Disclaimer: Don't own Digimon. Never have. Never will. Dang shame, too.

A/N: It's Kenyako. It's kinda fluffy. It has her siblings' real Japanese names: Momoe and Chizuru, and Mantarou. Yes, their real names, not fan fic names. Thank Megchan for that. There's spoilers for episode 50 at the end, so if you don't want to know, don't read.

"My Future, by Miyako, Age 7"

At the ripe old age of seven, Miyako Inoue was, for all accounts and purposes, a typical little girl in a large Japanese family. The youngest of four, Miyako spent most of her time with her older sisters, looking up to the two of them like role models. They were older. They were cool. Why wouldn't she?

Of course, there were times when she wished they weren't around.

"He's so cute!" Chizuru squealed, with a voice only a nine year old could pull off without looking stupid.

"Sh!" Momoe hushed, the picture of maturity at the age of ten. "I want to hear him."

"Yeah," Chizuru swooned. "His voice is cute, too."

"So," an interviewer on the television began, relaxing in his too stuffed chair, "exactly what does the Genius of Odaiba do for fun, anyway?"

"Oh, well," the guest smiled, making the two elder Inoue sisters shriek in delight simultaneously, "I enjoy swimming. Soccer's a lot of fun, too. I'd also like to catch up on some books I was reading not for academics, but my schedule for right now really doesn't allow it. I don't have much free time."

"No free time, huh?" the interviewer grinned. "So, does that mean your available?"

The guest blinked in surprise a few times, before allowing a small chuckle. "I didn't mean to imply that, but yes. I am only nine, after all."

"My age!" Chizuru cried out, triumphantly. Clasping her hands together, she smiled, blushing. "Don't you think we'd be perfect together?"

"No," muttered Momoe. "I would be a much better choice. I'm much more mature than you!"

"You're a year older than him!" Chizuru argued.

"Mom's a year older than Dad," Momoe shot back.

"Well, I think you're dreaming!"

"And I think you're just too scared to admit that I'd be better for him!"

Chizuru gasped. Looking down, she demanded, "What do you think, Miyako-chan?"

A small girl with glasses and pigtails looked up from her crayon drawing, brown eyes wide behind lenses. "I think you're both silly."

"You tell `em, Miyako-chan!" Mantarou laughed from the kitchen.

"Shut up, Mantarou!" shouted both older Inoue sisters.

"How are we silly?" Momoe asked her smallest sibling.

"Yeah?" Chizuru added. "You have crushes all the time!"

"I don't know," Miyako shrugged turning to the TV. She stared hard at the boy on the screen. He seemed handsome enough. Spiky, blue hair, a charming smile, and violet eyes behind flattering frames. In all honesty, Miyako would normally be gushing all over him along with her elder sisters. However, there was just something about him that she... Well, she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she just wasn't interested. "I'm just not impressed."

In the kitchen, Mantarou whooped with laughter. "The worst one of all doesn't like him! That should prove what a loser he is!"

"He is not a loser, Mantarou!" Chizuru snapped. "It's not his fault that you're ugly, and rock stupid, and everything he's not!"

Mantarou snorted in response, probably the most mature response a twelve year old boy like him could come up with.

"Oh, Miyako-chan's just joking with us," Momoe brushed it off. "She just doesn't want to admit that she likes an older boy."

"That's not it!" Miyako declared, blushing with embarrassment. She looked back at the screen. No, he still didn't interest her. "He's just not handsome enough."

Chizuru's reply to that was to hurl a sofa pillow at her little sister, knocking the pigtailed girl on the head. "Take that back! He's gorgeous!"

"If you say so," Miyako murmured, rubbing her skull where the pillow impacted.

"Oh, now look what you did!" Momoe wailed. "The interview's over!"

"Oh, no!" Chizuru cried. "We missed the last part!"

"Sheesh," Mantarou muttered, walking over with a homemade ice cream float. "Like he won't be on TV again in a day or so. He's always on!"

