Author's note: So I started writing this right after I finished chapter nine of Days of our Lives, and I started laughing. I forgot that Takeru's chapter was up next, so it's like a double dose of Takari. Yay! I'm not really sure I did a fair job. I was kind of in a mood when I wrote this, so Takeru sounds... more like Yamato to me, I guess, than Takeru. Oops. Haha, really though, I need to write more than just those two... I guess that'll have to wait till next chapter though, ne? This might be a bit short, but I'll make up for it next chapter.

And I don't know, but someone might be wondering about my mom. She just started chemo, doing alright as of now. Thanks for the encouraging and uplifting messages I received last update! You guys are sweethearts, honestly.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine, Takeru."

"You don't need tea or anything? You're not hungry?"

Like a clucking hen, Takeru had been fussing around in the kitchen. He wasn't really sure why, or what he was doing. He was just thinking of what his mother did when he had broken his arm in primary school. She had made him sweets and treats and let him watch all his favorite movies and got a big box of his favorite kids books (for that was all he could read back then) to keep by the couch, because she was afraid that he'd roll over his arm and hurt himself in his bed.

It wasn't really much, considering there was a huge difference in the needs of a nine year old boy and a sixteen year old girl, but it was all that he had to go on, for he had offered to keep Hikari company while Taichi went to work. It had taken Yamato threatening to bash him overhead with his bass, for Taichi had been copping out of all his obligations – work, school, soccer practice, everything – to take care of Hikari, and it seemed he was the only one who couldn't see that she looked on the verge of tears because she blamed herself for her brother's reluctance to leave.

And Hikari didn't exactly have a broken arm. She had a bruised and battered rib cage and a few fractures in the same area. You couldn't tell just by looking at her that she had been hospitalized for a few weeks recently. Her bruises (the ones on her head, arms, and legs) had faded away, her scrapes and cuts had healed without scarring, and she had begged Taichi to cut the hospital bracelet the moment she had been helped into Yamato's back seat, for they thought the train was still a bit much for her. Taichi had sat in the passenger seat while Takeru kept her company in the back. She had smiled at him when he asked how she was, but her knuckles were white when he reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly.

The only evidence of her lingering injuries was the occasional cringe or wince. Turning her torso, laughing or speaking too loudly, or moving too quickly all hurt her. Sometimes she bit down on her tongue and he only noticed because her face grew paler. Other times though, she wasn't quite as adept at masking her pain. For example, at the moment he asked her if she was sure she didn't need anything, Takeru heard her giggle at his fretting. He raised eyes from the sandwich he was preparing (for himself, if she was so insistent that she wasn't hungry yet) just in time to catch her grimace. He frowned, but otherwise pretended he didn't see it. She'd only deny that it hurt.

"Fine, fine. You don't need anything. Want anything," he asked, rephrasing the question. Hikari rolled her eyes.

"It's boring watching a movie by myself, Takeru," she pointed out, trying to sound rather cross. But it sounded funny, coming from Hikari, and Takeru couldn't help but grin.

"The Illusionist wasn't even great the first time, Hikari," he reminded her, though he carried his sandwich over to the couch anyways. Hikari's pillows had been pulled off her bed and piled up at the end of the couch, and she had pulled her blanket around her. Taichi had forced her to sleep on the couch; it was ridiculous, he said, for her to try get to the top bunk. And the room was a mess, and she might trip. Hikari thought he was being paranoid, as usual, but she had indulged her brother's request anyway.

It would have been very typical if Takeru hadn't felt the tension in the apartment when he was there with them both, especially when there weren't more people to carry the conversation around them. There was something that wasn't being said, a conversation just waiting to be had. But neither was willing to approach it, but instead danced around its edges carefully. They were being awfully careful with one another, as though they expected their sibling, their only family left, to break.

I'm not gonna tell you it made Takeru wanna cry when he thought about it too much because he thinks he's too manly for that kind of thing.

"Well, I liked it. And you were the one who put it in," she reminded him, trying to move her legs to make more room for him on the couch. She winced again, and he sighed.

"You're such a masochist," he accused her. "You enjoy causing yourself pain, don't you? There's plenty of room," he insisted, patting the cushion passed her feet. Hikari didn't look convinced.

"But you feel really far away when you sit there."

"I don't know what to tell you," he said honestly. Takeru sighed and placed his lunch on the coffee table, running a hand through his hair as he let his eyes wander down the couch, like he could find a solution to the one thing she had complained about in the past week and a half since she had been allowed to return home.

