And that is how I re-met Daisuke Motimiya.

If he had changed at all in the last three years, it wasn't evident. His hair was still some bizarre sunset colour of brown, his skin was still tanned. He was still always in motion, always so easy to read. He was still Daisuke, something eternal, like an elemental force.

My Jogress partner.

Mine.

(Takeru tells me I should explain what I mean by that, and maybe I will sooner or later. For now, it suffices to say that I've always felt I have a special claim on Daisuke's time and attention, given what we've been through together. My possessive streak is, as the saying goes, a mile wide.)

"Hello, Daisuke," I said, trying to glare Takeru out of his laughing fit will simultaneously keeping both eyes on my ex-best friend, ex-partner, ex-rival, ex-enemy.

"Hello? Do you fucking hear this guy, Takashi?" Daisuke tilted his chin up and frowned down his nose in my direction. It was a pose that looked strikingly familiar, a habit he'd probably acquired from me at one time or another. "Three years of nothing and now what do I get? Fucking hello."

Takeru just shrugged, trying, and failing spectacularly, to keep a straight face. The other Digidestined have always regarded Daisuke as a sort of clown, even when he's being earnestly serious. In no small measure, I've always resented them for that.

"I'm not going to make excuses," I began, taking the first steps through the speech I had been rehearsing all through the drive over, "but–"

"Well, you might as well leave then," Daisuke said, frowning on the edge of a pout and pointing at the door behind us where the poor waiter was now cowering. "I want excuses, and if you aren't going to give any then you might as well just leave, Ken."

I blinked. And paused. And tried to think of someway to answer an ultimatum like that. Over the years, I suppose, I had forgotten how good Daisuke was at throwing me off balance, and if Takeru hadn't chosen that moment to make himself useful, I'm not sure how I would've responded.

"Look, Daisuke, as much as we'd all like to see you pound Ken to a pulp," thanks Takeru, "we're here on business."

"Oh," Daisuke deflated a little. "Oh, this's about Sora, right? Yeah, Miyako called me," and at that, he met my eyes again – the inference that I was an irredeemable coward for not calling myself crossed the distance clearly.

"I need to ask you some questions," I told him and watched as the expression in his eyes shifted from stubborn to reluctant to acquiescing.

"Fine! Come on back to my office. You've scared my customers enough for one day."

I glanced at Takeru, but neither of us dared point out that he was the one storming about like a hurricane. It wouldn't have lead to anything constructive, to say the least.

He led us back, past a blue-lit tank of tropical fish and the doors to the kitchen, to a small office nestled next to the men's bathroom. Inside, there was barely sitting room for two and even then both chairs were covered in papers and boxes of staples. I had only been here once before, years before, but it was still exactly how I remembered it.

Daisuke began clearing off the chairs, giving me a look that dared me to make a remark about the mess. Once upon a time, I would have too.

When he'd finally managed to stuff the papers into the bottom drawer of his desk, Daisuke sat down and crossed his arms over his chest. Defensive down to the tight purse of his lips.

"So, what?" he demanded.

I looked briefly at Takeru who shook his head in a 'don't look at me for help' sort of way and took out his notebook. I took a deep breath and sat down across from Daisuke.

"What exactly did Miyako tell you?"

"That Sora was dead, and you were looking into it."

I watched his hands curl into angry fists on the desktop and thought about how stupid this was. How stupid it was to think that Daisuke could have...

"Do you have a rat problem?" I asked, hoping that, by cutting straight to the point, my personal beliefs wouldn't have time to compromise my investigation, and I would be able to get out of this tiny office as soon as possible.

Daisuke's eyes narrowed. "Is that some sort of secret detective code? If I say yes, are you going to arrest me?"

Maybe.

"Just answer the question, please."

I could tell that he didn't like that answer. He was already fidgeting in his seat and for a moment, it was like three years had never happened, and I was trying to teach Daisuke mortgage calculations on the floor of his dorm room while he tried to distract me with old volumes of Inuyasha.

"Yeah, okay, sometimes," Daisuke said, frowning at me like that could make me disappear from his life once again. "But it's never a big thing, and it's not like it's...whatchamacallit..."

