"You watch her a lot, did you know that?"

"The thought has crossed my mind a time or two..."

It was lunch time, and Omura Jaima sat on the bench of a picnic table, chin resting on his folded arms, staring out toward the field, in the direction that, "coincidently", Mizuno Ami was sitting with her friends. Next to him, his best friend, Asanuma Amano, tsked.

"I'm just saying, it could get kind of creepy."

"I'm not even looking at her now." Jaima rolled his eyes, then turned his attention back to the field.

"Right," snorted Amano. "It's just a coincidence that she's sitting that direction, then, is it?"

Jaima grinned. "No," he said, with the same tone the teacher took when explaining a difficult passage in the English book they studied. "She and her friends sit there every day at lunch."

"HA! You admit i-"

"It is a coincidence that I am looking that way." Jaima said with a smirk.

"Like hell it is," muttered Amano. "Look, you should just... go talk to her. It'll do you a world of good, and I won't have to deal with being the best friend of the creepy stalker."

"It's not that bad."

"I'm just saying, it could be."

"I've talked to her."

"'What's the assignment again' doesn't count, Jaima."

Jaima turned to glare at his friend. "She was upset about something with her friends, and I went over. We sat together at lunch, then I walked her home."

Amano gaped. "And where was I during this huge leap of confidence?!"

"Probably earning a detention."

"Yeah, I can se- HEY!" Amano socked Jaima in the arm.

Jaima sneered at his friend, then, with a laugh, turned his attention back to the field.

"Seriously, man, stop watching her for a while..."

"She's not even there."

Amano's head whipped to where Jaima was looking. Sure enough, the group of girls that included Ami was gone. Amano blinked hard. There was a tree, a pick up soccer game, and a pair of hoodlums, but no girls.

Suddenly a voice sounded to Amano's right. "Who's winning, Jaima?"

Amano could hear the grin on Jaima's face. "The blue shirts have definitely gotten closer to a goal than the red shirts." The group of guys who'd been passing laughed, continuing on their way.

"So you were watching the game the whole time?"

Jaima smiled at his friend. "It didn't hurt that she was in that direction, but yeah, mostly."

After Amano's laughter died down, he clapped Jaima on the shoulder. "Come on over after school."

"Can't," Jaima said. "I'm going to the library after. I need to work on the history paper."

Amano nodded. But he would have been suspicious, very suspicious, if he'd heard Ami tell her friends that she was going to the library as well.

*****

In truth, the assignment that Jaima had used as an excuse was pretty easy, but in Jaima's defense, he hadn't known it would be so easy at the time. Still, he could have made it to Amano's easily, except for one thing. Jaima had a secret he'd kept from his less scholastically minded friends since he was eight.

He liked books. He liked to look up facts, which was possible on the internet, but in books it seemed more... concrete. He liked to read stories, and he liked the feel of pages underneath his fingers rather than keys. He liked the weight of them, and sometimes, if pressed, he would admit he liked the smell of a book opening. Jaima was a voracious reader.

Now, this library was big, and well stocked, and often times people came in with their children, or sent their children, or children came in on their own (though that was rare) because there was an entire section for children. Many parents availed their children to use this resource because reading is important, but some, if not most, simply wanted time in peace. To be fair and correct, it was often a combination of the two. Jaima often wandered back there, out of nostalgia, because his mother had done much the same with him after his father had left.

Oftentimes, because children can be difficult and noisy, there was a member of the staff assigned to distract them, usually in the form of reading to them, though sometimes there were puppet shows, skits, or even, rarely, singing. This was done on a rotating basis throughout the staff of the library, to be fair, and to keep from having to pay someone to do it. Most staffers didn't mind, and those that did were consoled with the fact that it was only once in a very great while that they had to do it.

On this day, the woman who was assigned this inglorious task was one of the ones who didn't enjoy it. Ms. Kashafumo was an older woman who was not fond of children. She had not had any of her own, and in her experience they were loud, even obnoxious little cretins who asked too many questions and didn't pay near enough attention. And sometimes adults and teenagers watched, which she found unbearably embarrassing. She would read to the little ingrates, and then get up to perform her usual duties, for adults (teenagers could be worse, as rude and lazy as they were).