"I know," Chizuru sighed, happily. "Isn't it great?"

"Well," began the interviewer wrapping up, "it was nice to have you on the show. I do wish you could stay a little longer."

"So do I," Momoe added, with a far off look.

"I normally would," said the guest, apologetically, "but I promised my parents I'd take my little brother to soccer practice."

"Really, now?" The interviewer perked, his eyes darting off set. "Ah, that little guy?" he pointed.

"That's him," the guest nodded, a smile that hinted of pride graced his lips.

"Hey," the interviewer got up, motioning to the camera to follow. The camera followed the man, until it zoomed in on its intended target, who was sitting quietly in a chair. "Nice to meet you," said the interviewer, kindly. "How'd you like it on the set so far?"

"I don't need to see this," Chizuru took the controller, thumb positioned to change the channel.

"Leave it on!" Miyako suddenly demanded, jumping up and snatching the remote with greedy hands, before quickly turning back to the television.

"It's... It's been okay," replied the small, shy boy.

"Oh... " Miyako breathed.

Now, this boy was different. Much different than his brother. Not just younger, but shier, and sweeter seeming. At least, to Miyako he was. Smooth indigo hair, and violet eyes that seemed much kinder than what you'd usually see. But she didn't see his smile. He was too nervous to. Miyako groaned slightly with disappointment.

"Do you and your brother get along well?" asked the interviewer.

"Uh, huh," said the boy, softly.

"Well, that's good. What do you like most about your brother?"

"Um... " the small boy actually lost his insecurity for a moment, obviously going through numerous likable things about his older brother in his head. Finally, his decision made, he looked back at the interviewer. "He teaches me things. I like that."

Sweet. Miyako sighed, clutching the remote to her chest.

"Of course, you do," the interviewer smiled.

"Excuse me," the guest walked in between them, putting a protective hand on his brother's shoulder. "We should be going. Don't want to be late for practice, huh?" he looked down at the boy.

"Nuh, uh," his brother shook his indigo head.

"Gimme that!" Mantarou demanded, grabbing the remote from Miyako's small hands, and ignoring her cry of anger when he flipped the channel. "Hey, my wrestling's on! I'm not gonna miss it so you can ogle boys."

"I wasn't og-ogling!" Miyako defended, not quite sure what the word 'ogle' meant.

"Yes, you were," Momoe grinned.

"Oh, Miyako-chan's gotta crush on the little brother!" Chizuru joined in, squeaking. "That's so adorable!"

"I... I do not!" Miyako shouted, picking up her paper and crayons from the floor.

"Miyako-chan has a cru-ush!" Chizuru sing-songed.

"Shut up!" Miyako pouted, and stormed out of the room, making sure to pound her feet into the ground with each step. Then, she slammed her bedroom door behind her for good measure.

Letting out a small screech of frustration, she climbed onto her bed. Sometimes, her siblings were just too much for her to take. It's not as if Momoe and Chizuru never had crushes. They certainly did. And a lot more than her, too! It wasn't fair for them to make fun of her when they were worse.

Still sulking, Miyako placed a blank piece of paper in front of her, picking out a black crayon. What to draw? She had drawn nothing but birds all day, so something different was in order. Her mind began to float back to the small boy on the television, the one around her age, with the indigo hair and the violet eyes. The one who didn't smile. He needed a smile. Yes, he did.

But that required a different color. Miyako pulled out a peach crayon. Then, a dark blue one, and a violet one. She was about ready to start, when another thought came to her. One she liked a lot better. And she could still give him his smile.

Grinning happily, Miyako pulled out the proper colors for her future masterpiece; pink, green, purple, gold, yellow, gray...


"Miyako," Ken Ichijouji called out, looking tentatively around the room he was in, surrounded by boxes, "what should I take?"

