01 It Begins

"Miyako-san..."

Clash.

"Miyako-san, please put down that knife."

"Watch it!"

"Can we try to handle this calmly...?"

"I have had it up to here with the damn pudding!"

"Miyako! Just because it didn't turn out right—"

Another clash.

"Takeru, move—"

"Shit—!"

Daisuke stared at the entrance to the Inoue residence, the cheerfully designed door plaque disguising the pit of hell inside. His fist fell back to his side as he rethought his decision of coming to Miyako for help. It sounded like she was busy, anyway. Bothering her in the middle of whatever insane activity she was indulging herself in wouldn't be the best course of action.

He mused over his remaining closest friends for another possible candidate, preferably one not armed with a knife. Ken, he had learned, despite all his genius, really sucked at relationships. The first (also the last) time that Daisuke had sought out him out, Ken had flushed, briefly, and ended up giving a lecture on psychology and hormones and functions of the brain. Going to Iori wasn't even an option; Daisuke's remaining dignity refused to suffer the love advice of a twelve-year-old. Hikari was a good listener - sweet, empathetic. However, patience always had a breaking point and Daisuke felt as if he'd pushed hers far enough. Their last conversation had left the girl looking thoroughly frustrated. She had been nice about it, though, politely telling him to "stop being an avoidant, idiotic ass and just confess so the rest of us can have a little peace!"

That left Takeru. Daisuke wasn't too sure how he felt about letting Takeru in on his little infatuation. Though it might work to his benefit, provided the blonde's tongue didn't slip and spill his secret. After all, Takeru was in the perfect position to weasel out a little information on effective "woo"ing. Daisuke wasn't the type to turn down a helpful hint or four. Ten, probably, with how things had been going so far – which was a few steps from nowhere.

So Takeru it was. The problem being that Takeru was in the same room as Miyako, and avoiding Miyako had been the entire point.

Steeling himself for the worst, Daisuke finally knocked. The door swung open mere seconds after and Miyako smiled down at him, as if she had been expecting his arrival.

Daisuke stared at her pudding-splotched apron with suspicion. "Is Takeru here? Did something explode on you?"

"Come on in," Miyako offered, ignoring his questions. "Make yourself comfortable."

Daisuke stepped inside and kicked off his shoes, looking around the apartment for any signs of immediate danger. Peering over the counter that separated the living room from the kitchen, he felt a certain relief when he recognized the barely visible mess of dirty-blonde hair. He didn't particularly know why Takeru was on the kitchen floor, but it was just good to know that he was still okay and hadn't been decapitated yet or anything.

A soft-spoken voice drifted into the room. "Miyako-san, Takeru is still bleeding."

Daisuke reconsidered for the second time that day and turned around hastily, prepared to sulk back home and forget about his crush until he met a group of new, less questionable friends. "Maybe I should come back later."

Miyako yanked on his sweatshirt hood, effectively dragging him back despite his protests. "Hikari told me it was important."

"Hikari-chan?" Daisuke stopped thrashing. He scowled, rubbing his cheek. "I told her not to tell." Now that Miyako knew, it would be impossible to talk to Takeru first.

"Do have any first aid supplies, Miyako-san?" Iori asked as he shuffled out of the kitchen and down the hallway. His voice was followed by a deeper groan from the kitchen: "I can't believe this."

The girl was undaunted, calling back, "Bathroom, behind the mirror, second shelf. Relax, Takeru, you're not gonna die. Besides, Daisuke's got love problems." Miyako clutched at her chest melodramatically. "And we all know a bleeding heart is so much harder to mend than a bleeding arm."

Iori shot the girl a disapproving look as he re-emerged from the hallway with a plastic bottle, a wad of cotton balls, and bandages. " Miyako-san..."

Takeru sounded uncharacteristically annoyed. "Forget it, she's busy." There was a tentative pause. "And that better not be rubbing alcohol."

Satisfied, Miyako refocused her attention. "Well?"

Daisuke stalled, searching for any possible escape. "I don't know, Miyako…" There was a small, very small part of him hoping that Takeru might end up having to be rushed to the hospital because his blood was having a hard time clotting, and this pre-planned discussion with Miyako would be cancelled.

Takeru swore loudly as the rubbing alcohol was applied, but failed to start dying messily on the kitchen floor. Miyako stood, impatient.

Daisuke rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, fine."

"…there's this person."

"How long has it been?"

Daisuke found a growing interest in the bed sheets. Miyako sat opposite him, pillow in her lap, watching attentively. "It was kind of… slow, actually? I mean, we've known each other for a long time." He picked at a loose thread. "I don't think liking someone is really an instant thing, anyway."

"So you know them well?"

"We're pretty close." The boy met Miyako's eyes, tilting his head thoughtfully. "But we clashed really bad in the beginning."

"Right," she laughed. "You were too much of a stubborn bastard for them to handle?"

"... I call it a really big misunderstanding."

"Whatever." Miyako smirked. "What's your person like?"

If there was one thing Daisuke didn't like about heart-to-hearts with Miyako, it was her tendency to intrude. With anybody else, they would stop at a few sincere words of encouragement, helpful suggestions at the most, but they would never get involved. Miyako, though - if she thought it was necessary, she would go marching up to the guy's apartment door, sleeves rolled up, and cuss them out thoroughly, demanding them to get their act together before she ripped their intestines out and strangled them with it. Sure, sticking up for her friends was great. Daisuke was just afraid of the possible body count.

