animosity, the unease that she had never felt with Yamato before. But she couldn't complain, either.
Especially since, despite all that, he was still willing to bring her home.
Occasionally she wondered if it had been Takeru who suggested it to Yamato, or if Taichi had asked him during the rare moments when he was around and talking (although admittedly not about anything concerning him directly). But whatever the case, Yamato let her get in the back seat. Takeru took shot gun, which she was a tiny bit thankful for. Some might have felt insulted being shuffled to the back seat, but it removed her obligation to try and make conversation with the driver. She could fall asleep, and Takeru would lean back and nudge her knee when they were near her apartment building, and she and Yamato never exchanged a word.
"I wonder if we didn't cross the line. Maybe we pushed him too far," she had confessed with a guilty look through the rear window as Yamato drove away from the hospital. Takeru was with them, leaning his head against the passenger door and not paying attention to the conversation at all. Sora had a small suspicion where his mind was, but she didn't try pull him back to reality. Reality kind of sucked lately, didn't it? She sure thought so.
"No. Taichi's human, you know. He's just a guy, despite whatever the hell his ego tells him when he's alone," Yamato added with a snort. It was a teasing remark, but there was still a little sting to his words. But the sting, Sora knew, was directed at her, not their friend.
"I know that," she said defensively, almost guiltily.
Yamato sighed, irritated. It was what he did when he found himself picking an argument that he didn't feel like having, or starting a conversation that he didn't feel deserved to be finished. Takeru lifted his head from the window and frowned at his older brother.
"I'm not gonna lie, I thought it was a little unnerving to see Taichi cry too," Takeru admitted in a low voice, looking properly embarrassed. Whether it was an act to keep his brother from losing his temper or he was sincerely ashamed to think it was weird that Taichi would ever cry was beyond Sora; she might know Takeru, but she didn't know him as well as she knew Yamato and Taichi. If his goal was the aforementioned, however, Sora had a feeling that Takeru had failed. She could see Yamato narrow his eyes in the rear view mirror, and could just imagine his fingers gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly as he fought to keep his temper in check.
"He's human, Takeru. He's gotta take the time to mourn. He can't keep running forever," he said in a low voice, and Sora knew that it wouldn't be so low if it wasn't Takeru. But the words were for her too, and she listened. She always listened when Yamato spoke; that was the problem. She spent too much time listening for words she was never going to hear unless they were in a song. "He'll cry, he'll let it out. And when he's done trying to run away from having a good cry, he'll be able to focus. He'll be able to be there for Hikari. He'll figure out what his next move is going to be."
Takeru glanced over his shoulder and shrugged at Sora, smiling apologetically. She smiled a soft smile back. He had tried to deflect the heat from her, tried to diffuse Yamato. It might not have really worked, but Sora found it sweet that Takeru tried. But her mind was still worried, and her eyes wandered back to the back of Yamato's seat when Takeru returned to looking out the window at the freeway.
Why couldn't she be as confident as Yamato? She knew it was true; when it came to Hikari, Taichi would always come through. She knew that he was stronger than he looked when his face was buried in his hands, when he leaned into her as he cried. She knew that, and yet she couldn't shake that image out of her mind. It scared her, but she didn't say it. Yamato sounded so confident, so completely sure of his best friend. But she, the girlfriend, couldn't be? It wasn't right, and Yamato wouldn't miss the opportunity to point that out. She folded her hands tightly in her lap, squeezing her fingers hard. She'd be strong for Taichi. She'd make him dinner and help him around the house, as much as he'd let her. It was about time she was the rock.
The next few days after Hikari's awakening, she had to work. She called Taichi every day though, not expecting him to actually answer his cell. There was very poor reception in the hospital, and besides, he had been sitting by Hikari's bed whenever she was awake. She seemed fine, although little things slipped from Hikari's memory, like her last birthday party and a little bit of math. Jyou, Sora knew, didn't think it was too concerning. She'd had a serious head injury, and it might take some time for her brain to fully recover from that. Taichi, however, was beside himself. But Hikari would squeeze his hand and tell him not to be silly, she was fine, and could he get her a brownie from the cafeteria? She hated the food the nurses brought her. Taichi always obliged without a word of objection. Anything for Hikari; Sora didn't mind being put second for her.
