Standard disclaimers for Digimon apply. Once in a Lifetime (at least, the version I’m listening to ^_^) is sung by Sarah Brightman, the true diva of divas in my opinion. I found the lyrics to be exquisitely appropriate for this fic and the (::cough::psychotic::cough::) idea behind it. My Spanish is so minimal anymore I had to resort to the lovely Spanish-English dictionary for help, so if there are discrepancies, I apologise.
P.S. All suing would get you is this stack of bills I’m avoiding, this little Post-It note my imouto stuck to my monitor that says ‘You have no life!’ ::Duh!::, and the rabid foxboy running around with a tube of wasabi. ::wails:: ‘Lendel-chaaan! Kaerimashou!
K’lendel: No! ::mad cackle:: Do not meddle in the affairs of foxboy muses, Mina-kaachan, for you are crunchy and taste good with wasabi!
::sweatdrop:: Well, that explains the wasabi at least….
Warnings: Still the same shmucky stuff as Part I. Really, it’s surprising how it takes people awhile to catch on…
“Ken-chan…”
Something softly nudged the arm he had flung over his eyes, but Ichijouji Ken ignored it, trying to remain locked in sleep.
“Ken-chan.”
The pressure of the nudges increased, the tone of the nudger firming. Still, Ken continued to ignore the insistent prodding, going so far as to burrow deeper in his nest of blankets.
“Ken-chan!”
“Shit!” Ken shot up out of the blankets, eyes wide as he glanced at the teeth marks in his hand. He turned to his assailant with a pale, violet glare. “You bit me!”
Wormmon glared right back; he’d gotten almost absurdly good at it over the years. “You were ignoring me!
So I was, the black-haired man thought sourly, flopping back down in his bed. “All right, now I’m awake. What do you want?”
The little Virus digimon flinched at his Chosen Child’s biting tone. “I just wanted to let you know that there’s another message from Daisuke on the answering machine.”
Ken flinched at the mention of Daisuke’s name. “Is that all?” It came out a lot sharper than he intended, but—as had become the norm, lately—he didn’t bother to soften it with an apology.
“Um, well, no.” Wormmon dropped down from the bed onto the floor, scurrying towards the door.
“Well, what else?”
“Um, there’s a really mad lady pounding on the door and she says if you don’t answer she’ll make certain that you never have children in any life time. She also mentioned something about pink flamingo lawn ornaments…”
“Damn.” Ken rolled over, burying his face in his pillow with a groan. It’s too early in the morning for this.
“Kai—Ken.” Wormmon corrected himself softly, wishing that he hadn’t slipped; he only hoped that Ken hadn’t noticed. “Ken, I can make her go away if you want.”
“No, Wormmon. I’ll deal with this on my own,” the man said, sitting up and leaving the bed with a sigh. He paused long enough to pull on last night’s discarded pants—leather, midnight blue—and the t-shirt hanging on the back of the chair—matching the pants with white and black horizontal stripes. He ran his fingers through his hair, doing his best to make the shoulder-length strands lay flat, and made his way towards the door.
Sure enough, someone was pounding on his front door as if they were trying to break it down. I’m surprised this hellacious racket didn’t wake me before Wormmon did. And, sure enough, the raised voice he could hear grumbling was female.
“…swear, Ichijouji, if you don’t open this fucking door right now, I’m not only going to throttle you with my bare hands, I’ll have every one of my siblings and cousins help as well! Ichijouji!”
Ken rolled his eyes with a snort of exasperation. People, these days, could be such a nuisance; had they no respect for privacy? He slipped the chain from the door and turned the knob, pasting on his most obnoxious, condescending expression possible. “Woman, what the hell do you want? Most civilised people at least wait until noon before they annoy people.”
Too bad for Ken that he forgot to look and see who he was talking to.
“It’s four in the afternoon, Ichijouji, and don’t even think about taking that Kaiser-ish tone of voice with me, you bastard!” Miyako snapped just before her fist impacted with Ken’s jaw and laid him out cold.
Wormmon scuttled over to Ken, his eyes wide. “What did you do?” he asked Miyako worriedly.
“Hit him a lot harder then I meant to,” groused Miyako as she shook her sore hand, stepping into the large apartment and shutting the door behind her. “Oh, don’t worry, Wormmon. I didn’t do any permanent damage to him—unfortunately. Believe me, I currently feel like doing a lot worse than just hitting him. The most that’ll happen is he’ll wake up with a headache.”
“Miyako-san, why did you hit Ken-chan?” He knew he should be upset with Miyako—she had hurt his Chosen Child, after all. But with the way Ken had been acting the past six months, he couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved to see the man knocked off his feet for a while.
And that thought made him sad.
She kicked off her shoes with a sigh, moving to stand over the prone figure. Unconscious, Ken seemed absolutely innocent, childlike, and it hardly went with the things she’d been hearing from the other Chosen Children. “Wormmon, while your ‘Ken-chan’ is taking a nap, you and I need to have a talk.”
Wormmon cringed slightly at her waspish tone but nodded. “All right, Miyako-san. Where’s Hawkmon?”
