Author's notes:

[1] I am so ashamed this took so long! Although 90% was done by the time I posted the second part, the fact was I was unsure over the portrayal of the characters here, particularly Takeru and Daisuke. I ran this through LBAnime and Arika Ito (and for the first half, ShadowPrince61 of dA) for guidance on the character handling. Imagine my astonishment when I discovered their responses varied, especially when it came to Daisuke's behavior.

Although this phenomenon makes for an insightful reflection over how the concept of a fictional character is shaped by the individuals who view them from the context of their own beliefs, principles, and personal experience, this does not help my situation as the writer one bit. I can only pray that you find my character handling adequate.

[2] The finale is 13,125 words long, bringing the grand total to roughly 22,700 words, equating to a full-length chapter of my main story. Whew! Glad to finally get this done and over with.

[3] Responses to previous reviews:

Kingveemon: Glad to know my attempts to write a humorous story went well. Though I'd like it if you stop pestering me with the main story. I'll update it when I can.

Thinker: Certainly this is much shorter, not to mention a different atmosphere than the miasma pervading The Interloper. It was a challenge for me to write, and I had to take it very seriously too since it was connected to my canon. Anyway, thank you for the comments, and most of all for the recognition of my skill in fostering reader immersion.

As for your minor complaints, as you are a seasoned linguist, I stand corrected. Going forward, I am hoping you could help me by providing more modern and realistic Japanese expletives (at least those that have no direct translation in English). It's extremely difficult to successfully portray another nation's culture when I'm not a part of it myself, but I strive for it anyway since the Adventure continuity does take place in the Tokyo Metropolis... not to mention I'm a diehard adherent to the source material or a close substitute for it.

LBAnime: Thanks for the comments. They vindicate the time and effort I spent on the short story. As for your main points...

a. Hikari couldn't go to Daisuke himself because he's already repudiated his friendship with her and Takeru for about a year already. Besides, her personality doesn't strike me as assertive enough to confront Daisuke... not to mention he isn't doing anything crazy anyway. (By "crazy", I mean some of the things the shippers usually make the rejected party do. Ask Lord Pata for more information.)

b. Veemon and Patamon's friendship begins developing during the victory party mentioned earlier in the short story, because things get really out of hand and you know how mischievous some digimon can be. ;) This will be written in the main story, during the second half of the third arc. So... you've got to wait for a long time then!

c. Veemon/Chibimon is childish. Watch Digimon Grand Prix, look at the few episodes Chibimon had actual screentime in the Real World, and listen to what Veemon says during his speech to BlackWarGreymon. Also, the way he is being affectionate here is a logical extension of this personality, and of his nature as a dragon (my model for this is How to Train Your Dragon, particularly the masterpieces made by Antic Repartee, Whitefang333, and Fjord Mustang, all of who have depicted the main dragon character as fully sentient but still animalistic in terms of affectionate behavior).

d. Everything depicted in this story is the result of the dynamic Daisuke and Veemon appear to have based on the source material. I'm just being selective as the writer by showing the story simply within this context. *wink wink*

Mordart: I'm responding to your review here because you weren't signed in, so I won't be able to reply directly to you. (I hope that wasn't intentional.) Scroll to the bottom, if you're interested in what I have to say. If you must reply, sign in and let's discuss in private.

[4] And now... on to the finale! Enjoy. All feedback and criticisms highly welcome.

DAISUKE IN TRAINING

Part III of III - Daisuke Motomiya

There were several reasons why Takeru Takaishi didn't want Daisuke ever discovering them. The first was a stupid one, to be sure. Elecmon struck the bulls-eye when he said they had been stalking both Chosen of Miracles like creeps. The second one was more sensible. Daisuke and Veemon were alone, bonding in their own little way and learning from each other. There was certainly no harm in that—Takeru and Patamon regularly had their own "one on one" sessions too, but if there was one thing they had come to value, it was the privacy that came with such intimate moments.

Sharing this wonderful experience of strengthening his relationship with Patamon with a significant other—with Hikari and her digital half—was no less special than it would have with the two of them alone. Perhaps, Takeru conjectured, it was even more so.

Unfortunately, Daisuke Motomiya's jealousy was so inclined to disagree. As much as Takeru didn't want to accept it—as much as it actually hurt given what they've gone through a couple years back, right now the Chosen Child considered neither he nor his special someone as friends. Hikari Yagami speculated it was some sort of regression, but Takeru didn't care. He hated losing friends, especially if it was for a reason like this.

He had hoped to find a way to get the old Daisuke back, but as Takeru watched the Child of Miracles raise a finger at him and his digital half, his mouth growing wider and wider, quivering during an attempt to utter something—anything to articulate the astonishment racking his brain, the Child of Hope knew this awkward situation did not help him one bit.

"T-T-Ta," Daisuke stammered. "T-Take—

Veemon ignored the speechlessness of his human half. "And look who finally decided to come out!" He grinned, slapping a high five with Patamon. The Digimon of Miracles stared up at Takeru and offered his hand for a good shake. Takeru accepted, of course, but as they shook warmly, the Chosen Child inspected the dragon's body.

He was unable to mask the surprise that soon exuded from his ultramarine spheres. Not only had Veemon somehow retained some composure despite his partner but also the digimon was now about as tall as his thighs. Didn't he just match up to his knees two years ago? To think Daisuke hadn't been lying about the growth spurts after all. Incredible! Had Koushirou been here with him, for sure he'd wonder if the other digimon would grow too.

Before the blue dragon could speak further, Daisuke managed to wrest some self-control and, interrupting Takeru's amazement, direct his shock into something more productive. "Takeru! What are you doing here?"

Recalling the immediate situation, beads of sweat started cascading down his forehead."Uhm…" This was the worst possible scenario. Maybe he should've consulted with Jun about approaching Daisuke. Even that silly Himura could've helped, being a businessman of some sort. "I, er, well, I…"

"Daisuke," his digital half butted in. "They've been over there in the bushes for awhile. I smelled them when I went to greet Kumamon." Takeru frowned. That damn Veemon! Still the same tactless kid as always.

The bear in question rubbed it in. "They were watching you both spar." Kumamon had leaned back on the tree, smirking at the sight of two Chosen Children quarreling amongst each other.

Gah!

"You creep," Daisuke hissed, relishing the acid now flying out of his lips. "You're not supposed to be here. You shouldn't even know about this! Why the f*ck aren't you in a certain house, in a certain room, making out with a certain some—HEY!

Somehow, Veemon had retrieved the pool noodle without all of them noticing and thwacked his human half at the perfect time. "C'moooon, don't be like that!" He scolded. "Mmmaaaybe they, uh, came for the training too!"

Daisuke's russet spheres bore into his own partner, the intensity of the glare intimidating enough to force the blue dragon to take a single step back. "Veemon." Daisuke did not verbalize the Chosen's name so much as he growled at him. "This was supposed to be OUR secret!" The teenager held a scathing expression of betrayal and hurt. "OUR moment!" His eyes bounced from Takeru's digital half to his own repeatedly, transfixed in a state of constant flux as though it was a ping pong ball being slapped around by players enamored by the competitive spirit.

Veemon had been quick to notice the little game of table tennis going on within his partner. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" He raised his hands defensively. "It's not what you're thinking, Daisuke! I swear, I didn't tell anyone about our training!" Sweatdrops formed on his leathery skin. "T-though I'll admit i-it would've been real fun if we had the others with us—

Thankfully Patamon's own interjections saved Veemon from the Child of Miracles' ire. "You got that right, Veemon! I can sooooo imagine pelting Takeru repeatedly with Air Shot."

Deadpan, Takeru ignored Patamon's prattle and made his way towards Daisuke. "See? Nobody knew what you're both doing, so your partner didn't really do anything." He swung an arm round the Chosen Child's shoulder. "Look, ever since that incident last week, you started acting weird all of a sudden and Hikari—

Daisuke Motomiya slapped his arm off with such force it stung Takaishi's hand. "ARGH!" He shoved the other teen away, in full view of the three digimon, and took on a rather threatening pose. "Of course you'd think I was weird!" Takeru's chest tightened at the prospect of fighting Daisuke. Mentioning Hikari's name had obviously been a mistake and now clouds of violence loomed on the horizon. For a few seconds, the Child of Hope twitched with the urge to apologize for instigating this, even if it hadn't been intentional on his part. "YOU'RE not the budding athlete who just got his ass handed to him by a bunch of hobos!"

Takeru attempted to mollify, "But that's not what I'm saying—

"It doesn't matter!" roared the Child of Miracles. His voice was colored with so much anger and rage Takeru wondered how much he had been letting these dark emotions fester inside him. How much he bottled it up, struggling to contain it day after day after day. Hikari had been right to worry about him, but Daisuke was just as wrong to ignore them both and pretend she and Takeru were merely acquaintances, ignoring the experiences they went through together. "The fact remains you held your ground while Fladramon had to bail me out!

"Don't you realize how embarrassing that was, huh?" Daisuke's face turned red. "Don't you?"

"Quit beating yourself up over it!" Veemon interposed, taking the assuagement right from Takeru's mouth. "You just lack the fighting experience. I keep telling you, quick reflexes don't work if you don't know what to do with it! Believe me, Daisuke, I thrive in close quarters—

The flying hamster was cognizant of the tension, and he was just as ready as Veemon to get between the two teenagers if Daisuke's antagonism remained untamed. A shame some of Veemon's indiscretion had rubbed off on him. "Hey, Takeru, you didn't have that much experience a couple years ago when you fought Ken—

"SHHHHH!" Takeru hushed. "That's not helping me here!" he muttered.

