Public Eye, Pt 1

Motomiya Daisuke's cell phone blasted power metal at a volume that sent vibrations shivering down the nightstand. Groaning, he rolled over in his bed and slapped his hand around. He struck the device, sending it flying to the ground with an ominous crack. The spastic guitar riff continued, accompanied by a neighbor pounding on their shared wall.

"Shit." He lurched to his feet, grabbed the mobile, and shut off the alarm. The mattress buckled as he fell back onto it. He lay motionless until goosebumps rippled across his bare skin. Grumbling, he grabbed the covers and rolled, wrapping them around himself until his face fell into the pillow on the other side of the bed. When he inhaled, a medley of aromas danced over his senses: a subtle body scent, expensive cologne, spicy aftershave, salon quality shampoo.

Just like that, he leaped from half asleep to half aroused. A low, guttural sound slid up his throat as he flopped onto his back, holding the pillow to his face. His free hand was halfway down his torso when his backup alarm went off.

"Damn it!" Daisuke tossed the pillow aside, grabbed his cell, and peered at its display. It was five past noon, and his shift at the restaurant began at two. He dismissed the alarm and sat up against the headboard, eyes still heavy with sleep. Although the blinds were closed, the inescapable light of noon illuminated his bedroom. His eyes narrowed as they adjusted, and the goggles and D3 on his nightstand came into focus.

He stood, shimmied into last night's discarded boxers and sweatpants, and snapped his goggles on his head. A second pile of clothing waited beside his, thinner, longer, and much more stylish. Daisuke smirked as he tugged a tee shirt over his head, then made his way out of the bedroom and into the kitchen and living room.

The tiny apartment was silent and still. Chibimon was on guard duty in the Digital World, and Ken and Minomon were either attending university classes or at his posh internship. Daisuke was alone, a rare state since that fateful day when he became a Chosen ten years ago.

Thanks to Ken, the apartment was neat, and Daisuke spotted the only out-of-place object right away. He grinned as he approached the tiny table between their galley kitchen and the living room, expecting a note or small gift from Ken. A newspaper waited there, headline obscured by a sticky note. Daisuke peeled it off and read:

Thought you should know.

Scowling, he turned to the paper for an explanation. A glance brought a flood of information: he had mistaken a local tabloid for a newspaper, and it featured a large, high-quality photograph of Daisuke kissing Ken outside of the ramen-ya where he worked.

Shit. Shit! His insides churned, tangled, and knotted into an aching mess. When did I kiss Ken in public?! He had no memory of the kiss, which looked like a light, affectionate touch. Nothing but a quick goodbye before they parted ways for the day. It was the type of thing most couples wouldn't have to think about.

He stood there for a while, dazed and frozen. Then he leaped into sudden motion, running back to the bedroom to reclaim his cell phone. His fingertips mashed the screen, creating a jumbled message. Cursing vibrantly, he deleted the text and started over, forcing himself to work slowly.

Are you okay, Ken?

He waited, heart pounding as he collapsed onto his bed, but no reply came. The minutes bled by, and eventually he had no choice but to prepare for work. Sighing, he rose and went about his daily routine.

The phone in his pocket burned like a firebrand, but remained silent.

Later

Ken leaned against the outer wall of a restaurant and held his phone in front of his face. Minomon sat in the crook of his elbow, eyes heavy-lidded in the sun. Ken glanced above the device, watching pedestrians pass on the sidewalks of Tokyo. It was a gorgeous autumn day, bright and mild, and the street was crowned with wreaths of golden leaves. The soft light was gilded as it filtered through.

Although his sweater and scarf kept him warm, he was as hunched and tensed as a freezing man. Minomon was looking at him, but Ken ignored him save for a few absent pats. He couldn't trust himself to give his partner the kindness he deserved at the moment, so silence was the wiser choice.

He checked his watch and glanced down the street, but Hikari wasn't in sight. Sighing, he stroked Minomon again and scrolled through the web browser on his phone. A few minutes later, the sound of his name caught his attention, and he looked up.

A young woman was walking by in a smart pantsuit, her heels clacking like tiny claps of thunder. Her head was tipped towards the mobile in her hand. "Mm-hmm," she said, sighing as she pressed the device into her cheek. "I know. Such a shame about Ichijouji-san. I was shocked! You remember how I had a massive crush on him in middle school- hell, we all did! We never would have thought that he was..." She waited a beat, then nodded. "Right, right. It's just the one picture. Maybe it's just an experiment or whatever. I mean, no one's really gay in Japan..."

Ken's stomach swooped, fell, and caused a shock wave of nausea on impact. He tried not to react physically, but Minomon felt the spasm that rolled over him. "Ken-chan!" the digimon squeaked. "Ken-chan, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Ken straightened by degrees, trying to rise into his typical posture. He hissed as pain radiated through his shoulders, which ached from hours of alternating between tense and slumped.

Minomon blinked, and the antennae above his head quivered. "Are you sure? Why did that lady say it's a shame about you?"

A surge of hatred, searing and dagger-sharp, spread from cell to cell like a contagion. Ken closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and willed the violent mood to pass. It clung to him like static, building until it could jolt into the first innocent to come too close.

