Fic: Digimon, "Growth"
First fic finished. Length: 317 words. -_-;
Title: Growth
Series: Digimon 01/02
Rating: G
Pairings: Canon
For ultimax_exe
When you think of your childhood, the image that surfaces most quickly in your mind isn't of soccer or family or the Digital World, it's of grass and cracked pavement and her. It's not truly a memory, more a half-recalled tableau of colour and light and Sora. The time and place of the scene have long since faded from your mind, but you can still clearly see the look of wonder on her face as she kneels on the sidewalk and gently brushes a finger over the tender shoot of grass poking up through the rough, crumbling concrete.
Her expression slowly shifts, and young as you are, you think that the smile that blooms across her face may be the most beautiful thing you will ever see.
You don't think that way anymore, because you're fifteen years old now; too old, you tell yourself, for that sort of childish adoration. You're older; more mature, your mom gushes, as your kid sister rolls her eyes and makes a face in your direction. You're a mentor to a whole new generation of Digidestined, and as if that isn't awesome enough, you're even the captain of the school soccer team. Your life is pretty good, and even if you wonder sometimes if things could be a little better, it's not something to worry about.
It's spring when you see them. You're trudging home from school, head down, watching the progress of your feet against the wet, dirty pavement. You almost miss her voice over the sound of the steady trickle of rainwater into the storm drains. He says something, and she smiles, and neither of them notice you standing frozen at the edge of the park.
In the brilliantly drab light, you clearly see her hand slip into Yamato's. Together, they turn and walk away from you across the field, crushing the fragile new grass beneath their heavy feet.
Title: Growth
Series: Digimon 01/02
Rating: G
Pairings: Canon
For ultimax_exe
When you think of your childhood, the image that surfaces most quickly in your mind isn't of soccer or family or the Digital World, it's of grass and cracked pavement and her. It's not truly a memory, more a half-recalled tableau of colour and light and Sora. The time and place of the scene have long since faded from your mind, but you can still clearly see the look of wonder on her face as she kneels on the sidewalk and gently brushes a finger over the tender shoot of grass poking up through the rough, crumbling concrete.
Her expression slowly shifts, and young as you are, you think that the smile that blooms across her face may be the most beautiful thing you will ever see.
You don't think that way anymore, because you're fifteen years old now; too old, you tell yourself, for that sort of childish adoration. You're older; more mature, your mom gushes, as your kid sister rolls her eyes and makes a face in your direction. You're a mentor to a whole new generation of Digidestined, and as if that isn't awesome enough, you're even the captain of the school soccer team. Your life is pretty good, and even if you wonder sometimes if things could be a little better, it's not something to worry about.
It's spring when you see them. You're trudging home from school, head down, watching the progress of your feet against the wet, dirty pavement. You almost miss her voice over the sound of the steady trickle of rainwater into the storm drains. He says something, and she smiles, and neither of them notice you standing frozen at the edge of the park.
In the brilliantly drab light, you clearly see her hand slip into Yamato's. Together, they turn and walk away from you across the field, crushing the fragile new grass beneath their heavy feet.