Author's note: It's been a while, ne? Over a year since I last updated this story. For that, I sincerely apologize. Things went from better again to worse than ever to a place that I don't even know how to describe. Thanks to everyone who has read this story since then, who has reviewed and messaged me hoping for a coming update. This is not a promise to update regularly from this point on – school starts again in a week – but to not let a year go by without updating again.

It's been a while since I wrote for Digimon (except some ficlets on my tumblr). So let's do this.

"Look at him," Miyako crooned. She was clinging to Daisuke's arm so tightly that his fingers had begun to turn a slight shade of purple. "Isn't he amazing? None of them are even coming close to touching him. Ken-kun is superior in every way! He's unstoppable. He's invincible. He's—"

"I get it already," Daisuke exclaimed. "He's freaking awesome, alright? I know. He's my best friend, you know."

Miyako pouted. "You don't have to be cranky."

"You don't have to cut off the circulation in my arm," was Daisuke's grumpy retort.

"What are you talking about," she demanded. "I'm not—" Miyako frowned and looked down at his arm. Her eyes widened in surprise as she let go, only for her finger marks to remain on his exposed skin. "Oops!" She grinned sheepishly. "Sorry."

Daisuke rubbed his arm, scowling. "So when are you going to, you know, ask him out already?"

"What?" Miyako blinked. "Who?"

Daisuke rolled his eyes and mimicked, "Isn't he amazing? He's unstoppable. He's invincible!"

"Stop, stop," Miyako hissed, beating his arm while he laughed.

"He can't hear me. He's in the middle of a scrimmage, and we're way up at the top of the bleachers," Daisuke pointed out.

"So? Someone could hear you."

"Those damned pygmy woodpeckers. I told them to stop gossiping."

She scowled. "Daisuke!"

He rolled his eyes. "You're seriously paranoid."

"And you're seriously annoying sometimes."

"Sometimes? I'm not trying hard enough.

Miyako shook her head as she looked away from him and looked down on the field, where Ken had just scored a goal. She cheered with his team mates, unabashed .

Daisuke raised his eyebrows. "But he can hear that?"

"Sure. Nothing wrong with a friend cheering on a friend."

"Nothing wrong with liking someone, either."

Miyako's cheeks reddened. "I didn't say there was."

The scrimmage was beginning to break up with the approaching end of practice. Boys were high-fiving each other, drinking from their water bottles, wiping the sweat from their foreheads. Ken tossed his water bottle over his head, and Miyako felt as though her face was on fire. She determinedly looked anywhere but at Daisuke, who was observing the entire scene with casual smugness. The jerk.

"You know," Daisuke said, the smirk fading from his face, "I'm being serious."

Miyako gave him a withering look. "You're never serious."

"I'm plenty serious," he cried out indignantly. Miyako giggled.

"'Course you are," she said. He scowled.

"I am. Especially about this. You know how Ken is."

Miyako bit her lip but didn't answer. This conversation had already gone on passed where she'd wanted it to stop – a long time ago. She expected him to do what he always did when she, as he put it, "fangirled." He'd roll his eyes, pull his arm away, and otherwise let her sit there in her wistful thinking. She hadn't even meant to do it – She tried not to, since their not-quite-a-thing a few months back – but she'd run out of things to talk about that didn't revolve around Hikari. She was trying to keep things normal because she didn't know how else they were supposed to act. But Daisuke wasn't being very helpful.

"Yeah," she said shortly. "I know how Ken is." They talked on the phone all the time, sent e-mails to each other sometimes during class. She thought that, by now, she had a pretty darned good idea of how Ken was.

"He won't ask you out. He's too shy."

"He's just not ready," Miyako said stubbornly. "The guy always asks the girl out."

"Sora asked Yamato out," Daisuke pointed out. Miyako raised a single eyebrow in contempt.

"Yes," she said, "and see how well that worked out."

Daisuke opened his mouth and then closed it again, biting his lip. Miyako felt a twinge of guilt, but she didn't say anything. He was only trying to help. Instead, she shoved it away and stood up, for Ken had seen them now and was waving to them from the bottom of the bleachers. Sora had put herself out there, risking being rejected in favor of a thousand plus fan girls, only to get hurt later on – because she was the one who always put a foot forward instead of Yamato. She frowned. Maybe that wasn't entirely fair… She'd never had the nerve to ask Yamato for his side of the story. But she would see it in whatever light made her feel like she was in control rather than being controlled by her own hesitation and fear.

Daisuke let out an explosion of breath, but he got to his feet and followed her down the bleachers, using the seats as steps and resisting the urge to turn it into a precarious race to the bottom. Ken held out a hand to help Miyako jump down; she didn't need it, but she took it anyway with a smile. She deliberately avoided making eye contact with Daisuke after the conversation they'd just had at their seats. The last thing she needed right now was to feel awkward and embarrassed in front of Ken.

"Miyako. Daisuke. I wasn't expecting to see you here," Ken pointed out.

"Miyako promised me egg salad," Daisuke said.

"I did not," Miyako scowled.

