It's been a long time since I first created this fanfiction, waaaayyy back in my first years as a writer. I want to thank everyone for their support, and if you're new to the story, I sure hope you enjoy it. :3

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Digimon franchise, and therefore gain no monetary profit from the writing of this fanfiction.

--

In the Rough

Chapter One: If You Give a Matt a Chocolate…

--

Sometimes I wonder why I can't have a normal life. Then, of course, I just look back on the good times and I see why.

Normality is overrated.

I suppose I'll begin this offbeat tale with an introduction. My name is Yagami Hikari. I am almost sixteen years old, and I live in Hightenview Terrace, Odaiba, Japan. I like to call myself 'petite', but that is translated as 'scrawny and flat as roadkill'. Short brown hair, brown eyes… just like a lot of other girls at my high school, but you can tell me apart easily.

"Hey, it's the fag's sister."

Yes, that's me. Unfortunately, the school had fallen greatly since my older brother went to college. He practically ruled the place with his boyfriend and other friends. Nowadays, the new little snots running around identify me as "the Imagay girl." When Taichi attended, he was proud of his title. He would even sometimes sign his name as "Imagay Ihciat." (Other signatures included "Captain Wow", "The Red Ranger", and "Utility Hair.")

I'm on a completely different end of the social latter than Taichi was… We have very different personalities. I suppose that's a bit of an understatement, actually. It's sometimes extremely difficult to see how we could possibly be blood relations.

I'm the type that yelps when someone pokes me with a pencil, and blushes when anybody, even a relative, compliments me with some nonsense like, "Oh, Hikari-chan, you have such cute freckles,"

I hate my freckles. Taichi didn't have freckles. But if he had wanted some, he probably would've drawn them himself with a red permanent marker, and then braided his hair and worn a plaid dress to school the next day.

I wear jeans and a tee shirt… every day. Actually, one day, I wore a denim skirt, but it got so many stares (Hikari's a girl?), that I immediately ditched it the next evening.

So that's me. Don't get me wrong; I have friends. My best and only female friend is Inoue Miyako, but she's a senior, so we don't see each other much during school. I normally hang out with Motomiya Daisuke, Takaishi Takeru, and Ichijouji Ken. Daisuke used to have a crush on me, but then, out of the blue, he decided he liked Takeru, and before any of us had a chance to comprehend this, he had moved on to a girl named Yukiko, then to a guy named Toshi. Daisuke says it's all the same to him, and he doesn't label people as 'gay' or 'straight'… of course, this is coming from the school's (cheerleader's words, not mine) "Bisexual Man-Whore".

I feel so bad for Ken. He's completely in love with Daisuke, but the little idiot is more oblivious than a rock buried under four feet of snow.

As for Takeru, he claims to be straight as a line. I'm really unsure of my feelings towards him… I've known Takeru since I was in diapers. You see, Takeru is the younger brother of Yamato, Taichi's boyfriend. Their parents are divorced, so, oddly enough, I see Yamato more often than Takeru does.

I love Yamato to death. Of course, no one loves him as much as Taichi does. I swear either one of those guys would leap off of a cliff for the other one. They've been together for seven years now, but they've known each other since they were five.

The two of them are the only proof I need that true love does indeed exist.

I guess I should get on with the darn story already…

--

I woke up this morning with a headache. This isn't so rare for me, as I am a growing girl with hormones and all that junk, but this headache really hurt.

I took a painkiller and got on with my life, yanking on jeans and a dark brown sweater, then running down the stairs to where my mother was fixing breakfast.

Basically, that means she was pouring a packet of instant oatmeal into hot water.

"Morning, Mom," I mumbled, sitting down at the table and propping my chin up on my hands. A bit of hair fell in my eyes, since I hadn't bothered with my usual barrettes that morning.

"Good morning, Kari," she said with a smile, her back still to me.

"Would you like me to make breakfast this morning?" I offered gently, knowing that my mother had both very sensitive feelings and absolutely no business being in the kitchen.

"Oh…" She paused, turning to look at me with soft brown eyes, identical to my own. "It's alright, honey, I've got it under control."