“With Yamato and Taichi and Chibimon,” Miyako said as she picked him up and headed for the couch. She felt a little bad for leaving Ken lying in the middle of the entryway, but there was no way she was going to try and move his tall, lanky frame; besides, he wouldn’t be out that long, anyway.
“Chibimon?” Wormmon perked up at the mention of his closest friend—well, after his Ken-chan. “Is Daisuke back in Japan?”
“Yeah. That’s why Daisuke’s been calling and trying to get a hold of him. Why hasn’t Ken called him back, Wormmon?”
The question went straight to the point, but the digimon tried to hedge. “Has Daisuke called Ken then, Miyako-san?”
Miyako arched an eyebrow, giving him a Look. “Don’t try to play coy with me, Wormmon. You and I both know that Daisuke’s called here many times.”
Wormmon sighed, nodding sorrowfully. He’d never been very good at lying anyway. “You’re right.”
Sympathising a bit with his position, Miyako began to scratch his head. After all, Ken’s actions weren’t his fault. “What’s going on, Wormmon? Daisuke is absolutely worried sick, you know. Ken won’t return his calls, and he found out that Ken’s been lying to him.”
“Ken-chan lies to everyone these days,” he muttered. “He gets all moody and snappish, and he hides things from people—even from me.” He looked up at her then, with his wide blue eyes, and said, “Miyako, I’m worried. I’m afraid I’m losing my Ken-chan all over again and I don’t know why this time.”
Miyako didn’t like the sound of that, but she didn’t let Wormmon see that. “Well, let’s try to find out, shall we?”
“All right, Miyako.”
Awareness came back slowly, and when it did, it didn’t feel good. Ken clutched his pounding head with a groan, eyes clenched tightly shut. “Did anyone get the number of the War Greymon that hit me?” he muttered, slowly sitting up.
“It wasn’t a War Greymon, Ichijouji, it was me. Although, you might have been better off if it had been a War Greymon.”
Ken turned his head slowly as he opened his eyes, staring at the woman on his couch with his digimon perched on her lap.
“Traitor.”
As soon as the thought occurred, his eyes widened and he shook his head. Where…where did that thought come from? “M-Miyako, what are you doing here?”
Both of Miyako’s eyebrows rose at his tone; currently he sounded like the Ichijouji Ken she knew, not like the Digimon Kaiser he had sounded like a scant half-hour before. “I came to talk with you.”
Gingerly he touched his jaw, wincing as that slight contact caused a fresh bloom of pain. “And you hit me because…?”
Was he playing with her? She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she looked him over. No, he seemed to be sincere. So why was it that he didn’t remember? “I hit you because I was already angry, and then you pulled a Kaiser-ish stunt on me that made me even more mad. I didn’t mean to hit you as hard as I did.”
Ken nodded, accepting her answer easily; after all, all of the Chosen Children knew Miyako had a phenomenal temper that was second to none. “So, what brings you over to my apartment, Miyako?” he asked softly, rising to his feet. He frowned as he brushed his pants off. And what am I doing in these pants? I haven’t worn these since Dai-kun…
“Play the message, Wormmon,” Miyako said with a sigh, setting the little Virus digimon down.
Wormmon made his way towards the answering machine, sitting up and tapping the ‘Play’ button carefully.
“Ken? Ah, Ken, this is…”—there was a heartfelt sigh—“…this is Daisuke. Again.”
“Dai-kun?” Ken slowly sank back down to the floor, his eyes wide as the message continued to play.
“Look, Ken, I just…wanna talk to you. I know you’re probably busy and all, but…” Daisuke’s voice cracked a little. “Talk to me, Ken? Please?”
The message ended there, and Ken looked at Miyako in bewilderment. “What did he mean ‘again’? Miyako, how many times has Daisuke called? Where is he?”
“He’s home, Ken, and has been for over a week,” Miyako said gently. “He’s tried to call you at least a dozen times, but the line’s either busy or you won’t answer the phone.”
“He’s left four messages,” Wormmon added, trundling towards his Chosen. He changed his mind about halfway there, unsure of his reception. He sat back instead and regarded Ken with wide, watchful eyes.
Ken was completely and utterly confused. Why was Wormmon regarding him with that wary, hurt expression? He hadn’t seen that look in…in over ten years. And why was Miyako looking at him with such untrusting eyes? “Did…did something happen?” he asked tentatively. His elation at finding out that Daisuke was home was muffled by the oddities that were going on in his home.
Miyako sighed, sensing an impending headache. Why do these things always happen to me? she wondered. “Ken…you’ve been keeping things from Daisuke, haven’t you?”
Grimacing, Ken nodded. “Some things, yes. I didn’t tell him that I was taking a year off from college because I was afraid he’d think something was wrong. I mean, there was some stuff going on with my family, but it’s fine now. But you know how Daisuke is; he worries over everything. And there’s nothing to worry about, really, I just wanted some time to think things through, to figure out what kind of a future I’d have. Because I want it to include him”—there was a small pause as violet eyes turned haunted—“since a future without Daisuke isn’t a future I want.”
