✰AzʉʞaᏜ ℛʉℬy✰

“Black gears all over File Island, huh? Doesn’t that sound familiar?”, Mimi mused while reading the wall of text Koushirou had dropped into the group chat. Sighing lightly, she twisted a strain of her long, wavy air – now freshly dyed in bright pink, something she hadn’t done in quite a while.

Years to be exact.

Sora couldn’t take her eyes off that nostalgic sight as she tried to listen to her words. They were still sitting inside the Takenouchi residence and had already been on their way to head out for dinner, but the group chat was getting in the way.

“’We haven’t found the exact root cause yet and I’m aware that it’s inconvenient, but I would like to collect a digital sample before terminating the threat, so if anyone is currently free to travel to the Digital World to take on the task, that’d be greatly appreciated’. What a polite way to drop off the baggage, isn’t he a charmer?”, Mimi chuckled and Palmon joined in immediately. “But I guess we’re just the ones to do the job.”

Sora didn’t laugh.

“… Do you think it’s a good idea?”, she asked, fidgeting with the hem of her pink shirt, catching the attention of Mimi, Palmon – and Piyomon, who looked up to her with worried eyes.

“Sora…”

This was an entirely new situation. Not only had Mimi jumped through a gate from the US to Japan to visit her – now that the Digivices worked properly again and allowed for traveling through digital devices connected to the internet, this had become a much easier task. Koushirou, Ken and Miyako really had put their heads together to figure out a solution here…

But no. This was also the first time Sora would officially rejoin with the entire group after she had left the group chat. Quite a while ago.

Weeks, months of flower arrangement had passed. Various discussions with both her parents had taken place. Endless nights, tearful and lonely – and yet, Sora had intended to stick with her decision. Figuring out who she was by herself, detached from everyone and everything that may have connected her to the past. Her identity as a Chosen Child. No messages, no calls.

Just herself, a blank slate, a canvas to draw onto. But no matter how many flowers she tried to paint onto pristine white, the pieces didn’t seem to fit together for her.

One day, a long-forgotten book on colour coordination inside one of her shelves, squeezed in between various thick books about flower arrangement, had made its way into Sora’s vision. It wasn’t exactly sticking out at first glance – but it was definitely unique once you took a closer look:

There were purple sticky notes on various pages, specifying various colour combinations that had been famous in fashion design through the ages. On the last page, there was a list of colour-related song titles, written with a blue pen. Below that was another list of reference books about fabrics, written in yellow. There was also a pink folder of photos depicting typical floral designs used on different pieces of clothing. A bookmark in the middle of the book helped to keep track of where she had stopped reading last – it was stable, not easy to rip apart and little seals were printed on top of it. On the bottom of the bookmark, a little keychain with a cactus was applied. Last but not least, a small dedication text had been written in orange letters on the very first page:

“I hope this will be of use to you, wherever you will go. There will always be a place for you, no matter what happens.”

More talks with her parents had followed. More tears had been shed. Waves of internalized conformity had come crashing down, surges of anger and disappointment with herself. Until she couldn’t bear it anymore.

Until she simply had to send Mimi a message.

‘I don’t think I’m good at flying alone.’

“Sora-san…”, Mimi said now, looking at Sora’s insecure frame while giving her the softest smile. Without hesitating, she went over to her. Just like she had done after receiving the message – not physically, as they had still been countries apart at that time, but she had replied immediately.

Takenouchi Sora was one of the most resourceful, competent people she had ever known. Without Sora, Mimi knew she would not have made it out of the Digital World at age 10, surrounded by boys, uncomfortable and overwhelmed. In her book, Sora was strong beyond her own realizations, graceful, beautiful – and seeing her so vulnerable now made Mimi think that it was the perfect time to pay it all back.

“I told you, we’ll always have your back, right…?”, Mimi kept smiling, her heart bursting with affection and the wish to reassure her. Peeling herself out of the pink hoodie she wore, she wrapped it around Sora’s shoulders – as if to put the baby bird back into its nest. In return, Sora just blinked at her in confusion.

“Well, you did… But…”

“You’re here now and that’s what counts. With a new style…”, Mimi’s smile widened into a grin as she tapped Sora’s blue cap, letting her fingers slip down until it reached the necklace with the blue gemstone. Blue just like Piyomon’s eyes – and the sky this bird was supposed to be flying across. “Or rather, it’s a newly defined style and you did that all by yourself, you know? It suits you, heh. Right, Piyomon?”

The pink bird replied with a cheerful “Yes!” – and to Sora, it still felt like a surreal dream to have her back around. Once she had sent the message to Mimi, once she had taken out the book from the shelf, once she had ripped out half her closet to pick out blue jeans, a striped shirt and sneakers, as well as the aforementioned cap… Her own sense of what it meant to be Takenouchi Sora – woman, daughter, Chosen Child. Friend.

“You’re loved!”, Mimi exclaimed with absolute confidence and her trademark sincerity, still twisting the necklace around before both her hands reached for Sora’s cheeks for emphasis, squishing them gently. “Always have been, always will be! And if anyone dares to judge you, I’m gonna kick them!”

“Mimi-chan…”

Little tears glistened in Sora’s eyes – but this time, she smiled as well. Mimi had been the she had chosen to get in touch with, had been the first to learn how much she had fought with herself, her choices, her inner demons. It may have taken her a while. It may have looked like the right path – and it had been for some time. But now – she realized that taking the hand Mimi had always offered her was the right next step.

It hadn’t even taken a day until Koushirou had re-sent her an invitation to the group chat. Not even a week until every single of their friends had texted her – one way or another.

“You’re so cheesy…”, Sora laughed eventually, wiping the tears away and leaned in a little closer, foreheads almost touching.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen me kicking Taichi-san’s and Yamato-san’s butts yet…”