Disclaimer:  I do not own any part of Digimon.  I do, however, own an ADORABLE Gomamon plushie which sits above my computer.   His eyes are black, though.  Not the neat-o green that Gomie's really are.  I bought it at Toys R Us when my grandmother was getting all these toys for my cousin.  I put a bunch of Digimon stuff in the cart, but she ended up buying it all for him!  It's no fair!  *gets bonked on the head by random person* Right.  Where was I?  Oh yeah, I don't own Toys R Us.  I would've thought that was obvious, but hey, some of you might be a little obvious-impaired.

Author's Note:  This is supposed to be a sequel to my other fic, Butterfly.  Unfortunately, I have not seen the ending of the second series.  Hell, I haven't even seen that much of the second series.  I just saw enough of the characters to develop an obsession with them.

So, I apologize for any incorrect thing-a-majigs that should happen to pop up.  I wouldn't mind if you e-mailed and corrected me to save me any future trouble

Also, I was always extremely confused about the ages.  So, in this story, Miyako's 14 and Koushirou's 16.

Arigatou, and enjoy!

PS:  There's some subconscious Dai-bashing in this, so watch yourselves.  But it's really not my fault.  I can't help it if he's an idiot.

Inspirations

By Moony

Chapter One:  Prodigious or Perfecto?

Inoue Miyako gazed out the window in the Computers room, watching the clouds float by.  Her mind felt as vacant as the sky and she sighed dramatically, turning her head back to the computer screen, her cheek resting on her palm with her other hand tapping against the desk.

'Think, think, think, think' she thought.  Her eyes slid over the few words she'd typed into the word processing program, but soon they slid out of focus, jumbling together and melting away.  She shook her head, coming back into reality, and let out a loud, exasperated sigh.

 "Oh, it's useless!"  She said, slumping back in her chair.  She stretched her neck from side to side, her irritation rising.

"What is?"

Miyako slowly turned her head to see Izumi Koushirou looking down at her.  His brows were arched in a questioning manner and his ruffled red hair was looking particularly messy.  She knew he'd been working extra hard on a special virus-detecting program for the Digital world and she gave him an encouraging grin.

"Having some trouble with the programming?"  He asked, leaning down to look over her shoulder at the monitor.  Miyako blushed, and her head jerked forward to shut off the monitor, but she realized she was a bit too late.  She moved her hand to scratch her neck, awkwardly, and turned to look down the lines of busy students.

"Actually, it's . . . it's . . . a . . . uhhh . . ." The end of her sentence was mumbled so quietly that Koushirou obviously had no clue what she'd even said.  He cocked his head to the side, his brow arched in concern.

"It's what?"

"Aa . . ."

"Miyako?"

"It's a romance fanfic!!"

"Ah."  He said, trying to sound comprehensive but his expression doing him no justice.  He nodded as if understanding, but Miyako shrugged helplessly.

"It's a story I'm writing based on a TV series."  She explained, growing even more embarrassed.  Revelation dawned across his face and he made a slight "Aha" under his breath.  He pursed his lips, leaning down again to read what she had already written. 

"May I?"  He asked, hesitantly.  Miyako smiled, knowing perfectly well that he was trying to be polite and didn't actually care at all.    She gave him an appreciative look and gestured towards the monitor.

"Be my guest."  She said, trying to sound casual.  Really, she had no faith in what she was doing at all.  She wrote very little and even then it wasn't always top quality work, but she still had enough faith in her abilities under normal circumstances.  However with this story she'd come across a bit of a snag that held her back.  Miyako was the kind of girl who wrote best from experience.  Unfortunately, the last time she'd come anywhere NEAR love had been two years ago, and that had resulted in the heartbreak of finding out that he was her worst enemy.  She had forgiven him, when she was ready, and he was now her best friend.  Her lack of experience made a love story extremely hard to write. 

"It's very good, so far."  Koushirou said, placing a hand on her shoulder and standing straight.  Miyako arched her brow in surprise and looked up at him, waiting for his feedback.  "I like the way that you have Koichi being too shy to tell Minako how he feels.  I'd like to hear the rest of it when you've got it all figured out."   He smiled down at her, and Miyako suddenly felt a strange warmth fill her gut.  It started down low and grew up inside of her.  Miyako turned deep crimson.  Could it mean that she . . . that Koushirou . . .

