I've been trying to get myself back into writing lately (I blame two people in particular. They know who they are.), and this idea has been bugging me since I found it unfinished on my pc. Voila, a slightly odd and short one-shot. My apologies.

Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia. (Hey, simple works best, right?) I do, however, own the first name.

Name of the Game

"Aryãna." Smiling slightly, Anna delicately rested her chin on her hand, and waited for her husband's response.

She loved this game, although anyone in passing would probably be confused by it; it would sound like random names. Well, saying it was random was false; each name began with the previous name's last letter. But, there was the beauty of it—coming up with the same letter enough to get the other player out.

"Angel," the black-clad mercenary replied calmly, not looking up as he added some meat to the cream stew he was cooking. Anna scowled at her husband's back. Not that she would admit it, but he was irritatingly good when he played this game. Truth be told, he was irritating no matter what he did.

"Lloyd."

"Derris."

Did that even count as a name? The brown-haired lady knew better than to question her husband, so she simply remained quiet. She frowned, picking at her bread as she contemplated: a name beginning with 's'… Her eyes scanned the room. As they fell upon an innocent paint tin sitting on the floor, inspiration struck.

"Sheena." She muffled a giggle. Paint sheen. Sheena. The two were pretty similar, or at least in her head.

"Amino." He certainly knew some weird names. She cast about her mind frantically. Stupid travelling mercenaries. Being bested at her favourite game wasn't something she was going to take gracefully.

"Origin," she declared after a moment. In your face, she thought; Kratos was responsible for teaching her the names of the old Spirits of lore.

"Nemesis," he responded slowly, body language still annoyingly blasé.

"S…" she mused once more. "Soren."

"Noishe," replied Kratos after a glance at the sleeping creature by the fire.

Anna blew her cheeks out noisily as she thought. 'E' was a common letter in the game. "Ephraim."

"Miriam." An ordinary name? Anna felt like clutching her heart melodramatically and pretending to pass out. He did know some ordinary names; she stood corrected.

"Mary," she countered, and as the little idea bunny in her mind hopped into overdrive, she wondered why on Sylvarant she hadn't already put forward that name. At least three kids back in Luin had been called it, so it was rather common.

"Yuan," the man said, tasting the stew and critically adding some salt.

Oh dear. Anna thought for a while. Eventually, a name came to her tiring mind: "Naomi." She fervently hoped that there wouldn't be any more 'n' names. They were in short supply, after all.

Kratos barely seemed to think before he answered. "Ileah."

"Harriet…?" Desperation was beginning to exercise her mind like lifting a ten tonne block.

"Taren."

"Dammit!" The word was out before she realised she'd spoken.

The redhead smirked evilly, his complexion making him easy to mistake for a vampire. "Out."

Feeling sulky, Anna pounded her head off the kitchen table. She'd done it again; she'd lost again! She swore, words muffled by the hard oak.

Kratos set down two bowls of hot stew, amusement dancing in his crimson-rimmed eyes. "What does that make the score?"

"You can be such an arse, you know that?" Anna grumbled darkly, gulping down her food too fast. She leapt up to grab some mouth-saving water, her husband watching her, eyebrows raised. She noticed his expression as she returned to the table, mouth suitably unburned.

"What?" she demanded.

Kratos blew on his stew before drinking a little of it. "Perhaps," he suggested innocently, "if you were not such an incompetent amateur at this game, perhaps then you would pose an actual challenge."

Anna bristled, indignant. Back in Luin, it had been hard to beat her.

"Watch it," she snapped. "Don't act like my thousand year superior. I'm only a few years younger than you!"

He snorted disbelievingly. "Just how old do you assume I am?"

"Around twenty-eight?" Anna replied, bemused by his odd response. "Why?"

"No reason." Kratos shook his head, but the brunette caught his brief smirk.

Anna leaned back on her chair. "Men."

Kratos flexed his hands, avoiding her gaze. "Women."

Anna stared at him, before jumping up. "Out!" she declared gleefully.

He met her celebration with a deadpan look. "Whoever said I was playing?"

Please review, it's quick and free.