"There are lots of Ichijoujis," Ken said through gritted teeth. "She was probably talking about someone else."

Huge black eyes regarded him for a long moment, then drifted away. "It was something bad."

A brief burst of astonishment replaced his sullen mood, then soured into guilt. Of course Minomon knows when I'm lying. I did it constantly as the Kaiser. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pocketing his cell and cradling his partner in both hands. "I just don't want you to worry about this."

Minomon's reply was cut off by the sound of someone approaching. Ken glanced down the sidewalk and saw Hikari walking towards him. He hadn't seen her in a few weeks, but she was just as he remembered: petite, slender, pale, and emitting a calming aura. As usual, Ken took a moment to appreciate her cute style, showcased with a white sweater over a yellow button down and a pink pencil skirt. Tailmon's head popped out of her large tote bag, her blue eyes sparkling like jewels.

Hikari smiled as she stood beside him. "Hi Ken-kun, Minomon. I'm sorry we're late. Class ran over."

"No problem. Thanks for taking time out from college to see me."

She shook her head. "It's no trouble. Honestly, we should be meeting up more. I know it gets harder as we grow older, but I'm always happy to see you." Her sweet, warm smile eased some of his strain, causing a rush of gratitude.

"Me too," he said, hoping his flicker of shy embarrassment wasn't detectable. "Shall we?"

"Absolutely." Hikari led the way into the tiny cafe. It was a trendy place packed with diners at tables, chatting around mouthfuls of bread, meat, and veggies. The tables were pressed up against the walls, which were made of glass and featured built-in seats. Smooth jazz played beneath the ambient noise. They placed their orders and made small talk while they waited, trading news about their classes and families.

When they were seated at a table smushed into a corner, Hikari offered a piece of her sandwich to Tailmon and said, "Are you alright?"

Ken sucked in a breath. He knew this topic would come up; hell, it was why they were meeting in the first place. But somehow, it still caught him off guard. He sat the plate containing his second sandwich on the corner of the table. "Minomon, Tailmon, here. You can share this."

Minomon stared from him to the food, torn between his desire to eat and to learn about whatever was bothering his partner. Tailmon stood and gracefully hopped to the far side of the table. "Guess I'll help myself, then," she said, taking a huge bite.

Minomon twitched and turned away from the humans. "Save some for me!" he cried, descending on the plate.

Hikari lifted a hand to hide a giggle. "Well played," she whispered. Ken cracked a tiny smile that quickly faded.

"I suppose everyone knows now," he said.

"Oh, Ken-kun." Hikari rested her hand on his and gave him a tiny smile. "We all knew, or at least suspected. And we all support you both."

Ken felt his facial muscles slacken. "You knew," he repeated tonelessly. Something loosened in a buried coil of his mind, and he smiled. "Daisuke swore up and down that no one knew, but I always wondered... Especially with Minomon and Chibimon involved."

Hikari's smile morphed into a grin, and Ken returned it automatically. He straightened and grabbed his sandwich, taking his first bite of food for the day. Hikari squeezed his hand, then released him.

"Daisuke-kun doesn't do himself any favors, either. He… Well, he's obviously attracted to you. I've recognized the way he looks at you for years. He used to look at me that way, you know."

Ken snorted, and his food caught in his throat. He loosened it with a gulp of water and patted Minomon, who had turned away from his meal. The faint reassurance was all the digimon needed to dive back in.

"H-Hikari-san," he said weakly. For some reason, her sweet smile suddenly gave him an urge to groan, which he ignored with difficulty.

"Please don't worry about how the Chosen see you. For us, nothing has changed. But that tabloid is a problem… I'm shocked at how fast it's spreading." Her brow furrowed deeply as her fist rose to her chin. "It's not just that physical tabloid, either. It's all over the internet, and even the local news…" She lifted her face, revealing mahogany eyes that overflowed with concern. "I'm so sorry that your private life is being showcased like this."

A lump formed in his throat, and he cleared it away. "Thank you. I want to say that I don't understand why anyone is even interested, why it's considered news-worthy at all, but…"

He lapsed into silence, unable to vocalize the thought. Frustration filled his voice, and it seemed to congeal in his throat, choking him. The desire to rave against the people behind that article was growing with each second, and he didn't want to subject Hikari to an angry rant.

"I don't like it," Hikari said, "but I suppose I understand it. There are so many girls and women who have crushes on you... Miyako-san told me that it's all over your fansites."

A muscle ticked in Ken's cheek. "F-fansites," he repeated. When they were more active as Chosen, Ken had frequently checked his name online for leaks about his involvement in digimon-related incidents. He was aware of websites concerning him that were decidedly not news related, but he made a concentrated effort to ignore them.

Hikari's expression went curiously blank. Ken studied her face and realized that she was suppressing visible signs of emotion. "Miyako-san said your fans are all devastated."

Ah. She doesn't want her amusement to show. Although he could feel his cheeks heating up, Ken was determined to remain composed. "We never meant to become famous," he murmured. "None of us."

Hikari's thin shoulders slumped. "I know," she sighed. "We tried so hard to avoid it, and we kept low profiles for years... How did everything change?"

"You don't know?" Ken's long hair spilled over his shoulder as he tipped his head.