Kumamon, still leaning on the tree, could not be stopped the same way Takeru silenced his digimon partner. "Ahhh, that's right," he mused. "I've heard the stories." He eyed the Child of Hope. "One unarmed kid took down the Digimon Kaiser and his whip…"

The junior Motomiya stiffened at the casual remark. Takeru scowled at Kumamon. Didn't he know he was provoking Daisuke? What was he up to, adding fuel to the blazing heat emanating throughout this argument? The way the bear was gazing Daisuke lent credence to the possibility some sort of test was going on right at this very moment.

He didn't know where he should place the digimon. Takeru Takaishi wanted to write off Kumamon's actions as gross disrespect towards Daisuke's emotional state and an offensive intrusion of their privacy. Yet for all the Chosen Child knew, Kumamon might very well have been trying to expose all the underlying stress still concealed beneath the surface, so that whatever insecurities Daisuke is suffering from could be dispelled once and for all.

For the moment, Takeru settled with despondence. A sickening gloom that preceded the worst case scenario or, as he'd prefer, the darkness before the dawn. Daisuke Motomiya was inscrutable, the pressure palpable enough to silence their digital halves—force them to hold their breath as the Child of Miracles decided.

To spark violence or maintain the fragile tranquility.

To snub his concerns or appreciate them.

To wallow in immaturity or take the first step to real growth.

To dismiss the closeness of their relationship or to remember they were all comrades brought together by a higher power.

To dissolve their friendship out of petty jealousy or to rise above the pangs of rejection.

"So," Daisuke exhaled slowly, discharging the heated bile percolating within. The lingering pause did not bode well; Veemon's digital half struggled to find the proper words. For the three years he's known him, Takeru couldn't tell whether the Child of Miracles was deliberating on the basis of diplomacy or self-discipline. He was as nervous as the alienated spectators, his mind radiating some hope the adolescent before him, body glistening with sweat, would have grown up with respect to this fact of life.

"What brings you here?"

On the outset, the question was innocent enough—rather, the antipathy envenoming its prior articulations was absent. Yet Takeru knew his respite was fragile. Any mistake would cast this delicate peace into the throes of pandemonium. Proceeding with caution, "I was saying, Hikari was beginning to worry about your behavior since"—he paused, exploring the depths of his vocabulary for the proper verbiage. Something that alluded to Daisuke's alleged pinnacle of humiliation without invoking its memory outright—"that incident.

"We know you don't." Takeru's voice cracked at that moment, some of the long-ignored hurt seeping into his words, "You don't really talk to both of us anymore, b-but we've never had you skip out on the entire group during lunch breaks. You're always disappearing the moment we're all dismissed from school, and everyone I ask don't seem to know what's gotten into you.

He caught Daisuke sending a vicious glare to his partner. "Chibimon's been mum over the whole thing, by the way. He isn't that loose-lipped." His tone turned reproachful. "Don't forget, he loves you unconditionally." However loyal Veemon was to his human half, he wasn't someone Daisuke could force himself on; likewise Takeru could never coerce Patamon into something the hamster wouldn't approve.

The message was their partners were independent—their friends were autonomous. True persons, regardless of species and origins, were free to act however they wished in accordance to codes of ethics mandated by the individual sovereign. Just because Veemon was friends with the two Daisuke apparently refused to associate with didn't mean he should be angry at him for it.

Takeru Takaishi had no way of knowing whether this lesson had sunk in. Daisuke was still expressionless, and as the Child of Miracles replied, once more did anxiety preside over this discussion. "You didn't need to know that."

"But Daisuke! We were worried—Hikari's already wondering if you'd gone somewhere and did something stu—

"Tell her to mind her own business."

"W, w-what?"

"You heard me." The junior Motomiya stepped closer, strengthening the noisome odor of his sweat. His nose wanted to back away, but to save face and maintain his position, Takeru couldn't afford letting his body do whatever it wanted, not when Daisuke seemed to be as cold, as distant, and as unfriendly as he had been the day Takeru and Hikari got together. "Tell your girlfriend to keep her crap to herself and stop meddling in someone else's business." The two accentuated words did not escape Takeru's notice. How could he, when the teenager verbalized them with such rabid drawl they seemed to leave behind a blatant, nauseating aftertaste.

Attentive to this, Veemon whined as soon as his partner's surly retort went out. "Daisukeeee…"

His human half did not react. Takeru thought he was expending so much effort to stop himself from exploding, anything and everything Veemon groused about probably went through both his ears. "She doesn't care," the athlete went on, his voice brimming with a bitter conviction. An acrid recognition of reality that, until now, tore at him. "And I know you don't really give a damn either."

"I…"

Takeru didn't know what to say to this. When he arrived in Primary Village to speak with Daisuke, he had been hoping for the teenager to view his situation across his own emotions, or at the very least, to remain courteous and civil throughout this exchange. Yet even with such hopes in mind, Takeru had expected something more jejune, a reaction no different from an emotional outburst. A cry of adolescent anguish.

"She…"

Not once did Takeru expect a Daisuke who grew numb to two of his friends and write both of them off for this stupid, insignificant teenage drama.

Heat began coalescing in Takeru's spirit, frothing into gnashing teeth and a pair of quivering fists, both of which he could barely restrain. "We don't care?" There was nothing else more callow than what the Child of Miracles had done behind his and Hikari's backs. "You think we don't care?

"Hey!" The Chosen Child planted one foot forward, his face morphing into a ferocious scowl. A hauntingly similar expression to whatever he had worn when he and Iori discovered the scores of digimon incarcerated and tormented by the Digimon Kaiser. "I went all the way to your apartment today, on a SATURDAY, just to check up on you!"

"So you can gloat? Rub it in some more?" Stepping forward as well, "That's why you're here, isn't it?" His arm started to rise. "That's why you didn't even bother showing yourself when—

"No, man! You've got the wrong idea—

Somehow, despite all the pressure he'd undergone in his two adventures, despite holding his own through last week's battle to its end, Takeru had overlooked the close distance between them. He hadn't realized he was chest-to-chest with Daisuke until the teen's arm snapped forward and thrust an index finger right into his sternum.

The move was so surprising the Child of Hope backpedaled, so astonished he nearly missed the accusations that followed. "You were hiding over there, watching." Daisuke flared. "EAVESDROPPING!" Not even the embarrassed blush on his colleague's face stopped the assault. "You must be proud, aren't you? Stealing MY girl away from me…"

Takeru groaned. "We're NOT having this one-sided conversation again!"

He did not acknowledge the grouse. "…and oozing with confidence over the fact you fought off those jerks much better than—

Patamon flew by Daisuke, compelled to act by the instinct to defend his human half. "Stop it!" One of his wings clipped his face before the orange hamster boomeranged closer to Takeru. Hovering right between the two of them, "Just stop it!"

Veemon was still. The fact he did nothing at all in lieu of the light blemish appearing on his partner's face indicated his silent approval. "You two are friends," clamored Takaishi's digital half. "FRIENDS! You fought battles together. You saved our worlds together. Get a grip! You can't just throw away—

Even as Patamon lectured Veemon's human partner, supplanting what must have been months of personal, intimate discussions over the subject of Takari, the term Veemon himself coined out of fun, Takeru Takaishi foresaw the rejection, the rebuke that had long been imminent.

Anyone in his position could've easily predicted it as this confrontation unfolded. The sharpening glare was unmistakable. As soon as the flying hamster mentioned the word "friends", Daisuke's countenance darkened as it would have if BelialVamdemon stood in front of him rather than another Chosen Child. Motomiya gnashed his teeth harder than Takeru ground his own, shook his fists more violently than one of his team's only link to the first generation of Chosen.

Daisuke was through with this. "That bastard ISN'T MY FRIEND!" He spat on the ground—an act of utmost disrespect.

On the occasional night, Takeru Takaishi found himself reflecting over the days following the moment he and Hikari announced their relationship to their friends. He cogitated not because he was content, satisfied, and even uplifted to be chosen by the junior Yagami, but because he was confused over the changes in Daisuke's behavior from that moment onward.

They had brought a corrupt tyrant from the malevolent delusions strung by his puppeteers, discovered the final antagonist in this second "adventure", and released the two worlds forever from his dark ambitions. While they were by no means out of the woods yet—for two of the villains still remain within the confines of the Dark Ocean, perhaps engaged in collusion or some sort of rivalry—Takeru was certain the work they had done so far, up until now, was meritorious of the close relationships everybody in the second generation had with each other, compounded by the developments they have surely undergone as individuals and as a group.

So why did Daisuke react so badly to Takeru and Hikari's mutual intimacy? Why did he suddenly recoil at them, writing them off as though they had been strangers to begin with? Where did the mature Daisuke go? Why did his behavior regress to that of a juvenile kid deluded by some twisted faith he could will another's choices?

But Takeru was not the only one pondering over these questions. Veemon was as puzzled as the Child of Hope, and that couldn't have been made any clearer by the conversation he was having at this very moment with Elecmon.

The sole babysitter of Primary Village's innumerous newborns had probably expected to see smiles and laughter after driving Takeru and Patamon out of the forest and into the open hills where the two Chosen could see each other. Had the Child of Hope caught him strolling into the scene, he would have observed with full clarity the expression of cheer morphing speedily into that of astonishment and shock.

Takeru knew Joe would be agog to see this unfold in slow motion, considering the Child of Reliability's vested interest in digimon physiology. "Kumamon," Elecmon asked, "what's going on?"

Kumamon shrugged at the question. "Beats me. Human problems, I guess." His eyes glimpsed the blue dragon leaning on the tree next to his, staying still, unmoved even by Patamon's sudden intervention. "Lord Veemon?"