"No, really," I insisted for both our sakes, "I'd love to."

"Well, okay, I suppose..."

I hopped up and took the sloppily-prepared bowl of artificial oats away from her, setting it aside and pulling out a new bowl. I took the real oats from the cupboard (they were in a Ziploc baggie, and I seriously doubted they had seen the light of day in at least three years) and emptied them into the bowl, rummaging through the spice cabinet.

Okay, Yamato always filled a spoon with part-cinnamon, part-nutmeg… wait… what the heck is nutmeg again…?

I'm such a liar; I've never prepared homemade oatmeal in my life. The only reason I was attempting it was because I had seen Yamato do it thousands of times.

"Um… Aha!" I pulled the tiny jars of red-brown and tawny powder, pouring a bit of each into a tablespoon and dumping the mixture into the oats.

Ha, I can do this, I thought triumphantly, stirring it around with a wooden spoon while looking for the sifted granola I knew we had somewhere (Taichi used to like to pour chocolate sauce over it and eat it with his hands… yeah…)

I successfully completed the seemingly-easy recipe and poured milk over it, setting the liquid mess in a pot over the stove and leaning back to admire my handiwork.

"Wow, Hikari," my mom said, impressed as she looked up from her magazine. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Matt showed me how to do this. It's not that hard at all…"

My mom smiled brightly. "Oh, speaking of Yamato-kun, he invited us over for dinner tonight! Isn't that sweet?"

"He's back from the tour already?" I asked, turning away from the bubbling oatmeal. (Was it supposed to be doing that? It never bubbled when Matt made oatmeal…)

"Yes, the poor dear… He got in a nasty fight with a… what are you kids calling them these days? A hater… He apparently has a 'tiny black eye and an insignificantly bruised lip,' but knowing Yamato-kun, that could be anywhere from the truth to an amputated limb. Anyway, the big concert in Tokyo was cancelled, and he's back home now."

I sighed, shaking my head. Yamato had such an ego, just as big as Taichi's, if not bigger. If an angry Wolves-hater got into a brawl with him, I knew Yamato would never admit it lightly.

Yamato lives in downtown Odaiba, in a really nice, two-story town home. Really, it's technically his and Taichi's place… but Taichi's currently attending the one of the top soccer universities in the USA, New York State West, and can only visit during Christmas. I feel so horrible for Yamato sometimes. Taichi's been there for nearly two years, and Matt misses him more and more every day.

I suddenly was torn away from my reminiscing as something scorching-hot splashed my hand. I yelped, flipping back around to see that my oatmeal was boiling over, coating the stove in a sticky mess.

My mom grabbed the fire extinguisher, crying for me to stand back. I yelled for her to stop, but being my mom, that only spurred her to blast the stove (and me) with foam.

I stood there, sputtering, as Mom asked me if I was alright.

"Yeah," I muttered, wiping the stuff from my eyes. "But I have a feeling I'm going to be late for school."

--

I hate it when I'm right.

I walked into my first period, English, in a different yet nearly identical set of clothes, and collapsed into my seat in the back. My hair was still damp from my hasty shower, and I had tied it back in a short ponytail.

Haruka-sensei narrowed her eyes at me.

"Yagami, what is the excuse for your tardiness?"

Oh, I set my oatmeal on fire and my mother, being the genius that she is, suffocated me with a fire extinguisher.

I didn't say that, of course. I assumed her response would've been something like, 'Nice try, but your brother wore that one out three years ago.'

"I have no excuse, Haruka-sensei," I mumbled respectfully.

"Detention after school, Yagami. One hour."

I nodded mournfully. Across the room, I noticed Daisuke scribbling on a piece of notebook paper, his dark eyes shining.

Sure enough, a moment later, the crumpled parchment hit me in the shoulder and landed on the floor. I bent over to pick it up, scanning over it. It was nearly illegible to the untrained eye, of course, but I was so used to Daisuke's scrawl that I managed.

hey, kari, wutz up? u look annoyed and i havent even done anything yet!