So she was a little surprised when she heard Taichi go "Hey, Sora."
She was a little more than surprised that he didn't sound like he had been crying; for those two weeks, he had sounded like he was walking around half asleep. He was never quite there, in the moment. Sora didn't expect three days after Hikari beginning her recovery to be much different. The image of tears brimming his eyes still burned in her dreams and woke her up at night. But he sounded…fine.
That shouldn't have worried her; in fact, it should have made her happy. But it did worry her, and she couldn't explain why.
"Um. I'm sorry, but I don't think I can make it out there again today," she apologized.
"It's fine." It sounded like it; that was the problem. "Hikari's taking a nap right now, and Yamato said he and Takeru are coming over once Takeru gets out of school. Don't worry about it."
She couldn't help it.
"I was thinking about stopping by your apartment during my break to collect the mail and tidy up. Would you like me to," she asked hesitantly as an after thought. She had a key, but no permission. She hadn't thought of asking him, but it was just…strange.
Maybe Yamato had been right. Maybe he just needed a good cry. Maybe he was trying to be a good big brother. Taichi had never been one to fall apart. She hadn't imagined the pause before he spoke, though. She knew him well enough to catch that even if she wasn't struggling to pull a pair of black slacks on one handed, which she was. She was running a little late, and her mother was going to get annoyed if she wasn't ready to take over her shift soon.
"It never crossed my mind," he admitted. "D'you mind, Sor?"
"I offered, didn't I?" If he was keeping his tone light, so was she. She wouldn't be the one to kill his apparent good mood.
"Yeah. Thanks." He sounded like he had something else to say, so she waited. But it never came, instead: "It's almost time for Hikari's nurse to check in on her, so I'm gonna go." He paused. "I love you, Sor."
Whatever he was going to say, he wasn't going to anymore. Sora sighed, curiosity burning at her, nudging her to ask although she knew it'd be useless: He'd just say it was nothing, he hadn't been about to say anything, he was wondering what was for lunch in the cafeteria... Any number of Taichi-made excuses to avoid what he was too proud to admit he'd been afraid to say. He had always been like that, since they first met. Sora saw no reason for that to change now, even if she was his girlfriend.
So she said "I love you too" instead of "Is there anything else?" and hung up the phone with a sigh. She didn't have long to contemplate it, not just then. She had to get to the store, play with flowers, try not to sneeze when she got too close to the daisy bouquets, and think of how to ask her mother how she could get more than a ten minute break so that she could do what she told Taichi she wanted to do, because she really did want to do it. It was her apology for not seeing him lately, for not being able to help with anything that had happened, for making things weird between the three of them – her, Taichi, and Yamato –, for Hikari, for giving up the sport that had birthed their friendship, for believing he was always supposed to be the strong one.
One might suggest she was acting on a guilty conscience. She had a lot of things she felt she had to apologize for.
She hadn't imagined the pause before he spoke, though. She knew him well enough to catch that even if she wasn't struggling to pull a pair of black slacks on one handed, which she was. She was running a little late, and her mother was going to get annoyed if she wasn't ready to take over her shift soon. She ran a brush quickly through her hair; it had been pulled back for tennis practice and now felt strange as it hung around her shoulders. And then she was out the door, punching another number on her speed dial as she sped towards the stairs. The elevator had been out of service earlier when she had gotten home to shower and change before work.
"Moshi moshi." Miyako sounded cheerful, if not distracted by something that Sora couldn't hear. A moment's silence and she caught it: Ken's voice, asking who it was.
"You're busy, aren't you," Sora said, sighing despite herself. She didn't want to ask one of the boys for help. Well, except Jyou, but he was probably working.
