The previously silent figure was startled out of their deep thoughts by the voice. The person looked around from their perch on the park bench in an amusing fashion, before seeing a hand hovering at the person's side.
Looking at the body connected to the hand, they could immediately tell that he was strong. Though the Japanese guy was of average height, meaning pretty damn short, he had lean muscles hidden under a red silk shirt and black pants. The muscles seemed to indicate that he spent quite a bit of time working out.
The head connected to the body told another story; though the face was young and handsome, the eyes were old and weary. The eyes, blue as the sky of a stormy day, told of hardships and sadness. Of course, the owner of the eyes most certainly tried to cover it up, but the eyes could not, and would not, lie.
Eyes like my own, the person mused, before realizing that the Japanese boy was speaking.
"Well," the kid said, taking his once offered hand to the back of his head and rubbed his black pigtail in an embarrased manner, "I s'pose that ya wouldn't, since we're just strangers," he offered as an escuse, hopping over the bench and sitting alongside the stranger. "I just thought that ya could use some help, ya know. Like me," he added quietly.
The person considered this for a few moments, then, to the Japanese's surprise, offered their own hand. After blinking at the hand for a few moments, he accepted it with a slight smirk.
"Alright," the person said. "My name's..."
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(Posted Tue, 15 Jun 2004 04:01)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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