I couldn't help but smile as I jotted my answer down.

A little incident this morning concerning overcooked hot cereal; nothing to worry about.

I lightly tossed the note back at him. A split second later, it was lobbed at my head. My slow reflexes didn't really help.

It audibly pinged off of my skull, alerting the teacher and (the awake) half of the class.

Haruka-sensei turned away from the board, glaring.

"Yagami, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, hiding the note. The teacher hated notes. I waited until she returned to her lesson before I unfolded the message in my lap.

hot cereal? do tell, do tell.

I sighed, making a motion with my hand we had designed to translate as "I'll talk to you about it after class; now shut the hell up and don't get me in trouble."

Daisuke nodded, his soft, spiky hair moving as he did.

After we were assigned our homework for the night, the bell rang and I met Daisuke in the hallway.

"I tried making breakfast this morning, using a recipe Yamato always used," I told him as we walked together, Daisuke carrying my small amount of stuff with his own. (He may be a pervert, but Daisuke is also a gentleman under the exterior). "But I botched it. The result was disastrous."

He blinked his round eyes at me. I've often said before that Daisuke has very nice eyes: big and dark chocolate-ish brown. It's no wonder half the girls (and guys) in school are falling all over him.

"What an adventure," he said wistfully, making me giggle. "I sometimes wish I was a Yagami. The most exciting thing that ever happens in the Motomiya household is when Jun pretends that she's about to hang herself because another boyfriend has turned homosexual."

My giggle exploded into laughter. Daisuke's older sister always is able to crack me up; she's a sweet girl, really, but she drives guys away like the plague.

He continued as we neared our second period, History, "When I told her maybe she should consider switching teams, she attacked me with a pair of scissors. That girl is crazy."

I laughed one more time before we entered the classroom. "How are her Veterinary classes going?"

"Oh, she's doing real well. I think it's because dogs and cats like her more than boys do."

We sat down near Takeru, who was reading a book silently.

"Good morning Kari, Dai," he greeted us both while not taking his eyes off the pages.

"Good morning, starshine," Daisuke returned, propping his clunky tennis shoes up on the shoulders of the girl in front of him, who turned around to say something, but when she realized who it was, only smiled and blushed, turning back around.

"Hi, 'Keru," I chirped, pulling out my notes I had been taking the previous day. "How goes life?"

"Life goes swell," he mumbled, licking a finger and turning the page. "Did Matt ask you guys over for dinner yet?"

"Yeah," I said. "Are you going to be there too?"

"Course," he responded, half-into the conversation yet somehow able to reply intelligently. "I'm supposed to be keeping him away from an emotional breakdown."

"What?" I asked, startled.

"You haven't heard?" He finally looked up from his book, pale eyebrows raised. "Matt's ring fell off when he was in that fistfight. He and the band practically turned the whole stadium upside-down looking for it, but they couldn't find it. Yamato's completely miserable."

I felt my heart tighten. I couldn't even imagine what Yamato had to be feeling. Taichi gave him the ring on their fifth anniversary; he had been saving up for it all year. It even had a little sapphire on it, to match Matt's eyes, Taichi had told him.

"Poor Yamato," I whispered. "And there's absolutely no way to get it back?"

"Kari, it was a sapphire and white gold ring. The whole place was filled with drunken idiots; do you think anyone there would've turned it into the Lost and Found?"

"No…" I trailed off, feeling my heart go out to Matt. "But that's so unfair."

"I know," he sighed, putting his book away. "Even when I talked to him on the phone, it sounded like he was trying to keep from crying."

Ishida Yamato never cried, and so I felt even worse.

"Oh, gosh," was all I was able to say. We quieted down as the teacher entered, but I couldn't help but try and think of a way to cheer Matt up…

Deep down, though, I knew the only person in the world able to do that was Taichi.

--

My lunch that day was spaghetti, as was everybody else's. Our school was trying to keep it quiet, but we all were aware of the fact that we were dead broke. For goodness' sakes, we were playing volleyball and basketball using soccer balls!