"Chronic," I filled in. Because we've always been able to finish each other's sentences.

He stared at me. Like I had said something shocking. Like I wasn't allowed to finish sentences for him anymore, and, maybe, I wasn't.

"Yeah," he said, sourly. "Not chronic."

"Do you, though?" Takeru asked. "I mean, currently."

Daisuke shrugged, a crisp up and down movement under the fabric of his shirt, and he looked Takeru straight in the eye. "Not here. One of the smaller joints downtown did a week or so back, I think. Look, seriously, what the fuck?"

Takeru toyed with his pencil. I looked at my hands. If, if, Daisuke had done it – and it still made my chest clench to think about that – he was doing a very good job of playing innocent. When I had accused Tai to his face, only the day before, it was largely because I didn't have a shred of evidence to stand on; it had been nothing more than an idle remark, fishing for a response.

But Daisuke? I found I couldn't look him in the eye and explain, honestly explain, that he was the closest thing to a suspect I had.

I couldn't, but I had to, and so I did.

Daisuke didn't say anything immediately when I was through. He just stared, blinking in a slow rhythm like he was trying to process the logic, like he couldn't quite believe I'd just said that. Really, I couldn't blame him. Finally, he scowled and banged a fist on the table.

"Well, fuck you."

Takeru sighed. "Daisuke –"

"Fuck you too, T.J.," Daisuke interrupted and then snapped his eyes back to me. "You come in with these idiotic goddamn suggestions, and...just what do you want from me, Ken? Huh? Disappear for three years, not a word, and then suddenly you're back, and what the fuck do you want?"

I swallowed all the idiotic responses that came to mind and managed what was likely a very weak, "I just want to find out who killed Sora."

"Why would I want to... to do that? This is ridiculous!" Daisuke leaned forward abruptly and began ticking off his fingers. "I've got employees, here and at the packaging plants. I've got cooks and janitors and waiters and transport and fucking dishwashers. I get that the ramen was poisoned, and it probably came from one of my stores, but I can't believe you'd have the..." He snapped his fingers, searching for the word.

It was out of my mouth before I could even think about propriety. "Gall?"

Daisuke froze up for one terrible instant. "Stop doing that."

I was suddenly glad to have Takeru standing somewhere behind my shoulder, writing all this down, because I wanted to run so badly at that moment. Daisuke was glaring at me like he hadn't since...since that time when we were eleven, and I forced him to bow his head and call me master. I was so certain I couldn't do this, that I was in fact about to break and run, when Takeru came to my rescue again.

"Hey, Dai, calm down."

Now, Daisuke and Takeru's relationship has never exactly been one to promote calming down and as far as I knew, that hadn't changed, but (this time) Daisuke did as he was told. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, in the single most disgusted voice I have ever heard, "Is there anything I can do to prove it wasn't me?"

Where, with Tai or Yamato, I would have dove at the opportunity, with Daisuke I spoke slowly, trying not to look too eager even though there was nothing in the world I wanted quite as much as to prove that it hadn't been him.

"I'd like access to any kitchens used to prepare ingredients, to your packaging plants eventually, and to your employee records." For good measure, I tacked on, "Please."

Daisuke made a gesture at two filing cabinets on the left wall, just below a slim rectangle window, and said, "The employee papers are in there, go wild. I'm gonna have to make a few phone calls to arrange the rest. Please be so kind as to excuse me." And without waiting for a response, he lurched out of his chair and maneuvered around the desk to the door.

I found it much easier to breath when the door had clicked closed, and it must have shown because Takeru chuckled.

"You okay, Ken?"

"Fine," I replied. "Let's get to work."

We pulled out the first drawer of the first cabinet and dropped it on top of Daisuke's desk. The first thing we fished out was an old folder with Hamaguchi Restaurant Equipment (626) 288-6909 and a large doodle of a cow scribbled on it. This was followed by a thick folder with the name Aburakoji Kaya written on the tag. Then came an Askikaga and an Asukai, and Takeru sat down and started flipping through the files as I pulled them, looking for anything immediately suspicious.

The fourth file was for a Reizei Shingen and by the time I reached the sixth, it was obvious that searching the employee records was not going to be as straightforward as I might have expected. It was, in fact, going to be typical Daisuke: perplexing and occasionally frustrating.