"No, Ken has soccer at five," Miyako assured her. "What's up?"
"I was wondering if you're busy around six?" It was meant to be a statement, but it came out as more of a question than anything else.
"I think so. I have tonight off." She sounded quite happy about that, too. Sora didn't blame her; Miyako's family owned a corner store, and she had gotten more and more hours as her siblings went off to University or pursued other careers that left no time for the family store. "Why?"
"I was thinking of stopping by Taichi's… No one's been home in days." Yamato had implied that he had stopped by to grab some clothes for Taichi, who was staying at the hospital until Hikari's release. But she had a feeling as she remembered the state of Yamato's apartment from their days as a couple that stopping by didn't warrant cleaning up. If she took care of it, it'd be one less thing Taichi had to worry about when he got home – for a little while, anyway. Maybe it was small and a silly tribute, but she wanted to do it. It felt like the only thing she could do, and maybe it was a little selfish part of her that wanted to do something useful, however small.
"Work? When I'm off of work?" Miyako complained, and Sora bit her lip.
"It's fine if you don't—" Sora began. She'd just do it herself, maybe ask her mother if she could get off early so that she could stop by. Her mom liked Taichi, more or less. He had been her best friend for a long time before being her boyfriend; he was certainly no stranger to her household. She thought that maybe her mom would let her go. Miyako cut her off before she could say anything else.
"I never said I didn't. Six, right? I've only been to Hikari's a couple times, but I think I remember how to get there. If not I'll call Daisuke, the creeper." Despite the attempt at insulting Daisuke, she still sounded very cheerful.
Sora smiled. They were alike in some ways, and not just in the crest that fueled their Digimon's evolutions. Maybe Sora wasn't as smitten with boys as Miyako was (or had been, before Ken was officially in the picture). Maybe she wasn't as good with computers, and Miyako wasn't as good at sports. But when it came to how they handled situations, they were similar. They both let their tempers get the best of them sometimes, but they had good hearts. And they both preferred action over sitting idly by waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Taichi knew that; maybe that was why he had agreed and said it was alright. Hours of sitting in the hospital, holding his hand, waiting… it had killed her. It had killed him too, but for a different reason. He wanted to help his sister. Sora would have done anything to not have to sit around staring at the wall or the bed or the machines or Taichi's distant eyes.
"Yeah. If you get there before me, there's a key taped to the top of the door frame. Just don't break anything inside." An unnecessary adage, and she could just imagine Miyako sticking her tongue out, pouting with indignation.
"I won't break anything. I'm not that klumsy. I can handle computer chips and fix machines as small as your mp3 player; that takes skill," she said defensively. Sora laughed. Oh, Miyako.
"Right." She was in the lobby, had another two blocks to run, and running and talking on the phone simply did not work out no matter what people wanted to believe. "I've gotta go, or I won't ever make it. See you later."
"Ja ne!" Miyako replied, and the line disconnected. She still had an hour or so to enjoy her company with Ken. It was still kinda bizarre, imagining them cuddling and such. But Sora supposed that maybe people thought the same of her and Taichi, or had felt that way when she had been with Yamato. It was strange imagining the other Chosen dating, but they were all closer to each other than to the outside world. That was how it felt sometimes, like it was them, and them. Who better to date than someone who you know has your back through thick and thin, someone who has had a chance to prove it instead of using empty words of dying chivalry in a world where danger and fear aren't nearly as prevalent. Statistic wise, not many people got mugged or shot or attacked, stalked and targeted and maimed. It wasn't something people easily imagined. Not many people understood what "protecting" meant anymore. Not in the same way the Chosen did.