The Digimon of Miracles' muzzle held a dumbfounded frown. It seemed jaded. Something he must have worn often, every time his human partner anguished about some issue beyond his understanding. "Don't bother asking me," he replied. "I don't get it myself.

"Ever since one of the humans started hanging out with Takeru more and more," he scratched his head. "Eh, Daisuke started acting all weird and… ugh, I just don't get it. He's normal around everyone else, but…"

A weary sigh escaped his snout. "Uhhh, he's only like this towards Hikari and Takeru." Overt confusion glazed his crimson eyes. The densest person in either world would have found it impossible to miss. "He even asked me to be like this with Tailmon, and lump some, s-some hate on Patamon, too."

Takeru Takaishi would've been sad to hear this. Had Daisuke been so livid at reality he had gone so far as to influence his digital half into adopting his own views, to curtailing Veemon's own independence? Sure, the partners were intrinsically connected to them. Perhaps they were the living embodiment of a soulmate, complementing the human being and being a platform for personal growth and development. But no one could ever deny the digital monsters their rational sovereign. Their independence.

"And I, I-I, I can't." Veemon's hesitance communicated this point. "I can't just do that. It's… It's wrong! Yet when I argue back, Daisuke, Daisuke doesn't—he won't even...!"

Words failed him completely. The blue dragon went quiet, his tongue settling down as a sad or frustrated whine rumbled from his throat. Hikari and Tailmon alike would've rushed to comfort him immediately. Takeru might have put a hand over his shoulder and attempt to explain just what he couldn't understand about his partner, while Patamon—being his best friend—would have indulged his playful side, slap Veemon with his wings, and engage him in some hyperactive game to distract him from this uncertainty, from what he found incomprehensible. Daisuke Motomiya, as his partner and surrogate brother, would've indulged him for a day just to put a smile on his muzzle.

So long as their positions didn't clash too strongly, however.

Neither Elecmon nor Kumamon had the benefit of a close relationship with Veemon. Relaying their sympathies was all the two locals could do, but concerned gazes and empty platitudes would never be enough to allay his anxiety and perplexity. For now, Veemon settled with impassive scrutiny. If Takeru and Patamon could do something not even he couldn't, he would be eternally grateful for having them as friends.

"I'm telling you," Takeru Takaishi had been arguing. The two had been going at each other non-stop. The fact Daisuke hadn't succumbed to his impulses and started a fistfight as he was prone to do was a miracle in its own right. "I thought it was the best way I could learn something and help you cope.

"You don't even treat Hikari and I like we're friends. You just ignore us and"—the Child of Hope cracked. It was slight and momentary, but anyone paying attention certainly caught this.—"and we don't know what's going on with you. Ken's always out doing rounds, Miyako's too busy being his third shadow, and Iori's got enough on his plate working with the NPA—

"Come on!" Daisuke grumbled. Exasperated, "you both know what's going on! Don't act like you don't know it." He shook his head.

"But you're better than this, Daisuke!" Takaishi countered. "You're much better!"

"Yeah!" added Patamon. "You got out of BelialVamdemon's illusion waaayy before everyone else did! If it wasn't because of your determination, our partners wouldn't have escaped in time and that big, bad vampire would've killed us all!"

"Uh huh." Daisuke was unresponsive. He had remained so since the beginning of this quarrel. Takeru and his digital half had been at this for so long it was beginning to irk him. How could Daisuke Motomiya continue this obstinacy? This pointless angst? It wasn't like Takeru and Hikari were ignoring him. It wasn't like they turned their backs on him as they spent more time with each other as a couple. They offered their company to him as much as Tailmon and Patamon did with Veemon, who had not only accepted but also someway fit himself into their personal lives even as the other nine pairs of Chosen went on separate ways in pursuit of their dreams and vocations without compromising their shared responsibility over the recent, ongoing phenomenon of countless people receiving digimon partners of their own…

He swallowed the fear this conversation was headed nowhere. Reasoning with Motomiya was not working.

Takeru had attempted to assault the absurd logic underpinning Daisuke's stance. This failed.

A third party (Patamon) intervened to remind Daisuke about who his true friends were, and how he shouldn't be treating them like he was in full control of their thoughts, actions, and desires. This failed.

Takeru singled out Veemon's decision to loiter around Elecmon and Kumamon instead of jumping to his defense when Patamon struck the dragon's human half. The Chosen Child called it an implicit sign of approval, signaling a silent plea for help in getting Daisuke out of the rut he dug himself in. This failed.

The argument then brought Takeru and Patamon both to the defensive, as the two had to explain why they didn't reveal themselves to Daisuke and Veemon until Elecmon came in and flushed them out of their spot. Despite the valid reasoning, this, too, failed.

An epiphany gripped Takeru. It sobered him. It produced a new insight into that battle two years ago. "No," Takaishi concluded grimly. "That wasn't determination at all." Ultramarine spheres stared straight into Daisuke's russet eyes, his lips flat and devoid of any emotion. "In the end, it's only classic Motomiya stubbornness."

His fellow interlocutor exhaled. Teeth bared, Daisuke clenched his fists. "Why you…"

The hostilities were reviving, brought to life by Takeru's mordant reduction of Daisuke's most defining moment in that final battle. The teenager's threatening posture did not escape Takaishi's notice, and at once he realized his colleague was on the brink of assaulting him.

"Take that back."

Patamon hovered inches closer to his human half, eyes steeled at the possibility he might have to hurt another Chosen Child, even if the aggression being ostentatiously displayed presented no real danger. Takeru Takaishi himself did not back down. His gaze was wrapped tight in pity and sadness. Violence between friends wasn't right. Not even Yamato and Taichi faced each other down this way, not with the amount of hate and envy flourishing in Daisuke Motomiya's russet eyes.

"Why should I? Deep down, you know it's true."

"I said take that back."

"You never really grew up."

"Just shut up, why don't'cha!" He leapt at Takeru without hesitation.

The Child of Hope wasn't even looking at him when Daisuke commenced the attack. Takeru's ultramarine orbs were fixated on the blue dragon watching them at a slight distance, his muzzle mirroring the conflicted emotions glistening in Takaishi's face and his entire body flaccid. Or so it seemed; the attention in those scarlet eyes betrayed the lethargy already in display. The posture was interpreted instantly.

Implicit approval.

Motomiya sidestepped out of a point-blank Air Shot from Patamon, swatting the auburn digimon away with his hand. The digimon's combat experience, maneuvering space, and flying skills saved him from planting his snout in the bouncy hills without much effort. One more second was all it would take to bring him back to the air, ready to knock Daisuke away from his human half.

One second was all that Daisuke needed. He swiveled in front of Takeru and bent his knees as though avoiding a counterattack aimed at his head. One his colleague never sent his way. This flashy movement was followed by a rapidly approaching clothesline from Daisuke's left arm. Takeru glimpsed an opening, one that would allow him to completely evade the attack and respond with one of his own.

The blond ducked out of harm's way, legs ready to act as soon as possible, the muscles twitching for excitement. Whether Takeru was going to reply Daisuke's hostility with aggression or not was a question left to the Harmonious Ones to ponder. At that moment, Elecmon's shrill voice reached both their ears. "AAAHHHH!" Neither fighter missed the crackling sparks of lightning beyond their fields of vision. "NO MORE FIGHTING!"

"Eep!" Patamon saw it coming. "Takeru!"

This Veemon did not approve. As soon as he heard the sparks, the blue dragon sprang at the red creature at once, the speed of his approach belying his deceptively lax bearing. "Elecmon, no!"

"SPARKLING THUNDER!"

Patamon had tackled his human half in the nick of time. One second Takeru was halfway down to the ground, and the next he felt something hard collide with his ribs, forcing him to the ground with so much force he and his assailant bounced and rolled down the hill. "Ooof!"

Vertigo and disorientation caused by the movement confused Takeru to no end, yet he managed a glimpse of Daisuke's fate.

"S-sh, shit!" The Child of Miracles had fallen on his butt, astonished by the unexpected thunderbolt. He wasn't hurt in any way at all, but from the way his legs were moving and the clattering teeth Takeru found audible from his position gave away the dread creeping up Daisuke's spine. He couldn't ridicule the teen for falling silent in outright shock—Elecmon's attack may have been weak and he may have been a Child-level digimon, but the crack of lightning had produced enough heat to startle the nerves without making skin contact and enough electricity to leave behind a nasty tingling feeling all over the body.

Striking the ground in front of the Chosen point-blank, with his digimon partner saving him not by pushing him out of harm's way as Patamon had done but by crashing into Elecmon before the lightning arced straight into him… Buddha knew how Daisuke Motomiya was faring now.

"What is wrong with you?" Quick action by Daisuke's digital half had saved the teen from unimaginable agony nonetheless. "That was a full charge!" Veemon had ambushed Elecmon, landing a completely unprecedented headbutt to the side of his body long before Kumamon could raise his insulated hand to attempt stopping the dragon. "You nearly fried my brother!"

They rolled down the hill. "Whoahohohohoaaaaa—

Elecmon's squeals ended as soon as they crashed a short distance from Takeru and Patamon. The Child of Hope watched as Veemon continued the offensive, hammering the babysitter's exposed underside with his fists. Fists he knew were strong enough to break bones. "And you almost hit my other friends with that bolt!"

"I—ow!—I'm sor—rmph!—they-kept-fighting-and—

"Can it! They weren't going to gut each other out. You should've just—

"Stop punching me!" Elecmon lashed out, whipping a furry, muscular arm at the Chosen. Veemon backed off before the babysitter could do any serious damage. Regrettably Elecmon's claws went straight through his white shirt.