"Hi, guys!" Miyako said brightly, sitting across from Takeru and me and pushing her long, violet hair away from her face.

"Hey, Miyako," Takeru and I said simultaneously as Daisuke joined us with his own Styrofoam tray, followed by Hida Iori, our freshman friend.

Iori may be the calmest, most collected kid I know. He's only fourteen, but he has more emotional maturity in his left pinky finger than the rest of us have combined. He currently sat, eating his food slowly while staring at each bite with wide, calculating green eyes.

"I talked to Koushiro-san today", he told us, referring to the genius we all have the honor of knowing. "He might be transferring to a computer technology school in a different city. He says that the professors at his current school don't have material advanced enough for someone like him to continue learning."

There was a quiet chuckle, though I couldn't tell who exactly it came from. We talked a bit more, before Daisuke noticed something.

"Where's Ken?" He asked suspiciously.

"I don't know," Miyako answered. She was tying her hair back to keep it out of her food, as it was rumored to be corrosive to the delicate follicles.

"Didn't anyone see him in the hallway?" Daisuke demanded.

I saw the familiar, skinny form of our quiet friend entering the cafeteria, dressed in khakis and a dark blue sweater. I was about to speak up, when Ken raised a finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet. I nodded. Takeru was once again engrossed in his novel, so he didn't even notice Ken sneaking up.

"I'm gonna go find him," Daisuke announced resolutely. "Something may be wrong, or…"
He stopped, as Ken placed two pale hands over his eyes.

"Guess who," the bluenette laughed, and I could see his violet eyes filled with affection for Daisuke's concern.

"Hmm," Daisuke pretended to consider it, tapping a finger to his chin in thought. "Is that you, God?"

"Pretty close!" Ken chuckled, releasing Daisuke. I hoped I was the only one to notice the way Ken's fingers seemed to trail down Daisuke's face before dropping to his own sides. Of course, in his oblivious Daisuke-ness, the redhead didn't even blink, and sat back down in-between Ken and Miyako, grinning toothily at his best friend.

"Where were you, man?" Daisuke asked, "You had me worried sick! You could've been dying in some dirty restroom stall, or stuck in a storm drain, or mauled by a polar bear!"

"Polar… bear…" Ken repeated slowly, highly amused.

"Yes, a polar bear, and don't laugh! This is serious! You are grounded!"

Ken laughed again. It was good to see him so happy. "Yes, Mommy."

Our lunch continued as usual, before yet another shrill bell sounded, and we went to dump our trays haphazardly into the recycling bin. I happened to know that they would be rinsed off and used again the next day, despite being made of Styrofoam…

My next period was Health, which I had with Ken, Dai, and Takeru. I waved goodbye to Iori and Miyako and continued on to my stupid sophomore lessons.

In Health, our teacher sits us in alphabetical order. This, of course, meant that I sat in the back corner, Takeru one row in front of me, Daisuke in the middle, and Ken a little in front of him.

Tanaka-sensei, our young, (usually) bubbly teacher, clapped her hands together and said in her cheery voice, "Today, boys and girls, we're going to begin a new long-term project!"

There were a few weak, entirely sarcastic cheers. There was to be no negativity in Health class or we would have our arms and legs broken, so said Tanaka-sensei, the picture in the dictionary next to "bipolar".

"We've just completed our unit on safe sex, and since so many of you did so well on it," she shot a demonic glare at Daisuke, who had of course flunked the unit, after blowing the condom up like a balloon and sending it whizzing around the classroom, "we'll now be beginning our lesson on parenting, the result of unprotected sexual relations! I'll be dividing you into pairs, and for one month, you will be taking care of the frighteningly-realistic baby dolls the school just received by pushing another fundraiser on you that you all will be learning about tomorrow!" This was said in a single breath.

Several groans sounded, quickly morphed into cries of "Hooray, fundraising!"

Of course, I had learned about the infamous parenting unit from Taichi. His partner had been his friend Takenouchi Sora, who had restricted him from any access with their "child." Of course, back in their day, the baby had just been a sack of flour.

