Author's Note: The initial Sorato one-shot I had in mind was just supposed to be about the Japanese 'second button' tradition, but somehow warped into . . . well, this. It's not very original, but I still wanted to give it a try, if just for an excuse to write Sorato. I first began writing this one-shot over the span of a few days in 2009 – then promptly abandoned it up until now, in 2013, where I've finally decided to finish it. Fair warning, though: I tend to write emotionally. Ha. But enjoy.

Edit: Revised on 28 July 2013. It has grown in length from 4000 words to 5000 words. Minor edits took place throughout, but the major revisions took place at the end.

Amour

Sunlight filtered through window blinds, constantly reflecting light off a small musical instrument as it turned, over and over, in lightly calloused hands. Yamato's eyes were fixed dully on the inanimate object, watching without really watching; his mind was a million miles away. And still, his hands continued to move as if on auto-pilot, rotating his harmonica; turn, twist, repeat. Time seemed to pass at a snail's pace.

"You look good."

The harmonica stilled as Yamato ceased his actions; he hadn't heard that voice in close to six months. Tearing his vacant gaze away from his prized childhood possession, he looked up.

There, standing before him, was his longtime girlfriend, with a warm smile on her beautiful face.

Surprised, Yamato gaped at her for a few seconds, before finding his voice. "Sora," he whispered – a name, a girl, a Chosen. His Chosen. Slowly, a smile of his own – a genuine smile, one he hadn't been able to muster up in a long time – spread across his face.

"I've always found men in uniform attractive," Sora continued, teasing lightly as her eyes appraised his attire. He was dressed in his full school uniform, looking just that little bit more handsome than usual. Today was obviously a special day.

Yamato grinned at the all too familiar comment; Sora would quip it often in the past, whenever their conversations turned to that of their futures. Though she had been talking about a uniform of a different kind, then. "How'd you get in?" Yamato asked, though very appreciative of her presence; she was definitely a welcome surprise. "I didn't hear you."

Sora's smile never left her face. "I have my ways," she returned ambiguously, taking a step forward, a step closer. She glanced at the vacant space next to Yamato, and asked, "May I take a seat?"

"Yeah, of course." Yamato scooted a little across the foot of his bed to make enough room for her. "Here," he gestured, his tone a little nervous, having not seen her in a while – much less having her physically next to him. "Sit." She complied, and he noticed that his bed didn't seem to shift under her at all. He grinned, ribbing lightly, "You're losing weight, Takenouchi."

"Only compared to you, Ishida," Sora returned just as lightly, her eyes tracing his solid form. His facial features may have been from his mother, but his physical build was purely his father's, almost making him appear to be a Hiroaki mini-clone – though just a little taller, a little leaner. She glanced down at the object he still had gripped in his hands. "What's with the harmonica?" He rarely played it after taking up both the acoustic and bass guitars, but he had always played it for her – and Gabumon, too – when asked.

Yamato shrugged his shoulders indifferently, tracing the mouthpiece with his fingers. "Taichi should be here in a bit." He tried to sound nonchalant. "We were going to visit you . . ." He paused, as if to get rid of certain thoughts. "And I was going to play you something." It was true, but he didn't want to think too much about it. That was for later, not now. Reality could wait. He shook his head, and asked, "Why'd you come, Sora?" She must have an ulterior motive; she must have known how much he had missed her.

Sora didn't hesitate to answer. "I wanted to make sure you were OK." A short silence followed as she surveyed him with concerned eyes. "Are you OK, Yamato?" But she seemed to know what his answer would be before she even asked him the question.

"Yeah," Yamato answered, giving her a strange look. "I mean – why wouldn't I be?" He actually looked a little oblivious as his eyes questioned her. He gave a short chuckle. "You know, everyone's been asking me that? Dad, Takeru, Gabumon, Taichi . . . even your mother."

Sora's concern didn't leave her face. "We're all worried about you, Yamato."

"Well you don't have to be," Yamato told her, looking slightly puzzled. "I'm fine – more than fine, actually, now that you're here." He flashed her a grin – but she didn't return it.