A tragedy Veemon had yet to notice. He was simply too mad. Too enraged. "That's nothing compared to what you just did."

"I told you, Lord Veemon—

"And quit calling me that!"

"—I'm sorry! But I couldn't think of anything else to stop the fight. You and Kumamon weren't moving and…"

"What? I was paying attention as much as you did!"

"Then why didn't you do anything?"

"Because I didn't have to! It's not like they're fighting seriously—

"But Lord Patamon did something!"

Takeru glanced at his partner, his gaze inquisitive. What was with the title, he wondered. The Digimon of Hope shrugged, preferring to pant as his wings were still, drooped on the ground. He hoped this wasn't going to catch on.

"Well I trusted him not to hurt Daisuke, unlike you, you dumb"—he blanched.—"The Four Gods, I forgot about Daisuke!"

Takeru figured this would've been an appropriate time to facepalm or awkwardly chuckle if it hadn't been for the possibility Elecmon's Sparkling Thunder had harmed his colleague, the fact there never had been direct contact notwithstanding. The Chosen Child slowly rose, his watchful eyes ogling the Digimon of Miracles sprinting to his human half. The worry on his muzzle ostensible. "DAISUKE!"

The poor teen didn't have any clothing to insulate his upper body.

"DAISUKEEEE!"

Takaishi shook his head. "Man, I hope he's okay." As he sauntered towards the two, he rubbed his side. Still sore from Patamon's second unexpected attack for the day, not to mention it hurt like a bitch.

"Obviously," Kumamon's passing remark reached his ears. "That human isn't the only one who needs training." A scowl of apparent disdain seemed to have been glued to his furry muzzle. A brief peek revealed a pair of eyes trained on both Veemon and Elecmon.

The black bear had not moved once. Not an inch. Like he had been in full control of his emotions and expected everything to play out as it should. Like he had known Veemon and Patamon were somehow, one way or another, assuring their partners' safety from Elecmon's ambush. Takeru conjectured he was being some sort of policeman. A peacemaker who'd intervene only when it was truly and utterly necessary, and would do so in a heartbeat. Without suffering the pangs of diffidence.

Then it dawned on him.

He was Leomon.

If memory served the Chosen Child well, that would completely explain why Kumamon acted so tough, and a bit apathetic towards the melodrama Elecmon fortunately interrupted. Amazing how the lion had finally been reborn and presently in the process of regaining his Adult form.

Wait until Taichi hears about this, the Child of Hope mused, the thought brining a smile to his lips. Vaguely, he remembered the role Leomon played in the past, assisting the First Generation. Nostalgia knocked on the doors of his heart. After all, it had been six years…

Takeru swallowed the desire to catch up with Kumamon. This was not the perfect time to do that. Safe and sound as they were, that didn't discount the fact Daisuke was kneeling on the grass, his form still, startled into lasting stupor by the crack of lightning and the searing heat of the bolt radiating on his face, tingling the tips of his fine hair.

"Daisuke," Veemon had been shaking the teen, hands on his partner's arms. Firm and strong. "You okay?"

"Ugghhhh…"

"C'mon, bro, speak to me."

"Shiiittt, my head. What just happened?" Slowly opening his eyes, he blinked. Several times. Dazed, "Whoa, so many spots. I can barely see a thing!"

Veemon bit his own lip, at a loss for words. Was there any way to break the news to Daisuke, how he had been nearly electrocuted agonizingly by a digimon babysitter of all people, despite having three other digimon practically next to him. It reflected badly on Veemon's ability to protect his human half, to fulfill the highest obligation borne by every digimon partner.

Takeru didn't know how the Digmon of Miracles intended on explaining things, but the best he came up with was something that came naturally to the dragon. "Lightning," Veemon muttered, just loud enough for Takaishi to hear. "You almost got hit by lightning."

Blunt and straight to the point. Beating around the proverbial bush.

Daisuke blinked again. "Wha—how?"

"Elecmon freaked out when you and Takeru wouldn't quit, soooo—

The dragon fell silent when a soft bop interrupted him, as Daisuke tapped his forehead with a light punch. "You dummy. Where were you? Why weren't you backing me up?"

Another difficult question. A thorny position to find himself in. Takeru Takaishi detected the many implications of this one query, the least of all being Veemon's personal feelings concerning this irrelevant conflict and inscrutable drama.

Veemon jolted back a bit. A shamefaced dawdle accompanied his reply. "Uhm, errr, that's becaauuussseeee—

"Aren't we partners?"

He sighed. "Daisuke…"

"Brothers?"

Veemon's gaze softened. His ears drooped as his tail went flaccid. "I thought," he stammered. "I-I… I thought Takeru and Patamon would get, would somehow get through to you."

"Why?" Daisuke croaked. "Just whose side are you on?" Weak as the Chosen Child's intonations were, there could be no denying the rising anger, the shock of betrayal, bubbling within. "I've told you so many, many times that damned Takeru stole Hikari from—MMPPPHHH!

Veemon licked his face slowly, cutting off the rant. As the dragon anticipated, Daisuke recoiled instantly. He turned his face away. "Yeeeccchhh!" The Chosen did it again a second time, compelling the man to try pushing his snout away. "Damn it, you know I absolutely hate it when you—Argh!"

Daisuke was easily overpowered when Veemon nuzzled his cheek. The teenager wretched the moment the digimon got a third one in. "Veemon, keep that slimy thing away from my nos—crap!"

The fourth stroke brought the Child of Miracles into coughing fit. Overwhelmed by a sickening, stench reminiscent of spoiled mayonnaise. He shoved the blue dragon a couple feet back, clawing at his nose and face, his lips grimacing every time his fingers touched something goopy. "Eeeeeyuck! What's gotten into—

A frustrated snort stopped him. "I keep reminding you, Daisuke," Veemon articulated. "You still have me." The tone of his child-like voice embodied a weary ennui not unlike the tart, disgruntled air surrounding those who observed their loved ones take their blessings for granted. Their interventions ineffective. Their frustration evident in the fact they could do nothing but stand beside them and provide support.

Takeru Takaishi saw a digimon who wanted to help his partner in any way possible, no matter how long it took. "You'll always have me," the blue dragon uttered almost inaudibly as he moved his muzzle nearer. Because Daisuke was kneeling, he and his digital half were eye to eye. "You're my partner. No one's ever stealing me away."

If Daisuke Motomiya had been especially dour and revolted after his partner's rude interruptions and a show of affection he found noisome beyond measure, either he felt the rare tact not to show it or the gesture expunged it, Daisuke's repugnance notwithstanding. It took a few seconds before he found his words, swallowing whatever impulse to yell and chastise the blue dragon to let a counterattack take its place. "Still," he gathered, "that, that doesn't mean they're my—

The Child of Miracles coughed, gagging once or twice from the lingering scent. "T, they're my friends."

A weak counterattack, from his colleague's point of view.

Yet Veemon crumpled at the reply. His expectant gaze faltered. His muzzle dropped open from the shock. Possibly, the Chosen failed to consider the magnitude of the human's stubbornness, and now he was paying the price for his attempt to address Daisuke's obduracy. Never had Takeru seen someone else's digimon partner look so hurt.

It lasted for an instant. Quickly Veemon regained his composure. "Then—t, t, then nobody would've come here!" He rebutted. "Takeru's probably gonna be Gods know where, and Hikari wouldn't be worried at all about you!"

"But this isn't what I want! It's not fair. We've been classmates for years and—

"Think about what you have!"

"Veem—

"Just listen to me!Be happy with what you already have! You won't get everything you want. You know ourworlds don't work that way."

"But if I—if I can just do something—

"Do what? Something that'll make you look stupid?"

Daisuke had no reply. Veemon took point and went offensive. "I don't want that for you! Not after what happened at the Gazimon village two years ago!"

This was starting to get intense. Takeru finally decided to chip in. "Listen to your partner," he said. He was tired of Motomiya's enduring immaturity. If anything, he should be happy. Daisuke was a promising athlete, a young man of decent popularity, surrounded by friends and a family he'd call normal and cheery. To throw all those away for a mere childhood crush, for a wounded ego precipitated by a fight he survived without so much as a gash across the chest made no sense at all. Not to Takeru. Not to anyone who had the mind to detach away from oneself and view cases like this with an open, unbiased mind. "That's what I've been trying so hard to tell you. It's not the end of your world!"

Takeru didn't realize he'd been towering over Daisuke and Veemon until he leaned forward to offer a hand, in hopes his colleague would make the mature decision—take that first step to growing up for real. Not to deny the life-changing experiences of their "Digimon Adventure", but to understand that having the courage to lead friends through danger and save the world was a starkly different animal from developing emotional maturity and a tight grasp over what's important, what he can't afford losing no matter what.

"You've got Veemon," he began. "You've got Jun and both your parents. My relationship with Hikari doesn't change anything—we'll stand right behind you, just like Ken, Iori, Miyako, their partners, and everyone else."

The adolescent stayed silent. His hair fluttered in the breeze, the slight movement imperceptible owing to the wild spread caused by the ionized air and the atmospheric electricity generated by Elecmon's attack, weak as it was. He simply had nothing to say, and gloom was beginning to settle on Daisuke's countenance. It descended on him, at the same time the weight of Veemon's words and Takeru's complementing support fell on his two shoulders. Seeped into understanding.

What Takaishi saw was not acceptance. What he glimpsed was not genuine recognition of the truth. There was only disillusion in the teenager's russet orbs. An implacable disillusion that demolished the beliefs he held all this time, however mistaken or immature they were.