"Only a little. Miyako-san told me that she, you, and Koushiro-san purged the web of our identities for years, until it exploded beyond your control."

"True," Ken said, nodding. "But there was much more going on. Takeru-san's father worked in the background, expunging our identities from news reports. His mother did the same in print. But they were able to pull those strings because of laws protecting minors from press coverage. They lost that ability once we reached age twenty."

Hikari's glance tipped off to the side, focusing on far-off memories. "But weren't you on TV as a minor?"

Ken's lips narrowed into a thin line. He desperately repressed a surge of annoyance that Hikari hardly deserved for her question. "My parents gave their consent for those child prodigy programs and news reports. At the time, I thought public attention was my due."

"Ken-kun..." For a moment, sadness filled Hikari's expressive eyes. Then they hardened, and Ken inched back reflexively. "Don't be so hard on yourself about that. It was so long ago, and you weren't entirely to blame."

He nodded stiffly, but couldn't trust himself to comment. He jumped back on the previous topic and away from the subject of guilt. "Even before we lost the protection of our minor status, people were talking about us. No law can stop word of mouth, and each digimon crisis brought more witnesses. People wanted to know more about the kids who kept fighting destructive digimon."

"And you were famous to start with," Hikari said slowly. "I've seen the Chosen pitched as 'Ichijouji Ken and his friends.'"

Ken winced. "Y-yes, so have I. And so have Daisuke and Taichi-san. I believe they were unimpressed."

Hikari giggled, making a sound like a little songbird. "I wish I could have seen that. But how are things at work and school? I hope this hasn't caused problems."

That familiar tension returned in an instant, tightening every muscle, bowing his back. "I haven't been to school yet. There are lots of glances and whispers at work, but I doubt I'll be confronted." His thin lips twisted into a humorless smile. "Famous Ichijouji. Saves me even as it kills me."

He felt the weight of Hikari's glance, scanning his face for information. "How do you feel?"

Without willing it, Ken glanced towards the door. Just a few steps and some weaving between tables would free him from this conversation, from this woman and her insufferable questions-

Stop. Ken's hands tightened around the edge of the table until the linoleum squealed. His pulse beat in his head, pushing him towards a raw, animalistic place of pure emotion. The logical part of him had to scream itself hoarse to be heard. This is Hikari-san, a dear friend. She's here to help you.

He forced a few deep, even breaths. Minomon was staring up at him, and Hikari watched him with concern. He tried to smile, but his muscles were locked down.

"It's bad," he said quietly, stroking his partner's head. "All of this is feeding those old emotions. People are looking down on me for being with Daisuke. They don't know what he means to me. They don't know what we've been through together. Hikari-san, he's, he's... incandescent. Normally, my worst emotions can't withstand his presence, and some days, that's all that keeps me going. And they have the nerve to think less of me for being with him! And did you read the article?!"

His pulse was blaring now, thudding like a war drum in his skull. "They attacked him," he growled, and that memory snapped the strained leash on his control. His voice rose and hardened until he could no longer recognize it. "They made fun of him for skipping college and working in a ramen-ya. Uneducated, they said. Lack of personal achievements. They worded it like he's some, some kind of toy that I keep to, to-"

"Ken-kun, stop." Hikari stared at him with sharp, commanding eyes. Worked up as he was, he failed to notice her and the stares of his fellow diners.

"He saved all of us! All of them!" Fury blazed in his veins and set every crevice of his mind alight. To him, it seemed like a righteous fire, and a dark voice whispered that he could punish the people who were defaming their own savior, that he should do it. He didn't feel his lips contorting into a smirk, wasn't aware of the lines forming around his eyes and mouth. Static danced over his body, and his physical form briefly flickered out of sight as a gray pallor fell over the restaurant. Somehow, that terrifying visual caused a surge of triumph, more heady than ever after hours of worry and impotent anger.

"Ken-kun!" Hikari dove forward and seized his wrists. The flickering stopped on contact, and his body solidified. Confusion overwhelmed him, and he finally registered the familiar face turned towards his.

"H-Hikari-san?" Colors slowly bled back into place around him, starting with Hikari's pale skin and russet eyes. A familiar pain slammed into his skull, and he bent forward and cradled his head in his hands. The rage and acrimony shifted to fear and remorse, emotions so familiar that they provided an odd sort of comfort.

He slumped back in his chair and tilted, blocking out as many people as possible. They had to be staring, or perhaps moving away from the table, and he didn't have the strength to stomach their judgment. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Look at me." Hikari's light, sweet voice was suddenly commanding, and he obeyed reflexively. When his eyes met hers, she smiled, but he could see the pain and worry she was trying to hide. "Ken-kun, how long has the Dark Ocean been tugging at you?"

He swallowed hard and looked away. "There have always been days when I feel it in the background, when I hear the sound of the surf in the middle of class or in the dead of night. But it hasn't been this bad in months, maybe years."

"…I see." She stared at him for a long moment, as if searching for something in his face. Ken had no idea what she was thinking, and a faint thrum of nerves registered through his haze of bitter remorse. He grimaced and looked away, shielding his eyes from the light pouring in through the cafe's host of windows.