Running a hand through her long, violet hair, Miyako began to wonder if Ken didn’t suffer from some sort of multiple personality disorder. She’d actually had that thought back when he’d been the Digimon Kaiser and they had been trying to stop him from taking over the Digitalworld, but she’d never bothered to follow up on it after his fall and return to being just Ichijouji Ken, Keeper of Kindness.
Now, however…now she had plenty more reason to wonder. Ken’s behaviour was extremely peculiar, to say the least.
“Ken, has anything…strange, been going on lately?”
“What do you mean?”
There it was again—that confused, slightly lost look! She fought the urge to scream, tamping down her temper and striving for patience.
“Have you been feeling, oh, I don’t know, resentful towards Daisuke? I mean, four years is a long time to be separated.”
“Never!” Ken protested heatedly, eyes snapping with fire. “I’d never resent Daisuke for that. As a matter of fact, I’m the one that pushed him into going. I love him, I believe in him, I trust him.” He pressed his closed fist against his heart, staring at her resolutely. “His heart, with mine, always.”
“Well, half of your heart anyway. Isn’t that right, Ken-chan?”
He started as that voice spoke again, trying to remain outwardly calm. After all, he didn’t want to tip Miyako off that something was wrong. What have you been doing to Daisuke?!
“I? We, sweet Ken-chan. After all, I am half your heart, am I not? And Daisuke would never love me.”
His brow furrowed, and he turned his gaze down to his hands so that Miyako wouldn’t see he was glaring. You are not me, Kaiser. And I am not you.
“Oh, then who am I? I’m not something that just showed up one day out of nowhere, you know. And you hate that, don’t you? The two of us, trapped in the same body…both of us wanting him…”
Ken burned at that thought. Not that he’d ever admitted it to Daisuke, even after all their time together, but the Kaiser had been a very imaginative twelve-year-old—especially when it came to the genki, olive-skinned Keeper of Courage and Friendship.
“Why do you think you wanted him so badly, Ken-chan? And why are you so worried? He hates me—hates me even more than you do. But you…he loves you.”
What did you do?!
He couldn’t explain what the Kaiser—that’s what he thought of the voice as, someone separate from himself—said next. He couldn’t understand why the Kaiser said it the way he said it. And most of all, he couldn’t understand why he felt the same burning pain in his heart that came across in the Kaiser’s voice. “If I can’t have him too, why should you?”
“Ken!”
The ebon-haired man jumped when Miyako snapped her fingers in front of his face, nearly toppling over backwards. He looked up at her guiltily, an embarrassed flush on his pale cheeks. “I’m sorry, Miyako. What were you saying?”
“What were you thinking about?” she murmured. Ken had the feeling that it was a rhetorical question, however, and declined to answer.
Miyako sighed and shook her head. “I need to be going, Ken. I’m taking Daisuke out to dinner to try and cheer him up a bit. But, you should know”—she pinned him with sharp, honey eyes—“that the only thing that will really cheer him up is you.”
“I’m sorry, Miyako,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve been very flighty lately…”
She knew there was more going on than Ken was letting on, but she wasn’t going to push him—not yet, anyway. “Don’t apologise to me, Ken; I’m not the one hurting.”
And with that, Miyako stood, collected her shoes, and left Ken’s apartment.
As soon as the door had closed, Ken’s fist slammed into the carpet. His head was bowed to hide the tears that slid down his cheeks, and he’d bitten his lip so hard that blood began to wind down his chin and join the crystalline tracks. Damn you, Kaiser!
Rather than the laugh he was expecting, the only reply he received was a deep, resigned sigh. “I already am, Ken-chan; I’ll never have his love.”
Let me dive in
To pools of sin
Wet black leather on my skin
Show me the floor
Lay down the law
I need to taste you more
“Are you sure this is a good idea, Niichan?” Yagami (soon to be Takaishi) Hikari asked worriedly, glancing back and forth between her brother and his lover. “I mean, Takeru and I had planned on taking him to dinner tomorrow with just the two of us. If we get the whole group together, with the way Daisuke’s been acting, we might overwhelm him.”
“No,” Taichi replied honestly. “For all I know, we could be making things worse. But you and I both know that we need to do something before Daisuke slides even further into depression over this. And it’s a perfectly legitimate excuse, really, with him having just returned and all.”
“God, Hikari-chan, he looks awful.” Yamato sighed after making that statement, unconsciously leaning against Taichi. “Jun was practically in tears when she called me, and Miyako hasn’t been much better, in case you haven’t noticed. She tried taking him out to dinner last night, and things went along well for a while. But when she stopped by this morning, he was in tears again.”
“What happened?” she asked, concerned for the well being of one of her closest friends.
“Daisuke’s artwork arrived today. From what Miyako was saying, nearly all of it is a tribute to his friends and family.”
“Let me guess: most of that had to do with Ken.”
Yamato smiled sourly. “Got it in one. By the way, did you hear that she knocked Ken out cold when she visited him yesterday?”
“No!” Hikari stared at him in disbelief. “Miyako hit Ken? Why?!”
“Hawkmon said it was because Ken was acting funny,” Gabumon supplied helpfully from his position on the floor, curled up with the twins and Agumon, all of whom were sound asleep.