"Yamato," Sora began, her voice soft but firm. She knew how he tried to escape reality when things didn't go his way – when he couldn't control certain variables in his life. Usually, he'd turn to music, drowning himself in sounds. But sometimes that just wasn't enough – sometimes, he needed to face what he couldn't control. "I don't think you're OK."

Yamato stared back at her blankly. "But I just told you I was," he said slowly, slight confusion marring his features. He frowned. "I mean . . ." How could he not be OK? She was here, and it didn't matter where she'd been – in fact, he didn't even want to think about that. "I'm fine, Sora. Really." He nodded his head for effect.

He wasn't ready.

Sora decided to drop it for the time being. "So, today's your birthday," she said, changing the topic. She gave him a small smile. "Eighteen. Congrats."

Yamato more than happily returned her smile, glad for the change in subject. "Thanks. I'd almost forgotten, actually."

"That's hard to believe," Sora teased. "You were so looking forward to getting your driver's licence."

Yamato grinned at the times he'd constantly brought the topic up with her, no doubt driving her insane. He just loved the idea of being in control of a car – it brought him that little bit closer to his childhood dream of being in control of an aircraft. "Yeah, but –" His smile disappeared. His mind had been more concerned over other things, these last several months. He remembered complaining to Sora about how she'd get her driver's licence four months before he did. He looked at her, his eyes dimming. "You're seventeen," he uttered, as though in realisation. "You're not supposed to be." He paused, letting the words sink into his head. "But you are."

Sora cracked a weak smile. "I just missed out."

Yamato stared at her. He knew it was true.

But it was too much.

Yamato blocked out his thoughts and, instead, broke out into a grin, his eyes twinkling. "When I was seventeen . . ." he began wistfully. Sora would've shoved him if she could.

"Oh, you mean, last night?" Sora asked him, and the two shared a laugh. "Time goes by fast," she mused.

"Yeah." Yamato had over three years with Sora – and several more years of just being her friend. Those were years he never wanted to forget.

Sora suddenly grinned devilishly. "Remember the first time we had just left the Digital World, and needed to hitchhike back to Odaiba? When it was your turn some lady in a red sports car pulled over for you."

"Oh, man," Yamato groaned, slapping his forehead as Sora laughed beside him. He shook his head and laughed with her. "I was so embarrassed."

"And Taichi asked you why you didn't take her up on her offer, and you said that there wasn't enough room for everyone in her car –"

"Well there wasn't!" Yamato defended. "It was a two-seater!"

Sora fought back a giggle. "Taichi and Mimi laughed at you –"

"So did you!"

"No," Sora protested, smiling. "I was mildly amused on the outside, but inside my heart was swelling with empathy!"

They both laughed at the memory. Yamato didn't know about Sora, but he'd certainly missed talking with her, laughing with her. The barriers he so carefully put up around other people just naturally went down around her.

Sora let her gaze wander over Yamato's room. There were clothes, a couple of dumbbells, and discarded CDs strewn over the floor; his acoustic guitar was propped up against his desk, so his bass must be in its case; and there were wads of scrunched-up paper in his waste basket. His desk was littered with paper as well, and at the edge, under a couple of magazines, Sora noticed the distinct corner of a packet of cigarettes. She disapproved.

"You've been doing a lot of writing," Sora commented to Yamato.

Yamato followed her gaze to his desk. "You know I write when I'm . . ." Stressed. He hadn't done much the past six months but write – lyrics, poems, letters to Sora . . . it was just something he did when he thought too much. He'd inherited it from his mother, presumably.

"Yeah, I do," Sora let out softly. But then she couldn't hold back her frown. "And it seems like you've taken up something else, too." She was obviously referring to the cigarettes.

Yamato flinched a little at her tone. "Only sometimes, Sora . . . when I think too much and need a breather."

"What makes you think too much?"

You.