Great, now we got more realistic ones? All the flour sacks did was occasionally leak flour from a strategically-placed rip in the bottom. But now we had to clean up almost-real baby waste!

"The first pair will be…" she paused for dramatic effect, "Kanagawa Akemi and Takaishi Takeru."

Takeru was emotionless, as Akemi, a rather brainy chess-club member and indirect acquaintance of Ken, smiled at him through thick-lensed glasses.

"Tokushima Naota and Iwate Fumiko…"

She continued down the names in a completely random order, pairing Daisuke with an extremely flirtatious cheerleader named Oita Sayae (who blew a kiss to him when their names were called, and I saw Ken pale), and then calling out my name, startling me. You'd think I'd be used to hearing my own name by now…

"Yagami Hikari and… Ichijouji Ken."

I smiled at my quiet friend, and he managed a small one himself, but I could see he was still watching Daisuke and Sayae with sad eyes. I made a mental note to slap Daisuke later, just for being stupid. I swear, if more dumb people were slapped daily, the world would be a smarter place.

But maybe that's just me.

--

After my extremely pleasant detention with Haruka-sensei (I was to write "I will not be tardy" one hundred times on the board. There was already a special piece of chalk waiting for me in a glass case, labeled "YAGAMI." She told me it had served my brother well in his time.), I went to Ken's house, to begin my job as a part-time parent.

Our "child" was indeed frighteningly realistic. It was a boy, with huge, glassy eyes and a slack jaw. We both stared at the doll in shock.

"Um… we're supposed to name it…" I trailed off. Ken poked it hesitantly, and the jaw started moving up and down with a mechanical grinding sound.

"Aah! That means he's hungry!" Ken exclaimed, digging through the diaper bag we had been given, pulling out a tiny, microwavable packet, "Here! Mix this with some water!"

I hurried to the kitchen where Mrs. Ichijouji was unloading the dishwasher. She looked up at me with smiling, violet eyes, just like her son's.

"Oh, hi there, Hikari," she said sweetly, straightening herself and wiping her hands on her jeans. "Do you need something?"

"Uh, yes please, some water," I said quickly, pouring the packet of sludge-colored powder into a plastic bowl. Ken's mother took it from me and hastily put it under the sink, filling it with tap water, then returning it to me.

"Here you go, dear. Just yell if you two need anything else, now!"

I thanked her, bowing quickly, before I dashed back up the stairs, stirring the disgusting mixture with my finger and watching it turn to something a lot like wet, green sand, careful not to spill.

I handed it to Ken, who hurriedly dipped a rubber-coated spoon into the gunk and raised it, pausing.

"… How are we supposed to feed it, again?" He asked nervously. I saw his dilemma: the baby's mouth was caught in a perpetual, robotic movement of opening and closing in a chewing manner, leaving us no opportunity to stick the spoon in.

"Just… just put it in there!" I told him, pushing his hand forward helpfully.

As one, we inserted the spoon, which the child… gnawed on. I don't know why I didn't realize it before; how in the world were we supposed to get the food down?!

After a bit of debating, we placed the baby on its back and dribbled the sludge down its throat, until its scary mouth stopped, and it was placated for the time being.

I slapped Ken a high-five, and we collapsed on the carpet, feeling quite accomplished… until a horrific odor wafted through the air.

"Holy…" I gasped, covering my nose with my shirt. Ken choked, quickly doing the same. We stared at the child blankly.

"There is no possible way that thing could've processed the food that fast!" Ken cried, his voice muffled by his shirt.

Being the woman (by physical definition only), I approached our charge, peeling the diaper off slowly. I was met with a browner, mushier version of what we had just pushed down his throat.

"No!" I wailed in horror, nearly blown back by the smell. "I am not touching that!"

"Well, neither am I!" Ken retorted, his calm voice growing more exerted.

In the end, using parental compromising skills (read: Rock, Paper, Scissors), we decided that I would change the thing.

I wadded the diaper up, chunking it in the trash, and replaced it rapidly. It was actually a lot easier than I had expected.