“So? Acting funny is no reason to hit someone!”
“Not acting funny, Hikari, acting funny,” Tailmon purred as she jumped into the conversation—and into her Chosen Child’s lap. No one missed the emphasis she had placed on the word the second time. “Miyako told Hawkmon that Ken was acting like the Kaiser.”
“Dark Seed…”
Taichi hadn’t noticed that the words had slipped from his lips, and when he looked up, he blinked in confusion as he found everyone staring at him. “What? What’d I do?”
“Do you really think it’s the Dark Seed?” Hikari asked softly. “I mean, after all this time…?”
“Well, it’s not like we really know all that much about the Dark Seed,” Taichi admitted. “And it was just a random thought that managed to pop out.”
“Imagine that,” Yamato drawled teasingly, softening his words by wrapping his arms around his lover.
Hikari sighed, her shoulders slumping; she hoped that Takeru would return from class soon to hold her hand and tell her that things would be okay. “If that’s true, then maybe we should go through with this. We’ll just need to be sure to keep an extra close eye on Ken.”
“It’ll be okay, Hikari-chan; you’ll see,” Tailmon said, patting her leg.
The Keeper of Light smiled down at her partner waveringly. “I hope you’re right, Tailmon. I hope you’re right.”
“No.”
Hikari scowled, hands on her hips. This was turning out to be a lot harder than she’d thought it would be; apparently Daisuke’s ‘Stubborn’ level had grown while he was away as well. “Why? You were fine with going to dinner with Takeru and I. The whole group would really like to see you, Dai-kun.”
“Because.”
“Not good enough,” she snapped. “Now get changed before I have my brother, brother-in-law, and fiancé come in and manhandle you into cooperating.”
Daisuke continued to look up at her darkly. “You fight dirty, Hikari-chan.”
“So?”
When Hikari’s expression remained firm, he finally decided to give in to the inevitable and yield. “Fine, I’ll go. But I want it on the record that I didn’t want to.”
“Duly noted,” she murmured dryly.
Half way to the door, she paused when Daisuke began to laugh softly. “What’s so funny?” she asked archly. Inwardly, though, she was elated. Daisuke was laughing; that was a definite plus sign.
“I just realised that after you marry Takeru, Yamato will be your brother-in-law—again!” He set off into another peal of laughter, heading for his closet.
“Daisuke, you are such a fruitcake,” Hikari muttered as she fled from the room before more random insanity could free itself from his mouth.
Moments later, Daisuke emerged dressed to the hilt in his party clothes—his kind of party clothes, of course.
Yamato blinked at him in amazement, looking him over from head to toe. “Wow, Daisuke, it looks like those art classes paid off after all. That’s the best outfit I’ve seen you put together yet!”
“Shut up,” Daisuke growled, blushing under the scrutinising gazes of four humans and five digimon. He fiddled with one of the numerous, slender bracelets that encircled his wrists, smoky eyes daring them to push their luck.
They did, of course.
“Damn, I can’t believe you still fit in those things!” Takeru laughed, shaking his head.
“Well, they were a bit too big when he bought them our last year of school,” Hikari reminded him with a small smile. “Remember how Mimi found that neat chain belt in her closet and used it to keep Daisuke’s pants from falling off his hips?”
“Yes, let’s dredge up Daisuke’s embarrassing past and talk about him like he’s not here!” said Daisuke heatedly.
“Okay!” the four humans chorused, not missing a beat.
“Why me?” Daisuke rolled his eyes heavenward in askance.
Taichi jumped to his feet with a laugh, slinging an arm about Daisuke’s shoulders. “We’re just teasing because we care, Dai-kun! Although, truth be told, I think those pants look a lot better on you now than they did four and a half years ago.” Taichi leered mischievously, winking at the auburn-haired man.
Takeru and Hikari stifled giggles behind their hands. Yamato made a big deal out of seeming offended, glaring at the two former Goggle Boys. To their surprise, he pulled his harmonica out from somewhere, pointing it menacingly at Taichi. “All right, Ishida-Yagami! Back away from the eye-candy—without copping an unnecessary feel—and no one gets hurt.”
Daisuke blinked at that. Copping an unnecessary feel? Slowly, with a dawning sense of trepidation, he turned his head to glance at Taichi and blanched.
Taichi was looking at Yamato speculatively, brown eyes hooded. He drummed his fingers softly, teasingly against Daisuke’s shoulder, a smirk slowly spreading on his face. “And what’re you going to do if I do cop a feel, Yama? Beat me with your harmonica?”
“With your hard head it’d take till the next millennium to even make a dent,” Daisuke muttered.
Yamato smiled slowly, continuing to brandish the harmonica. “No. That would be a waste of a perfectly good harmonica. I think I’ll just…play Zurezurenaru Kisetsu!”
Taichi cringed, jumping away from Daisuke immediately without any extra touching. “Please don’t!”
“Oi, what’s wrong with Zurezurenaru Kisetsu?” Daisuke demanded. “I happen to like Kotani Kinya!”
“So do I,” Taichi whimpered. “Which is why I refuse to allow Yama to desecrate one of my favourite songs with his harmonica!”