"Anything you can grab," Miyako replied, poking her head in, long purple hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked around, honey brown eyes widening. "I can't believe I'm moving all this stuff into your apartment. Our apartment," she amended, still not used to the idea, but loving it more every time she said it. Our apartment.

"I can't believe you have all this," Ken commented, cautiously opening a box. "Just what is in this?"

"I really don't know," she shrugged, walking in. With a smile, the twenty-one year old tapped one of the boxes. "It's basically my whole life here! I'm surprised Hawkmon didn't get packed, as well."

Ken smiled for a moment, more focused on the contents of the box he had opened than anything else. "I somehow think we'd hear his complaints."

Miyako giggled. "Probably."

"Hey, what's this?" Ken asked, pulling out a yellowing piece of paper. He narrowed his eyes on one of the corners, "'My Future, by Miyako, Age 7.' You did this?"

"What?" Miyako blinked, walking over and taking the paper. "Give me that." She looked down at the sheet, and blushed mildly at the scribbling.

In the best manner she could have at her age, was a drawing of her, purple hair still in its pigtails, but with an added on crown. She had drawn herself in a rather poofy, pink gown, complete with white gloves and puffy sleeves. Behind her was a roughly drawn castle, a sky of impossible blue, and a bright yellow sun, with streaks of sunlight for an added effect. And right next to Miyako, with a smile she had tried so hard to make, was a boy with short indigo hair, and violet eyes, dressed in a blue and white outfit, that she had been sure at the age of seven, looked princely.

"It's just a scribble I did a long time ago," Miyako said softly, trying to brush it aside.

"It's cute," Ken complimented. "You know, he kind of looks like me. Except my hair's longer."

"Well, you didn't have long hair at the time," Miyako murmured.

He blinked. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," she shrugged, putting the drawing back into the box, and re-sealing it. "Can you take these to the car now?"

" ...Sure," he said, not quite sure how to take her strange behavior. He reached for one of the boxes, when a hand reached out and took his arm, an engagement ring twinkling merrily at him from one finger. An engagement ring that he'd bought. "Miyako?"

"Ken," she looked down, unable to see him in the eye at the moment, "this is going to sound really silly, but can I ask a favor?"

"Miyako, you can ask anything you want of me," he answered, slightly worried. "You know that."

"Okay," she nodded. "I just... Well, could you... ? Would you please... ?" She sighed, and finally looked him in the eye. Those violet eyes that she loved so much. "Could you smile? For me?"

"Huh?" Ken blinked, wondering at the question.

"I told you it was strange," Miyako laughed a little. "Please, though? Could you give me one small smile?"

He stared at her for a while. A long, unsettling while, that made Miyako grow more nervous with the passing time. He thought she'd lost it, she was sure. What a dumb, crazy thing to ask of him. He didn't understand. Why would he? A full two minutes went by, and she was about ready to run out of the room with embarrassment.

Then, gently placing his hands on either side of her face, Ken offered a bright smile. "Miyako, I always smile for you," he said, voice tinted with amusement. "I smile the most for you. I always will."

"Well, that's... That's good," Miyako nodded, relieved. "I just want to make you happy."

He leaned over, placing his forehead on hers. "You do that all the time," he whispered, conspiratorially.

"Do I?" she whispered back.

"Always," he replied, placing his lips on hers.

Miyako relaxed, allowing her arms to slide into their rightful place around his neck. This was exactly where she was meant to be, yes. No paper prince version of him could even hold a candle to the real thing.

"You know," she began, pulling away just slightly, "that drawing of mine wasn't even close."

"It wasn't?" he questioned, playing with strands of her hair, fondly.

"Nope," Miyako shook her head, before placing it comfortably on Ken's shoulder. "My future turned out even better than that picture. Even if I don't get to wear a pink, puffy dress. Such a shame, though. I bet I would've looked good in that."

Tightening his hold on her, Ken laughed, a light musical sound, that caused Miyako to smile. Yes. Her drawing didn't even compare to this.