Sora slipped her phone into the pocket of her slacks – despite Mimi's attempts to buy her one on her last visit, Sora still resisted the idea of carrying a purse everywhere like her mother – and took off. Oh soccer, how she missed you then! Running always reminded her of training, of hot summer days running through drills again and again, the ball between her feet, knees and elbows grass stained from fall after fall. Tennis was tough too, as much as people didn't think it was. But it wasn't the same kind of work out. Soccer was a constant race against the other team. Who can get there first? Who can reach the ball, the goal, the player with the ball first? Who can kick faster, harder, farther? Who can control the ball best, steal the ball, and win the ball? Tennis was different, a different kind of rush. She had wanted a change, and there were other reasons, but they weren't very important just then.
She felt calmer when she was running. Nothing mattered when she was running. When she was running, all that mattered was making the time and keeping her breath paced and steady. She slowed to a stop just outside the store, adjusting her hair in the mirror, making sure she wasn't sweating profusely. It was a chilly day; she was safe. She was also panting, out of breath. She inhaled deeply and released it slowly. She needed to return to her daily jogs. She had been slacking in the past few weeks since Hikari had been hospitalized. She cringed, but life had to begin to return to normal sometime. She'd gotten back to work. Next she'd pick up her jogging again; maybe half an hour after tennis, or before tennis, or before school. Sometime.
"You're late," her mother chastised quietly when she slipped behind the counter.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Sora said quickly. She yanked an apron over her head, although she still couldn't figure out why it was necessary. They dealt with pollinated flowers, not messy food and drinks. But her mother said it was more professional, or something of the like, and who was Sora to argue with a rather successful business woman? The store had been up and running since she was a little girl. Obviously, her mom had something right. "I was on the phone with Taichi." It was true, sort of. But she thought it might soften her mother's annoyance.
It did. "How is Hikari?"
"Awake. Jyou told Taichi she should be able to go home soon," Sora told her, adjusting a stray lock of hair before walking behind the register.
"How is Taichi?"
"...He sounded better," Sora admitted with a small frown.
In the back of her mind, this conversation felt strange. Not so many years ago, although they felt like another lifetime, she would never have thought to tell her mother anything. She would have said "Fine. Fine. Fine, Mom." and gone to work without a second glance, because she had hated her mother and this flower shop. Not really. She had been angry and upset, frustrated with her family and not sure where she was expected to fit in or how she could accomplish it. The year after Piyomon, Sora had changed a lot. Her mother had too, and their relationship. But there was still that ten year old in the back of her mind sometimes, a second Sora who stared out of her eyes but couldn't speak, the embodiment of her childhood. That Sora didn't understand anything that was going on, completely thrown out of her element.
This Sora wasn't much better off, to be completely honest.
"Invite them over for dinner when Hikari's released." Sora smiled a faint smile, although it was dry of humor. Like mother, like daughter. Why was it that the first thing that came to mind was "give them food"?
"Actually, Mama..." Sora began, but she broke off. A customer had approached her and her mother, but her mother took to answering. Truth be told, Sora hadn't even heard the lady's question, but in a few minutes she was walking away with an armful of pink carnations smothered in baby's breath.
"Hm?" As though there had been no pause in their conversation, Sora's mother raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"I was wondering if I could have an hour break to go over to Taichi's." She said this very quickly, as though she might confuse her mother into saying yes if she couldn't understand exactly what Sora was asking. No such luck, however. Her mother frowned a small frown. When she did that, Sora could begin to see why Yamato had always said she looked like her mother. Their expressions, they were a lot a like. Personality wise though, Sora always fancied that she took after her dad.
"I thought he was staying at the hospital till Hikari was released?" Her mother paused in the act of untying the black apron around her waist to look at her daughter, accusation of lies in her eyes.
"He is," Sora agreed, and the accusation faded. Confusion flared in its stead. "I was thinking... I don't know, of going over and cleaning up. The place is always a mess," Sora said, wrinkling her nose. She felt the absurd urge to giggle. "And Taichi left in the middle of us making dinner, and he said he hasn't been home to clean up... I doubt Yamato thought of it." Something as mundane as cleaning the stove while his best friend was lost in his own mind wouldn't strike Yamato as important. Those small details, they always sounded insignificant to him. He cared about the emotions, the friends. Important, but not the only details. It was something that he and Sora had never quite seen eye to eye on.
