"Yagami Hikari, you are a fashion emergency!" Mimi lamented as she flipped quickly through the contents of her wardrobe. Sitting on her bed, Hikari started to wonder if it had been a good idea to ask her to get ready for the date. An hour ago, when she had been staring desperately at her clothes, it had seemed like a godsend that Mimi was back in Odaiba. After the Digimon had appeared in New York, Mr Tachikawa had decided to pack in his work there and return to Japan. Mimi had not been as pleased as he had hoped, mainly because it had meant leaving Michael behind. Officially, they were still having a long-distance relationship, but everyone could see that she was getting closer to Kido Jyou every day. They had even been to dinner the other night. If she had had to name her most unlikely couple, it would have been those two, but they seemed happy with each other. She guessed there had to be something between them that she did not see or understand.

"Wait . . . . I think there’s hope for you!" she chirped, reaching inside and pulling out an outfit. Hikari sweatdropped when she saw what it was. It was a pink, babydoll dress, ruched to fit snugly beneath her breasts and be pulled down onto her shoulders. One of her mother’s less successful birthday presents, she thought she had given that particular outfit away to charity. Mimi held it up against herself, modelling it with a graceful twirl.

"This is so perfect!"

"It’s a dress," she protested, "I don’t do dresses."

"You do now," Mimi thrust the bundle of pink fabric at Hikari, "Change."

With a sigh, Hikari stripped off her white poloneck and pulled the dress over her head.

She wished again that she had asked Sora to help her get ready for her date. Mimi might have been a part-time model and a full-time mallrat, but she had a tendency to take things to extremes. This was getting way deeper into frilly territory than she had ever wanted to go. She had the horrible suspicion that very soon a pink stetson would be mentioned as the perfect accessory. Stepping out of her jeans, she adjusted the dress so that it fitted her more comfortably, then padded barefoot to her chevalle mirror.

Grudgingly, she had to admit that Mimi had been right. In the dress, she looked almost like the sort of girl who would be on the cover of a teen magazine. Her legs seemed longer, her waist had a suggestion of a curve, even her neck seemed more graceful. Unfortunately, on the downside, the cut of the bodice drew attention to the fact that she had very little there that was worthy of attention. She was flatter than most of the boys in her class. Miyako kept saying she would grow into her bra, but there were few signs that that was ever going to happen. She wondered why she cared. It wasn’t like Takeru would. He didn’t think of her as a girl, and she certainly didn’t want him to start doing so.

"You’re so pretty!" Mimi cooed, "Now, we just need to pad your bra and you’ll look even prettier!"

Hikari’s arms crossed protectively over her chest, "P-pad my bra?"

"Uh huh," her friend nodded, happily pulling out handfuls of tissues from the dispenser on Hikari’s desk, "When I was in America, all of us girls used to do it. You’d be surprised what a difference it makes."

"No padding," Hikari said hastily, "Like I told you when I phoned, it isn’t a real date, Mimi. Takeru and I are just going to keep Miyako company, because she’s nervous of being alone with Ken and having nothing to say and making him think she’s an idiot. That’s the only reason we’re going together. It’s not like we’re dating or anything."

Still clutching the tissues, Mimi clasped her hands together. She had a dangerously starry expression in her eyes, "Takeru? Takaishi Takeru? Yamato’s little brother? Oh, Hikari, you two will be so cute together. You’ll make such a great couple. I’ve always said it, haven’t I?"

With difficulty, Hikari prevented herself from rolling her eyes. Mimi hadn’t heard a word she’d said beyond ‘Takeru and I’. It was like the time they had gone to see Romeo and Juliet, and the older girl had only realised they had died once Sora mentioned it after the movie. She had cried for hours afterwards too. The instant Mimi suspected Romance Was In The Air, she went off into a fantasy world of her own. And, in that fantasy world, Takaishi Takeru and Yagami Hikari had been madly in love since they were eight.

"We. Aren’t. A. Couple," she said slowly, as if speaking to a younger child, "This. Is. Not. A. Date."

"Pish," Mimi dismissed her reply with a wave of a perfectly-manicured hand, "You didn’t call me over to give you the Tachikawa Treatment for nothing, Hikari. I know you’re nervous about admitting your real, deep feelings for Takeru, but there’s nothing worse than lying about them. You’re only hurting yourself."

Hikari sighed, picking up her hairbrush from her dresser and running it through her shoulder-length hair. There was no point arguing with Mimi when she got an idea into her head. She had only asked for her help, because Miyako said to dress nicely. It was absolutely ridiculous to think she was dressing up for Takeru. It wasn’t like she was shy or picky about what she wore around him. He had seen her in everything from her Hello Kitty! pyjamas to the Pokemon tracksuit her well-meaning grandmother had made her for Christmas and her mother had insisted Hikari wear when she came to visit. But he’s never seen me like this. The thought came unbidden into her head. Will he think I’m pretty? She slammed the hairbrush down onto the counter. She’d definitely been spending too much time around Mimi. She was beginning to get sucked into her fantasy world. She had to get out of there before she truly believed she cared whether Takeru thought she was beautiful or not.