A blonde eyebrow rose. “Abracadabra then, perhaps?”
“Nooo!”
Yamato chuckled, putting the harmonica back into its hiding place—wherever that was. “Taichi got History P-20 a couple weeks ago, and I swear he plays it twenty-four/seven.”
“Do not,” Taichi retorted, sticking out his tongue.
“Do too.” Yamato winked, blowing him a kiss. “Taichi’s so cute when he bounces around and raps along with Easy Action that I don’t complain, though.”
“Daishuke does that too!” Chibimon giggled, bouncing about the room and mimicking his Chosen Child to near perfection. “Kotaba yori mo kagayaku, hontou no toko no mise you…”
The humans and digimon all laughed as Daisuke chased after the zooming, genki bundle of blue, finally managing to catch up with him on the last lines of the song.
“…kimi no mune ni, tobi tte neruhazu—eep!”
“Ha-hah, gotcha!” Daisuke crowed, holding his catch aloft.
Chibimon nodded with another giggle, red eyes wide. “Okay, let’s go now!”
Daisuke turned to his friends, pushing aside his melancholy feelings and depression with familiar doggedness. “Well, you heard His Royal Chibiness; let’s go, everyone!”
There were days, Ken thought, when he was certain he was completely insane. Today was one such day, and as he sat in the taxi, fingers pressed against the glass of the window, he wondered how it was he’d managed to make it as far as he had without having a nervous breakdown.
“Maybe we should have taken the train,” he murmured, violet eyes vacant as he gazed out the window at everything and nothing.
“It would have taken just as long, Ken-chan,” Wormmon said from his lap. “At least, it would at this time of day.”
He smiled at that, absently scratching the top of the digimon’s head. “If we’d known a little sooner, we could have just walked over. But, Mimi-san is ever fond of last minute parties.
“All the Chosen Children and partner digimon will be there?”
“Yeah.” Raven hair swung gently as Ken nodded, but his attention quickly drifted once again away from his companion.
Ever since Mimi had called two hours earlier, he’d been worrying about what would happen when he met with the other Chosen Children. Miyako was probably still angry with him, though he hoped she wouldn’t strike him again anytime soon; the bruise on his jaw was still quite tender from the last time.
I deserved it, though, from what she and Wormmon were telling me. Acting like him…
There was a soft, dry mental chuckle. “Thinking about me again, are we, Ken-chan?”
Unfortunately.
A brief, silent pause in his thoughts, and then, “Is it really so bad, Ken-chan? After all, if it wasn’t for my feelings for him, you might not even be here as we speak, contemplating how things will go when you see him.”
Ken bit his lip, eyes half closed, not noticing the passing scenery or the stalls in traffic. I trust him. Daisuke…he loves me, us, whatever. Everything will be fine tonight. And he believed that, he truly did. Once he was able to see his lover again, to touch him, to hold him, everything would be perfect.
Ken-Kaiser hissed at his words. “Wrong! He loves you, Ken-chan; he could never love me, never love the Kaiser.”
How can you be so certain? Ken retorted, smiling down at Wormmon, who was patting his arm anxiously. Daisuke’s not a shallow person.
“No, he’s not; that was part of the reason I was drawn to him in the first place. But still…I don’t…”
He wondered at his other half’s reservations, wondered why he had chosen to go about things the way he had. Do you need proof?
“Yes!” The reply was sharp, concise, but filled with a sense of wistful hope that would have seemed odd to anyone.
Anyone, except Ken; he was the Kaiser, after all, and in the end…in the end, their thoughts flowed exactly the same. As much as he’d tried to deny it, after Miyako had left that day, he’d thought long and hard about what he’d said. He and the Kaiser weren’t really two separate people…but they were two separate trains of thought, trapped inside of the same body.
The taxi pulled to a stop outside of a large, upscale apartment building. He paid the driver and collected Wormmon and his small bag, containing guest-gifts for his hosts and his friends. Ken took the moments of silence provided by entering the apartment and climbing into the elevator to think. Halfway up to the top floor, he reached his decision.
Tonight, Kaiser. I’ll give you tonight, with him, to prove it.
“What’s the catch?” Ken-Kaiser asked suspiciously.
No grandstanding, no trying to deliberately scare Daisuke away. If you want to prove that Daisuke can love you and me, you have to show him the real you, not the cruel bastard that he fought.
“Now you’re getting personal, Ken-chan…”
Ken’s lips twitched into a smile at the Kaiser’s sour tone. It’s the truth, though. Back then, you were so busy fighting yourself—we were so busy fighting ourselves—that we did a lot of things we wouldn’t normally have done. We took our frustration out on anyone and anything, regardless if they were at fault or not.
“…How can you be so certain, Ken-chan, that we are the same?”
I knew, the first time he kissed me; back when we were twelve, that night that he tasted of strawberries and innocence. I knew, then, that you and I were the same, because I felt for him what you felt for him. I kept trying to deny it…but it’s the truth, and I can’t keep turning away from it. But you need proof. Take tonight, but be careful. We’ve already garnered suspicion from nearly every quarter.
“Fine.”