Catharsis left Daisuke Motomiya speechless and at a loss with himself and his partner.

"Always count your blessings," Takeru continued to assuage. "Whatever happens to you, focus on what you still have and keep them close. Protect them no matter the cost, because they're the only things you'll have when shit happens."

The Child of Hope didn't know this at the time, but such advice proved prescient in the years to follow. Predictive, when forces beyond the Chosen Children's control leaped into the event horizon and contorted into long-lasting tragedies destined to destabilize the Golden Age forming under their guidance.

In another time, in another story—one that had yet to unfold—Daisuke Motomiya looked back at this moment and concluded this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, that today contained the single most important lesson he had ever learned in the life after his adventure. Countless times he invoked Takeru's words and the wisdom therein, his subject narrowing little by little, until he only had his family and his loved ones in the forefront of his mind.

Such words reached Hikari Yagami in her darkest hour, when the Chosen Children—and most of all, Takeru—weren't around to be her unmoving rock. They would compel her to act, to shed a helplessness conditioned into her spirit by the apathy and self-interest pervading modern society.

For now, this was not that future. For now, that future remained hidden behind the veil of the present, of the innumerable conflicting signs any seasoned forecaster would find baffling.

For now, the future ahead was but a road under construction. A work in progress. A destiny through which the Chosen Children could all band together and act as one coherent unit, spearheading the Earth and the Digital World through a utopian society of coexistence.

For now, all Takeru Takaishi cared about was rekindling his and Hikari's friendship with Daisuke. Truly, the fault never lied with either of them, yet Takeru shouldered the blame regardless. Somewhere in the back of his mind, as he bore witness to one of the most immature moments Daisuke may have had in his life, the Chosen Child felt streaks of indignant outrage coming to him.

Wasn't Daisuke the one to reject both of them? Wasn't Daisuke the one who somehow relapsed from whatever growth he may have seemed to have, and decided to write two close friends off his life? Shouldn't he be the one kowtowing to Takari and Hikari, obsequious, knowing he acted too rashly, too stubbornly, too arrogant to think he had some say in the freedom and independence of other people?

Takeru never entertained such thoughts. Blame and culpability were unimportant. Friendship mattered, above all. He watched Daisuke's attempt to stand up collapse by the lack of strength in his toned, well-developed legs. His colleague's amazing posture had been reduced to a shivering mess—his muscles turned into jelly by, no doubt, the proximity and intensity of Elecmon's thunderbolt. Thankfully he's a Child-level!

Veemon was right on top of his surrogate brother's predicament. Daisuke buckled again on his second try, but his partner was there to stop his descent and, with a hand to his back, assist the man's recovery. Takeru was unable to relate with Daisuke's agonizing struggle, for the image that incessantly appeared in his head was that of a barrel full of matches and Mr. Bean in his birthday suit, lighting a nearby fuse on fire. An inappropriate and an insufficient analogy, to be sure.

Veemon and Takeru locked eyes with one another then. Crimson and ultramarine. Some weird form of understanding traveled between them. It was almost telepathic; the Child of Hope could've sworn the blue dragon nodded at him. He took this as a cue to inch closer. Takeru extended his hand until it was borderline intrusive. "So you with me?" he offered. "Are we cool now?"

By now Patamon had followed through with a quick recovery, fluttering his bat wings and hovering beside the three of them. Veemon's scarlet gaze panned to his human half, his eyes as expectant as the flying hamster's. They all waited for Daisuke to make his choice, patiently, giving him the time to deliberate and appraise once and for all the—

The Child of Miracles made his decision. Without giving the tendered palm the briefest of glimpses, Daisuke's arms moved automatically to Veemon's shoulders and free hand. With one of their hands clasped together tight, the sight of Veemon's growing smile signaled Daisuke felt, at the very least, grateful for having the dragon digimon in his life.

As he hoisted himself up, the Chosen Child disregarded the help Takaishi presented as a figurative fig leaf. Still, it did not escape his notice, and he was no longer interested in stonewalling Hikari's significant other for caring about him. Otherwise, he might have brushed away the hand at once. A reasonable expectation in lieu of the heated argument minutes earlier.

"I'm sorry," Daisuke muttered, leaning back into his digital half's support. "It's—it's that, i-it's just, I don't know." His voice no different from the uncertainty plaguing his awkward posture. "Mmmmaybe."

Although all the man possessed was recognition, Takeru Takaishi was happy. Acceptance, no matter how begrudging, no matter how welcomed, was the proverbial first step.

Motomiya sighed. "Just—please, give me a little time to think."

Takaishi concealed the disappointment he felt from Daisuke's rejection. He hoped none of the digimon sensed it. They had an amazing ability to detect emotions. "Right." Daisuke wasn't ready yet, but the fact he was done with anger was a good sign. "Right, you got it."

"But you're right. Veemon and you."

A smile. "That's good to know." At last things were looking up. There was hope for his and Hikari's relationship with Daisuke after all. "Now that we're done with that, I guess this means we can finally go home."

Veemon's sigh preceded his deflating stance. Disappointed, he was. "Haaaaaaayyyy, no more training for today then." Training his eyes on the teen leaning on his shoulder, "Not for a couple days."

"Well, that's one consolation," Daisuke wore a small grin at the sound of that. "No workout of doom 'til Tuesday."

Patamon had a grin himself, but not for the same reason Daisuke did. "You two wouldn't mind if I stay at your place for the night?"

Takeru cocked his eyebrow. "Why?"

"Veemon still owes me a Super Robot Wars playthrough." Mischief began to sparkle in the hamster's turquoise eyes. "And I'm still ruffled by that idiot neighbor of his."

"Really, Patamon?"

"Ta, keruuuuuuu!" he moaned. "C'mon! He didn't call you a batpig!"

"Let it go. You can't blame Mr. Himura for that. He's an adult. Grown-ups in general aren't really welcoming of new things like this." Like you, he hoped to articulate without stepping on his partner's feelings. Besides, the Chosen Child himself didn't have the heart to reject his request for the sole reason he thought Daisuke Motomiya was a "bad influence" to everyone around him.

This, despite the fact he was a pretty good kid deep down.

"Did you just say Mr. Himura?" Veemon chimed in the instant his ears caught the name. "Wakana Himura? He's at home?"

"Waiting for Daisuke's dad," stated Patamon. Huffing indignantly, "I bet he's still slaving over his laptop like a wannabe Koushirou!"

"Ooooooooooohh, now I can't wait to get home!" Takeru shuddered at the sight of the smirk forming on Veemon's muzzle. It was an expression that made his excitement apparent. Thrill twinkled in those pair of scarlet eyes. "Whenever Wacko's like that, he zones out. Just perfect for pranking, and I promise, it surprises him every time!"

Delight shuddered through Veemon, causing his body to shake. Whatever mischief he was concocting in that thick head of his must be so impish it simply couldn't wait. Patamon's riveted eyes sparkled.

"No way!"

"Yes way!"

"I want in, I want in!"

"Because of the whole batpig thing, huh?" Veemon giggled.

Admonishing, "Awwww, that's not funny."

"Pfft—I, I wasn't laughing at you."

"Then…?"

Daisuke Motomiya snuck his word in. "The first time he saw Chibimon running around our unit…"

Veemon finished for him. "He called me a 'dumb, overgrown lizard'."

Patamon nodded.

"Should've seen the scene he made after I had my way with 'im. He thought I was gonna bite his nose off!"

"Details." A few flaps of his wings and Patamon settled right on top of Veemon's head. "Details!"

The blue dragon didn't mind at all. He hummed, pondering on the best way to begin. "Well, this all started when he showed up at our door just after we took down BelialVamdemon…"

"Can we do this storytelling at home?" Daisuke whined. "I feel like cooking up some ramen."

Veemon was horrified. "Ramen again? You've been at it for the past two weeks already! I'm starting to get sick of every time you come along with your 'perfect recipe'. And Jun's—

"Well sorry if I'm trying way too hard preparing for my future business!"

"But your varsity—

"I can't put all my eggs in one basket." (Patamon looked around. "Eggs? WHERE? Where's the basket?")

"…uhm… b-but, eh, your dad—

"I don't want to flip houses for a living!" (Patamon was puzzled. "Why would anyone want an upside-down house?")

"Eh, you don't have any of that stuff you humans exchange goodies with."

"I've talked to Wakana about my idea and he said he'll lend me an ear." (Patamon gasped in surprise. "So humans can detach their ears!")

Takaishi's palm met his face for every innocent statement coming out of his partner's mouth. Luckily the two Chosen of Miracles were too engrossed to pay attention and call him out for it. Takeru sighed. Maybe tonight was a good time to teach the orange hamster some basic figures of speech. Maybe tonight was just as good a time to ask him how he never picked up on these in the first place, considering the months he's lived together with the blond.

His gaze then fell on Kumamon and Elecmon. The black bear was helping up the Primary Village's caretaker. Elecmon himself faced some difficulty hoisting his body into position. Whatever Veemon did to him in response to the threat was strong enough to last for a night or two. At the very least, his state testified to the Chosen's care for his human partner and the unorthodox decision he made to facilitate resolution of an internal turmoil.

"Elecmon," Takeru called over. He shot a glance back at the three Chosen shrinking behind him, making sure they weren't walking too fast. (Like that's happening, with Daisuke slowing both digimon down.) "You okay?"

"I've had worse," mumbled the digimon.

Takeru stared.

"Don't worry," the assurance came seconds later. "This won't affect my job at all." He looked at the Child-level next to him. "Besides, I got another pair of hands available, just in case."

Kumamon shook his head. "Sorry, but I've got some pull-ups to do at the monkey bars."