"I’ve got to run, Mimi, or I’ll be late," she said, hoping she sounded sincere. It was only half-past-six, and the Takaishi’s apartment block was only a few minutes walk from her own. She could almost have left at seven and arrived on time. Still, the lie was necessary for the sake of her sanity.

"Don’t you want me to do your make-up?"

"I don’t have time," she replied, then added more honestly, "Thanks for all your help. You’ve done a great job."

"Have fun," Mimi had a knowing smile on her face, "And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!"

*

"This is not a date," Hikari told herself firmly as she stood on the Takaishi’s doorstep, "Ignore Mimi. Ignore Taichi and Miyako. Takeru is your best friend, and this is not a date."

Breathing deeply, she pressed the doorbell.

"Coming," a muffled voice called from inside the apartment. She heard footsteps running down the hall, then a key turning in the lock. The door swung open to reveal a tall, handsome boy. His golden hair feathered around his head, falling slightly into his face. His eyes were a pure, luminous blue, like the colour at the heart of a flame. He was wearing a pair of tight, black jeans beneath a silk shirt that was the precise shade of his eyes. For a moment, Hikari thought that Yamato was visiting his mother and brother, before she realised that it was Takeru.

The blood rushed to her cheeks. He must be thinking she had gone insane. She was only staring at him as if she had never seen him in the past, as if she had not seen him every day of her life for two years now. But you’ve never seen him, the same, little voice as before reminded her, You might have looked at him in the past, but you’ve never seen him. You’ve never seen this.

"Uh, I thought you were your brother!" she blurted, "And - um - hi, Takeru."

If her cheeks had felt warm before, they were on fire now. She could not believe what an idiot she was being. She was almost as bad as the girls in her class who flung themselves at Takeru, and she knew exactly what he thought of them. Get a hold of yourself, Hikari. This isn’t a date. Takeru is your best friend, and this isn’t a date. Fortunately, Takeru hadn’t seemed to notice her discomfort. Or, if he had, he was too polite to mention it.

"Blame Yamato. He insisted on helping me get ready," he told her, rolling his eyes, "The shirt is his, by the way, as is the hairgel."

"Well, this is the Tachikawa Treatment," Hikari said with a false, little laugh, "Trademark."

"And it’s pink. Who would have expected that from Mimi?" he grinned, "I’m kidding. You look good, Hikari."

"And you look wonderful," she replied softly, then clapped her hands over her mouth. She couldn’t believe she had just said that. Get a grip, girl. Get a grip. At this rate, she was going to prove Mimi right about her ‘real and deep feelings’ for Takeru. It was all the older girl’s fault. Before tonight, before Mimi’s comments, she had not even thought of him as boyfriend material. He was too . . . too Takeru for that.

Lowering her arms, she took a deep breath and smiled weakly at her best friend. Takeru laughed, clearly thinking she had been joking.

"Because I look like Yamato? I’ll have to tell him he has another groupie," he teased.

"Only if you want Sooooora to find out about the crush you had on her for almost two years," she replied in her sweetest tones, taking refuge in an old joke between them.

"Blackmailer! You wouldn’t dare!" he exclaimed, stepping aside to let her into his apartment before adding, "Miyako’s already here. She’s driving me insane with her panicking about the date."

Following him, Hikari walked through the passage to the Takaishi’s lounge. Her eyes widened when she saw Miyako sitting on the couch, her legs crossed and her hands folded in her lap. The older girl’s lavender hair was taken back into a sleek, sophisticated twist, and she had a subtle suggestion of make-up on her face. She was wearing a long, black skirt slit up to her knees, and a Chinese-style shirt in white silk embroidered with purple flowers. She had evidently replaced her glasses with contact lenses too. She looked almost sixteen, graceful and sophisticated. Beside her, in her little, pink dress, Hikari felt very young and plain all of a sudden. She wished she had agreed to let Mimi do her face.

"Hikari, you look wonderful," Miyako cooed, coming forward to hug her, then added in a low whisper: "And doesn’t Takeru look hot?"

"And . . . you . . . you look so . . . grown-up," she stammered, returning the hug and trying to ignore her last comment. She noticed that Miyako was wearing perfume - a subtle, lavender fragrance that she was barely perceptible, but perfume nonetheless. Hikari suddenly felt even more underprepared for the date. Mimi hadn’t even thought of perfume.

"And, if you two don’t look at the clock, we’ll be late," Takeru said cheerfully, "Ken said to meet him at the cinema at half-past-seven, and we have a long way to hike."