"I wonder what, exactly, Daisuke has against the alphabet," I said aloud after finding a Daigo and a Yoshida filed, utterly irrationally, one after the other.

"Not everyone feels the need to, say, catalogue their bookshelves by author name, subject matter, and the colour of the cover, Ken."

"Hardly comparable," I snapped. "And it was by length not the colour of the..." I trailed off as Matsuki Hideaki fell away to reveal something I had not expected. "Yagami Torio?" I said, pulling the relatively thin file out of its hiding place. "Isn't that Hikari's son?"

Takeru looked up from speed-reading through some waitress's resume. "What? Oh, yeah. He wanted a PSP about a month back and made a big deal about it until Hikari told him he could get one if he earned the money himself. Daisuke did him a favour and let him run odd jobs in the kitchen for a couple of months until he had enough." Takeru shrugged. "Sorry, I forget you don't know this stuff."

"Actually, I think I remember Miyako mentioning that. It just didn't seem significant before."

Takeru tilted his head to the side. "And it seem significant now?"

"Yes," I said and then, "No. Maybe. Hikari does seem to keep popping up though. I think I should go have a talk with her."

"Good luck with that," said Daisuke, and Takeru and I turned to see him closing the door quietly behind himself. He was almost smiling. "You say a word that even starts with the letter S, and she'll be slamming the door in your face."

"It's true," Takeru agreed, but he didn't seem to share Daisuke's amusement.

I sighed. It figured. "Maybe you can talk to her," I told Takeru after a moment of deep self-pity. "She always tended to listen to you more than anyone."

"Save Tai," Takeru said with a shrug. "But, yeah, okay. It's worth a try."

"I'm coming too." This was Daisuke, crossing his arms across his chest and making this declaration in the same tone of voice others would use to say 'The sky is blue.'

"Dai–" I began, pushing hair out of my eyes, but Daisuke was already forging ahead.

"Unh-unh. No way, Ichijouji. I'm your big prime suspect? Fine. You're stuck with me. I'm not leaving your sight until you're convinced I had nothing to do with this. End of story."

I met his eyes and quickly looked away and in that moment, we both knew he'd won. It wasn't much of a fight. In truth, I have never been very good at refusing Daisuke anything.

"I'm done at four," he said. "We can meet back here, and I'll drive us over."

I looked at my watch. It was only 11:14, but Hikari's school wouldn't be let out until 3:00, and there was no reason to disrupt her at work. There was no real rush; after all, Sora wasn't going anywhere.

"Alright," I agreed. "I suddenly have the strange feeling I should probably tell Tai about this, anyway." I looked significantly at Takeru, but he was already shaking his head.

"Oh no. Count me out. You get to tell Tai you're gunning for his baby sister on your own." He grinned. "Besides, I should probably make sure Mimi got my bags to your place in one piece."

"Coward," I said.

"Without a doubt," he replied.

Daisuke called us a couple of taxis and marched us out of his restaurant in a way that clearly indicated he had other things to attend to. "Four o'clock," he said as he all but pushed me out the door.

"I'll be here."

He nodded seriously. "I'll find you if you aren't."

It didn't sound like an idle threat.

The first taxi arrived soon after, and Takeru let me take it on the principle that my business was probably more important. I gave the driver terse directions and sat back to plan what I was going to say. As with Daisuke, there was really no good way to go about this and by the time we pulled up in front of the Embassy, my mind was still blank.

The young man from my first visit, Tsutsui, was at the desk again and as I entered, he waved me over.

"You'll have to sign in," he told me when I reached the desk, indicating the black binder by his elbow. "Mr. Yagami's been tightening security around here."

The statement hung in the air, a clear dig for more information, but I ignored it and took the pen to sign my name and the time in the first available slot. Ichijouji Ken....12:07. When I looked up, I found Tsutsui staring intently at me.

"Are you the real Ken Ichijouji?" he asked, his voice edging into what I identified as hero worship once again.

I snorted. "Would I lie about that?"

After making an awkward promise to talk to Tsutsui more later, I took the elevator up to Tai's floor. Chako, phone planted securely between her ear and shoulder, gave me a little wave as I walked past her desk and into Tai's office.