". . . I don't know," Yamato murmured, uncomfortable. "My future, I guess." The one without you. He paused. "I'm thinking that I might not go to the University of Tokyo, after all." He had planned to do a degree in aeronautics there – partly because it was a prestigious university, and partly because Sora was planning to attend another university in the same vicinity. But since she . . .

No, Yamato didn't want to think about that.

"Oh?" Sora raised an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

Yamato played unconsciously with the hem of his shirt. ". . . I guess I no longer see the point. I'm thinking that I should just go ahead and join the National Defense Academy. I can get my degree there, too." He sighed. "But since Dad views it as second-rate in comparison to the University of Tokyo . . . I'm not sure he would like that. I'm sure he'd think I was crazy and wasn't being 'serious' about my life."

Sora's eyebrows furrowed. "Have you spoken to him about it?"

Yamato shook his head. "No . . . as I said, I'm sure he'll just shoot it down."

"You don't know that until you tell him your intentions," Sora told him. "He knows you better than you think he does. He'll understand. And if it's what you really want to do, then do it. It's always your choice, Yamato." Her voice was firm. She knew how insecure Yamato could get, though he tended to mask it well from other people. It was often up to her to bring Yamato back around to focus on his goals – he had a tendency to be brought down by his own demons of self-doubt, and lose sight of what he was after.

Sora's no-nonsense attitude was something Yamato had felt his life was lacking for a while now. He smiled at her. "How do you do that?" He almost reached a hand out to enclose her hand in his, but something in the back of his mind stopped him. He couldn't.

"Direct your life?" Sora joked. "I've been your girlfriend for a long time, Ishida. I needed to pick up certain habits to tolerate you in our relationship."

Yamato laughed. Though he could feel a cold draft in the room, Sora always could make him feel so . . . warm.

Sora smiled. "So, I'll see you in a uniform?" she asked, for his confirmation that he'd let his dad know.

Yamato returned her smile. "You'll see me in a uniform," he confirmed.

Yamato's experience in the Digital World had given him a purpose. He didn't just need to protect Takeru and his friends, but he felt a need to protect other people, too. Though he wanted to be smart about it – he'd initially talked it over with his parents and had come to the conclusion that he'd attend university for an engineering degree first, before eyeing a possible career in the navy. He and Taichi even joked about working for the same boss some day – the government. Taichi, somewhat surprisingly, was toying with the idea of eventually getting into politics.

Everyone was growing up and things were changing. The future loomed big and bright in front of the Chosen Children. Today, especially, was a special day for a few of them.

"Why aren't you wearing your school uniform?" Yamato enquired, his eyebrows creased in confusion. "We graduate today."

Sora was dressed casually, wearing a pale red top with the word 'circle' across the front, and a complementary deep red skirt. "I wanted to wear something . . . bright – cheerful." She evaded answering his question honestly. "Today's a big day for you." Her eyes bore into his, a sea of truth swirling around those irises of hers he loved so much.

"Today's a big day for us," Yamato corrected – no, insisted. He broke eye contact with her and looked back down at his harmonica. "You're here, and I'm here." He bit his lower lip, nibbling on it slightly for a few seconds; it was what he often did when he was trying to convince himself of something. "And we're going to graduate. Together. Just like we're supposed to." Sora didn't protest, and for that he was glad.

"In that case, may I ask for your second button?" Sora indicated the round knob sewn two spots down from the top of Yamato's school jacket. At a glance, there was really nothing special about that particular button – it was emblazoned with the school's emblem, making it seem just as ordinary as the others. But its location was what made it important; it was the one closest to his heart.

Yamato's lips formed an amused smile, and he looked back up at her. "I didn't think you cared about that sort of thing."

Sora lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. "Since Mimi's in America and can't take part in the tradition herself, she made me pinky-swear to partake in it with you. Apparently, she wants to live vicariously through me." They shared an easy laugh, amused at their mutual friend's antics. "Besides," Sora continued, her voice taking on a softer, more sombre tone, "I'd rather have it in my possession than some other girl's." She paused, then gave him a cheeky grin. "But the other buttons are free to go."