"Don't be bitter. You have a good boyfriend," her mother chastised gently. Sora opened her mouth to argue, but closed it quickly. Maybe she was right. No, no maybe. She was right. How could she expect Yamato to look at her with anything less than frustration and annoyance when she did the same when she thought of him?
She wanted her friend back. But sometimes she wondered if that was possible. She didn't know; Yamato had been her first boyfriend. Could exes remain friends, really and truly?
Her mother was quiet for a long time, so long that Sora thought that "No" had come in loud and clear, and her mother was wondering how her daughter was stupid enough to think that she could ask for such a long time away from the shop during her time slot.
"It's fine, I'll call Miyako and tell her we can do it tomorrow," Sora began quickly, cheeks hot both with annoyance and embarrassment. Her mother was a strict coach and a strict boss, however loving of a mother she was as well. She accepted nothing less than one hundred percent, and skiving off to do something she wasn't under obligation to do in the middle of another pre-standing obligation was not giving one hundred percent.
"No you won't. You told Taichi you'd take care of it, didn't you?"
Sora blinked. "Well, yeah, but..."
"Then you'll do it. Go, now. You can work Saturday after practice instead," her mother said, retying her apron behind her back.
"Oh, Mama. Thank you, thank you!" Sora threw her arms around her mother, who laughed and returned the hug and kissed her on the hair.
"Take that off and put a proper jacket on. It's getting cool out," her mother said, the first to break the hug. Sora nodded, pulling the apron over her head and heading to the store's closet, where she kept a coat on one of the pegs. She placed the apron on the peg instead, slipping her arms through the sleeves of her white pea coat as she headed to the door.
"Thanks Mom," she called over her shoulder again. The moment the door had shut behind her with the tinkle of the overhead bell, Sora took off running again. Oh, how it felt good to run.
Sora stopped by the apartment to get Piyomon first, who was very put out that Sora had left her sleeping on the papasan in the corner of her room. It took five minutes of apologies and promising to order a whole pizza just for Piyo to get her out of the apartment. Sora rode her bike the rest of the way; running was fun, but a very large bird flying beside her on the congested Tokyo sidewalks did not sound like it was something that would end well. So Piyo had ridden in the basket, and Sora had had to remind her several times not to try stretch her wings until the bike had come to a stop.
By the time Sora heard Miyako at the door (She had let herself in with the spare key Sora had told her about without bothering to knock), the pizza had been delivered and sat half-devoured on the partition between the kitchen and living room. The remnants of the uneaten stew (Sora knew Yamato wouldn't have thought of it) had been flushed down the toilet and the pot scrubbed clean. She had gone through the fridge and emptied it of sour milk, cheese, and other perishables. Piymon sat on the couch, keeping Sora company. She had helped sweep earlier, too, although her wings had made such an act awkward. Sora let her at it though, because Piyo wanted to help just like everyone else.
"I thought you said at six," Miyako asked accusingly, hands on her hips as she looked around. The apartment was considerably cleaner; only a few small chores remained. After all, Sora had been there for approximately an hour all by herself with Piyo.
"My mother let me off work tonight when I told her why I wanted an hour for break," Sora explained with an apologetic shrug. "Pizza?"
"Yes, please!" That voice wasn't Miyako's, but Poromon's. It was only then that Sora noticed the small shoulder bag that Miyako had hanging at her side. It looked suspiciously like something Mimi would buy, but that just made Sora shake her head and smile. She and Mimi's tastes had always been drastically different; even as Sora became more open to the idea of wearing skirts, she went for more sporty chic or sophisticated than Mimi's partying attire. Miyako, however, absolutely idolized their New York dwelling friend.