"It can wait," Elecmon countered. "File Island won't need Leomon anytime soon! So there's no rush. Take your time." He smirked. "And help me out here."

"I… you don't know when—we don't know how long before something happens aga—

"Ehem!"

Both Elecmon and Kumamon trained their eyes on Takeru. "I'm siding with Elecmon on this one." He pronounced, "It's the Real World that's having problems right now, but we've got it covered. All twelve of us."

A brief reflection was spent on the unknowns still lingering from his second adventure. Demon and the lord of the Dark Ocean haunted Takeru Takaishi, at least whenever he was beginning to relax, whenever he was lulled into the calming serenity of peace. That belief that said the worst was over, that all the villains were now dead and buried, never to disturb the two worlds again.

Yes, they were still out there. They were probably scheming; the Dark Ocean wouldn't keep either one at bay for so long, but when? When were they going to strike? The question of how was also legitimate—for all he knew, they might have learned a few tricks from Gennai and the Harmonious Ones and employ humans of their own.

They were living on borrowed time. Having fun on borrowed time.

Yet…

There was nothing wrong with that.

So long as they fulfilled their responsibilities by the end of the day. "And besides, a few days, or even a week, won't make that much of a difference." He flashed a smile, filling it with the hope he had carried over from his childhood. "Trust me, when things start happening, we will be ready."

Kumamon grumbled. "Krkkk, fine. I suppose a week off won't hurt."

A smile was starting to form on Elecmon's muzzle, but Kumamon was quick to lop it off long before it bloomed. "But you're training with me when I resume my workouts."

"W-what? I'm a babysitter. I don't even want to evolve! I just—

"After the way you freaked out earlier," carped the bear, "You need a few lessons in self-restraint and perception."

"Kuma—

"No buts, Elecmon." The Guardian frowned.

Elecmon gulped. Loud enough for Takeru to hear, his distant position notwithstanding. "O, okay. You've got a deal—at least I'm getting help from you."

"By the way, Chosen Child." Kumamon verbalized, suddenly addressing Takeru. He raised his hand and pointed at something behind the human. Takeru's eyes were slow to follow, for they were fixated by the finger poking out of layers and layers of leather belts wrapped around the furry hand. "You should go. They're all leaving you behind."

"Huh?" Takeru oscillated. His eyes dilated at the shapes of Daisuke, Veemon, and Patamon, shrinking into the city of toys. Daisuke was leaning on Veemon's arm for support. No longer were they talking—arguing. Maybe they worked it out somehow. Maybe they kicked the can down the road, intending to take it up at a better time. Patamon, on the other hand, was perched right on Veemon's head, his wings flapping weakly—a telltale sign the Digimon of Hope was actively flapping his mouth, talking and talking.

Both he and the blue dragon were being chatterboxes. Animated and lively. The Child of Miracles, in contrast, carried a haggard air around him. Cleary he needed help from someone his own size.

Veemon was either too busy discussing some act of mischief, or he took his human partner's stubbornness and obstinate reassurances at face value—quirks he had long been known for. Such gullibility and forgiving attitude were scary. Those things eventually brought trouble. No doubts there.

At the moment, that was the farthest thing from Takeru's mind. "Oh crap!" The Child of Hope sprinted, leaving Elecmon and Kumamon alone. "Guys, wait up! Hey! Time out for—Agh, JUST WAIT FOR ME!" Didn't they realize there was a fourth person in their group? Or were they all too caught up in themselves to notice the missing teenager? "PATAMON!"

When he caught up to the three, Takeru Takaishi was burdened by heavy breaths. He was panting. Was palpitating. Was feeling drops of perspiration trickling down the sides of his blond head. Running a hundred meters at full speed without stopping or tripping on his own feet was an ordeal Takeru wouldn't want to repeat anytime soon. "Maaaaaannn, why didn't you stop and wait? Didn't anyone hear me?"

Patamon and Veemon gave each other guilty looks. "Uuuhhhhhhhh…"

The latter chuckled. "We, w-we, we weren't paying attention?"

The former bowed, apologetic. "Sorry, we were talking."

Takeru facepalmed once more. How can Daisuke—no, his entire family live with a digimon as childish as Veemon?

"My parents..." Not until Daisuke replied did the Child of Hope realize he'd been thinking aloud. "I don't know exactly what he is to them but they, they don't really go out of their way to get to know him." A pensive expression danced along. "Maybe it's an adult thing. Or maybe they're too busy working. As for Jun, it's taken a while but she loves the little guy." He snorted. "Hehe, must be the cute thing he's got going."

Takeru accosted, "What were they talking about anyway?"

"Plans (Schemes) to annoy (piss off) Wakana tonight," Veemon (and his human half) replied.

Groaning, "Patamon, I told you, I'm not letting you sleep over."

The Digimon of Hope's expression was pitiful. "Awwwww! Please, Takeru, just one night. Puh-leeaaaasseeee?" Those eyes were mesmerizing. They tempted the teenager to let it slide just this once.

Takeru held his ground. "No."

"But there's something I need Veemon to help me with!"

Veemon rubbed the hamster's head. "Ehhhh, don't worry, Patamon, we can talk about Tailmon on Monday when we all meet up at school."

Takeru caught Veemon's flippancy. He watched Daisuke flinch from the lightness. Immediately he understood the reasons behind it, considering his… lasting unrequited infatuation.

The dense dragon didn't see a thing, of course. Motomiya's biceps quivered from subsequent attempts to break away from Veemon. From his perspective, the Digimon of Miracles thought his human half was dead set on defying the impossible, on rebelling against the exhaustion and pain embedded in his body. A futile struggle of the spirit against the overwhelming weakness of the flesh. At least, Takeru thought so.

"Hey," the Child-level murmured as soon as he felt the energy from Daisuke's hands. "Don't strain yourself. We're almost there." A blue finger was thrust towards a high slope. One obviously associated with the rubber hills dotting the Primary Village landscape.

Patamon jumped on Veemon's head. "Yeah! We'll be home soon and you can crash on your bed!"

"It's okay." Veemon's partner ground his teeth. "I can do this. I think I've had enough rest." Letting caution and wariness guide his movements, Daisuke gradually brought himself out of the dragon's arms. "Okay, I got this…"

A little more now and he would be standing on his own feet.

"…I, definitely, got this."

Success!

"Alright," Daisuke praised himself. "Coming up next."

Taking a few steps forw—the teenager fell backwards, his legs no stronger than it had been minutes ago. "SHIT!" If he wasn't stopped soon, Daisuke faced the unpleasant prospect of rolling down the hill. Backwards. The descent wouldn't have hurt him too much—it was as soft as a mattress, and ridiculously bouncy. Like a trampoline of trampolines. Patamon had demonstrated this as soon as he arrived, so there was absolutely no reason to worry.

Still, the inconvenience was no less terrible to Motomiya.

Veemon was not in the optimal position to catch his human half, for he'd been standing a little ways to the side. He tried anyway, reaching for Daisuke. His muzzle was shut, set in an impassive state. Yet within those scarlet eyes shone a commitment to prevent anything harmful from victimizing his surrogate brother—the mere fact inconvenience was petty and insignificant was a nonissue—and the desire to see it through to the bitter end.

A need Takeru denied him. "Got you!"

None of it was his fault. None of it was malicious in any manner. Withal, the Chosen Child had been standing right behind Daisuke when it happened.

His colleague stiffened at the sound of his voice. Twitched when he felt the weight of two hands cradling his back. The gesture was well-intentioned and much needed. Surely Daisuke was able to discern this. Even a blind man could. Even so, the teenager cringed. "T, Takeru." His eyes were drilling down at the pair of hands keeping him steady. "Let go," came a request.

"But—

A request became a demand. "I said 'let go', damn it!"

"You can't stand—

Motomiya shrugged the Child of Hope away. "Don't bother." Coldly. "I'll get through this on my own." Miraculously he managed to step forward without keeling over like a sinking ship, although it had no effect on the acrimony still simmering within.

Daisuke's obstinacy reminded Takeru of a bathtub, filled to the brim with water. To believe pulling the plug at the bottom would drain the liquid in the seconds that pass was not that far from madness. The water would not disappear after a moment. It would loiter, hanging around until the mixture, the miasma of fluids no longer had the ability to stay aloft—resist the forces of nature.

The Child of Miracles collapsed after the tenth step. Roughly thirty paces from this hill's apex. He dropped and took a seat on the soft grass and its vivacious surface. "I need some rest." The words placated his digital half's urge to go to him, dispensed while staring at the afternoon sky above. Eventually he reclined, laid himself down. A deliberate choice—he didn't want to gaze at either Veemon's or Takeru's eyes. Not now. Not until the negatives were no longer in the frontier of his psyche.

Veemon approached Takeru. Patamon flew up from the dragon's rear, settling down on Takeru's Gilligan hat. The blue tail wagging, "You know, if you join Daisuke in training, I bet his reflexes and endurance will improve." He smiled at him, the glinting of his visible canines almost announcing his thoughts like a large sign, painted in red. "What'd you think?"

"Uhhhh, I…"

Veemon was pumped, his eyes shimmering happily at the idea of having another human—and Patamon, of course—join their physical training. "And you're helping yourself here! You'll learn to fight smaller and faster enemies like Patamon and me, and you build your body up, and best of all, we get to spend more time with each other. Oh! A-and, and when Kumamon evolves, we'll start using swords and be so awesome at it we—

The buoyancy and enthusiasm infused in the blue dragon's bubbly chatter was incredibly overwhelming. It was also pressing. Pressing to the extent Takeru froze once nervousness seized him and evoked a growing diffidence at the thought of popping Veemon's bubble.