"Which she still hasn't given me," Daisuke finished as though she had not spoken. He grinned as she aimed a kick at his shins, which he easily side stepped. Well, she thought, it wasn't as though she'd been trying very hard.

"Well, are you hungry," Ken asked.

"No," Miyako said, answering for both of them. But Daisuke scowled at her.

"Speak for yourself," he said. "I want my egg salad."

"For crying out—"

"That's fine. Miyako-chan, could we maybe go back to your family's place? We can shut Daisuke up." He smiled, looking a little embarrassed. "And I'm a bit hungry too. I could probably use some dinner."

"Oh." Miyako brightened up. "Yeah, that's fine. It isn't even too far."

"A subway ride," Daisuke pointed out. Miyako aimed another kick at him; this time, it connected, and he yelped in pain and surprise while Ken suppressed a laugh.

"Where's Iori-kun," Ken asked conversationally as the three of them made their way to the subway station.

"Practice," Miyako answered promptly.

"I thought he had practice yesterday," Ken frowned.

"I think he's been practicing more… It helps him calm down and relax," Miyako said, lowering her voice although there was nothing secret in her words. "I mean, we've all got to channel it somewhere."

"Everyone's on edge lately," Daisuke observed.

"With good reason, I think," Ken put in.

"Yeah." Daisuke had been walking with his fingers interlocked behind his head, but now he dropped them down to his sides. Miyako might have teased that he was never serious, but she knew that wasn't the truth; he was serious now. "Miyako."

"Yeah," she asked, defensive despite herself.

"Hikari really hasn't mentioned—"

"She hasn't mentioned anything to me. We've barely spoken outside of what you've seen. Takeru says she sleeps a lot."

"Mentioned what," Ken asked curiously.

"Her fighting with Takeru," Daisuke said promptly.

Miyako scowled at him. "You don't know that for certain."

"They're fighting," Ken asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"They seemed kind of tense when we got there earlier," Miyako said, glancing at Daisuke in case he contradicted her; he had gotten there earlier, after all, and hadn't mentioned if something had actually happened before she showed up. "But I mean, we didn't hear them fighting. Hikari's probably, you know, being Hikari."

"Takeru wants to be useful and make her feel better," Ken guessed, "and she's not letting him."

Miyako nodded. "That's probably all."

"Well then," Daisuke said, sliding his hands into his pockets, "he's not the only one getting frustrated."

Miyako and Ken both looked at Daisuke in surprise. She couldn't remember a time – not in over four years of knowing him – when he denounced something Hikari did, or showed any sort of disgruntlement towards her. Ken recovered from his surprise more quickly than she, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"What else," Daisuke asked, looking at them as though they were both slow. "She won't talk to anyone. Wouldn't even admit when she needed to use the bathroom, would she? We could starve her for two weeks, and if you asked if she was hungry, she'd say no." Daisuke snorted. It was difficult to tell from his tone if he was being affectionate and admiring or downright irritated. Miyako frowned, but Ken shrugged.

"That's just Hikari-chan. She's always been that way, hasn't she?"

"As far as I remember," Miyako said, shrugging. But she looked at Daisuke for confirmation. He'd known her longer than most of them. He nodded too, albeit reluctantly.

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "Always."

He sounded bothered. Miyako shook her head.

"Enough," she said.

This time, it was her turn to be stared at. "What," they asked simultaneously.

"Time to talk about something else," she said firmly. "There's nothing we can do about Hikari – or Taichi, or… or what happened – by talking about it and getting flustered with how either of them decide to cope. We're here if they want to talk, or if they just need us to help them with the shopping or cleaning or deciding what movie to watch. So talk about… something else. I don't care what."

There was an awkward moment's silence as they descended into the subway, and then Ken asked in a politely baffled way, "Like what?"

"How was practice? When's your next game? When the hell are you two going to be on the same team so I can go somewhere besides soccer games on weekends?"

Ken grinned at the last question, a teasing twinkle in his eye. "Whenever Daisuke picks up his game," he answered, glancing at Daisuke to see his reaction. He was rewarded by Daisuke growing very red in the face while Miyako laughed.

"Practices are fine."

"He needs all the practice he can work in. I can still kick his ass in a scrimmage," Daisuke said, recovering.

"Sure you can, Motomiya," Ken said airily.

"I can!"

They continued to argue as they bought their tickets and boarded the train, and Miyako smiled. Occasionally, she laughed. But she barely heard the conversation. She only had eyes for Ken. She felt bad for cutting off the conversation about HIkari – the conversation everyone so desperately wanted to have because they couldn't quite figure out what they wanted to or were supposed to be talking about – but she thought it had definitely been for the best. They needed this, to remember that there were worlds outside of the Yagamis', and that there was life alongside death, and they needed to live. That was what deaths always reminded her of, although she'd admit – however reluctantly – that it was easy for her to talk. She had never lost anyone very close to her before. Hawkmon getting hurt had been devastating, but even he could come back as an egg in the digital world. Humans didn't come back. When they were dead, they were dead. But they couldn't spend all their time looking at the dead, living in stasis. They needed to make their lives worth something before they were dead too.