"I did read the article," Hikari said at last. "It was awful."

Ken frowned and tilted his head. Was Hikari really letting the topic of the Dark Ocean drop? He tried to claw his way out of his misery so he could focus. "The worst part is that I'm upset with Daisuke, too. Something in me keeps insisting that this is his fault, that things would be fine if he hadn't kissed me in public. But realistically, our relationship would have gotten out eventually. And what kind of a partner am I if I explode at him for kissing me?"

The corners of her mouth rose and fell in an instant. "Discretion isn't among his strong points. I'm so sorry things happened the way they did, but I think your relationship going public was inevitable."

"Mm." He rubbed at the searing ache in his head, but the pressure caused ghostly vibrations of pain instead of relief.

"Have you talked to him?"

A fresh, agonizing cramp cleaved through his skull. Ken grit his teeth to swallow a moan. "N-no. Our schedules are off sync. I haven't seen him awake today."

"You can text him," she suggested gently. Ken smothered a spike of irritation before it peaked.

"It's not something I can get into via text," he snapped. Hikari lifted an eyebrow with an arch expression that made him wilt and sigh. Despite her delicate appearance and mild manners, Hikari took shit from no one, which meant that he would have to provide a more honest explanation. He leaned forward, tilting his shoulders to block out the digimon. It was a fruitless exercise, since they were paying attention because of his outburst, but the illusion of privacy was comforting.

"I don't know how to face him," he whispered. "I know him, Hikari-san. This is a blow to him, but he'll be worried about me... about us. I'm the one who's wallowing in it. I'm the one who will let it hurt and insult me. What can I say when he rains apologies and concern on me?" A drilling ache tore through his chest, and he rubbed at it automatically. "What if I lash out at him?"

Minomon cuddled against his arm as Hikari hesitated. "Ken-kun... I'm saying this as a friend. Have you given more thought to seeing a psychologist? Someone could help you with what's leftover from the dark spore's influence over you."

His teeth collided with an audible snap. "I can't. How can I explain what happened to us? The digimon, the Digital World, dark spores... I'd be committed before the end of the first appointment."

"It's true that a lot of people are still in the dark about digimon, but more people are receiving digimon partners everyday. Onii-chan's girlfriend is friends with a psychology student who is just a few years away from starting his practice. He just got his own partner, so he'll believe you. He'll listen. Please, Ken-kun. You went through so much. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's not your fault that you ended up with a dark spore-"

Ken pinched his eyes shut and fought for air, for patience. "The dark spore didn't control me. It amplified the feelings I already had and lowered inhibitions towards existing impulses. The anger, the superiority, the blood lust... It was already there." He paused, gathering strength for the confession that ran in his mind like a litany whenever he wasn't working or spending time with Daisuke. "I'm… I'm to blame."

"Ken-chan…" Minomon rubbed his arm like a cat and stared up at him. The naked concern in his eyes tore at Ken's heart.

Hikari nudged their plates aside and placed her hand on his. "You're also the Chosen of Kindness. And a friend."

Ken looked from his partner to Hikari and forced a weak smile. "I am. And that's what keeps me going."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I'm out of line. I know no one wants to hear things like that, but Takeru and I are worried about you. We all are. So please… Just think about it? I'll give you his contact information."

His lips twitched, but he managed to suppress a grimace. "I'll think about it." Miraculously, his phone rang, saving him from further talk of shrinks. When he glanced at the screen, the warmth in his body instantly vanished. He turned wide, frightened eyes towards Hikari and held the phone out, as if to pass the conversation on to her. "It's... it's my mother."

Hikari's hand twitched on top of his, which somewhat negated the comforting influence of her smile. "It will be alright, Ken-kun. Your mom adores you." She turned her attention to her neglected sandwich and started conversing with Tailmon and Minomon in an undertone.

Ken's teeth sank into his lower lip. His mother never called during his working hours, so the reason behind the contact was transparent. But there was nothing for it; he'd have to talk to her about this sooner or later. It was probably better to get it over in the presence of a friend, in case he needed support afterward. His hand shook as he lifted the mobile to his ear. "H-hello?"

"Oh, Ken-chan!" His mother's high voice flooded him, breathless with excitement. "Are you on break?"

"Er, yes." Her eager tone baffled him so much that he pulled the phone back and frowned at it. "Um… I'm having lunch with Hikari-san."

"Oh! Tell her I said hi! I'll make it fast. Is it true that you're dating Daisuke-kun?"

"Er-" Although he was expecting the question, it seemed to dissolve his guts. There was no way he could string together an answer, and he fumbled through a few false starts.

Mercifully, this was sufficient for his mother. "Why didn't you tell us?!" she squeaked. "Oh, sweetie! I'm so happy for you! But this article! It's so mean! Obviously they don't know what fine boys you are. And he's such a sweetheart, too! Will you bring him over for dinner soon?"

The words hit his brain like a mallet on a gong, shattered his thoughts and spreading the fractured remains on waves of reverberation. Stupefied, he stared around the cafe without seeing anything until his eyes fixed on movement. Hikari was waving at him and nodding. "Oh!" he gasped. "Er- Uh, yes! Of course. As, as soon as our schedules line up."

