An Encounter

Author: Carla, aka cali-chan
Rating: G.
Genre: Fluff, friendship.
Pairings: Yamato/Sora, but as they're kiddies in this one, it's more friendshippy than anything.

Canon/timeline: Pre-Adventure 01.

Summary: He thought she might say something else, which he wasn't sure about. She took a couple of steps forward, and for one panicked second he thought she might hug him. He was just a boy, after all, and he had the sinking sensation he was starting to blush. Yamasora friendship, pre-Adventure 01.

Author's note: I wrote the first three-quarters of this in less than an hour... the last quarter took me about two days. It popped into my mind as the first part to another Yamasora fic I'm writing (called Passion: Interrupted, which will hopefully be published soon), but then I decided to go with my original idea and keep that fic within the frame of their actual relationship (DA02 ep. 38 on), so this was left out. So here you have it as a one-shot! Hope you like it.

.

.

Eight-year-old Ishida Yamato glared at the soccer ball in his lap.

He was sitting on the curb as his father walked in and out of the building, and back and forth around their car, arranging suitcases, boxes and other assorted things into the van. The man had asked his son to help him so they would be ready more quickly, but Yamato wasn't feeling particularly agreeable to anything requested by his father that morning, so Hiroaki had decided to let him brood in peace rather than keep insisting. It was the path of least resistance.

The little kid had a right to be angry, anyway. His parents had had some stupid fight and now his mom said he couldn't see his younger brother Takeru anymore. It wasn't fair. He didn't get why his parents couldn't be together anymore, he didn't get why he and Takeru had to be separated, and he didn't get why they had to move. His parents sucked, the whole thing sucked. And that stupid black-and-white ball wasn't making him feel any better.

He wasn't really paying attention, but he thought he heard his father stop loading their stuff into the van, and speaking with someone. A woman.

"...bought some flowers from my shop last week..."

"Right, I remember you. Yes, well, unfortunately that didn't really work; as you can see, I'm- we're moving out right now..."

"Oh, I'm very sorry to hear that..."

It didn't sound like his mother, so he paid the person no heed. He remained as he was, until another voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Do you play soccer?"

He looked up sharply to find a little girl standing in front of him. She looked to be around his age, and she was wearing a dress with a lilac print on the fabric, but she didn't look too comfortable in it, for she kept tugging at the collar. Her shoes were white, with fluffy, girly socks and her short red hair was pulled back with a white headband that had a bow in it. She was staring intently at the soccer ball he was holding.

He stared at her, somewhat confused. He didn't know who this girl was, but he didn't want to talk to anyone right now. "No. Soccer sucks, anyway."

The girl seemed surprised by his response for a second. "You think so? My friend Taichi plays soccer, and he says it's really cool." She shrugged, coming closer to him. "I think it sounds like fun. I really wish I could play, but my mother won't let me. She says it's not for girls, that it's too violent."

Yamato didn't know why she decided to come up to talk to him and he wasn't sure why she didn't just get the idea that he didn't want to listen to her- he had decided to just ignore her, maybe go back up to the apartment, because he found her blabbering quite annoying. But unintentionally, something she said had struck a chord in him. "You know, you should play if you want to. Just do whatever you want to do," he said, lowering his gaze to the round object in his lap. He frowned. "Parents aren't always right, anyway," he added, almost mumbling.

"I know, but she's my mom," she replied, like that was explanation enough. He knew what she meant- they were eight, so they had no choice but to do what their parents told them to do, but whatever; nobody said they had to be happy about it. "Why do you have a soccer ball if you don't like soccer?" she asked him before he could say anything else.

He shrugged. "Mom and Dad split up. Dad promised to take time to play sports with me, just so I wouldn't complain about not seeing my mother and brother anymore." He glared harder at the ball, as if his expression alone could somehow make it explode. "He thinks this stupid ball will fix everything," he finished, bitterly.

The girl was silent for a little while, as if taking the information in. Yamato couldn't really look up at her; he wasn't sure why he'd told her all of this, but now he felt a little embarrassed that it had slipped out. When he finally looked back up, she was staring straight at him, and at the same time she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "Is that why you're sad?"

He flinched; wanted to tell her that he wasn't sad, he was angry, but she continued speaking before he could interject. "You know, my father doesn't live with me and my mom," she started, a little uncertain. Her tone, however, grew more and more determined as she continued speaking. "He lives in another city, because of his job, so I don't see him much. But sometimes I talk to him on the phone and... I know he loves me." He wasn't sure where she was going with this, but there was a glint in her eye that sort of made him curious to know. "So I'm sure your mother and your brother still love you, even if they're not here with you right now," she finished.

Yamato hated to admit it, but he was a bit stunned. He hadn't wanted her to start a conversation anyway, much less for her to think he was on the verge of crying and give him advice out of pity, but the girl's words had made him feel a little bit better. They shouldn't have; it's not like she had brought the rest of his family back to him or anything, she had just said some pretty words, but there was a glimmer of something in his chest... hope. The hope that he had felt drain out of him as he saw his mother pull his little brother out the door a few days ago. It was odd. He didn't know what to say. "Um... I don't..."

She smiled at him, tentatively. Perhaps she was expecting him to smile back at her, maybe thank her or something, but he couldn't really do either, so he just stared back at her somewhat awkwardly. He thought she might say something else, which he wasn't sure about, either. She took a couple of steps forward, and for one panicked second he thought she might hug him. He didn't know if he'd be comfortable with that; he didn't believe in cooties or that sort of childish stuff, but he wasn't used to girls touching him. He was just a boy, after all, and he had the sinking sensation he was starting to blush. If he was, though, she didn't seem to notice.

"Sora! Where is that girl? We have to go now or we'll be late to dinner!"

The girl took a look to her right, apparently to the source of the voice. "That's my mom. We're leaving."

She turned to leave, frilly skirt swishing around her as she did so, and he found himself speaking without even realizing it. "Uh, hey!" she turned her big, reddish eyes on him again, and he blanked for a moment there. Then he looked down at the soccer ball in his lap and had an idea. "Um, do you want this? You could..." he shrugged, "...I don't know, convince your mom to let you play. Or something," he concluded, in a mutter, as he presented the ball to her.

She obviously heard it, because her eyes widened and her smile could've lit up a room. "Really? Thanks!" Her mother's voice rang once again, telling the girl they had to be on their way. "Oh, I gotta go. See you around!" she said, taking the ball from him. She hugged it to herself, smiled once more at him, and ran off toward the other side of the car to meet her mother.

He was still feeling a bit odd as he saw her leave. One glance at the van told him he probably wouldn't be seeing her around after all. But he hoped he wouldn't forget her.

.

.

Author's note 2: If you're wondering about the frilly dress: her mother forced her into it. What, she's eight!...