It just so happened that this woman had been having a very bad day. Her alarm had not gone off that morning, and her car wouldn't start, which meant that she had to take the train. The train had been crowded, and an unkempt young man had sat next to her and promptly started playing his radio at high volume. This gave her a headache, which only increased when she was told that the young intern who had been scheduled to read with the children was out with a cold, and could she please read today? There was, of course, no real chance to say no. One doesn't say no when it comes to work. So she read, and, of course, the children all started asking questions or whining or fidgeting, as if she were taking up their precious time. She had, twice now, had to correct one or another of the children who was acting up. When one little girl wiggled and jolted a comrade, she looked up sharply.

"Young lady, that is quite enough! If you cannot sit still, you may leave immediately!" This, of course, caused the little girl's face to crumple, and tears began to leak out of large, brown eyes, but Ms. Kashafumo was unmoved. The woman raised her eyes to begin a rolling motion when they landed on a young blonde lad who was scowling.

"I suppose," she said, acidly to the teenager, "that you could do better?" The boy opened his mouth, likely to give some tart or impudent retort. The matron cut him off. "Well, then, you can have them!" With that, she stood, head held high, and walked stiffly to the staff room.

All the children turned, as one, to look at the teenager, who was blinking, his mouth still open. One girl giggled, which diffused the earlier tension from the other little girl, whose eyes were still leaking slightly. All the children looked up expectantly at Jaima, the teenager in question. Intelligently, he said, "Um..."

The little girl who'd begun the incident raised her hand, and Jaima pointed to her, grateful for the brief respite. "I have to use the bathroom," she said boldly, fidgeting all the more.

Jaima frowned thoughtfully. "Why didn't you just get up and go?"

The girl blinked. "Ms. Kashafumo doesn't like that!"

Jaima sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Well, Ms. Kashafumo isn't here. Anyone who needs to go use the bathroom can do so." Several got up and trotted frantically to the little restrooms. The rest looked at Jaima longer.

"Are you going to read us a story?"

"She took the book, he can't read us a story!"

"There's lots of books here!"

"I like story time," said one little girl plaintively, sniffling, and Jaima, sighing inwardly, moved to the chair where the older woman had sit. As he did, children filtered back. They all looked at him, expecting a miracle.

Now, Jaima had little experience with children. Oh, he liked them fine, as much as any teenager does, and he didn't like to see them cry or anything like that. Several of the children were beginning to show signs of impending tears, and wouldn't he just feel like a jerk if he was the one to cause them?

Elsewhere in the library sat a certain girl, who was in the same class as Jaima and sat two seats ahead of him. Being from the same class, she also had the same history assignment. Being a genius (in the words of others, not necessarily her own), she also had little trouble doing the assignment. Being Mizuno Ami, she also had a love of books, both for information and entertainment. She was indulging in the latter at this time, and had heard the commotion in the children's section, which, after all, wasn't far from the fantasy section of the library.

So she stood and took her book and was surprised to see an older woman scolding one of her classmates. He looked stunned and out of his element, but children, being how they are, tend to trust people larger than themselves. For reasons she couldn't figure out, her classmate, who she'd only recently done more than smile in a friendly way in passing, sat in the chair that the staff member had abandoned and looked at the children.

"OK," he said, his tone drawn out and hesitant. After some thought, he left the chair and joined the kids on the floor, sitting with his legs crossed. "I don't have a book to read, but I can tell you a story my dad used to tell me when I was, oh," he said, again drawing out the last word as he searched the little crowd. He pointed to one boy who seemed younger than the majority, "your age." The children's responses ranged from giggling to wide eyed awe that anyone so tall could have been as small as them once. "So," continued Jaima, casting back as far as he could, "here we go..."

One day, in a very cold land, there was an entity who fancied herself the Queen of the Snow. In a way, she was right, for she felt no effects from the cold or the snow. She walked through her land, smiling lightly and nodding. She made sure that all of the creatures in her land were provided for, and lived as comfortably as their natures would allow. She watched over the trees and birds and fish and animals, providing what they needed, and in turn they were devoted to her. She felt, however, that something was missing, for being a creature of the cold, she could not feel the warmth of joy or happiness.

He'd begun haltingly at first, but as the memory returned, his confidence grew. Soon, he was speaking the story as his father had, in a quiet, low voice, soothingly saying the words.

Now there came a man into her lands, a woodsman who had gone out into the world to make his fortune and had gotten lost. "It is no matter," he said. "My parents are safe and sound and know I went to make my way, and as we were poor, I have no friends to miss me. I will make my home here."