"Great! Oh, your father and I are so excited! Our little Ken-chan is all grown up! Well, you're busy, so I'll let you go. Say hello to Minomon, okay? I love you!"

Ken mumbled a stuttering farewell and placed his phone on the table. He stared at it in shock until the display began to blur. The stinging in his eyes alerted him to the cause, and he wiped them as discretely as he could. When they were clear, he saw the others smiling at him.

"Good for you, Ken-kun," Hikari said.

He nodded robotically, still fumbling to process the call. Hikari checked the time on her phone and gasped. "Ah! I have to get back!"

"Yes, me too." He didn't know the time, but he needed to retreat and process things on his own. Ken gingerly tested his feet before throwing his weight on them. He felt far too unsteady for comfort.

"Ken-chan, you didn't eat!" Minomon cried. Ken glanced at the table and found that his sandwich was whole save for a few little bites.

"You need to eat," Hikari said, frowning. "Take it with you." Without waiting for his reply, she folded the wrapper around the sandwich and handed the packet to him. "Please remind him to eat it, Minomon."

Ken shook his head as Minomon chirped an agreement. Hikari held her tote bag open while Tailmon climbed inside and turned around a few times, making herself comfortable. Then she threw the handles over her shoulder and maneuvered around the table until she was beside him. "Take care of yourself. And promise me you'll talk to Daisuke."

"Alright. Thank you, Hikari-san."

She hesitated, then leaned closer. "Ken-kun… The Dark Ocean can't hurt us as long as we keep the people we love close. It's when we shut them out and bury ourselves in our fears and our worst emotions that it pulls us under. Please, Ken-kun. Keep Minomon with you, and talk to Daisuke-kun as soon as you can. And if you need anything at all, call me anytime." She hesitated, then pulled him into a quick hug. "You're not alone. Don't forget that."

His reply was detained by the lump clogging his throat. Hikari was also drawn to the darkness and vulnerable to it, so she understood his struggles. But the light burning inside of her preserved her from contamination. She would never succumb to the pull the way he had, the way he could again at any time. All he could do was stay close to Daisuke, Minomon, and his friends, pray for a portion of her strength, and hope for the best.

What will I do if I lose Daisuke over this? What will pull me away from the Dark Ocean then? Despite the warmth of the crowded restaurant, he shivered. With great difficulty, he buried that thought away, knowing it would haunt him later.

"H-Hikari-san… Thank you." He forced a smile for her and fought the impulse to bow, which would only make her scold him for being overly formal. He bused their table as soon as she turned around, eager for a distraction from his thoughts. New customers jumped into the open space, and he had to reach around them to pick up Minomon.

As he slipped out of the cafe and onto the sidewalk, Ken slid his phone from his pocket. A swipe of his thumb revealed a new text message from Daisuke:

Are you okay, Ken?

He stopped short, and a pedestrian walked into him. "Sorry," he murmured, moving to the inside of the sidewalk.

Minomon leaned forward in his arms, straining for a view of the mobile. "Is it Daisuke? Are you going to answer it?"

"It's him." Ken's thumbs hovered over the keyboard, but remained motionless. If there was a quick and accurate answer to that question, then he had no idea in hell what it was.

Sorry, Daisuke. It will have to wait until we're face-to-face. Somehow, I'll find a way to stay awake until you get home. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and placed the phone back in his pocket.

But as the day wore on, the glances and whispers weighed on him, feeding the anxiety and anger threatening to overwhelm him. Before long, a small, dark corner of his mind whispered that he needed sleep for his classes tomorrow, and to escape from the torment of his emotions.

The talk with Daisuke was going to have to wait.

Later

Daisuke shook a colander over a pot of boiling water, shedding excess droplets from the ramen noodles. The tiny kitchen of Hanamura Ramen was hot, humid, and filled to bursting with cooking paraphernalia. Familiar music echoed against the steel walls: the steady bubbling of pots on their designated burners, the sizzling of pans on stove tops, the tapping of knives on cutting boards, all punctuated by the constant slurping of noodles and the cries of the cashier calling ticket numbers.

Whenever he placed a completed order in the serving port, he glanced into the narrow restaurant. As always, every stool at the counter was filled, and more diners stood behind them, eating their ramen on their feet. A line snaked from the register, where a reedy man in a suit wheezed as he fought to be heard, through the open door. An autumn breeze blew through the portal, simultaneously relieving the heat of the kitchen and carrying the tantalizing scents out the door, drawing business.

Daisuke glanced over his shoulder. Hanamura, the head chef and owner of the ramen-ya, was focused on weighing tare, the house spice mixture for the broth. He seized his opportunity to check his cell phone. A relieved sigh slipped from his lips when he saw a new text from Miyako:

Be there in five.

"Hey, boss," Daisuke called. "Can I take my dinner break now?"

"Who am I feeding tonight?" Hanamura peered at him through a veil of steam rising from a pot of boiling water. He was a stocky, middle-aged man with a flat nose. He possessed the most iron-clad poker face Daisuke had ever seen, and as always, he had no clue what the hell he was thinking.

"Er- Haha." How did he see me checking my cell phone?! "You remember Miyako?"