"Haha. Well, I got a large. There's plenty," Sora allowed, holding open the lid to the cardboard pizza box. Poromon attacked it with gusto, and Miyako extracted a few slices before there was no more to be had.
"And here I opted out of watching Ken get all hot over a soccer ball for this," Miyako said with a dramatic sigh that made Sora roll her eyes.
"There's still dusting and vacuuming to be done. And the bathroom," Sora added with a quirked eyebrow. Miyako made a face.
"I think I'll take the loud, ravenous machine to the bathroom. Have fun though," Miyako said brightly. Sora chuckled.
"It's in the hall closet. Hang on, I'll get it. Make sure the pizza doesn't fall on the floor, will you? I mopped those tiles sparkling," Sora said with mock sternness, flinging a finger towards the kitchen tiles; they were still a little damp, their watery coating glistening in the yellow glow of the overhead lights she had turned on as the sun began to set. Sora returned with the vacuum in moments, and when it first roared to life, both Digimon nearly fell off the partition with fright. Piyomon recovered quickly, more used to Sora cleaning her room once every two weeks. Poromon, however, looked rather frightened with his eyes wide. Miyako patted him on the head.
"Don't worry, it can't hurt cha all the way up there," she said to assure them. A game of Keep Off The Floor ensued, reminding Sora of The Floor Is Lava in elementary school. She found herself giggling, nearly dropping the handle of the vacuum cleaner as she did so. And then Miyako was giggling too, until they were gasping for breath. This was what hanging out with the Chosen was like, had been like before breaking up with Yamato had made it awkward.
"Takeru said that you haven't been at the hospital a lot this week," Miyako said conversationally. Well, she was yelling, but it was due to the sound of the vacuum cleaner. Sora was dusting the shelves, wiping down dirty surfaces and making the room shine from the waist up. Miyako was tackling the door knobs, down.
"You've been in touch with him?" A silly question, Sora thought later. The younger Chosen were much more tightly connected with each other than their older counter parts, for they had school together as well.
"Well yeah. I call to see how Hikari's doing; she talked for a few minutes yesterday, but she was really tired. I haven't had a chance to visit yet," she sighed. "D'you think your mom would let us go tonight?"
"By the time we get there, visiting hours will be over," Sora said with a small frown. Taichi might be exempt from such rules, but she and Yamato and Takeru had spent most of their evenings outside, unless Taichi thought to ask for cots for them as well. Rarely was the hospital staff so accommodating, though.
"Oh. Right," Miyako said glumly. She ran pulled off her glasses and wiped them on her shirt, an old habit that Sora knew meant she was thinking seriously. "He said he was kinda worried."
"I'm sure Hikari will be okay," Sora said consolingly. Miyako raised her eyes; she was pretty without her glasses, although the effect was strange. She looked older without them. More tired too; without the glasses, Sora could see the dark circles that underlined her eyes. They all probably had similar markings. They were all worried, sleeping less, staring at the phone and keeping their cell phones turned on loud on the off chance that Taichi called them.
"He wasn't talking about Hikari."
Sora blinked, confused. "Who was he talking about, then?"
"Matt. And you," Miyako added, looking uneasy. Sora had a feeling that Takeru had asked her not to spread the details of their conversation, but that Miyako felt like she ought to anyway. It was a pretty suckish place to be in; anyone knew of it and hated it by the time they reached high school.
"Why?"
"Well... Takeru told us you were around the two weeks Hikari-chan was, you know. And then you stopped. He said you and Yamato tended to be kinda..."
"Snappish," Sora supplied. Miyako smiled weakly.
"Silent. Like you were pretending the other one wasn't there. Koushiro said the same thing, like if Taichi wasn't there to focus on you two would go at it."
"Obviously in a bad way," Sora said dryly.
"Well you guys were cool friends and all right?"
"We were..." Sora admitted slowly.
"I dunno, Takeru was just saying that he thought Yamato looked kind of out of it, and you too. He was worried you two were... I don't know, never going to be friends again. It'd be kinda sad, you know? I think I'd like to be friends with Ken if... But you know. That's me," she fumbled, uneasy with the conversation's progression.