At first, the Snow Queen was angry at the young man's intrusion. She followed him, intent on driving him from her lands, for she knew about man, and she knew they were a vain and destructive creature, and she wanted nothing to harm her land, nor her beloved friends (because, though she were a creature of the cold, and could not feel the warmth of joy or happiness, she was loyal to those she cared for). As she followed the man, a cold anger enveloped her as she imagined all the harm he would do. She vowed not only to chase him away, but to punish him.

Jaima kept his eyes on the children, who'd begun to grow quieter, listening with wide eyes and open ears. He did not look up, and so he did not see the growing audience of teens and adults. Nor did he see the blue haired girl work her way up to the front.

However, before she could enact her punishment, the man came across a young silver fox who had been hurt by a fallen limb. "Here," she thought, "I will witness his evil, and so have a reason to punish him!" But instead of harming the vulnerable fox, the man approached him, cautiously yet bravely. He lifted the branch from the fox's leg, allowing it to scurry from under it. He offered it dried meat from his pack, which the fox took after a tense few moments of sniffing and slinking, and then ran to its den to feed its cubs. The Snow Queen was so surprised that she did not even realize that the man had pitched a tent for the night until he had fallen asleep.

She watched him, at first to find a reason to punish him, but as time wore on, she found herself watching just to see him, and then helping him, leaving choice foods for him, calming the blizzard when it threatened to overwhelm him, and watching over him at night. The man astounded her daily, befriending the various creatures, taking only what he needed, and, if he should get excess, sharing it with others. He even helped wounded or trapped animals when he could. As time wore on, the Snow Queen began to view him, more and more, with fondness.

She had never made her presence known, since the man used fire to keep warm and she feared the heat would harm her. So the man believed that, though cold, he had stumbled upon an enchanted land (which, of course, he had), and declared one day that he would build a house to live in. The Snow Queen, sitting nearby, felt the tiniest spark of warmth in her chest, and it exhilarated and frightened her, for she had never been able to feel the warmth of joy or happiness. As he searched for building supplies she finally made herself known to him, and he fell to his knees. "You are beautiful," he said, smiling broadly, and the tiny bit of warmth inside her grew a little bit. She began to fear, and strove to suppress the warmth inside her.

"I have watched you, Child of Men," she said, her voice at once gentle as a breeze and crisp as ice, "And though I have seen Men before, you have proven yourself above them. I have heard your intentions and I approve of them." It was a final test, for most men would be insulted by such a show of arrogance. The Snow Queen felt guilty at putting it to him, but the man, already on his knees, bowed even lower so that his forehead touched the ground.

"You honor me," he said. When he rose, his smile was still in place. "If you would, come to bless my home when it is finished."

The Snow Queen was surprised, but nodded, saying only, "I can only be on the outside, for the fire you use to keep warm will harm me." The man bowed again, and then rose.

The house was almost complete, and was a modest thing, since the man had only himself to build it. The creatures of the lands helped him, as directed by the Snow Queen, to whom they were devoted, and she herself found provisions to sustain him and his work when it seemed that he could not.

On the day that she was to bless the house, he was not there. He had left to find food for the day, and had not returned. Though she felt angry at first, as the time wore on she became worried, and went out herself to search for him. She found him half buried by an avalanche, nearly frozen to death.

"No!" she cried, rushing to his side. "No, this cannot happen!" She took his hand and pulled him from the drift, but he was too cold and she did not know what to do. She called upon a bear, who laid next to him to warm him, but he had been laying too long, and the bear began to feel the cold. The Snow Queen began to weep. "I don't know what to do," she cried, holding his hand, "because I cannot feel the effects of cold. If I could make it so that you had my power, I would, even at the cost of my own life!"

She had fallen in love with the woodsman, and held him, and as she did, the small warmth that had started inside her grew and grew, and she began to melt. However, as she melted, even as she began to feel the effects of cold, the man began to warm. She knew it would be the end of her, but she held on. When her eyes began to close, his eyes opened. She smiled at him as darkness overcame her.

In the darkness, she could hear the man calling for her, calling for help. She barely felt herself borne on strong arms, and inside the warmth that she had denied grew stronger. As all went dark around her, she saw Them.

Three Goddesses, who we call Necessity, Fate, and Destiny, but are known in every land because they are servants of the Almighty himself, stood before her, and smiled upon her. "You have given greatly of yourself," said one, dark with white shining hair.

