Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Matter of Perspective ❯ Daisuke ( Chapter 6 )

DISCLAIMER: See previous parts.

A/N: Just so that no one gets confused, the first section of this installment happened quite a while before the rest of it. We're back with Daisuke-tachi now, while they plot and argue and plot some more. The references to Takeshita Street are factual, though they might be out of date by the time this story is meant to take place. More on that when and if it becomes relevant. Oh, and I don't like Iori at all. He creeps me out. I could say 'who does?' at this point, but I'm sure Iori has his fans -- so sorry about any bashing that might have occurred. Daisuke's opinions may reflect my own, but please don't take him too seriously.

"Daisuke. Why do you even want to alter Miyako-san?"

"Well, Hawkmon's a guy. That always bothered me."

"...You're not being serious, are you?"

"Okay, how about Takeru-kun. What did he do to deserve this?"

"He beat me at soccer. What? I mean it! That's the reason!"

"Have you always been this petty, and I just never noticed?"

"Takeru doesn't even play soccer. He whooped me, okay?"

"And as for Mimi-san?"

"She never did anything to me. I just thought it'd be funny."

"Is it too late to worry about my sanity at this point?"

* * *

Huddled in the boys' restroom between surprisingly probing questions from Sora, they were a tired and unhappy little group. Ken wouldn't stop splashing his face nervously with water from the sink; he seemed to be developing one of those unclean complexes. That worried Daisuke, and he made a mental note to get his boyfriend something nice on the way back to his apartment -- chocolates or flowers or maybe a cute stuffed animal. He knew Ken appreciated any reminder that there was someone who loved him, no matter how small and silly the reminder. Too bad he couldn't make Koushirou relax as easily.

"I don't see what the problem is," he tried eventually. "The gate program thingy worked. They all got changed just like we wanted them to, and Taichi-senpai's already closer to Yamato-san. Did you see the way she froze up and then kind of snuggled down?"

There was a brief silence, and then Ken agreed quietly. "I saw it," he said. "But I don't know if it means anything."

"You don't know that it means anything?" Daisuke repeated.

"Reality is subjective," Koushirou said in a flat voice. "Besides which, your statement was technically inaccurate. Due to forces beyond our control, i.e., the fact that you did not think of it until the eleventh hour, we only supervised one alteration directly: Yamato-san's. The others were done with a single line of tacked on code that exchanged chromosomes and did nothing else. Therefore, we had no expectations for what would occur and could not have found them changed 'just like we wanted'."

That was pushing, but Daisuke smiled anyway. "Right. You've certainly got a point there. I mean, we sure as hell don't want any technical inaccuracies. So, Yamato-san got changed just like we wanted her to. Of course, I still say we should've made her chest bigger...but what do I know about this stuff anyway?"

His boyfriend flushed vividly. "Daisuke! Please be more careful. This is only the men's room, and someone might overhear."

As if the objection had anything to do with their security, Daisuke thought in amusement. The Keeper of Kindness just recognized the start of a conversation that had embarrassed him more than enough back when they actually needed to talk about it, and he didn't want a repeat of the experience. Since this was most of the reason why he had brought it up, though, Daisuke didn't feel particularly reluctant to keep going. Plus, he felt like getting under Koushirou's skin, and forcing him to have the same argument twice was one of the few ways he knew how.

"We've already had this conversation," the redhead pointed out. He already sounded annoyed. "The point of our adjustments to that specific area was visibility, if you recall. You thought that Yamato-san would simply choose to hide his newfound femininity if it were easy to do. So we were very precise. She is visible. We didn't have to adjust that specific area any further."

By now, Ken had sensed the underlying hostility between them and was trying to mediate in his hatefully reasonable voice. They ignored him.

"'That specific area'?" Daisuke parroted incredulously. "For the love of god, just say it! You mean her tits, don't you?"

"If we're going to be crude..."

"Breasts. Are you happy now?"

Apparently, this was too much for Ken. He wrung his hands and turned slowly more purple. "What would people think if they passed by the men's room and heard you talking this way?"

"They'd have the shockingly wrong impression that we're all normal teenage boys," Daisuke suggested fiercely. "Ken, will you please shut up? We don't need this right now."

He didn't immediately realize that he'd said something wrong. Only when Koushirou fell abruptly silent and turned away did it slowly begin to dawn. Yes, Ken appreciated dumb little signs of affection that other people would have taken for granted -- and in turn, he took even the most offhanded criticism very seriously. Daisuke paused for a very long moment, because part of him didn't want to see the look on his fragile boyfriend's face. When he finally worked up the courage, it was even worse than he could have expected.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," he said in a rush. Thinking all the while, Please don't cry. You'll kill me if you cry. "I've just been stressed out with this whole thing, trying to get it done on time and seeing a lot more of Koushirou-san than I ever wanted to."

"Hey," Koushirou objected, but it was halfhearted. After two weeks essentially spent living with each other while two of them poured over endless computer code and one of them constantly adjusted the plan behind it, tensions would have arisen between the closest of friends. Quite frankly, that didn't describe any of them -- Daisuke and Ken had gone beyond friends some time ago, and Koushirou got along with them both but wasn't exactly close.