Much to the Chosen Child's relief, Patamon blurted out the dragon's name, interrupting his sales pitch and reeling the marketer's attention. "There's something I was wondering about," said the hamster, overlooking the huge sigh being released below him.

Hook, line, and sinker.

"What?"

"I didn't know you like Pokémon."

Veemon's confused expression suddenly burst into a wide grin. "Saw my shirt, didn't you?" Not giving Takeru's digital half a moment to reply, "That's Latias, by the way. She's my favorite!"

"I'm surprised you actually like the series," marveled Takeru.

"Why shouldn't I? It's funny, full of imagination, has great games for the Nintendo, and plus the card game looks so fun I wish I can join Daisuke's classmates every time they play during recess!"

Rivulets of sweat slid down Takeru's cheek. "Tailmon and Agumon think it's not sending the right signal to people," Hope's representative wanted to say. That the series did not actively promote equality to children and young adolescents in a world where men and monsters were learning to coexist with one another. That the monsters fought each other in tournaments for the sake of sport, of entertainment, of mere competition as opposed to the defense and betterment of society, to the pursuit of some lofty ideal or future. That Pokémon was decades ahead of its time, an animated medium perhaps more appropriate for public viewing at a time when Man and Digimon live in perfect harmony.

As luck would have it, his digital half decided differently, choosing to interrupt his own partner in the middle of his sentence. "Your shirt's all ruined by the way," Patamon noted, not listening to the conversation between the two.

"Huh? What do you—

As soon as he glanced down, Veemon's jaw dropped out of pure shock, almost as if it took him this long to notice the shirt's burned and dilapidated condition. "EEEHHHHHHH?" Veemon tugged it forward. An audible rrrriiiipppp followed despite his caution, reminding Takeru of a pair of pants splitting along the middle. Like a human embarrassed by an unannounced, public display of his underwear, the jarring sound caused Veemon to wince. "OH NOES!"

The Digimon of Miracles collapsed on his knees. "ARRRGGGHHH, MY LATIAS SHIRT!" He pounded the soft, trampoline hills, lamenting. "NOOOOOOO!" Takeru's imagination conjured a purple cloud of depression descending over the blue dragon. "And on the day I finally decided to wear this!"

"What's the big deal?" Patamon questioned, his apathy revealed in a most unexpressive frown. "It's just a shirt. Go get another one in Akihabara—

He snapped, "Like Daisuke'll do that! He doesn't like the series!"

"Then why did he—

Daisuke cracked open an eye, ogling the three of them. "After watching that stupid movie he started licking my face every night. Kept me awake 'til I gagged. Won't stop until I bribed him with that shirt."

"What he said!" Veemon clamored." It's the only one I own and if I don't get it fixed I'll—wait a sec."

The childish voice trailed off. Veemon's lips went numb for a few seconds, and silence governed over the four until the moment an epiphany literally lifted the blue dragon off his feat. "ELECMON! It's all his fault!" He trotted down, scowling. Teeth bared. "I don't know how he'll fix it, but I swear on the Four Gods he will."

Takeru exclaimed. "Wait! What about Daisuke?"

One brief glance was all the Chosen ever needed. "He'll be fine! I'm so not leaving until I get this fixed!"

Veemon left. He was gone, reduced into nothing but a blue silhouette in the foreground veering straight for the forest encompassing Primary Village. The ocher fur of Elecmon stood out in the distant emerald and olive green of their surroundings. Seconds later the digimon jerked from panic and dashed away, taking another route to the Primary Village with Veemon hot behind every one of his nine tails.

Takeru groaned. He eyed his colleague relaxing in the sun. "Charging recklessly into the fray," Takaishi passed. "You two are so alike you're made for each other."

Daisuke grinned. "Makes me proud calling him my little bro."

"Shouldn't you…

"Nah. It'll all work out in the end. Veemon will be back eventually, so that leaves me with plenty of time to chill. Maybe do some thinking." A pair of russet eyes regarded Takaishi. A hint of contempt remained in there. Also a pinch of jealousy. "About things that's longoverdue, since you're here."

A touch of denial.

"But Daisuke—

"'But', nothing," Motomiya cut him off. "Pissoff, Takeru. It doesn't matter what you think." Daisuke's voice was dismissive. Hostile, but thankfully not as much as it had been earlier, when they first saw each other. "Leave us alone. That's how Veemon and I roll; if you've got a problem with the way ourrelationship works, I don't really care." Verbalized like an irate prick.

Another sigh from the blond. "Fine, I'll leave. It's clear I'm not wanted," Takeru muttered. "Right now at least."

No comment.

"For all it's worth, Daisuke, I hope we can still be friends. All three of us."

Again, no response.

Takaishi shook his head. "Goodbye."

He resumed the slow ascent, picking up the pace. Every beat of his heart thrummed with disappointment and sadness. As much as Takeru couldn't refute the significant progress made with Daisuke Motomiya, it still hurt to leave the scene without truly resolving the predicament at hand. All he did was sow the seeds. Plant the idea. Encourage the man to nurture it through self-reflection.

This utter lack of accomplishment, this failure to turn things around as though the endeavor was dead set on generating this miracle between friends, dragged the teen down. How sad it was, for Daisuke to remain unchanged after the great Digimon Adventure.

The brunet's voice floated from twenty feet below. "Takeru, can you still hear me?" It was a bit of a shout. Loud enough to catch attention and pull him away from his thoughts. Involved enough for the teenager to detect something different in the syllables' cadence.

Takaishi stopped. He stared back at Veemon's surrogate brother lying on the hill. Despite the increased distance between them he knew for a fact he and Motomiya had made direct eye contact. It held for a few seconds—seconds that felt like a minute, for Daisuke took his sweet time responding to the Child of Hope's disrupted movement—his relaxed posture.

Either that, or the breeze flowing through the air dampened the volume somewhat.

Moments before Takeru's patience wore thin, before he decided to return to the Real World, back to Apartment 825, Daisuke's mouth moved. From this position, the only thing that reached his ears was a quiet murmur. He strained to hear. "Ha?" Takeru asked, cupping his ear.

"Give Hikari my thanks," the Child of Miracles verbalized, just a little louder. "For worrying about me." The instruction elicited a small smile from Takeru.

Whatever tenderness the moment had was shoved aside when Patamon raised his voice. Smug. "Aaaaannnd?"

Seeing how his colleague quivered—squirmed from the hamster's tone left Takeru with the feeling Daisuke had just sighed, preparing himself to articulate words he'd rather not—

The reply arrived sooner than he expected. "Same for you, Takeru, for dropping by today." Good thing the breeze grew weaker, as though the invisible force was sentient. "And setting me straight," he mumbled almost too softly.

"You're welcome."

"Hehe." A lighthearted chuckle. "Now that's more like it! Don't forget to apologize to Veemon."—Daisuke flinched—"He needs—

"Patamon!"

"What?" His digital half slipped in from above. Bright eyes, awash in something sheepish, gazed into Takeru's own. "I made sure he didn't forget both of you, too," Patamon whispered, slightly embarrassed.

"I know, I know." Takeru ran his hand across the digimon's fur, causing Patamon to laugh from the tickling sensation.

He then glanced back at the younger Motomiya enjoying his tranquility, his bare back on the grass and unclothed abdomen facing the cool, soft wafts of air traversing this section of Primary Village. Takeru only had to take a few more steps before his D3 was within range of the Digiport.

If Takeru hadn't chosen this time to fumble around his pockets for his digivice, by now he'd probably be back in the Motomiya home, updating Jun on her brother's status. Perhaps he'd have placed a call to the Yagami household; report to his girlfriend about the strange events of the day.

Conscious thoughts about the digivice led Takeru to turn back, compelled him to saunter down, back to a spot he figured Daisuke could hear him from. "Daisuke?"

Provided he was still awake. "Hey, Daisuke!"

Three seconds. "Daisuke!"

Another four seconds. "Hey, wake up!"

The Chosen Child woke up with a start, his brunet head swiveling from one direction to another. "Wha, what?"

"Up here."

Straining his head, "T-Takeru? Why are you still here? Weren't you—

"I forgot to ask you something."

"Oh. Okay. Shoot."

Takeru raised the green-marked machine in his hands. "What happened to your digivice?" Intoning worriedly, "When I first came here, for some reason I couldn't get my D3 to track its signal and—

"Hold up," Daisuke lifted his hand, palm facing the blond teenager. "Nothing's 'happened 'to my D3."

"Then…"

"Elecmon's intercepting the signal. He's got the tiny thing buried in those nine tails of his and—oh no."

"Oh no, what?"

"I forgot to tell Veemon to get my D3 back!"

Daisuke Motomiya catapulted himself from his relaxed, carefree position. He stood erect, and for once, he shivered a bit in the breeze. "Whhhhooooo. It's getting a little colder here."

Takeru facepalmed. "Why aren't you even wearing your shirt? And your jacket?"

"Because Veemon whines about my clothes 'feeling and smelling gross' if I don't take it off."

Patamon giggled, as did the Chosen Child on whose head he sat on. "Shouldn't you be wearing something now that your training's don—HEY!"

The hamster shrieked, glimpsing Daisuke's sudden sprint down the hill. His legs were moving as fast as humanly possible. "Sorry, little batpig!" He apologized nonchalantly, as though the nickname came naturally from his mouth. "Your partner's absolutely right and I need to put my tops back on and—

A crimson shape broke away from the structures of Primary Village, dashing on all fours towards the forest. Towards the place Takeru first found Daisuke at. It was followed by a cerulean figure of similar size, charging forward on two feet.