And with that, Ken’s demeanour shifted from the somewhat-shy and hesitant Ken-chan to the more self-assured, charismatic Ken-Kaiser. It wasn’t really a drastic change; it was kind of like watching ripples on a lake settle after a rock had been tossed in.
“Ken-chan, are you okay?” Wormmon asked his question softly, blue eyes watching the face of his Chosen Child.
Be myself…how can I be myself when I’m not even certain I am myself?
His violet eyes were a little sharper than usual, the smile on his face more sensual than gentle, but when he responded to the little digimon’s question, it seemed as though nothing was amiss.
“I’m fine, Wormmon,” he murmured, looking up when the elevator made a slight ringing noise to let him know they’d reached their destination.
“Are you sure?” Wormmon asked doubtfully.
Ken wanted to snap at him, wanted to respond sharply, but something pulled him up short. Daisuke… He took in a deep breath, counted to ten, and then stepped from the elevator before replying. “I’m sure, Wormmon. After all, Daisuke will be there.”
Wormmon blinked at that as they walked down the hall. “That’s a good thing, Ken-chan?” he ventured hesitantly.
The digimon’s tone made him flinch. He had been trying to push Daisuke away, so certain that the cheerful and effervescent Keeper of Friendship and Courage would never accept him. But now…now was his chance, to see if Daisuke would prove him wrong. Please…please prove me wrong!
“Of course it’s a good thing, Wormmon.” Daisuke… Of course, it’s a good thing; Daisuke is always a good thing.
Then I feel your sea
Raining down on me
Can this be my once in a lifetime?
Hell’s at heaven’s door
As I need you more
You know you’re my once in a lifetime
Daisuke lingered in the shadow of the balcony, absently swirling the liquid in his glass around. Night was falling on Tokyo, the dying sunlight filtering through the haze of smog and buildings to play across the faceted glass.
“Don’t think too deeply, Daisuke,” teased Miyako, coming through the doorway to stand beside him. “After all, I wouldn’t want you to spontaneously combust.”
“Geek,” he said with a smile, catching her eye. “Did you come out here just to enlighten me, or was there something else you wanted to say?”
Miyako shook her head with a smile, toying with a strand of long lavender hair. “Not really. I just wanted to see how you were doing. It appears that you managed to hold up rather well under Mimi’s welcome.”
“Yes, well, I think the fact that she had Hanako in her arms at the time helped to save me from suffering an untimely death by hugging. She’s a cute kid.”
“Yeah, she is.” Miyako sighed, leaning against the doorway. “Daisuke, I…I kind of have a question to ask you. It’s not personal,” she assured him hurriedly, “I just…just want your opinion, that’s all.”
An eyebrow arched at that as Daisuke sipped from his drink. “All right, you’ve piqued my interest. Fire away.”
Glancing down at her hands, which were twisted in the fabric of her shirt, Miyako murmured with a faint blush, “How…how do you know, when you’re in love?”
Daisuke blinked in surprise, cocking his head to the side. “Well, I think I understood you clearly, Miyako, but I’m not sure if I’m the one you should be asking. Besides, you’re the Keeper of Love; shouldn’t you know?”
She looked up, smiling weakly. “Well, I’m pretty good when it comes to others, but I seem to be rather terrible when it comes to myself. My long string of exes is an example. And you’re the one I feel comfortable asking; Mimi knows, but she wasn’t able to really help, and asking Taichi or Yamato would yield absolutely no help since they’d be too busy giving each other puppy eyes.”
“What about Hikari?” he asked. “I mean, any of them would be better than me!”
“Hikari told me to ask you,” she replied.
“She to ld you to ask me, huh? Figures.” He looked out across the building- and people-studded landscape once again, glass held at his side. “I…I didn’t know it was love, for a very long time. I knew that he was special, that he’d always been special to me, even when I didn’t know who he was. I knew that everything felt more alive when I was with him, that things seemed clearer, that I felt more connected to the world and myself. I knew that I loved to spend time with him, even if we weren’t really doing anything; I loved being in the same room with him, watching him frown and poke at his textbooks, listening to him mutter to himself.”
Miyako held her breath as he paused and waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, taking a deep swallow from his drink and returning to staring in the distance, she let out the breath and asked gently, “So how did you know it was love then?”
“When I was willing to let him go.”
Honey coloured eyes blinked rapidly in surprise. “Excuse me? What do you mean, Daisuke?”
Daisuke turned to her, smoky eyes distant. “First year of senior high school, Ken decided to tell his parents everything; about what had really happened in the Digitalworld, and about our relationship. His father was absolutely outraged; he told Ken that he was to cease all contact with me. You know how important Ken considers his family. He was so upset about it, and torn between two loyalties… On the one hand, he loved me—he’d told me that already, but I hadn’t been able to say the words in return yet—but on the other hand, he loved his parents, his remaining link to Osamu.
“I hated to see him hurting.” Daisuke looked down, scuffing his toe on the flooring. “I knew that our relationship didn’t really bother his mom; she was just glad that he was happy. But his father was going to make him choose: them or me. I didn’t want him to have to make that choice, didn’t want him to hurt anymore. After a night of thinking, I arranged to meet Ken, and I made the choice for him: I told him it was over.”