Tai and Koushiro were seated informally around Tai's desk when I entered, their attention directed to the corner of the office just by my head where a small television had been secured to the wall. Tai looked away for a moment as I shut the door and motioned at me with his hand, either welcoming me or preemptively warning me to stay quiet, while at the same time reaching for the remote and boosting the volume.

On the television screen, a young woman with slick brown-black hair was being interviewed by reporters. The caption at the bottom of the screen identified her as Tanaka Nariko.

"For most of us," she was saying, answering a question I hadn't heard, "the Digital World is still strange and new. Some select individuals, such as Mr. Yagami the de facto head of the Digimon Consulate, have known about it since childhood, but the rest of us have had to wait, to digest the information Mr. Yagami and the government choose to release whenever they choose to release it.

"This does not sound like progress to me. This does not sound like democracy to me. The people of Japan deserve to know everything, all the facts, and to make their own informed decision about how much contact we really want with these Digital Monsters."

"Oh god," said Koushiro, covering his eyes in what seemed to be a half-serious gesture. "I can't watch this."

Tai hit the mute and spun around in his chair, so he was facing Koushiro squarely. "Calm down, Izzy."

"Tai, do you hear what she's saying?"

"Yeah." Tai sounded completely unconcerned. "She's used the word progress eight times so far, which means..."

Koushiro smiled slightly then and said, in the voice of someone reciting word-for-word something he's heard too many times, "She's an ultra conservative with more tailors than brains, trying to sound reasonable while really plotting a way to put the shogunate back in power."

Tai grinned widely. "Bingo. No problem."

"Sorry to interrupt," I said, not sorry in the slightest. "I need to talk to you, Tai."

"My cue to leave," Koushiro sighed, giving me a nod and pushing out of his chair. "I'll drop in again before I head home tonight."

"See you then," Tai said and after the door had closed, he looked at me and gestured with his head at Koushiro's recently-vacated chair. "How'd it go with Davis?"

"About as well as anticipated," I said, sitting. "Nothing conclusive either way. If it comes to it, he's given me permission to turn his kitchens upside down, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What's up then?"

"Hikari."

Instantly, Tai leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms defensively. "What about her?"

"Daisuke, Takeru, and I are going to talk to her this evening. Did you know her son was working at Noodles-Cubed last month?"

"Of course. So what?"

"So," I took a deep breath. Tai was obviously playing stupid, but that was no reason to let myself be goaded. Although trying to control my temper with Tai always seems to be a losing battle. "She had access to the kitchen. Through Daisuke, through Torio. And she has motive. Her argument with Sora–"

"Bullshit," Tai interrupted loudly. "I told you that she wouldn't have killed anyone over something like that."

"Which was really convincing, especially when you followed it up by not proving it."

Tai frowned. "She didn't do it. She wouldn't."

"And Daisuke would?" I countered. It got the reaction I was hoping for; Tai thumped a fist on his desk but from the way his eyebrows went up not down, I could see it was more out of frustration than anger.

"Of course not," he said. "I don't think he would ever, ever, but I know Kari wouldn't."

"I'm still going to talk to her," I said, and he sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I know."

It was almost a victory. Deciding to quit while I was still ahead, I got up from my chair and nodded to Tai before turning to leave.

"Ken?" he said, just as I reached the door. I stopped and looked over my shoulder. He stared at me for a long time, looking very blank, before shaking his head. "No. Never mind."

Maybe things would have turned out differently if I had pushed a little harder, tried to find out what he was keeping from me, but I didn't. I chose, for once, to respect Tai's privacy and leave the decision he made unquestioned, and I left without another word.

Chako wasn't around as I crossed to the elevator. The note on her desk said, "Delivering letter to Mr. H. Be back in half an hour." I took the elevator to the ground floor, signed out at the main desk, and walked out of the building almost in a daze.

It was just past 12:30, the odd downtime between the two ends of the lunchtime rush. I thought about heading back to the office and then I thought about heading home to see Miyako which made me nauseous in a way I hadn't felt for years. I suddenly wanted desperately to be alone, just for a little while.