Sora only smiled at her and went back to dusting. She wasn't sure what else to say, so they returned to what they had been doing before the conversation got...well, awkward, to put it mildly from Sora's perspective. They joked as they cleaned; it was easy, like having a girls' night. There were no bad things, no traumatic experiences that kept plaguing their small circle of friends. Seriously though, why was it always them? This fight or that fight, break ups and crushes and heart breaks and fall outs. If it wasn't with family, it was with friends, and if it wasn't with friends... well... they all kicked ass together. But wasn't it possible that there were some fights that couldn't be fought? The thought bothered her, so she ignored it, stuffing it into the lock box that she only tackled when she had time and time alone.
"Did you have all day off," Sora asked curiously when the vacuum died down, fishing for another topic of conversation. She just wanted to hear a voice, to have someone else do the talking after an hour of nearly complete silence except for the occasional word or two between her and Piyomon.
"No, I worked the morning while Mantarou-niisan had classes. It was really funny." Miyako snickered to a joke that, until a few minutes later, only was known to her. "There was this little girl, around noon or something like that. Right before the end of my shift. And her mom was on the phone." Miyako put on a false high pitched voice. "'Honestly, Asuke, you wouldn't believe her lately. Three calls from her teacher just this week!'" Miyako shook her head with a broad grin. "She was so distracted on the phone that she didn't see her daughter hand me a candy bar. Put her finger to her lips, and I rang it up. Mom didn't even notice." She sounded way too proud of herself, Sora thought. She said so, too.
"You're corrupting Japan's youth," she said, attempting to keep her voice stiff and disapproving. Within seconds, they were both laughing again. Sora stepped away from a glass picture frame so that she wouldn't break it; her hand kept shaking with mirth.
As their laughter died away, Miyako sighed and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. Having experienced the memory first hand, her laughter was more true than Sora's. She had pictures, a concrete memory. But stories were nice too, Sora thought. Stories let you experience what you couldn't first hand. It was impossible to experience everything in one life. Miyako seemed to be thinking along the same thing.
"I think it'll be okay," Miyako said confidently, collapsing onto the sofa with a can of cola snagged from Sora's supplies in the fridge.
"What will," Sora asked curiously, joining her. Poromon bounced into Miyako's lap, and Miyako shared a few sips of her soda with her. Piyomon curled up beside Sora, her feathers tickling the exposed flesh of Sora's arms, for she had abandoned her coat on Taichi's bed a long time ago now.
"Everything. Hikari. Taichi, too. Takeru was worried about him."
"Takeru's worrying about everyone lately, huh," Sora asked dryly. Miyako blinked.
"You're not mad, are you," she asked uncertainly. Sora immediately felt bad. She shouldn't begrudge Takeru for caring. After all, how long had she been dating his brother? And he had told her before, a long time ago, that he saw her as a big sister even before Yamato had showed any romantic interest in her. He was her friend too. Of course he cared, was worried. And so was Miyako.
All of them, really. Geez, they were all in a pretty fucked up situation. Sora almost laughed, but that was probably a bit inappropriate. Hikari and Taichi were a plane of their own, but the regular drama was still unfolding beneath that plane. It was kind of dizzying. How many layers of complications could there be?
"No," Sora said, and she found that she was completely honest. "I'm not mad."
"Good. Because I think we did a pretty bangin' job cleaning up tonight, and it would be seriously counterproductive to tear it apart."
"What do I look like, a rampaging beast?"
"We've seen some pretty angry Digimon. I dunno, you've been exposed to more than me." Miyako joked. "Maybe it's contagious."
"Destructive behavior is contagious?"
"And people can catch bird flu. You never know what's next," Miyako warned seriously.
And then they laughed. Laughing felt like running: therapeutic and an escape, one she would trade all the treasures in the world to hide in forever.