“You didn’t,” said Miyako, completely shocked at what she was hearing.
“I did—and I would do it again, if it would mean that Ken was happy.”
She shook her head in disbelief; Daisuke had never shared any of this before. “What happened, then? I mean, none of us even knew that you’d broken up at any point.”
A slight, sad smile slid across Daisuke’s face. “He called my bluff. I was about halfway home when he caught up with me—it was raining something awful, and we were both completely soaked. He stood in front of me, angry and confused, hurting even more, and demanded an answer. He wanted to know why I was breaking up with him.
“At that point, I hadn’t really thought about it very much. I mean, I hadn’t thought about what my real reason was for not wanting to see him in pain, for choosing so that he didn’t have to. And it was then, while the rain was pouring down on us, with him glaring up at me with tears in his eyes, that I realised why: I loved him so much that I was willing to let him go if it meant that he would be happier.”
“And you told him then,” Miyako said softly, smiling to herself.
“Yeah,” he said with a rueful laugh. “It kind of slipped out, I was so shocked by the notion.”
Miyako nodded, content to let the silence fall. She felt better about her own feelings now, much more sure than she’d been an hour ago. “Thank you, Daisuke.”
“Welcome, Miyako. But I do have a question.”
“What?”
He smiled mischievously and asked, “So do I know this lucky person you’ve fallen for?”
Miyako opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a cheerful voice from behind.
“Daisuke, Miyako! So this is where you two disappeared to,” Takenouchi Sora teased, one hand resting on her hip.
“Just talking, Sora,” Daisuke assured her, eyes twinkling. “So, Miyako, you were saying?” He looked over at her, catching the expression she was trying to hide, and made his realisation before she even spoke.
“Yeah, Dai-kun; yeah, you do.” Miyako said the words quietly, not once taking her eyes from Sora as the redhead engaged them in conversation.
“Ken!” Mimi greeted enthusiastically, handing Hanako to the toddler’s father before throwing her arms around the ebon-haired man. She smiled prettily when she stepped back, pausing to scratch Wormmon on top of the head. “All the digimon are hanging out in the side room over there; if I heard correctly, they were talking about starting up a round of charades.”
Wormmon blinked blue eyes in confusion. “Ken, what’s charades?”
Ken laughed, giving the little digimon a hug. “It’s a game, Wormmon. I’ll let the others teach it to you.” He set the digimon down and he trundled towards the open doorway from which shrieks of intermittent laughter erupted.
Mimi touched Ken’s arm to gain his attention when she noticed him glancing around. “He’s over on the balcony,” she murmured, magenta eyes shining. “You might want to wait until he’s done talking with Sora and Miyako, though.”
He nodded in agreement, not wanting to have spectators to their reunion. “I’ll just…wait for an opportunity.”
She smiled almost impishly at that, saying, “I might just see what I can do to help you with that.”
That said, Mimi collected her child back from her fiancé, kissed his cheek, and began to make her way across the room.
Todo tu cuerpo temblara All your body will tremble
Pero esta ves, es realidad But this time it will be real
Aunque el tiempo pase Though time passes by
Nunca Never
Nunca me olividaras Never will you forget me
Sera It will be
Solo una ves en tu vida Only once in your lifetime
Left to his own devices, Ken found himself with a glass of some sort of alcoholic punch, engaged in conversation with Taichi and Yamato.
“You know,” Yamato said after a moment, glancing at him surreptitiously, “Daisuke was worried that you might have found someone else.”
His head jerked up at that, pale eyes wide. Someone else? Someone other than Daisuke? Never!
“There is no-one else,” he said somewhat hoarsely. “There never has been. No-one understands me the way he does; no-one makes me feel the way he does.”
“I know what you mean,” Yamato said with a silly little smile as he glanced at the brunette beside him. “But Daisuke seems to take after Taichi in that respect.”
Taichi stuck his tongue out at his lover, after making a face. “What Yama is trying to say without trodding on my tender feelings is that Daisuke has an inferiority complex. He has days when he isn’t sure how he could possibly have ended up with such a wonderful, amazing person, or how they could ever love him.”
“But I do,” said Ken softly. “Even though it’s been four years, I still love him.” I’ve loved him since we were twelve—maybe even before that, though I never knew who he was. I know all of him, inside and out; his fears, his hopes, his dreams. He’s mine, and I’m his. I know…
I know he dreams of me. Ken’s smile became almost cruel at that thought, staring under lowered lashes at the auburn-haired man talking animatedly with Sora and Miyako. Or, at least, I know he dreams of his sweet Ken-chan. But what about me, ne? You dream of me, too, don’t you Daisuke? You dream of the Kaiser, who won’t submit to you but will make you submit instead. You dream of someone who can make you burn.
He licked his lips slowly, tongue darting across them like a cat licking cream as he imagined running his hands across Daisuke’s dark skin, making him feel the same burn that raged through his own body. Oh, how I could make you burn, Motomiya. I could make you writhe and beg in the sweet, fiery agony of passion. And if you knew I was the one doing it to you…you’d hate me, hate even more that I wear his body, his face. And I? He smirked, ducking his head so that his face was shadowed by the sweep of his long hair and Taichi and Yamato couldn’t see his expression. I would enjoy every single second.