In the end, I took the path down along the Sumida River to the bridge between the Old Foreign Quarter and Tsukudajima. I wound up on sitting on a bench for hours, staring at the water and thinking about how much time had passed since I'd stood on that bridge and watched Daisuke and the others walk home from the soccer game that, privately, I had always labelled The Turning Point.

I've done the calculations since, double-checked all the possibilities until I am almost certain; if it hadn't been for that soccer game, I probably would have won. It's odd to think, now that retrospect and guilt are possible, that there was an even chance, hinged on something as simple as a soccer game, that things could have gone the other way.

It was past 3:00 when I next thought to check my watch, and I had no time to wonder where time had gone as I hurried back to the nearest subway station and caught the first train back towards Noodles-3. I arrived well ahead of time, but Takeru and Daisuke were already waiting for me, perched on the trunk of a car I could only hope wasn't Daisuke's.

"'Bout time," Daisuke declared, pushing off the rusting fender and reaching into his pocket for his keys.

"What do you mean? I'm early."

"Not by my watch," Takeru said, tapping his wrist as if to demonstrate. "I've got four-fifteen."

"Whatever!" Daisuke shouted. "Let's get going."

I hesitated, staring despairingly at the car which was really only a car if you had a very good imagination and were willing to use it fully. I, with very few exceptions, have never been particularly good at pretending.

Daisuke paused at the driver's door to bark, "C'mon, Ken I promise you she won't fall apart until after we get to Kari's."

The way he said it almost sounded teasing, and I glanced up to see if, as unlikely and impossible as it might seem, he was smiling at me, but he had already disappeared into the driver's seat.

Remember I said there were a few exceptions to my inability to pretend? Well, I have always been an expert at deluding myself.

Takeru took the seat beside Daisuke, leaving me with the back seat to myself. "How'd things go with Tai?" he asked over his shoulder when we were on our way and the floor of the car was rumbling unsettlingly beneath my feet.

"Better than it easily could have gone, I suppose. Although, he was far from supportive."

"Can't really blame him," Daisuke said, and neither Takeru nor I could argue with that.

We pulled into the driveway of Hikari's house just as the sun was stretching out into a long thin line along the roofs on the horizon. We walked up the path, Daisuke and I hanging slightly behind as we reached the door. I could tell by the grimace on his face that he was just as eager as I to let Takeru do the talking.

The door half-opened almost immediately, and Hikari Yagami's peered out.

"T.K.," she said, "what are you doing–" Her sentence ended there as she noticed first Daisuke and then me. Her eyes went wide for a moment and then narrowed as she quickly figured out what we had come for.

"I know you don't like talking about Sora," Takeru interjected, taking a small step forward in what looked like a desperate appeal but was really only a canny way of getting his foot in the door. "But we really need to know your side of the story. Please, Kari."

She thought about it for a minute, assessing just how much could be lost or gained, and then in a smooth movement, pulled the door open with an irritable, "Fine."

We followed her into the front room. Daisuke and Takeru moved instantly toward the couch while I hovered nervously in the doorway.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Hikari asked, always the perfect hostess even when it was obvious she wanted us gone as soon as possible.

"Nope," said Daisuke, and Takeru and I both shook are heads.

She sighed and slipped into a chair opposite from where I stood. I watched as she arranged her skirt neatly over her knees, folded her hands in her lap, and looked up at me. "What," she asked, "did you need to speak with me about?"

I began, once more with the basics. "You've talked to Miyako?"

She nodded. "Yes, and Tai."

"So you know what happened."

"Not in detail, but yes."

I took a step into the room and pretended to examine the frame of an ocean painting hang near my head. "I heard you and Sora had an argument."

"A year ago," she replied levelly.

On the couch, Daisuke was staring fixedly at his fingernails while Takeru scribbled in his notebook. I asked the question we all wanted the answer to: "What did you argue about?"

Hikari didn't say a word. I might've wondered if she had heard me except her lips had thinned and with that change alone, her expression had slid from forced composure into a pointed glare.

Takeru flipped his notebook closed, a silent promise that this, whatever this turned out to be, wouldn't be put down in writing. "Kari," he said gently.