"Ah. Your girlfriend." The strong overhead lights showcased the drastic contortion of Hanamura's lips from teasing grin to grimace. Daisuke jerked and glanced over his shoulder, wondering what his boss was reacting to, but there was nothing unusual in sight.

Hanamura cleared his throat and stepped towards the prep surface, where he busied himself with chopping green onions. "Er, sorry." He stared at his task with unnatural focus. "I guess I shouldn't tease you about her anymore."

Oh. Oh, shit. Shit! Daisuke dropped a ladle into a pot of broth and started cursing out loud. He had spent the day so wrapped up in concern over Ken's silence that he hadn't even considered further ramifications of the article.

He turned his back to his boss and started fishing the first ladle out with a second one. "You saw the article." A high, harsh peal of laughter pierced the kitchen from the dining area, and Daisuke grimaced. It was his only reply, so he gathered his courage and pressed on. "Does it change anything?"

Somehow, the second pause was worse than the first. Daisuke lifted the soaked ladle and grabbed its handle, senseless to the burn of hot metal against his palm. He turned to face Hanamura, unable to withstand the strain. The chef was placing a split ajitsuke tamago, a marinated soft-boiled egg, atop a bowl of ramen. When their eyes met, he lifted a tufted brow and snorted. "Do you still cook the same?"

Daisuke was about to demand an explanation when Hanamura allowed himself a tiny grin. He understood, and the scowl melted off his face, along with the tension. He smiled and nodded, and the chef made a shooing hand motion. "Go feed your friend and get back to work."

"Yes, Chef!"

Daisuke quickly assembled two bowls of ramen, piling them high with their favorite toppings. Then he pushed the break room door open with his elbow, placed the food on the tiny folding card table, and moved to the restaurant's back door. Miyako stood on the outside, wearing a gray dress, a red beret, plaid tights, and a scarlet scarf.

"Hey, Daisuke!" She grinned and gave his hand a brief squeeze. "Let me in. I'm starving!"

Her energy and vibrant smile were infectious, and he grinned despite himself. "Good. You're on a timer. Get in here and eat. Where's Poromon?"

"Guard duty in the Digital World," Miyako said, stepping inside. "Same as Chibimon, yeah?"

"Ah, they're together today, huh." Daisuke nodded and closed the door behind her. The break room was the size of a walk-in closet, just large enough to hold a mini fridge, the table with its four plastic chairs, and a worn love seat. Daisuke collapsed into the chair opposite Miyako and pushed her bowl towards her. Although he wasn't wearing a watch, he made a show of glancing at his wrist. "You've got four minutes until the noodles get soggy."

Miyako snorted as she dug through her tote bag. "I know the drill, Daisuke," she said, handing him a bottled energy drink. Daisuke cocked an eyebrow. He hunched over the table, lifted his bowl beneath his chin, and dug his chopsticks into the ramen. He sank the chasu pork into the tonkotsu broth to soften, then lifted a tangled wad of noodles, which he ate in a rapid succession of loud slurps. His eyes slid shut as a medley of flavors, striking and complex, played over his tongue: the salty broth, infused with the earthiness of konbu, the layered punch of the restaurant's signature tare, the depth and nuance of scallions, garlic, and ginger, the richness of belly pork, and the subtle sweetness of apple.

When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Miyako edging back in her chair. "What?!" he demanded. "This is how you eat ramen. If you don't slurp it, you'll insult the chef, and that's me. Eat!"

She blinked, and a slow smirk passed her face. She echoed his posture and attacked her meal. Daisuke laughed, pleased by her form, and slurped with her until he polished off his noodles. Then he moved on to his meat, vegetables, and soft boiled egg. Miyako downed her noodles under his approving glance. "Damn, Miyako. Well done!"

"Please." Miyako straightened and wiped her mouth and chin with a napkin. "You taught me how to handle my ramen. What did you expect?" Daisuke smiled, but sobered as the moment stretched on. His eyes slid to her tote bag, and he wondered if a copy of the tabloid was folded up inside.

The animation he had gained from her presence faded, and he slumped in his chair. "Did… Did you see it?"

"Of course I did." She answered without missing a beat, then shoved half a marinated egg into her mouth. Daisuke nodded, relieved by the same bluntness that often irritated him.

"I guess…" He swallowed hard, struggling over what to say. "I'm sorry you had to find out that way."

Miyako jerked back, eyes wide. Her shoulders twitched, then shook with constrained laughter. "Wh-wh-what?! Daisuke- Find- find out?! We've known for months. Heck, years!"

"What?!" Without willing it, he slammed the cheap table with his hands, and it buckled with a creaky moan. Heat blossomed over his face, spreading like fire in a parched forest. "That's not- We haven't been dating for that long!"

"Oh?" Her lilac hair spilled over her shoulder as she tipped her head. A toothy smile played at her lips. "How long, then?"

"Er… A few weeks after…" The rest of the sentence clung to his tongue, reluctant to drop. "After he took me in."

Her fingers rose, toying with the band of her beret. "So recently? Wow…" Suddenly, she straightened and cringed. "Aw, man! I lost the bet!"