God Yamato had missed feeling wanted by her. "It's yours," he smiled, voice reassuring and absolute as he went on. "And I don't plan on giving anything to anyone else." Be it insignificant buttons – or his heart.

Sora knew the double meaning, and her smile seemed to dip a little lower. Yamato noticed, but waited for her to speak. After a moment, she did. "I think you should." The weight of her words was felt by both of them. Yamato's hands subconsciously clenched tighter around his harmonica. "I'm all right with it," Sora told him, levelling him with a soft gaze. "You don't have to feel guilty. You'll be all right, too, I promise."

He knew, distantly, that she was right – but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"I . . ." Yamato had never been good with words. "I can't, Sora, I –"

"You can," Sora insisted, her eyes looking determined. "Yamato . . . nothing will lessen our relationship. Please don't limit yourself from being happy on my account. Because, then, you'll be making me unhappy."

Yamato's eyes widened at her words, as though it finally dawned on him that his actions in trying not to hurt Sora could actually still hurt her. He vaguely recalled hearing similar sentiments said to him by his friends, but this time he really listened – because it was coming direct from Sora. He grew quiet, solemn, as he pondered her words.

"Plus, we're talking about buttons," Sora added in a light tone, throwing him an amused smile.

A short laugh escaped Yamato's throat, and he managed to smile at her as well – and soon found it to be genuine. It was funny the effects Sora had on him. Just by being here with him, she made him feel so comfortable, so secure, so loved.

Yamato found himself nodding hesitantly, in a promise that he'd give it a go. "Well, if other girls ask –"

"If?" Sora questioned, eyebrows raised sceptically, a smile tugging at her lips. "Mimi once informed me that there was a law stating all adolescent females must lust after you at one point or another. I'm willing to bet that all your buttons – including the ones on your cuffs – will be gone shortly after graduation."

Yamato chuckled. "Well, this one's definitely yours," he grinned, discarding his harmonica between his legs as his hands went up to remove his second button.

"Need some help?" Sora asked after a short moment. "You can use scissors . . ."

"Nah, I've got it," Yamato told her, twisting and pulling at his resisting button, which appeared to be sewn in more securely than he'd thought.

"You've been spending too much time with Taichi," Sora commented at his typical male response.

Yamato grinned at that remark. "I bet he'll rip off a couple of buttons himself – just to appear more popular."

Sora laughed. "Probably," she agreed. "It wouldn't surprise me."

The second button finally came free, and Yamato looked at it in his hand. Then he held his hand open, towards Sora, but even he knew she couldn't take it.

"Taichi should be over soon, right?" Sora hedged, with a sad smile. "Give it to me afterwards, when you guys visit me."

Yamato smiled sadly, nodded, and clenched it in his fist.

They then fell into comfortable silence.

Yamato's eyes wandered to the framed photo of himself and Sora that sat at his bedside drawer. Takeru had taken the photo when Yamato had attempted to teach Sora a few chords on his guitar. There wasn't really anything special about it – it wasn't taken for any particular occasion or event. But it was the last photo he and Sora had taken together, and she just looked so happy.

Yamato shook his head as the beginnings of his emotions started to bubble within him. "I know it wasn't my fault." His voice was surprisingly calm, controlled. He knew Sora hadn't come to hear him say the opposite. He had to accept it for her. "But . . . I should've protected you." Sora opened her mouth to speak – to protest, Yamato knew – but he cut her off. "I'm your boyfriend and it's my job."

Sora's gaze was without judgement. "You were always there for me, Yamato," she told him softly. "And I'm always going to be here for you."

Yamato swallowed, and forced his gaze back to meet hers – no matter how much it hurt. "I miss you," he told her, his usual resolve starting to crumble.

Sora gave him an encouraging smile. "It's OK, Yamato. I miss you, too."

And that's all it took.

Sad, bitter tears found their way out of the corners of Yamato's eyes. He hadn't cried since the day she had died. Even at her funeral, he had refused to accept that she was gone – that she had been cremated and her ashes were being buried right in front of him.