Ken looked relieved, although not completely satisfied. He nodded in understanding, which was about as good as it got. Privately, Daisuke resigned himself to a few days of patiently working on his boyfriend's underdeveloped ego. "At any rate, the point of this meeting was to touch bases. Whatever our personal feelings on the...results of our modifications, I think we can all agree that the project is well under way and proceeding satisfactorily. Any objections?"

With a tiny knowing smile, Koushirou asked, "You mean, at this time?"

"At this time."

"Then, no. There are no objections at all yet."

Return of the Inquisitive Indigo Eyebrows, but they didn't really work. Whatever objections he had or would have, Koushirou obviously didn't feel like sharing them right now. Shrugging his shoulders indifferently, Ken turned away and reached for the doorknob. "If anyone asks, we got to talking and decided that explaining the situation to all relevant parental units is really the only option. Possibly Yamato-san and the others will object, at which point Daisuke insists and I seemingly change the subject by asking Taichi-san how tolerant his parents are."

"Then Takeru and Yamato-san can stay with him and Hikari-chan if they find that preferable," Daisuke recited from memory with exaggerated boredom. "Only if no one else can think of anything should Koushirou-san offer the Digital World crisis cover story, because introducing a problem and solving it all on one breath after we've spent so much time in here alone might look slightly contrived. And if we want to be really paranoid," he added dryly, "we can always make ourselves some of those tinfoil hats to keep them from reading our minds."

"I have one of those," Koushirou said.

"Yeah, well, we can discuss your psychological problems later."

They needed to check on their little experiment, didn't they?

* * *

As he opened the computer lab door, Daisuke's immediate impression was that they had gotten the wrong room. After all, this one was completely empty. He blinked, and blinked again, thinking maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him -- but the rest of the Chosen Children stubbornly refused to materialize. Where had everybody gone? And not even a note!

"Did they leave without us?" Ken muttered doubtfully on his left.

"Leave for where?" Koushirou snorted. "Quite frankly, I don't think most of them knew whether they were coming or going. But on the other hand, this is too sudden and coordinated for a simple bathroom break. Maybe they wanted some fresh air?"

A droll little voice interrupted Daisuke before he could agree. "Or maybe they did leave without you," it said, and Iori straightened up from where one of the computer banks had hidden him from view. At thirteen, he was still short for his age.

"Why would they do that?"

The Bearer of Faith paused and gave them all a once-over before hoisting his backpack onto his shoulder. Something about the way he looked at them made Daisuke wonder irrationally if Iori knew about the freakish little gnome remark. "Well, Mimi-san pointed out that everyone seemed very depressed, and then she -- ah...he decided they needed full-scale fashion makeovers to cheer them up. I think he called it 'making the best of the situation'."

At this, Koushirou groaned. "That's our Mimi-san, always looking at the sunny side of life. Might I ask why you're still here, in that case?"

Another pause, and Iori scowled faintly. "Some of us have more important things to do than watch other people getting manicures. My grandfather schedules kendo practice sessions months in advance so that I have plenty of time to warn him about Digital World emergencies, but somehow I don't think this qualifies in its present form."

"Do you know where they went?"

Iori blinked at them. "Although Mimi-san did think to mention the name to me on the off-chance that I ran into you before I left, I'm afraid it meant very little since full-scale fashion makeovers are rather low on my list of priorities."

God, he was such a miniature Koushirou. Exasperated, Daisuke banged his fist on the nearest desk. "Well, that's great, but can you just cut the crap and tell us what the damn name was?"

"Actually, I don't remember. I asked her to write it down, but she wouldn't. Something to do with honeysuckles, I think." Iori stared pointedly at the door. "Can I leave now?"

It was a very good thing that Ken stepped forward at that moment and took over, because Daisuke would probably have tried to strangle him. "Are you absolutely sure you don't remember the name?"

"Well, if it's really that important," Iori began, sounding as if he doubted it, "Mimi-san also said they were going to check out Takeshita Street for whole new wardrobes."

Stunned, Daisuke almost fell over. Okay, maybe Iori hadn't ever visited Takeshita Street on a Saturday, but the place was an absolute mob scene. Trying to find eight specific teenagers in that crowd would be worse than needles in a haystack -- it would be hay in a haystack. "Anything else?" he asked without much hope.

That question evidently required some thought. Finally, though, Iori snapped his fingers. "Taichi-san wanted to have Chinese food afterwards. I think the restaurant was called...Crimson-something. Crimson Phoenix or Unicorn or maybe -- "

"The Crimson Dragon?" Ken suggested. At Iori's nod, the indigo-haired boy grinned. "Then we're in luck. I know that place. Osamu-niisan used to love their sesame chicken and...well, I can get us there." A shadow passed over his face, but vanished quickly. "How long do you think the makeovers and clothes shopping will take altogether?"

In unison, the younger generation looked to Koushirou. He smiled blandly and shrugged his shoulders. "With what I know of Mimi-san? Four or five hours at the least. Possibly much longer. We should probably rent a movie and see if the Crimson Dragon will give us a phone call when our party shows up to dine."

"Well," Iori said before they could get too involved in arguing over which movie they were going to rent, "I'm glad that I've been able to help you after all, but I really have to go now." With that nicety out of the way, he brushed past through the door -- looking, Daisuke thought, very relieved not have anything more to do with them.

End Part Six