#uoresu

That pretty much sums up my everyday life.

Yamato-kun can be a pervert sometimes...especially when he's half-asleep...

Yamato was sitting alone on a park bench when he saw the younger blonde approach. He had been eating his lunch. The wrapper of the sandwich was still in his hand. He was just sitting alone, lost in thoughts and memories. It was a brisk February morning.  His fingers were numb with cold. He was going to play his bass, however he found that he was too cold to even play a single chord. 

He smiled at the younger teen. " Hey there." He stopped. He looked familer.  He vadely remembered Koushiro talk about Wallace - a teenager that lived in New York. He remembered that he had been shown a picture. He thought.. Was this the Wallace he had heard so much about? I so, what was he doing in Japan?

The night is starless and humid. Each step he takes is heavy and tired, and Kouichi walks as if it's a task to do so. He's on his way home after a long day - the weather doesn't help make him feel any less exhausted. Every breath is a burden, and he looks like he can't wait to collapse.

There are not many people out on the streets, so when Kouichi catches sight of a strange blonde-haired boy, his lethargy slowly falls out of him. He stands straighter, blinking, as his attention lingers on the stranger. For some reason, he seems familiar - his strikingly foreign blond hair reminding him of Izumi.

Clicking his tongue, he let out a sound of displeasure as he made his way past the crowds of people. Busy places were among the things he disliked a lot, and the congested atmosphere of the train he rode prior to arriving at the station had served to aggravate his mood. And he still had groceries to pick up before heading home. He really wasn't feeling up to going anywhere but straight home, but of course it was just his luck. He sighed. It wasn't too bad, he supposed. All he had to do was pick up the listed items from a nearby convenience store, and head right home.

Hands in his pockets and carrier slung over his shoulder, Kouji moved to walk along the pavement—

—And he let out a slight grunt as his shoulder was curtly bumped aside by a stranger. At that, Kouji veered around and opened his mouth to snap at the person who'd made contact with him, but held his tongue at the last moment and tried to regain his composure. 'Cool it… it's not worth your energy…'

But then, as his gaze landed upon the stranger's face, he kept silent. Peculiar… By the looks of this kid, he didn't seem to be around these parts… He could be a foreigner; a westerner, most likely. Perhaps he was lost? Kouji wondered for a second if he should address him in English or Japanese, but then dismissed the thought.

The Mega narrowed his eyes questioningly as he noticed the child. And yet... he could also detect the faintest scent of another Digimon.

So this kid was a Tamer, was he?

Or maybe something else.

"Somethin' ya want, kiddo?"