Hikari closed her eyes and jerked a hand through her hair. When she opened her eyes again, her face had softened, and she was looking at Takeru.

"It's not–" she began before grimacing in frustration and trying again. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?" Takeru prompted.

"Because I promised Tai I wouldn't."

Daisuke beat the rest of us to it. "Wait, what? Tai? What does he have to do with a fight you and Sora had?"

I nodded. "That's my question too."

She sighed, rubbing a hand across her eyes, looking weary. Whatever this apparently massive secret was, it had been weighing on her for a long time. She had just opened her mouth, maybe to give an answer or maybe just another excuse, when the front door opened and shut, and Torio appeared in the doorway just behind me.

"Mom?" he asked once, looking around the room, trying to take in what was happening. He looked from me to Takeru and Daisuke on the couch before dropping his backpack and almost flying to his mother's side. "What's going on?" he asked her before rounding on us, angrily, "What did you say to her?"

Daisuke's mouth dropped open in a small, offended "but " Hikari was, perhaps unknowingly, doing a very good impression of a stricken victim. Takeru was halfway to his feet already.

"Torio, hold on a–"

"No " he shouted, falling just short of stamping his feet. "Leave my mom alone "

I glanced at Daisuke. He looked back at me and for a moment, in his face, I saw a reflection of Torio's plea. C'mon, Ken, was the silent message, let's lay off, at least for now.

It has been one of the greatest topics of discussion in the years since: why I, perhaps more than was reasonably so, kept naming Hikari as a suspect. Theories abound. Miyako asserts that it was jealousy. Takeru, who saw more of the process than the others and who reads far too many detective novels, believes that I was attracted to someone who had all the elements of the perfect suspect. Koushiro and Iori both hold, although they have never said so in as many words, that I suspected Hikari because she is my antithesis in many ways, and it was most reassuring to believe that the direct opposite of myself was capable of murder.

The truth itself is the antithesis of that theory. I know I am capable of murder, and I think what I see in Hikari is a somewhat distorted reflection of myself, the result of the path not taken. Of the twelve of us, only Hikari and I have ever seen the Dark Ocean, and perhaps I understand best what that implies about her.

And I wonder sometimes, if they had found me that year when Myotismon attacked the city looking for the eighth Digidestined, if Osamu hadn't put the digivice in a drawer to be forgotten, if the path not taken had been taken... would Hikari have been the one with the whip in her hands?

I digress.

"Hikari," I began but at the same time, there was a knock at the door. Torio stopped yelling, and all attention turned from Hikari to the hallway. Another knock, louder, and then a familiar but muffled voice shouted, "Hikari!"

Hikari got to her feet, smoothing her hair, regaining her composure, as she brushed past us all to the door. We all stood motionless, as if time had stopped when she left the room. And we listened. The lock clicked open. The door opened. Hikari's voice, surprised, said, "Koushiro!"

"Kari," Koushiro's voice was more strained than usual and moving quickly, but each word was heavy. "I hate to do this. My car is running outside. You have to come with me. Tai is in the hospital."

Time unfroze. Daisuke was off the couch in an instant, charging through the doorway to the hall. Torio looked stricken and, without thought, grabbed Takeru's hand tightly when it was offered.

"What the hell?" Daisuke was saying around the corner, and I turned around to join the growing crowd in the entranceway.

Koushiro looked at us and then at Hikari. She shook her head.

"Explain later," she said. "Torio?"

"Yeah, mom?" he answered, coming up near my shoulder with Takeru beside him.

"Do you want to come or stay?"

"Come."

She smiled weakly and nodded to Koushiro. "We're ready then."

Hikari, Torio, and Koushiro piled into Koushiro's car. "Saiseikai," Koushiro shouted to Daisuke as we headed toward Daisuke's car. "Jyou's taking care of him." Daisuke nodded gravely with the look on his face he usually reserved for beating the bad guy, and he was pulling out of the driveway almost before I had my door closed.

"What do you think happened?" Takeru asked as we dodged through late day traffic. The sky was purple to the east, red to the west and straight ahead, a large white van filled the horizon.

"Heart attack?" Daisuke suggested. His knuckles were white against the black plastic steering wheel.

