Prompt, from ballerina-duck/Snow Bunny/arctic_hare: Fakiru meeting as kids.
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Reaching the old oak tree (located not so coincidentally as far away from the noisy mob of his shrieking peers as possible) Fakir plopped down with a sigh of satisfaction, glad to be rid of their company, and cracked open a precociously thick book; at last, he could indulge in some time to himself.
Or he would have, had a small, bright red-orange mass of sticklike limbs and freckles—a girl, he realized after his initial shock, and not much younger than his own eight years despite her tininess—not fallen from the heights of the tree directly into his lap the very next moment.
He was stunned, then he was angry, then he was ordering her to leave…but then there was the guileless flash of her smile (which did not make him think her face was pretty and open as a sunflower) and the innocent request which sent sparkles into her clear blue eyes (and he did not decide right then and there that he always wanted to see her eyes sparkle like that), and Fakir was suddenly sitting back down with the girl beneath the tree and reading aloud from his book to her, the first moment of many they would cherish for the rest of their years together.