She looked like a little kid at that moment, like she had when she'd been sick in the Digital World, right after when she woke up and Sora told them that she'd seen no sign of Taichi or the others. It kinda hurt, seeing her like that. It took all his willpower to look at her with a smile on his face.

"Okay." Takeru clapped his hands together once. "Here's what we're gonna do." He thought he had an idea. He was kind of glad she had set up camp on the end of the couch directly in front of the television instead of the wrap around that only had a small corner of the coffee table available to it.

Hikari complied readily enough. Soon, Takeru had pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and used it to prop up her legs. She insisted that wasn't really necessary, but she'd been sleeping a lot. Jyou said it was pretty usual, considering the experience and that her body was still healing its injuries. Takeru figured she'd be more comfortable that way. He saw her face tighten only once, when she sat up quickly to do what he suggested, and he placed a steadying and reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Alright?" He didn't know why he asked. The answer was always the same.

"Mhm." She smiled, but it looked a little weak. Like a shadow of her smile, the one still bright in Takeru's memories. It made him a little sad, but he didn't challenge her. He was doing his best not to stress her out, but one of these days he thought he'd snap.

Stop lying to me, he wanted to shout at her. He wanted to shake her, but he wouldn't. That would make her hurt more. But sometimes, sometimes he wondered why she couldn't just say "No" or "It kind of hurts". Why did it take waking up in a cold sweat for her to be a little honest? And even then, the moment she calmed down, she'd smile and go "I'm okay, really", even though she knew he'd seen the wild look in her eyes.

She never really changed, he thought, did she?

"Tell me about school," she said once the seating had been situated and Takeru had picked up his sandwich and plopped down on the couch beside Hikari. She had smiled, but he noticed she didn't giggle like she usually did. She was in pain, trying not to show it, but Takeru knew her too well.

"It's nothing new. Daisuke's been annoying me about you," he replied around a bite of her sandwich, intentionally vague.

Hikari narrowed her eyes. "Nothing new? What about homework? Am I really behind in English now? Did Amaya confess to Yousuke? I know you're friends with him, 'Keru. He's on the basketball team." She sounded snippier than usual, but Takeru had expected that. And, as he did every time she got on the subject of something she couldn't experience, he had shrugged and taken another bite out of his sandwich. She hadn't gone back to school yet, for obvious reasons. She was annoyed that no one let her do any work, convinced that she was straining herself. The belief was only solidified when she started to struggle with subjects and concepts that she had known before the accident. Jyou had warned them that some memory loss was common after such lengthy comas, but Hikari was only more irritated by the random gaps in her otherwise perfect memory.

"You know I don't like to gossip. I think Amaya'd rather be the one to tell you that story, right?" It wasn't the first time they'd had a similar conversation, but Hikari still glared at him and sank back into the couch.

"I feel like an island. A really tiny island. I'm like, one of the lonely, undiscovered islands cropping up in Hawaii or something," she mumbled, plucking Takeru's sandwich out of his hand, taking a small bite, and handing it back. He almost laughed; that, he knew, was probably her idea of revenge. But the word 'lonely' had caught his attention and made his laugh sound quite hollow.

"Are you really," he asked, quite serious.

"Really what?" Hikari blinked. Having given up gossip as a lost cause, she had returned her attention to the television screen.

"Lonely. You said 'lonely'," Takeru pointed out.

"I was talking about the island." She returned her eyes to the television once again, but Takeru grabbed her wrist. The action was a little rougher than he meant it to be, a desperate attempt to keep her attention and get her to take him seriously. Her eyes were wide with surprise.

"You've never been one to throw words around, Hikari. Talk to me." He was pleading with her, and he didn't let go of her wrist. She didn't try to pull away; there was no fear in her eyes, just unease. She trusted him, knew he would never hurt her. But she didn't want to answer him. Takeru didn't know what to make of that. It made him want to try harder, to get her to talk to him somehow. She'd never refused to talk about something with him. Not when no one else was around.

"Takeru..." she began, but they heard the door, and she smiled a small (and was it sad?) smile and pulled her wrist out of his slackened grip just as the door banged shut again. Takeru scowled, both at Hikari and the idea of the intruder, especially since he could only think of one person who would carelessly slam doors.

"Hi-ka-ri," Daisuke called out as he rounded the corner into the main room of the apartment. He was grinning obnoxiously, soccer ball tucked under his arm. Grass stains and dirt still clung to it. He had been scrimmaging in the park again, Takeru thought. He scowled and inched away from Hikari, not bothering to mask his irritation with his company. Her eyes were watching him; he could feel them. He didn't care.

Why wouldn't she talk to him?!