Her stomach growled loudly, drawing the attention of a few nearby students who studied her for a moment before returning to their work.  Miyako slapped a hand to her stomach in embarrassment, the red tint in her face intensifying by several degrees.

Or, it could just mean that she was hungry.  She smiled sheepishly and bowed her head.

"Hungry?"  He asked, his smile widening.

"Just a little."  She whispered, trying to force her face back to her normal colour, which was extremely hard to do.  Her technique often involved her holding her breath and squinting, but this often led to her looking purple:  hardly an improvement.

"Well, let me treat you to lunch then."  He reached down and took her hand, helping her to her feet.  "You can't work on an empty stomach."

After some careful deliberation, they decided that Seh-mi made better sushi than McDonald's, so they walked the extra block, which they spent arguing over which was a better catch phrase; prodigious, or perfecto.

"No, no, Miyako.  Prodigious is an actual word."

"But you say it too often.  It's like Viscinni from The Princess Bride.  He said 'inconceivable' so many times, it was hard to believe he actually knew what it meant."

"But prodigious has more meaning behind it than perfecto."

"But perfecto is universal!  Everyone knows what it means!"

"That can be a bad thing.  Prodigious is a word that people haven't heard, so they'll think you're smarter for saying it."

A throat clearing.  "Prodigious means the same thing as prodigy, just as an adjective instead of a noun."  She cast a sideways glance in his direction, smiling a bit smugly, but not too much.

"Anyone with a dictionary could know that."  Koushirou said, simply.  He ignored Miyako's shocked glared as he opened the door, gesturing for him to enter the restaurant.

            "Ladies' first."  He said, keeping his face perfectly straight.

Ichijouji Ken sat on a bench, reading a particularly boring novel on morality and political resolutions.  It was a warm, sunny day and he'd had a free period, so he'd taken his book for his Modern Politics and Societies class and gone out to study it outside.   He was entertaining the thought of going back to the school and picking his best friend up for lunch, when he glanced up and saw two figures walking towards the sushi restaurant on the other side of the road.  One was male, slightly taller than the other and wearing the familiar green uniform that Ken was wearing at the same moment.   The other was a shorter girl, long hair flowing down her back.

"Well, speak of the devil."  He said quietly.  He watched them with an amused expression on his face as they entered the restaurant, the girl going first as the young man held the door open for her.

"Such a gentleman."  He frowned, feeling a bit protective of the petite girl he considered to be his.  He knew he had no influence over her love life, but as her best friend, a sense of ownership overcame him none the less.  He had always known that one day he'd have to see her spend more and more time with someone who could give her the love she wanted.  It had been inevitable from the very beginning.  Miyako was of medium-height, with long, graceful legs.  She had soft brown eyes that lit up when she smiled, and long, gorgeously violet hair.   It had been to his great surprise that she had managed to stay single this long, and it only worked for him to get more and more greedy for her attention.

He felt a surge of curiosity to know whom the young man had been - whether he knew the other or not.  The distance had been too great for him to tell; Miyako only distinguishable because he knew the way she walked and moved. 

A sudden inspiration.  Without knowing it, he quickly stood up.  Cat-like stealth ran through his body as he got up from his seat and crossed the road, avoiding any cars.  Sneaking towards the restaurant, he crouched below the window and slowly peaked inside.  Seeing Miyako and her date sitting in a booth only a few feet away from his peek-hole, he ducked quickly, his back pressed against he wall.

"Uhhh . . . what are you doing?"

Ken jumped and looked up to see an extremely familiar pair of goggles on an extremely clueless looking face.

"Daisuke!  Hi."  He tried to look casual and cool, standing up quickly and stepping away from the window, leaning against a wall.  Daisuke blinked, looking up at Ken, then turned to peer in the window.  When he did, his eyes widened and he grinned.

"Heeeyy!!!  It's Miyako and Koushirou!"  Ken nearly face faulted.