The train was full – it was that time of day – so they stood at the pole closest to the door, clinging to it as the train began to pick up speed. She wasn't very used to the trains, preferring to ride her bike wherever she needed to go and rarely needing to venture out of her own district, and the sudden speed took her off guard. She stumbled back, and Ken caught her with his hand on the small of her back. They both blushed as he took his hand away and she regained her balance, deliberately ignoring Daisuke's pointed stares and trying not to smile.

"Thank you," she'd murmured.

"Don't mention it," he'd mumbled in reply.

They got off at a station only a few city blocks away from the Inoue family's convenience store, and they allowed themselves to get swept up in the crowd of exiting commuters before extracting themselves to surface on the street above. She breathed in deep. She hated being underground, absolutely hated it. She had this fear of the surface collapsing on top of her, trapping her beneath forever. It was one of those sorts of fears she never vocalized for fear of sounding silly – it was silly, she told herself – but Ken's smile was a little too understanding when their eyes met. She looked down and away and took the lead towards her family's store.

When they entered, nobody could hear the sound of the overhead bell over the sound of their laughter. If you asked her later, Miyako wouldn't even be able to tell you what they were laughing about – only that they were laughing, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't think that any of them felt particularly guilty about it. Momoe was behind the counter, wiping it down with a clean rag. She looked up when they came in.

"You're back already," she asked. Miyako didn't answer. She had led the boys over to the prepared foods section, where Ken was picking out a sandwich and Daisuke picked up his stupid egg salad. "Miyako."

"Huh? Oh, hey," she said, noticing her sister for the first time.

"I didn't think you'd be back till later. You were bringing stuff over to your friend, right?"

"Yeah, but she already had some company. Daisuke and I figured we'd catch up with Ken. You remember them, right," she asked, glaring at Daisuke out of the corner of her eyes as though daring him to challenge her. To her surprise, he didn't say anything contrary to her statement. He just moved over to the candy counter to inspect the selection.

Momoe was looking at Daisuke, head tilted slightly to one side as she assessed him. "You're Jun's baby brother, right?" She looked at Ken. "And you're that genius boy that they show on TV."

Both boys mumbled something that wasn't quite a confirmation, although Momoe took it as such.

"We came back to get the boys something to eat. Daisuke kept complaining," Miyako said, ignoring his glare.

"Oh. Well, that's a relief," Momoe said, with a slow reluctance as though she didn't want to admit it. "I need you to do me a favor."

"What," Miyako asked warily.

"I need you to cover for me. I need to get to the library before it closes to get a book for class."

Miyako groaned. "But it's my day off! The first day off, I might add, that I've gotten in two weeks. Slave labor," she said adamantly. Momoe frowned sympathetically.

"I know, but it's for class. Come on, please? I'm not like Mantarou; you know I never ask for favors. And I'll cover any shift you want, as long as it's not when I have class. Please, Miyako?"

Miyako sighed and looked to Daisuke and Ken. They were both watching now, and Daisuke shrugged at her in a "What can you do?" sort of manner.

"Did you guys still want to…," she asked, her voice drifting off as she knew what the answer would be.

"It's okay. We'll hang out with you another time," Ken promised.

"If you pay, I won't hold it against you that you're ditching us after dragging me away from Hikari," Daisuke put in helpfully. She scowled at him.

"Are you kidding me," she demanded.

"I'll pay for it. I'm the one taking Kyo away from you early," she said, holding out a hand so she could ring up Daisuke's purchases. He looked surprised, but he handed her his order obediently, and Momoe pulled some money out of her pocket and dropped it into the register. "Okay, I've really got to go. You've got this, Miyako?"

"Since I was like, eleven," Miyako pointed out, holding out her hand for Momoe's uniform. Her sister pulled it off hurriedly and passed it to her before all but running around the counter.

"Okay. I've gotta go. I don't have a lot of time. Thank you, thanks so much," she said, speaking quickly before she ran out the door. The three of them stood in a strange silence for a minute while Miyako pulled her sister's borrowed uniform on and glared at the register as though it were to blame for her working on her day off.

"You're working in the morning tomorrow, aren't you," Ken asked. Miyako nodded. "Maybe we'll see you in the afternoon then," he suggested, his cheeks going a little pink.

Miyako hoped he meant he'd see her, although all she did was smile and said "Yeah, definitely."

"See ya, Miyako," Daisuke said through a mouthful of egg salad. He'd tucked the can of soda and candy bar into his pockets and was already heading for the door, one arm raised in a lazy wave.

"See you, Miyako. I'm sorry you have to work," Ken said, and he seemed to really mean it.

"Tomorrow though," Miyako promised.

"There's definitely tomorrow," he agreed, and they both smiled.

They stood there, alone in the store, looking at each other for a minute before he caught his lower lip between his teeth and followed Daisuke outside. She longed to follow, to watch his lips for a little while longer. She smiled. But there was always tomorrow.