"Hi Daisuke," she greeted him politely. Daisuke never let Takeru forget that he had been Hikari's best friend – "She even said so," he had insisted when Takeru raised his eyebrows. – before Takeru had moved to Odaiba. Although Hikari had confessed before that since this 'crush business' (as Miyako called it) began, she felt they had grown pretty distant in the friend department. Sure, they had worked together to save the world, but she felt a little uncomfortable around Daisuke sometimes, especially when he was really trying to lay it on thick. As usual though, he was oblivious – even when someone (ie. Takeru) spelled it out for him.

"Taichi-sempai said you were home alone." Daisuke shot Takeru a dirty look at the word 'alone', but Takeru found it easier to ignore him. He got along alright with Daisuke when his jealousy didn't get in the way of what little common sense the guy had. And Takeru had other things to think about.

Seriously. Why did she feel like she couldn't tell him how she felt, about her parents and her brother and herself? Sometimes he wondered if she didn't ask so many questions about school and everything else in hopes of steering the conversation a far way away from the Yagami apartment residence.

"Takeru's been visiting on weekends and after school," Hikari corrected, still smiling in that polite, gentle way that Takeru usually understood to mean 'We're already friends, so you don't have to show off. Just sit down and watch the movie with us.' but Daisuke never seemed to catch on to.

Daisuke didn't answer, but for once he seemed to catch the cue to just sit and shut up. Sort of. He sat down, shut up for a minute or so, and then raised an eyebrow at Takeru.

"What's your problem?"

"Where to begin," Takeru replied dryly. He saw Hikari bite her lip, and he felt that pang of regret you get in your chest sometimes when you know you're kind of being an ass but can't help yourself. He didn't know what to do with her sometimes. He really had no idea.

"What were you two doing, anyway," Daisuke asked, eyebrow raised suspiciously. He was looking from Takeru's less-than-happy face to Hikari worrying her lip. Although Takeru had edged away from her when he guessed who was at the door, they were still sitting rather close. Takeru groaned, and he knew that Hikari heard him when the corners of her mouth twitched. She was trying not to smile; it would only make Daisuke more paranoid.

"Talking," Hikari assured him. It was Takeru's turn to bite his lip. That wasn't how he remembered it.

What was wrong with him? This wasn't like him, not at all. He was acting... possessive, like he had the right to make her say something she didn't want to say. Yeah, he thought she needed to talk. But, he told himself, the truth of the matter was that she didn't want to. And as her friend, he just had to accept that and be willing to listen to her when she decided she wanted him to. He had no right, trying to guilt trip her. It was so... not him, not at all.

He smiled at her. Hopefully, she understood that it was the closest he could get to an apology with Daisuke present. They didn't do the sentimental best friend bit when there was an audience. It made Hikari uncomfortable, having the attention on her. Takeru tried to keep it for after she was in grave danger, like the Dark Ocean gig. And a few other notable times.

"We were having a movie night. Day," Takeru amended with a grin as he glanced first outside, then at Daisuke's face to witness the impact. It was Hikari's turn to groan, covering her face as she shook her head. Takeru had a feeling she was trying to hide a smile behind her hand.

Mission accomplished, he thought. If he had to put up with Daisuke's wild accusations, then he was at least going to have a little fun. That was what he told Hikari every time she accused him of goading Daisuke on. One way or another, the guy was gonna find something to say about him and Hikari being friends, or 'friends', because Daisuke was still a fan of using air quotes when he spoke dramatically.

"Like a date," Daisuke asked, eyes flashing accusingly in Takeru's direction.

"Well --" Takeru began in jest, but Hikari lightly smacked his arm.

"No, Daisuke. I wanted to watch a movie, and Takeru was already over. He's keeping me company while Onii-san is out in case I need anything." Takeru translated that in his head. It really meant 'Incase he decides I need something, because I'm not going to ask for it unless I begin spontaneously bursting into green flame or something else equally improbable'. It made Takeru roll his eyes, but it kind of made him chuckle. That was Hikari for you.

"You don't mind if I join you then," Daisuke asked, and he plopped down at the other end of the couch before either Hikari or Takeru could say a word edgewise. They glanced at each other, Hikari smiling and Takeru raising an exasperated eyebrow.

"We don't mind," Hikari said unnecessarily. Takeru didn't think Daisuke would have left even if she had said she did mind. Takeru had a feeling that, for once, she was entirely sincere. Being alone with him would mean another chance to be confronted with the truth. Hikari had never much liked the bluntness with which Takeru dealt with issues as a last resort. But he wouldn't ask her, not again. He didn't want to become one among the lied-to masses, who saw the smiling face but not the struggle behind the smile.