But she had been. Sora was gone. And Yamato could no longer hold back the emotions that surged through him as that thought repeated itself, resounding loudly in his head.

Through his tears Yamato could still see Sora's eyes looking at him steadily – soft, unmoving, and proud. He managed a small smile, and she smiled back at him, her expression filled with affection and understanding. He had forgotten during the past six months that showing his emotions was a strength, not a weakness. He needed Sora to remind him of that.

"You still look so pretty when you cry, Ishida," Sora teased him affectionately.

Yamato laughed through his tears. It had been too long since he'd experienced her company – too long since he'd felt so complete.

He so desperately wanted to touch her. To feel her. To be with her.

But he knew that he couldn't.

Yamato's thoughts were interrupted as loud, distant knocks sounded throughout the apartment. The walls of the apartment weren't very thick, and it seemed as though someone was at the front door.

Yamato wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket. "I think Taichi's here," he remarked softly to Sora, after he had composed himself.

This was their good-bye.

"Play me a song when you see me?" Sora asked him. Her smile was sad, but also filled with warmth and hope. Then she added teasingly, "And don't forget my button."

Yamato smiled back at her. "I wouldn't want to disappoint."

Though the two had been in a serious relationship since they were barely fourteen, they didn't often say the famous three little words other couples often said – partly because they didn't need to, and partly because neither of them had grown up in an environment where such words were exchanged often. Not that they'd had terrible childhoods with loveless parents, but their respective families were just on the more introverted side. Actions had always spoken louder than words for both of them. But sometimes – sometimes – it needed to be said. Yamato's lips parted –

"I love you."

Sora had said it first; she read him so easily. Even before they had started dating, back during their first adventures in the Digital World, where he was so opaque to everyone else, somehow he was almost transparent to her. She saw right through him, but more – she seemed to understand him.

"I love you, Sora." Yamato's voice was soft, light, and breezed through the air like the end of an echo.

Sora smiled a simple smile, one that was just her.

"Yamato?" a voice came from behind Yamato's bedroom door, followed by a couple of knocks. Yamato turned his head towards his door as it proceeded to open. His father's head appeared inside the room. "Taichi's here," Hiroaki informed his son. "He's waiting for you in the kitchen."

Yamato nodded. "OK, I'll be right out."

But Hiroaki stayed idling in the doorway. Yamato looked as though he had been crying, and that certainly wasn't something Hiroaki was used to. "Are you all right, Son?" he asked tentatively, stepping into the room.

Yamato looked a little startled at the soft tone in his father's usually gruff voice. He must've still had traces of wet tears on his face, and so he used his sleeve again to rub at his eyes. "Yeah," he responded after he was sure all evidence of his tears were gone. But his response was more out of habit than anything, to stop his father from worrying about him. He felt uncomfortable as it was that his father knew he'd been crying.

It wasn't often that Hiroaki saw his son looking so vulnerable. Years ago, when Yamato had been a lot younger, Hiroaki would readily show his son affection when the boy needed it; he'd give him cuddles, place him on his lap, or hoisted him up onto his shoulders to cheer the small boy up. But Hiroaki could no longer do those things. Yamato was no longer a little boy, but practically a full-grown man.

"Yamato . . ." Hiroaki began, looking at his son with as much empathy as he could, though he was sure his expression was nothing short of awkward. "Son. I'm not good at this . . . God, your mother knows that – but . . . I'm always here."

Yamato gave his father a crooked grin, slightly amused. This was the same man who used to kick him awake in the mornings? "I know, Dad," Yamato told him, hoping to end the conversation before it reached levels of discomfort for both of them. The old man showing emotion was a rarity, and it was something he'd passed onto his eldest son.

Instead of letting the conversation end there however, Hiroaki walked further into the room, until he came to a short stop in front of his son. He looked down at Yamato, who was still sat on the foot of his bed.