'Koushirou?'  He thought, calming down immediately.  He'd been worried about Koushirou?  He knew the older boy considered Miyako a colleague, a friend.  Nothing to be worried about. The clueless expression returned to Daisuke's face as Ken's shoulders relaxed.

"Ken, why were you spying on Miyako and Koushirou?" 

Ken started, suddenly.  Something about the way Daisuke had said Miyako and Koushirou … it just didn't seem right.  Ken suddenly felt very uncomfortable.  He studied Daisuke and cocked his head to the side, considering him for a moment.

Ken smiled slyly, shaking his head and clucking his tongue.

"Daisuke, Daisuke … I'm not really spying.  It's just the two of them are planning a party for Hikari and I'm keeping watch to make sure she doesn't come by."

Ken knew he'd hit the right stimulus and Daisuke's eyes widened.

"A party for Hikari?  Why?" He asked.  Ken shrugged.

            "Do we need a reason?  We all care for her, right?  Really, though," he said, his voice taking on an admiring tone,  "it was Takeru's idea." 

            Bingo.  Daisuke's eyes narrowed and he peered into the restaurant through the glass.

            "I want to throw a party for Hikari!  Why didn't they ask me for help?"  

            Another nonchalant shrug. 

            "Don't ask me, I'm just standing guard.  Why don't you go in and ask them?"

Daisuke's face was already up against the glass and pounding angrily for their attention, and Ken stepped back, feeling guilty.  It was just Koushirou.  He probably had nothing to worry about, and even if they were on a date, it was none of his business.  Miyako was his friend and friend only.  He could give her advice, not intervene with her affairs.  If she wanted to date Koushirou, then she had every right to.  He sighed, giving Daisuke a sideways glance, and walked away.

Koushirou was forced to stop his conversation with Miyako, which he'd been enjoying very much, to stare at the window where Daisuke was squeezed against the glass and frowning like a madman.  His fist pounded against the pane and customers were turning to stare, exchanging whispered comments. 

'What in the …?'  Koushirou thought, as Miyako turned to see what he was looking at.  She groaned, and is eyes fell on her with new-discovered respect.

"How did you manage to put up with that?"  He asked her, leaning in and speaking in a whisper.  She lowered her face and peered at him from above her glasses, holding up a hand with her index finger and thumb almost pushed together.

"This close.  I came THIS close to telling Hawkmon to peck his eyes out."  Koushirou laughed but she turned to look at the glass and the boy beyond it, concerned.

"He looks angry, should we go ask him what it is?"  She asked.  Koushirou contemplated for a moment and was about to agree, when he saw Daisuke leave the window . . . heading towards the door.  He paled, his mind changing dramatically.

"What?"  Miyako asked, turning to look back at where Daisuke had been.  "Oh, no..."

"I was suddenly reminded of a very angry Taichi who realized that the notes I'd copied for him had been completely made up."  He admitted.  "Should we go?"  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a few notes, leaving them on the table.   He grabbed Miyako around the wrist and they burst out through the restaurant's back door, attracting a lot of strange looks.  They ran another two blocks before slumping down on a bench, gasping for breath.   They caught each other's looks and grinned, then laughed.  It wasn't entirely adventure on the high seas, but it certainly wasn't a normal day's events.

"Well, did that give you any inspiration for your story?"  He asked, standing up.  She thought for a moment, nodding.

"Yes!  Koichi and Minako shall be chased by the evil Dai-mon, ruining their date, yet forcing them into a nice, alone situation." 

Koushirou looked down at her, an eyebrow raised.  Suddenly realizing what she had said, she blushed furiously.

"Well, I meant …" She shook her head, smiling.  "You know what I mean." Koushirou nodded in response, reaching down and offering her his hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Ready to go back and write it down, then?" He asked, and she nodded.

People might notice that this chapter has changed a LOT from when I initially posted it like a year ago -.-;;  That's because when I first wrote it I intended on going nowhere, and in the past little while I'd like to think my writing as improved a bit.  I've changed it a touch to improve the character style and the dialogue, and to make it flow better with the following chapters.  Hope you like it!