"You're not going to try to find out who it is and stalk them down, are you?"

Miyako batted her eyelashes. "Of course not."

"Of course not," Daisuke repeated. When all he was met with was a petulant look, he grudgingly described, "Tall, dark, and mysterious."

"I never knew you were into stereotypes, Daisuke."

"Well, actually, he's pretty pale."

"That's better." Miyako paused to let the rest of the new observation sink in, then stared at the boy over the rim of her glasses, eyebrows raised. "He?"

Daisuke coughed. "Uh. Surprise."

There was another pause, longer than the first. Then: "Daisuke, how dare you!"

Daisuke face faulted. "Hey, it's not really something I can help, you know."

"But you never told me! God. I can't believe our loud, obnoxious Daisuke is gay."

"Bisexual!" Daisuke protested.

Miyako leaned forward eagerly. "So? Who's the lucky guy?"

"You don't really expect me to tell you, do you?"

Miyako paused, considering. "You know how much you mean to me, Daisuke. You know you can tell me anything."

Daisuke wasn't convinced. Miyako rolled her eyes.

"Fine, whatever. Then just talk about… what he's like. Why do you like him so much?"

As the boy drifted into thought, Miyako was engaged in her own deliberations. The fact that Daisuke's unnamed crush was one of the Chosen was pretty much obvious; they were, after all, Daisuke's closest and oldest friends. Since it was a guy, she could narrow the list down to Taichi, Yamato, Koushirou, Jyou, Takeru, Ken, and Iori. With tall and pale as descriptors, she could automatically cross off Iori, Koushirou, and Taichi. Daisuke had also mentioned previous conflicts with his crush, so she took off Jyou. That left Yamato, Ken, and Takeru. Not bad at all.

Daisuke finally spoke up. "Well, there's his personality."

"Elaborate?"

The boy shot her a dry look. "I was planning to."

Miyako smile sweetly. "Well don't let me stop you."

"Oh, shut up." In response, the girl pantomimed zipping her lips. Rolling his eyes, Daisuke continued, "He's really... cool. Never lets anything phase him. Tries not to, anyway. Some people think it's arrogance, I guess, but I just think he's kinda insecure. He's not emotionless or anything, he acts pretty natural with close friends, but whenever anything major hits, he just sort of... isolates himself. And pretends like it doesn't matter. Like he refuses to talk about it because he 'doesn't want to burden you with his problems', which is absolute bullshit."

Scratch off Takeru, the girl noted as she continued listening. Takeru couldn't come across as arrogant if his life depended on it.

"It's really annoying, especially since I can't really talk to him about it... we haven't talked a lot lately, actually. He's always busy with being popular and having people throwing themselves at his feet. It's so annoying! I mean, I already have to deal with all his emotional walls and shit. The wall of fan girls is kinda pushing it." Daisuke made a face. "Being famous sucks, you know?"

"Famous, huh."

"… yeah. Um, so, when we do get to spend time together, he's really great." Daisuke sighed, almost dreamily. "Like his smile. He has this really pretty smile. Cause he has all these different smiles, like, I'm only smiling to get you to fuck off, but when he really smiles..."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Don't melt on my bed sheets, Daisuke."

Daisuke ducked his head. "Shut up!"

"You sound like you really like him, Daisuke..."

"Give the girl a prize."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to be nice. I really hope things work out. And I promise I won't meddle or anything. Honest, okay?"

Daisuke was doubtful. "I'm trusting you with the deepest recesses of my heart."

A noncommittal shrug. "Sure."

"... You're going to break it and sell the pieces, aren't you?"

Miyako smiled. "Of course not."

She crossed off a name from her mental list and circled the remaining one triumphantly.

Takeru looked up from the couch as Daisuke slumped out of the room. His arm was fixed up, but that didn't prevent it from rubbing it cautiously as he called out, "Hey, Daisuke." A mumbled greeting was all he got in reply. "Okay, whatever, don't ask how I'm doing. I'm glad you care."

Daisuke grinned over his shoulder as he treaded towards apartment door. He jammed his feet into his sneakers. "You know you make my heart flutter, Takeru."

The blonde's mouth quirked. "My brother'll be jealous."

Daisuke froze, staring at Takeru's mild smile. The comment clicked, and he shoved his hand through his hair with a groan. "By the time I actually get around to telling him, he'll already know. You better not say anything."

Takeru raised his hands, a gesture of innocence. "I'm just planning on letting you enjoy the frustration to the max."

"Fucker," Daisuke accused playfully, and disappeared behind the door.

Iori nudged the blonde in the side now that Daisuke had gone. "So it's…?"

"Hmm?" Takeru blinked. "Oh. Yeah. It's Yamato." When Iori gave him a surprised look, he nodded, a little awkwardly. "Weird, huh? Don't know how it happened, but they've gotten awfully close."

Miyako burst out of her room before the their conversation could go any further, waving a piece of paper in the air victoriously. "I got it! I went back over all the details and I know who Daisuke likes!"

Silence. Two pairs of eyes watched her expectantly.

"It's Ken! It has to be Ken. Everything he told me describes Ken, it just has to be Ken."

Takeru shook his head in disbelief. Iori just cringed.

Poor Daisuke.