Daisuke scowled and rubbed a hand through his cinnamon shock of hair. Miyako's shoulders rose as she tensed and laughed awkwardly. "Ahaha. Ha. We, er, we sort of had a pool going."

Pain stabbed through the center of his forehead, and he rubbed it with shaking fingers. "You were betting on whether or not Ken and I would get together?!"

"No, no!" She forced another laugh and flapped a hand. "We were betting on when you'd hook up."

Daisuke flopped over so far that his face hit the table. "Fuck."

"Yep." Miyako's voice went thin and wavering under the force of her nerves and constrained amusement. "So, you could have told us."

He shifted enough to reveal a single coffee-colored eye. "So, you don't… None of you…"

Miyako's expression softened. She leaned forward and gave his shoulder a reassuring pat. "We're all happy for you both."

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his head, daring to hope for the best. "Even Iori? He's… kind of traditional."

"He was a little shocked at first, but you know him, Daisuke. Takeru-kun explained the possibility to him in private one day, so he'd have time to consider and accept it. He always eventually lands on the right conclusion, and this case was no different."

Daisuke forced a deep breath that rasped against his dry throat. He tried to sound nonchalant, but his voice was far too high and clipped. "And senpai?"

Daisuke chose to skip college and enter the working world after high school, so there was no need to carry on with titles from school. But there was one person that he would always refer to in that manner, whose example he would always strive to follow. That fact was almost as obvious and visible as the goggles perched upon his head.

Miyako's hold on his shoulder tightened. "Don't be stupid," she said, her tone gentle.

Daisuke jerked up, accidentally tugging Miyako towards him. "It's not stupid! He's so- He's always talking to me about girls, always trying to teach me how to… You know. Be… manly."

"What matters most to him is your happiness, Daisuke. And you are a man. Being with Ken-kun doesn't threaten that in any way."

Daisuke tched and stared at the wall, but slowly mellowed. "He really doesn't mind?"

"No one minds. Like I keep saying, we're happy for you, so you can stop being so hush-hush about it."

"We can't help it!" Daisuke rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve the wad of tension. "I mean, it's still kind of weird for us. He's been my best friend for all of these years, and then suddenly…" The plastic energy drink bottle crumpled as his hands stiffened. "Suddenly, the most important human relationship in my life changed. We're trying to figure it out as we go. We're not, y'know… Trying to hide it from you guys, or whatever. Not really."

"Uh-huh." A fine purple eyebrow curved upward. "And that's why you both flipped out so much about the article."

"That's not-" Daisuke's gut reaction of vehement denial paused as he actually considered her words. "Wait, both? Did you- Damn it, Miyako! He talked to you?! He's been ignoring my texts all damned day!"

"Calm down. I haven't spoken to him, but Hikari-chan saw him for lunch. She said he's really out of sorts."

Daisuke's hands, callused and lightly scarred by constant cooking, ran over his face. "Hell. Did anyone say something shitty to him?"

"If they did, Hikari-chan didn't mention it. I mean, she just gave me an update, you know? But she said people are sort of… watching him and whispering in the background. And he's so sensitive, of course he noticed."

Daisuke's eyes pinched shut. "Shit. This is my fault. He never touches me in public, so it had to be me who kissed him. I don't even remember! Shit! God, do you think this will affect his work? My boss is cool with it, but…"

"Seriously, Daisuke?! Are you beating yourself up for showing affection for your boyfriend? That's hardly a crime!"

"Yeah, well… There's stuff at stake. I wonder how he's doing…" Of course, he wouldn't have to wonder if Ken would just answer his damned messages. Daisuke fought a pointless urge to pound the table with his fist. Then his temper switched abruptly to worry, and his teeth tore at his lower lip. "I hope we'll be okay…"

Miyako blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "Er, Daisuke-kun. Why should you be concerned about your relationship? You've been through so much together. You can handle this."

Daisuke hesitated. The answer was buried in his heart, dwelling there as an abstract tangle of emotions. But how could he explain it? The language to pin down the concepts and transform them into something more concrete was beyond his grasp.

"That's… damn it." Takeru would be able to answer. The passing thought only worsened his mood, and he grit his teeth and cursed. "It's because we're so close that this is so hard. I'm scared as hell of fucking this up. Ken is… I mean, he's not everything. I have Chibimon, friends, family, a job, right? But… He means so much to me. I don't know what I'd do if this… If we…"

A faint mist rose over Miyako's eyes, then cleared as she shook her head. "But that's why it will work, Daisuke. Most people would give anything to have a relationship like yours."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged, uncomfortable with both the praise and the conversation. "It hasn't exactly been storybook so far."

"No?" The look of shock on her face almost made him smile. "What's wrong?"

Daisuke's brow furrowed. "For one, I never freaking see him. He takes classes and works during the day. I work from the afternoon through early morning. We've gone days without running into each other outside of bed."

Faint color rose to Miyako's cheeks, and Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Nope. I'm usually not so lucky. We're both out cold sleeping. I mean, we're trying our best. I leave dinner for Ken before I head out to work, and he leaves me notes in the morning. But… I think we're both getting sick of it."