After the baby "fell asleep" (its eyes closed and it made prerecorded inhaling and exhaling noises that faintly disturbed me), Ken and I sat on opposite ends of his bed, talking.

"Do you remember the first time I saw you guys?" He asked me, and I nodded, "I saw Daisuke first… we were both so young. I didn't even know I could like other boys yet, but when I saw Daisuke… my heart just froze. I remember that I wasn't able to focus that whole game, because Daisuke was just so amazing. No one had ever affected me that way before… when he shook my hand… I couldn't breathe…"

I listened as his voice grew quieter and quieter.

"I think about him all the time. I think about holding him, telling him that I think he's just the most incredible guy in the world. But whenever I imagine these things, I can never think of his reaction, because Daisuke's so unpredictable," he chuckled, and when he looked up, his beautiful eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "That's just one reason why I love him, Hikari."

I hugged Ken, briefly.

"I don't think Daisuke's good enough for you," I said jokingly, but he looked up at me with eyes that clearly said he thought I was mistaken.

--

Yamato's apartment is huge, and somehow different from all the ones around him. Maybe it's the welcome mat that Sora got him a few years earlier (two playing cards, with the words "One Joker and One Queen Live Here"), or maybe it's the Christmas lights that haven't been taken down in Lord-knows-how-many years. Either way, I had been to the house so many times before that by now it was like a second home.

My mother knocked on the door loudly, and it was opened to reveal Ishida Yamato, pretty and slender as usual, but with stress lines under his eyes he hadn't bothered to cover with concealer yet, as was his obvious, swollen lip and huge, black eye he was holding an icepack to. He was still dressed in flannel pants that were several inches too long for him and a soft, baggy shirt, with his long hair mussed.

Apparently, he had just gotten out of bed… at seven p.m.

"Yamato-kun!" My mother cried, immediately fussing over him, smoothing his blonde hair down. "You look awful! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said in a slightly hoarse voice. "I'm so sorry I'm indecent, Aoi-san, and Kari-chan…"

My mother beamed at his polite way of saying her first name. "Oh, it's perfectly fine, Yamato. Would you like some help preparing dinner?"

"NO," he said a bit too loudly, then recovered. "Er, I mean, no thank you. I couldn't possibly ask that."

"Well, okay, then. Oh, my, the place is spotless!"

Mom always said that when we entered the house. Of course it was spotless; I had wondered before if the carpet ever didn't have vacuum-streaks on it, or if the tabletops ever didn't show your reflection on their resin-coated surfaces. But that was just Matt's way of coping with anxiety. When he was stressed out, he grabbed his infamous pink apron and began cleaning like no tomorrow.

"Thank you", Yamato said quietly, going into the kitchen as my mother sat down on the sofa across from the widescreen, with two shelves of DVDs underneath. You could obviously tell that two people lived in the household; the top shelf held sports documentaries, stand-up comedy, spoofs, and cheesy horror flicks, while the second rack contained mystery, wartime angst and sci-fi… and the American romantic-comedy Maid in Manhattan. Matt always claimed that the last one was a friend's, and he was keeping it for her… but I doubted it.

My mom was looking fondly at the row of framed photographs on the mantel. Each one was of a long-haired blonde and a grinning, tanned young man with gravity-defying hair and warm, brown eyes: my brother, Taichi.

I left her to smile at the one of the couple kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower (at the Teenage Wolves' Europe tour when they were seventeen), and I entered the kitchen, where Yamato was throwing handfuls of some spice or another into the pan of stir-fry he was preparing.

"Is Takeru gonna be here soon?" I asked him. He nearly jumped, and I felt bad for startling him.

"Oh, Kari… hey. I… he said he might not be able to make it. I have no idea why, but…" He gulped, tears in his eyes.

I stared like an idiot, as Matt let go of the pan and literally collapsed onto the floor, sobbing brokenly. Snapping out of it, I rushed over and touched his shoulder in what I imagined to be a comforting way.