Sora sighed as Miyako ran off to go and talk with Koushirou and Iori, her eyes following the girl’s trail.
Daisuke hid a smirk behind his hand, shaking his head. Watching the pair of them while they’d talked, it hadn’t taken him long to realise that Miyako’s feelings were mutual. “Sora-san, just tell her.”
“Huh?” Brown eyes blinked slowly, turning to Daisuke uncomprehendingly. “What are you talking about, Daisuke-kun?”
“Miyako. Tell her how you feel.”
“I-I couldn’t do t-that!” Sora stuttered, unconsciously taking a step back. “I mean, Miya-chan has everything going for her right now, and if I did that, I’d just ruin it. Besides…” She smiled sadly, watching as Miyako waved her hands excitedly while she spoke with the redheaded computer genius. “There’s no way that someone like that would ever return my feelings.”
Daisuke took up the older Keeper of Love’s hands and looked her in the eye. “Sora, I’ve known Miyako for a very, very long time. She isn’t very good with words when she needs to be, she has a terrible temper, and she’s almost as impetuous as I am. She also isn’t very good at being honest with herself. There’s a reason that she asked you to be her apartment-mate three years ago; there’s a reason that she can never find a guy worthy of her affections; there’s a reason that she’s pushing you to be happy by asking Mimi to join her company.”
“And what would that be, Daisuke?” she asked softly. “It can’t be love.”
“Can’t it? For someone that’s so good in the area when it comes to the rest of us, you have remarkably little faith in yourself.” Like Miyako. “Tell me something: all those years ago, when you spoke with Yamato before his concert during Christmas time, what did he tell you?”
Sora smiled slightly, recalling that awkward day. “He told me that he wasn’t the one for me. At the time, I didn’t realise that he and Taichi had gotten that far in their relationship—see? I’m not always right. I’d known that there was something there, but I’d hoped… Like I said, I’m horrible when it comes to matters of the heart that concern myself.”
“What else did Yamato say, Sora?” Daisuke asked, continuing to smile.
“Oh, damn your persistence, Daisuke!” she said with a laugh. “Yamato told me that, someday, I would find someone that seemed so right, I wouldn’t even notice they had my heart until it was too late.”
“And how long did it take you to realise you loved Miyako?”
“Two years. I came home one night, late, after a really bad day at Kaasan’s shop, and there she was at the table. She didn’t say anything, she just handed me a cup of tea and smiled. I knew, then; knew that I didn’t want to come back to the apartment anymore if she wasn’t there.”
“Then tell her, Sora.”
Both Daisuke and Sora were startled as Mimi stepped from the shadows, little Hanako snuggled in her arms. She smiled fondly at her friend, nodding her head towards Miyako. “She feels the same for you, Sora, but she’s afraid to speak. She’s afraid you’ll call her young, rash. She’s afraid you’ll think her silly, naïve. But most of all…most of all, she’s afraid you won’t give her a chance to love you, and so she never asks for one.” Leaning in, she kissed the redheaded woman lightly on the cheek. “I love you like a sister, Sora, and I’m asking you: give her a chance to love you.”
Mimi made as if to return to her fiancé’s side, but paused for a moment, turning back with a grin. “Oh, and Sora? I would love to have you as an addition to the company.”
Daisuke smiled brilliantly at that parting comment, giving Sora’s hands a gentle squeeze. “Luck, Sora.”
Sora smiled at him in return, her happiness shining through now that she had a purpose. “I’m not going to need it, Daisuke.”
“Oh? So certain, are you?”
“Yep.”
“And why’s that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.
Her smile turned secretive and she shrugged her shoulders. “Because I love her.”
When you take me
And make me cry
Then I feel you satisfy
Show me the cage
It’s all the rage
And lock it up
Ken chose to make his move as soon as Sora made to follow Miyako and Mimi made her way back to Jyou’s side. His steps were light and quiet as he walked across the room, keeping the cover of shadow as he stood in the doorway and simply looked.
There was an empty glass set on the other side of the doorway, and Daisuke stood leaning on the balcony railing, the wind teasing through his spiky hair like the hand of a lover. His shoulders were slightly hunched, pulling tight the fabric of his blue satin shirt, his long-fingered artist’s hands clenching the rail. Slim beaded bracelets encircled his wrists, though Ken couldn’t help but notice that one of those bracelets was worn and faded, and made from embroidery floss.
He glanced briefly down at his own wrist with a smile, an identical bracelet lying there. For Ken-chan, though, he thought, smile becoming uncertain. Not for me. He ignored the corner of his mind that called him foolish for such childish thoughts, shaking them off and returning to more pleasant thoughts.
Daisuke looked absolutely wonderful, much better than he remembered. Ken wanted nothing more than to step behind him and wrap slim arms around the man, to run his hands through that wild auburn hair, to memorise the feel of olive-toned flesh again, to taste the wild dreams that those full lips promised.
Instead, he opted for actual speech, a part of him surprised when he felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. |