"Right," Hiroaki nodded. "But what I meant, Son, is . . . if you needed to – talk . . ." He subconsciously tugged at his tie, feeling out of his comfort zone. He and Yamato rarely talked about important things. Hiroaki loved his son – and he knew that Yamato loved him back – but talking was neither of their strong points. He reached out to place an unsure hand on Yamato's shoulder, and coughed. "I'm here, Son."

Yamato usually would've felt extremely uncomfortable at his father's unusual show of affection, and would've normally swatted his hand away, but found that he wasn't bothered by it at all. He instead felt . . . loved. "I got it, Dad," Yamato replied, feeling a blush creeping up the back of his neck. He lifted a hand to scratch the spot discretely. "But I'll be fine," he reassured his father. "Really." And as the words left his mouth this time, Yamato realised that he really was fine.

He had his dad. He had Gabumon, Takeru, his mum, Taichi, and the other Chosen Children. He had practically ignored them since Sora had passed, choosing to dwell in his own thoughts while he grieved in solitude. They had all continually reached out and tried to help him, asking him if he was all right, how he was coping, if he needed them – but he had brushed them all aside, acting like he had to be alone.

But he knew now that he wasn't alone – that he'd never really been alone to start with.

Hiroaki surveyed his son's face for any trace of distress. But his son really did seem . . . better than Hiroaki had seen him in months, despite the fact that he'd obviously been crying recently. "Well . . ." Hiroaki nodded, removing his hand from Yamato's shoulder. He cleared his throat a little. "Good. I'm . . . glad." He found himself giving his son a large but awkward grin, and his gaze travelled down to the object in Yamato's hands. "I see the old harmonica's back out?" He and Natsuko had given it to Yamato for his fifth birthday, because the boy was always humming along to cartoon theme songs.

Yamato glanced down at the small instrument in his hand. "Yeah," he answered, tracing over the 'Blues Harp' imprint on its metallic surface. "I'm going to play it . . . for her." He paused, swallowing a little. He had rarely spoken about Sora to someone else since she had passed. "After graduation."

Hiroaki's smile was as gentle as it ever could be. He knew how much Sora had meant to his son. He'd seen how much the two had meant to each other. "I'm sure she'd appreciate it, Son."

I know she will. Yamato found himself smiling, and a short silence followed as his thoughts dwelled on her.

"Well," Hiroaki straightened up, knowing it was time to take his leave, "I'll go let Taichi know you'll just be a moment." Then he frowned in good humour. "He might've eaten your breakfast by now, though." He turned to leave the room as Yamato gave a snort behind him.

Yamato watched his father's retreating form with a genuine smile – the old man had actually made him feel better. "Dad?" he found himself calling out, as his father began to close his bedroom door. He really wanted his dad to know that he appreciated him, despite the larger-than-usual distance he'd created between himself and everyone else these last six months.

Hiroaki paused in the doorway and looked over at his son. "Hmm?"

"Thanks." Yamato knew a light blush stained his cheeks, but it simply couldn't be helped.

The weight behind his son's simple utterance of that one word wasn't lost on Hiroaki, who smiled in almost a mixture of relief and gratitude that Yamato really did seem as though he was going to be just fine. He gave his son another nod, before continuing to leave the room.

When the door closed completely behind his father, Yamato looked back over at the space next to him – and Sora was gone, as he knew she would be.

Yamato breathed deeply through his mouth, and took a moment to collect himself. Memories of all the time he'd spent with Sora flooded his mind as he sat there alone.

At the beginning of their relationship, Yamato had questioned whether Sora had even liked him – whether she was sure of her feelings for him. This was despite the fact that it was obvious that she did like him, because she had baked him a chocolate cake. Taichi had informed him that he'd been the only one to receive such a gift from Sora, too, so he knew that it hadn't just been a gesture of friendship.

That had led to their first date, where he'd taken Sora for a picnic and a walk around the park. He remembered how nervous he'd felt that Saturday morning. He'd had so many worries, so many questions. Would she expect him to act differently, now that they were dating? Would she find him boring? Would she change her mind about him?