"Matt, are you gonna be alright?" I asked softly. Oh, good going, Hikari. Of course he's alright; he emotionally falls apart all the time…

"Yes," He choked, covering his bruised face with shaking fingers. I noticed that his long hands looked almost naked without the usual band on his left ring finger, "B-but, I just…"

I was quiet, allowing him to gulp and sob, managing to get out, "I'm so sorry, Hikari-chan! B-but I miss your brother so much… and after I lost the ring… oh, God, Kari, I just don't know how the hell I'm gonna survive until Christmas! We barely even have time to call each other any more, so I don't even get to hear his voice. It's killing me…!"

I had no idea what to say, so I hugged Yamato weakly, feeling his thin form collapse against my own. I held him, letting him cry as much as he needed to as I rubbed his back soothingly.

And then the phone rang. I released Matt, and he stood shakily, grabbing the phone from the cradle and saying in a relatively calm tone, "Ishida Yamato speaking."

Immediately, I knew who was on the other end, as Matt's eyes grew impossibly bright with unbridled joy.

"T-Tai-koi!" He cried ecstatically, now holding the phone like a precious burden. "Tai! Oh, my God!" By this point, Yamato was bouncing up and down and I took a step back for my own safety. "Yeah, I'm doing… all right. What? You did? That's amazing! Baby, I'm so proud of you!"

He smiled at me, tears still streaking his face as he whispered, "Taichi's going to the national championships!" He paused, listening to my brother talk. "Oh, my… we can? Taichi! Holy shit! Kari, we're all going to the game!"

I was sure my eyes bugged out like a stress-toy. "WHAT?!"

"Tai got us tickets! Y-yeah, love, Hikari's here… and your mom; I invited them both over for dinner… yeah! I know we can make it, if you have the tickets… Takeru too? Oh, Tai." I saw more tears fall down his face, this time tears of happiness. "I love you, too." A pause, "No, I love you more." Another pause. "No, I love you more. Damn it, Tai, not everything is a competition!"

I rolled my eyes, before running into the living room to inform my mother of the good news.

--

Dinner was an elated affair after Yamato got off the phone. I hoped these mood swings would not become a reoccurring thing.

"The nationals are in a month," Yamato told us after swallowing a bite of stir-fry. "Tai is going to mail us the tickets as soon a possible. The game takes place in New York City, so we'll be meeting Mimi there. Takeru and the whole gang are coming with us. God, I still can't believe this…"

I smiled, watching Yamato spring up and down in his seat.

In the back of my mind, I began to wonder how Ken was handling our little bundle of joy…

--

"I hate you."

I looked up at lunch the following day (a piece of bread and watery soup in a Styrofoam cup that oddly resembled a morphed tray…) and blinked at my Health partner, who had our "child" slung over his shoulder in an ingeniously-constructed baby carrier.

"What?" I blinked. "Why do you hate me?"

"This thing got hungry and then spewed the mess out the other end eight times last night. EIGHT. I got one hour of sleep last night. ONE."

"And you have three seconds to get out of my seat before I kick your ass up and down the soccer field… THREE." Daisuke piped up cheerily from behind Ken.

The slim boy chuckled, but nonetheless sat and scooted over a few inches in order to make room for Daisuke.

"Oh, you wish you could even keep up with me on the field, Motomiya."

"Might I remind you of the four stitches you have on your leg? FOUR."

"For crying out loud, Davis, that was five years ago. FIVE. And besides, you kick people all the time. It's nothing out of the ordinary."

"Yeah, but that was the only time anyone had ever distracted you on the field… uh… ONLY."

"Only isn't a number, moron."

"Sorry to break the pattern… PATTERN."

"Now you're just annoying me for your own entertainment," Ken muttered, but he couldn't repress a smirk.

Suddenly, Daisuke seemed to pause in his hyperactivity. "Wait a second… what did you call me a second ago?"

"… Moron?"

"No, before that."

"Motomiya, which I do believe happens to be your surname."

"Damn it, Ken, stop being a smartass! You called me 'Davis' and you know it!" His face softened. "Nobody's called me that since sixth grade…"

Ken shrugged, bending over his plate and letting his hair cover his face. (I could see the dark blush plainly on his pale complexion)

"No big deal."