I thought about the new security measures at the Embassy and wondered why they hadn't seemed strange and sudden and frightening the way they did now. "We can hope."

There was no fight with the hospital receptionist this time. Chako was waiting near the front desk and ran up to hug Hikari as soon as we arrived.

"It was horrible," she mumbled into Hikari's shoulder. "God, I'm so glad you're here."

"Where's my brother, Chako?" Hikari asked softly and a second later, we were trouping down a hall with Chako, Hikari, and Torio leading the way.

I matched step with Koushiro and without needing to be asked, he began to explain. "I can't tell you exactly what happened, Ken. I finished work early, three-ish, and was dropping in to say good night. I met Chako in the elevator. She was coming back from running an errand. We got up to Tai's floor. I went into the office, and he was on the floor. That's all I know."

"What do you think happened?" asked Takeru.

Koushiro's face darkened. "I think someone hit him on the back of the head with something large and heavy. There was blood."

Daisuke whistled. "Fuck."

Ahead, Hikari, Torio, and Chako had stopped, and Jyou's blue-black hair was easily recognisable as he jogged over to them and began to make some, no doubt awkward, explanations and consolations. In a way, I was almost relieved because I could see a question forming on Takeru's face, and it was one I had no answer to: do you think this is connected?

"Have to stay over night," Jyou was saying as we got within hearing range, "but he'll be fine. He was awake almost as soon as we started bandaging him up, and all the preliminary tests indicate that there's probably no, uh, lasting damage."

Hikari exhaled loudly. "Good."

"You can go ahead in, if you like," Jyou said, and Hikari gripped her son's hand tightly.

"We'll all go in together," she said. "I'm going to start crying if I do this alone."

In reality, she started crying anyway, and Tai tried his best to pull her into a hug over the railing of the hospital bed. As she clung to his hospital gown, he tucked her head protectively under his chin but at the same time, over her head, he rolled his eyes at Torio and mouthed "Your mom is crazy " When Torio laughed, we were all finally able to relax.

"Hey, Motimiya!" Tai crowed once Hikari had released him and moved back to hug her son.

Daisuke grinned and grabbed Tai's hand, trying not to look overly anxious. "Hey, man! What the hell happened?"

Tai shrugged nonchalantly and laughed. "Jyou had to shave the back of my head. I've got a bald spot now! Wanna see?"

Daisuke's grin widened, and he squeezed Tai's hand once more before letting go. He was satisfied that Tai was the same old Tai; he didn't really care that his question hadn't been answered, but I did.

"Tai. What happened?"

Tai's smile faded in an instant. He looked at his hands and then past Hikari and Torio, out the window, and then back at me. "Can't really say," he said finally. "First I'm talking on the phone with that crazy Tanaka woman, then something hits me on the back of the head, then I black out. It's not the first I've missed someone coming into my office when I'm on the phone. Swear to god, it's the last, though." He smiled humourlessly.

There was a knock on the door, and a young intern stuck her head in. "Mr. Yagami? There's a Mr. Hida here to see you."

"Ah," Tai brightened a little, although there was a vicious glint in his eye. "Tell him to come in."

Iori Hida appeared a few seconds later, with suit, tie, and briefcase, looking like he'd driven here straight from the office which, actually, he probably had.

"Taichi," Iori said, "how are you?"

Tai waved his hand impatiently, sitting up straight. "Do you have it?" he asked cryptically.

Iori looked around the room, his eyes landing briefly on me before moving back to Tai. "Yes," he said.

"And?" Tai demanded and then for the benefit of the rest of us, added, "I sent instruction to Iori to pick up the log book from the front desk if anything ever happened to me. Y'know, so no one could alter it before I had a chance to look at it. Didn't think he'd ever have to, but..." He looked back at Iori. "Well? C'mon We're all friends here!"

"I wonder," was all Iori said before opening his briefcase, removing the binder, and turning to the last page. There was a collective move toward the bed to stare at the open binder. Daisuke, the closest, swore loudly and took a sharp step back in shock. All the names on the page had a sign-out time next to them except the last. Seven spots down from where I had signed my name at 12:07, in neat, familiar cursive: Ichijouji Ken...2:35.

I blinked.