"ELECMON! GIVE ME BACK MY DIGIVICE!"

"Call off your partner first! He's gone crazy!"

"VEEMON! Get your damn—

"NO! Not until he fixes my shirt!" Somehow he had gotten his hands on a small, leather pouch. Takeru figured it contained some sewing materials.

Daisuke mumbled some incoherent grouses before deciding to follow. " ELECMON!"

A rictus pasted on his face, Takeru Takaishi shut his eyes, almost blushing at the sight. First Veemon. Now, Daisuke. The two were truly made for each other, that much was certain. "Guess this means we can go now."

Patamon begged to disagree. "He said…"

"Uh, are you okay up there?"

He didn't seem to hear him. "He called me…"

Takeru groaned, realizing where this afternoon was going. "Hey…"

"He called me a batpig."

"Patamon."

"He called me a batpig!"

"If you leave me, you're spending the night with—

The orange hamster shot out from atop the Gilligan Hat, ears flapping widely and an intimidating grimace affixed to his snout. "DAISUKEEEE!"

Takeru Takaishi watched his digital half fly off. There was no getting through to him there. Not when someone dared to assign this nickname to him. Rooted to his spot on the hill, the Child of Hope watched his digimon counterpart follow Daisuke follow Veemon follow Elecmon. Amusement and mirth held the teenager in place.

Had Takeru been in the same mental state as he was five years ago, surely he would have joined the train of pursuers running around Primary Village. By now he probably would have followed them out of simple awareness of their responsibilities and commitments at large.

Hikari Yagami and a chance to kill some time with her after returning from the Motomiya unit overrode his amusement. Muted the desire to join this comical chain of serial followers.

Ultramarine eyes fell on the Digiport not too far away. Confusion settled on Takeru. Or, perhaps, was it indecision?

Should Takaishi wait here for a few more minutes, lie down on the grass, and bask in the serenity of a village made of toys and plastic? Or should he leave Patamon under Veemon's responsibility just for tonight?

The deliberation ended after two minutes.

"One night isn't going to hurt."

.

.

.

EPILOGUE

.

.

Veemon had caught up to Elecmon after ten more minutes of running. The long duration testified to the endurance and strength possessed by the digital monsters. Time was not alone in its affirmation, since the nine-tailed babysitter slept that night with plenty of bruises and lumps across his body, courtesy of the Digimon of Miracles and his persistence. Veemon's efforts paid off in the end; his prized Pokémon shirt was repaired. Sewn back together. Although a little cleaner, the fabric was charred enough to dispossess its hold over the vibrance it had once had, before Elecmon fired that Sparkling Thunder in Daisuke's direction.

Patamon had his first sleepover that night. Daisuke Motomiya thought this was annoying. Bothersome. It meant taking responsibility and the Chosen Child wasn't keen on committing to anything for someone he still didn't feel personally comfortable with. Patamon, nonetheless, had plenty of fun for the entire night: movies, gaming, and stuffing food in his face with Daisuke and Veemon beside him. The PlayStation 2 wasn't even the best part of the experience!

A quick prank involving Wakana Himura's laptop bag—unzipped and wide open for all the world to see, or for all digimon of the second Baby level to fiddle with—Chibimon, some sneaking on Patamon's part, and deliberate obstruction of the adult's eyes resulted in Chibimon dangling from one of the businessman's ears. Wakana had been screaming in his own unit, using Christ's name in vain, unable to swat Chibimon away out of fear of getting his ear torn off and eaten by a "dumb, overgrown lizard".

An hour later, Mr. Motomiya woke his son violently, pulling him off the bed for a harsh and fervent lecture on pets, on the digimon they adopted as such. He zoned in on the fact they must be kept under control if and when guests arrive. The teen himself, naturally, opened up both of his ears like a dam, like a one-way street, and let his dad's sermon flow into one side and out the other.

Some lexemes did not escape Daisuke's notice. His father's fuming oration revealed much of his parents' opinion on digimon. It reflected their view of Chibimon and the relationship they shared with him—or the astonishing lack thereof. This night was simply the first of many through the years following the Fourth of July incident in 2005. It underscored a structural conflict between Daisuke and his parents.

A microcosm of the dissonance between the idealism of the Chosen Children and, as the passage of time would unravel, the world at large.

Veemon's wish for Takeru's participation was granted one day. Following incessant prodding from the orange hamster, Takeru Takaishi eventually agreed to join Daisuke in training. Most of the sessions went the way the blue dragon expected it to. Soon, more of their friends found the concept intriguing and useful. What was once a private get-together between Takaishi, Motomiya, and their brothers transformed into a weekly ritual for the Twelve.

It lasted for a few more years until the Shinjuku March had put a stop to it.

The burdens Hikari carried for worrying over Daisuke's psychological state and their failed relationship with the Child of Miracles felt lighter after her significant other relayed his findings by phone.

Takeru felt a little lonely when his head hit the pillows that night. He was unused to the absence of an oversized, orange hamster cuddling his blond head, and for but a few scant seconds he felt a longing for his surrogate brother Patamon. In the end, the Child of Hope didn't regret a thing. As long as his partner was happy, then so was he.

.

THE END.

Author's notes:

[5] One major point of contention here, among my character betas, is how I went overboard by having Daisuke write off Takari for getting together, and then not doing anything about it over the course of a year. The thing is, I stand by my decision because it has real life basis. Because this has personally happened to me.

Now, I wasn't the guy who did the cutting-of-ties. I once had a friend who I've been great buddies with since my junior year in high school. We've gone through a lot over the next three to four years, and became inseparable friends, not to mention we were "bonded" by the fact two girls we were crushing on back then were good friends with one another.

Unfortunately, the girl he liked rejected him, and it was so bad that he refused to talk to her anymore. He had basically cut her and her friends off. I happened to be collateral damage, because I myself was a close friend of his crush. And so despite several years of friendship, I lost a good pal just because of pure circumstance. I didn't even have to do anything!

Now that years have passed and I have decided to write this story based on this experience, it dawned on me that this had been a lesson on how irrational people can become, and how sometimes people act in ways you'd never expect them to even after knowing them for a long time, and in a close friendship to begin with!

Even if you do disagree fervently over my decision, I will at least hope this story serves as a warning for your relationships with other people now and in the future, whether they are friendships or romantic relationships.

[6] Response to Mordart's review:

Age isn't something you should invoke here. Although the events depicted here may take place in the canon of The Interloper, this is merely two years after the end of Zero Two, making Daisuke a 13-year old at the oldest. (See the Digimon Wikia.) I won't fight back the remark how the whole premise with Daisuke is one-sided, because it is. Because I deliberately ignored the "sage-like maturity" he has displayed quite a few times during the second half of the source material.

I didn't delve into the roots behind Daisuke's repudiation of his relationships with "Takari", simply because I thought it wasn't needed - that it wasn't important. As fans, we know Daisuke had been infatuated with Hikari before during the Kaiser arc. We know a person's reactions to a crushed infatuation varies from one to another, and regrettably we just don't know enough of Daisuke to know if he would explode like a bomb and go completely OOC (again, ask Lord Pata about that because he's the only one I know who's obsessed with the love triangle), if he would coldly write the two off, if he would angst on it for a long, long time before moving on, or if he would shrug and let it go instantly like a boss.

Your search for Daisuke's side makes me wonder. Is deep-seated psychological basis necessary to justify people who reacted the worst to crushed infatuations, rejections, and as you call it, the "raw end of the Social Stick"? Why can't it just be, as implied by gravity of Daisuke's reaction and the nonexistence of any additional information, a matter of failed expectations and attempts to procrastinate the questions only he can find the answers to? Why can't Daisuke be, for the sole reason that it is a given state rather than the result of an ongoing narrative of life, someone who would choose to isolate himself while he's still bitter until he learns to get over himself and his dislike over the situation?

Takeru's optimistic expectations were meant to reflect both his naivety and the fact he holds the Crest of Hope. As this was about a year since Daisuke's repudiation, understandably he and Hikari would have speculated on the "WHY" a long time ago. I will concede it is my fault as the writer for failing to include this in the narration somewhere.

Every writer projects pieces of themselves, their beliefs, and their own experiences into their characters, may it be fanfiction or an original work. Nobody can truly escape from the subjective reality of the self. Yes, what I was going for here wasn't "how the characters would think and react". What I aimed for was how the brokenhearted character would react such that it reflects reality. I thought my experiences with my lost friend was a suitable proxy, as I felt the loser of a love triangle would feel the desire to be alone and vent out the disappointment and rage and sadness for a few months, maybe a year at most, before moving on in life.

The tl;dr version:

We don't know enough of Daisuke's personal life, values, and social skills to fully grasp how he'd react to Takari. We know he gives others a second chance when they deserve to have it (i.e. Ken), but this by no means implies he can deal with a truly, socially awkward position without succumbing to hormone-driven impulses that literally anyone, even Daisuke himself, can see is wrong to begin with after giving them some thought.

My decision stems from both a desire to bring Daisuke towards that "sage-like" state in the ending of the anime without magically skipping the conflicts and moments of self-reflection necessary to produce it; and to select a reaction that can be reasonably expected from someone of Daisuke's personality type in real life. I've personally seen more pitiful reactions than write-offs (I myself have had a very bad one), so I thought the little spat between myself and my lost friend made an adequate proxy.

You're free to give up "The Interloper" if you want. I'm not stopping you. It's only disappointing because you chose to do so on the basis of how I had Daisuke react to the pairings, when you are missing the fact your reaction clearly reveals my lack of talent in writing drama (this is my second attempt after all) and encourages me to focus less on the minefield that is social relationships and more on the storyline at large.