"No, it is a big deal," Daisuke insisted, using his bread crusts to sop up the remains of his soup. "I want you to call me Davis from now on. NOBODY else is allowed to call me that, got it?"

"Got it," I giggled. I was struck with a memory of a time when I listened in on the older kids playing Spin the Bottle, the most cliché game in existence.

"From now on," fourteen-year-old Taichi had cried importantly to the assembled friends, "this guy sitting next to me shall be addressed a 'Matt' by all who know him… and 'Yama' by me. NOBODY else is allowed to call him Yama, only me, his loving and inhumanly-sexy boyfriend, because I am Taichi and my word is law. Everyone clear on that?"

Daisuke stared at me. "Why are you laughing?"

"You really are a lot like Tai," I chuckled, opening my miniaturized milk carton.

(The school budget-cuts were really starting to annoy me.)

--

I received a call from Tachikawa Mimi that night.

"Hello?"

"Hikari-chan! This is Mimi!"

"Oh! Hi!"

"Hikari, you'll never believe what happened! I've been given an offer to be in a Calvin Klein ad!"

I hesitated. It was an American brand I had heard of, and I had to assume it was pretty important for Mimi to be that excited. Then again, pretty much everything excited Mimi, from the sprinkles on a chocolate milkshake to a new song from some obscure pop artist. One time she just about blew a gasket when we saw some guy at the mall who looked a lot like Gackt. I keep trying to calmly convince her that it wasn't him, but she won't listen…

"You're kidding, Mimi!"

"Teehee! No, really, I'm not! They want me to go to a photo shoot tomorrow morning for their fall denim collection! Eeeee!"

I smiled broadly. "That's so great. When will the magazine be out? Will you send me a copy?"

"One step at a time, silly! How are things in Odaiba? I tried to call Sora-chan earlier, but she didn't answer her phone…"

"Oh," I paused. "Sora's… probably busy right now with the flower shop. But everything's great. You'll be going to the national championship to cheer Tai on, right?"

"DUH, Kari! What kind of friend do you think I am! Honestly!" I could hear her rifling through some papers in the background. "How's Matt? Is he using the eyelash-curlers like I showed him to?"

"… Um, Mimi, how am I supposed to know something like that? But Matt is doing loads better ever since Taichi invited us to America."

"Oh, that's good… Wait, how was he before that?"

"Mimi-rin, he was a wreck. The house was so clean I felt like my breath was contaminating the air! But he was the complete opposite. He kept bursting into tears about how he missed Tai… and his hair was a disaster."

"Oh, my God- Yamato's gone into withdrawal! You didn't give him chocolate, did you?!"

"…No."

"Good. Because if you give an angsting, sexually-deprived Matt chocolate, he cries like a little girl and starts wailing about how it makes him think of Taichi's eyes, and if you don't take the chocolate away in about fifteen seconds, it's all downhill from there."

"What's all downhill?"

"Kari, have you ever seen The Exorcist?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Then just think of the scariest Yamato you've ever seen."

"Okay…"

"Now multiply him by ten and take any contact with Tai away, then add all the symptoms of PMS."

"Gosh."

"Exactly. Now you know why you never give a Matt a chocolate. Or a rabbit. But that's a story for another day."

"Huh? Wait, Mimi! What was that about a rabbit?"

"Bye, hun! See you in a few weeks!"

And then she hung up on me. I stared at the telephone blankly for a few moments, then pressed 'off' and put it back on the stand.

--

I know, a very abrupt ending. I'll work on that.

((Dwight voice)) Question. Why did I write this story in Hikari's POV? Because I felt like it.

Actually, it was because Kari-chan gets a bad rap. She's always either the annoying little sister or the angry, bitchy ex-girlfriend, it seems. Of course, that's a generalization; I have seen a few "Good Kari" fics before. But not many, which is why I'm adding mine.

So, please review, tell me what you think! Lots of OOCness that will soon be remedied!

-Beezlee-