Yamato had never spent time with Sora before where it was just the two of them, alone – they were more used to hanging out in a group with the other Chosen Children, or at least with one other person present, usually Taichi. So dating each other where the two had to interact one-on-one, with no one else around to fall back on in case things got really uncomfortable, was certainly a new, exciting but apprehensive experience.

But Yamato had also known that he really liked Sora, and those feelings were stronger than any of his nerves or feelings of inadequacy – he found that he always just wanted to be around her, and when he wasn't, he'd find himself thinking about her all the time.

It really didn't take long for their nerves to lessen and for their bond to strengthen, and they soon became very comfortable in their relationship together. After a few short months, he and Sora were pretty much inseparable. There were dates spent gazing at the stars, cooking dinners together, helping with each other's homework, and sometimes doing nothing at all but feeling like they belonged together – whether they were just talking or sitting in comfortable silence. Yamato had so many fond memories of her.

But he couldn't remember the first time he saw her.

It would've been when they both attended Odaiba Elementary School – he knew that for a fact – but he just couldn't remember how they'd actually met. She hadn't stood out to him in any way from all the other students in his grade. Their first meeting was probably over something mundane, like seeing her playing soccer with a bunch of other kids, or walking past her in the school hallways, almost oblivious to her existence. She had just been another random person who made up the female population of his grade. He hadn't known how significant she would become later on in their adventure in the Digital World – and especially after their adventure . . .

Or how significant she still was to him.

Yamato loved Sora. And he knew that he always would, regardless of what life had in store for him. He had spent the last few years with her, where she had grown to become the person he considered the closest to him in his life. And he would forever be grateful for that.

Sora was gone. And Yamato was still here – without her. But he was going to be all right. If not for himself, then for Sora – because she believed in him, and Yamato found that he believed in himself, too. Thanks to Sora.

And so, with his button in one hand and his harmonica in the other, Yamato headed out the door.

Sora was waiting for him.

End

Author's Note: A sad Sorato, but a Sorato nonetheless. I wanted things to be obvious from the very beginning, but not too obvious – but then of course, for things to get progressively more obvious as the story went on. But Yamato isn't crazy. He knows Sora's deceased, but he's pretending just for a moment that she isn't.

This was certainly a fun experiment to write. And though this really was just a long conversation, it was ever so hard to write. I think if I added up how many nights it took me to write this, it would probably add up to a fortnight. And it's only 4000 words. I write slow, and most of the time was spent on me just staring at the computer screen, haha.

Feedback and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. :)

And a response to guest reviewer sweetanimefan: Thanks for the feedback. But in Japan the legal driving age is 18 for regular cars. 20 is the legal age for driving heavy vehicles (buses, trucks, etc.), and also the age when you're considered an adult. But you don't have to be an adult before you can drive ordinary cars in Tokyo - you just need to be 18.

Notes:

- Sora is, of course, merely a figment of Yamato's imagination. I contemplated writing it more one-sided – so Sora's thoughts and speech are more limited – to capture the effect better, but that would've made it really . . . dull. Besides, Yamato should know Sora a lot more by now to know what she would think in certain situations. ;)

- How did Sora die? I don't think that's important.

- In case I confused anyone with the timeline: it is the morning of Yamato's birthday, as well as the day of his high school graduation (and Taichi came over to walk to school with him). After the graduation ceremony they had planned to visit Sora's grave.

- Amour is 'love' in French. I'm terrible with titles and really didn't know what to call the story. But as Yamato's part French, and I love the sound of 'amour', and Yamato and Sora obviously love each other . . . meh. :p

- The hitchhiking memory they talk about where an older woman tries to pick up Yamato was cut from the English dub – it's from the episode where Sora's "cousin" gives them a ride. It still makes me laugh. Go Yamato. ;)

- The logical (and very believable) career path I see for Yamato is: National Defense Academy of Japan (or a non-military university where he can still receive a degree in engineering) - Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force - Astronaut.

And if you're a Sorato fan, check out my tumblr at jippy-kandi. :)

- jippy a.k.a. kandi, formerly i'M-a-ReBeL.