"You have overcome your own prejudices," said another, pale with raven dark hair.

"We can grant you one wish," said the third, her kind eyes shining. "Name it, and it is yours."

The Snow Queen did not think, or even pause. "I wish to stay with him," she whispered, and as one the goddesses lifted their arms. "It is granted!" They cried, and light flashed. The Snow Queen woke and sat up, looking down at her hands. Though her hair was still white, her skin was pale and pink. She was also warm, both inside and out, but it was a good feeling.

The man appeared at the door and smiled, relief sweeping his features. He laughed in his relief, and held her, and the warmth inside her, already stronger than she had ever felt, threatened to overwhelm her, but she did not mind. She continued to live with the man as his wife, taking care of the land and it's creatures as much as they could, and all the rest who came to live there now that the Snow Queen was not frightening them away said that there had never been a kinder family.

Finally, the story was over, and he smiled to the kids, proud that he'd remembered as much as he had. The kids started to applaud, and then the noise grew louder, and Jaima looked up to see the rest of his audience; Classmates and adults and even staff (minus the scowling older lady who'd put him in this situation). He blushed, a blush that only grew larger when he noticed Ami, smiling bemusedly in his direction. He instantly wished he could sink into the ground.

Before he could leave, a portly man with a full beard stepped up to him and shook his hand. "Son," he said, "that is the quietest I've ever seen those children in all my time running this library." He bowed then. "I would like to ask you to come back once a week, if you can."

"Uh," said Jaima, cursing his lack of intelligence. He didn't dare look at the crowd, let alone the one he knew his eyes would fall on. "I, um, I have school, and..."

"Please, Mister?" The pleading sound came from between him and the library director, and Jaima looked down to see the little girl who'd had to use the restroom. "It was a lot more fun than usual. Please?"

Jaima sighed, and finally looked up. Ami was looking at him, watching, it seemed, carefully to see what he'd do. He shrugged, resigned. "OK, I'll do it."

Another cheer came from the children, and Jaima rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. The director got his name, and asked him to come straight after school the next day. Jaima agreed, made his excuses, and was out the door as quickly as possible.

Outside, where he could finally breathe again, he leaned against the wall and sighed. He hadn't meant to get so involved! He just hated to see kids cry. And that woman wasn't exactly kid material. But neither was he! What did he know about reading to kids?

"Jaima?"

Oh, no. Not now...

"Excuse me, Jaima..."

Oh yes.

He looked up to see Ami, standing and looking at him, concerned. She held her books across her chest, with her arms wrapped around them, and looked at the same time tentative and sympathetic.

"Hi, Ami. History project, right?"

She nodded, then wetted her lips, causing Jaima to swallow. "I thought it was a very nice thing you did," she began, ducking her head a little. "I saw the woman yell at you. You didn't have to stay." She looked in his eyes, a hint of admiration in her own. "But you did. It was very good of you."

Jaima shrugged, embarrassed. "Thanks. I mean... I feel like I was kind of roped into this..." He did like it, though. He liked telling the story, and he liked how the kids were into it. "It was fun, you know?"

Ami nodded, then smiled, slightly. "I was wondering... if you don't mind, that is... would you like to study together sometimes? Here, I mean, before you start?"

Jaima nearly fell over, but caught himself. They were friends now, right? Sort of? "Yeah," he said, wincing when his voice cracked. "Yeah," he repeated, more evenly. "I'd really like that. When you can, of course."

Ami smiled and waved, a small motion which Jaima mirrored, and turned to walk home. Jaima was too stunned for a second, then coughed. "Ah, Ami?"

She stopped and turned, her eyebrows raised quizzically. Jaima cleared his throat. "Would you like company on your way home? I mean, I'm going the same way..."

Ami smiled again, bit her lip, and then seemed to come to a decision. "OK." Jaima's heart leapt, and he walked next to her, thinking that, just maybe, the day hadn't turned out too badly.

A/N: I seem to have really fallen for the character Jaima, who I've fleshed out a bit here. I picked the surname at random, to differentiate him from my pokémon story Jaima, and the original Jaima, who is coming in a Ranma 1/2 fanfic in the future.

RadiantBeam has encouraged me to go ahead with this, so I thank her. I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, and feel the need to flame... it's OK, I can take it. :D