"What?" Her eyes widened to an almost unnatural size. "Daisuke, no. You have to make it work. If you just talk to him-"

Daisuke snorted. He was about to point out that he had tried that, thank you very much, when the door to the break room was thrown in. Hanamura stood in the portal, his bulk between them and the kitchen. A flood of scents and sounds rolled into the tiny room, and Daisuke blinked as the outside world washed over him, breaking him out of his own little universe.

"Hello, Miyako-chan. Kid, I need you in here, c'mon."

"Oh, sorry!" Daisuke was suddenly aware that their conversation had stretched beyond his usual alloted break time. His boss had already cut him some slack, probably sensing that he needed it today. He leaped to his feet, gave Miyako a distracted one-armed hug, and said goodbye.

Then he followed his boss back to the kitchen, where he willed himself to lose his problems in a rush of work and orders.

Later

As always, by the time his shift ended, Daisuke was weary and worn to his bone marrow. It was usually a satisfying feeling, but today that gratification was absent, leaving him with nothing but exhaustion. The troubles that he had avoided in the kitchen slammed into him as he walked home, clamoring in his brain, screaming in his heart. A physical weight seemed to push at his back, and he slumped forward.

Daisuke shuddered and zipped his coat up to his chin. The autumn night was frigid, whispering the promise of winter with its biting wind. In his typical brainless way, he had dressed for the day's weather, neglecting to factor in the chill of the evening. He thought longingly of Ken's collection of sweaters and outerwear and cursed himself for owning almost nothing but shorts, jeans, hoodies, and tee shirts. Maybe he won't notice if I borrow something of his. He snorted at his own suggestion, knowing that Ken would immediately identify and comment on any unusual items of clothing he donned.

Another icy wind tore through his light jacket, and he broke into a run. His apartment complex came into view, and he sped up, eager for shelter from the cold. The place was a massive structure, made grid-like from the repeated balconies. He raced into the outdoor lift and jogged in place, mashing his floor button as the doors closed. It lurched upward, mechanical bits moaning and creaking in the breeze. Finally, it reached his level, and he leaped onto the concrete walkway and ran. It was even colder higher up, with fewer buildings to block the wind. He cursed until his chattering teeth drowned out his voice.

Daisuke ignored the sights of Tokyo on his left, hugging close to the apartment doors to block some of the frigid air. The apartment complexes were shorter and smaller here than in Odaiba, and restaurants, shops, and tiny businesses were smushed into every intervening space. It was a riot of light, sound, and activities, and Daisuke could still hear snippets of raucous laughter from the bars. Finally, he reached his door, fumbled through unlocking it with numb fingers, and let himself in.

The apartment opened into a tiny genkan, where he kicked off his shoes and stepped into a galley kitchen. He passed the door to the toilet, contained in a room so tiny that Ken's knees brushed the wall when he sat, and passed through the opening to the living room. The bedroom waited beyond it, partitioned from the living room with a sliding door. It was left open for him, and he stepped inside, moving slowly in the darkness.

He paused at the foot of the bed and squinted. Ken's presence was announced by an obvious lump beneath the covers, but Minomon could be anywhere, and the last thing he needed was to squash him again. Daisuke stripped down to his boxers, donned a pair of sweatpants from the floor, and slowly slid beneath the covers. His side of the bed seemed to be clear, so he scooted closer to Ken.

When his chest bumped Ken's back, he exhaled and wrapped himself around him. He buried his face in the crook of Ken's neck and inhaled, picking up the scent of his skin, his hair, his breath. Some of the tension sloughed from his body as warmth, security, and faint arousal built within him. He dropped kisses on Ken's shoulder until his boyfriend murmured in his sleep, and he stopped for fear of waking him.

Daisuke cautiously lifted himself to his elbow for a glimpse of Ken's profile. He soon had a shadowy view of high cheekbones, a sloping nose, and a mess of long, dark hair. Minomon was curled up beside his pillow, breathing evenly with an occasional high-pitched squeak.

Daisuke watched him for a while, absently stroking Ken's side, fingers rising and falling over ribs and lean muscle. He was tempted to wake him, partially to work things out and partially to hear his voice, to see recognition warm his expression, to watch his thin lips twist into a smile. But knowing Ken, he probably struggled to fall asleep in the first place after the day's events. Sighing, he eased himself back down the mattress, fit himself tightly against Ken's back, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

As he closed his eyes and forced deep, even breaths, he tried not to think of waking to an empty bed.

Author's Note: The story will be concluded in part two, which I hope to have up by the end of February. It will feature appearances from Mimi, Taichi, Yamato, and Koushiro, along with more of Daisuke and Ken, so don't miss it!

This story is dedicated to acktacky, a kickass artist and Daiken queen! You should totally read her stuff and check out her tumblr for some awesome Daiken :D Thanks for all of the Daiken goodness you've made for us, ack!

And if you need more Daiken to hold you over until part two, please read my oneshot story, A Gentleman's Wager.

Hmm, you know, I feel like I could write a whole story just about Ken's feeeeeelings XD I feel like I only skimmed the surface, but I'm trying to keep this story fairly contained… Why you so complex, Ken. Here's hoping that Ken doesn't fall off the deep end again in Tri Ketsui. SAVE MY CHILD!

Please let me know what you thought! I'm also open to all Tri flailing XD Bless!