Hello people! =D I do not own the characters, they belong to Kishimoto. Its a Kakasaku, just in case ya'll hadn't noticed yet. I know its kind of rough around the edges, so I apologize. Anyways, enjoy!

Thirty Minutes

He sees her in the hallways, he always does. As he passes he attempts to catch her glance, but only succeeds in failure. He wonders if its because of their differences in height, both physically and in society. He goes on to wonder if it was something else… He strides by her but her steps do not change and do not falter, much like her mind. She disappears around a corner, and he opens the door to his classroom. She's never coming back to him, he knows. Once he's in his room, he begins the countdown of the minutes left until he'll see her again.

At thirty minutes, he remembers how her tinkling laughter carried out over the roaring crowds of students. He always knew it was her; his ears were trained to pick out beautiful voices.

At twenty-nine minutes he can picture her prancing into his plain, cozy classroom with her English book in tow. Her bright pink hair was sticking out in every direction, but the glitter in her eyes and the bounce in her step was of much more importance then a stray lock of hair.

At twenty-eight minutes he recalls the scritch-scratch sounds of pencils moving across paper, and the periodical creaks of old wooden chairs his students sat on. Somehow, the sounds help his mind to function.

At twenty-seven minutes his mind begins to recreate the sketchbook of hers he once saw. He had frowned at the art's dark nature, but now all he wishes is to be able to tell her he understands. Art is an extension of oneself, so to truly accept her for who she is, he needs to accept her art first.

At twenty-six minutes he envisions her raised hand. Her arm never sways like those of the other students. She remains tall and proud where she is, until she gets the chance to prove herself by answering a question. It shocked him the day his mind realized her nails were stained as red as her lips.

At twenty-five minutes his brain calls on information she once wrote in an essay. She believed there was no such thing as good or evil, it all depended perspective. He laughs bitterly as he acknowledges how much his perspective of her has changed.

At twenty-four minutes her fervent glances across the classroom haunt him. He felt sick when he finally figured out her goal was him. Even still, this discovery of his is what awoke something else within him…

At twenty-three minutes all he can see is her beryl green eyes. They say eyes can tell you a lot about a person, and that sometimes by looking into the eyes of others you can see your own hidden soul. Even now he knows this is the moment in which he ceased to resist temptation. He's only a man, after all.

At twenty-two minutes he sees snow. Snow so pure, clean, and innocent. Snow that can block windows and seal doors, kill crops and kill people. Snow that can hide true intention. Even still, his mother taught him long ago that snow melts, no matter where it is. Be it outside his classroom or in his heart, it doesn't matter.

At twenty-one minutes he remembers the pounding of his newly thawed heart. It had sent his blood wildly through his veins, and soon the roar of his blood overshadowed everything else.

At twenty minutes he remembers the day he first made her smile. He'd been lecturing in class, and he had made a comment on how everything in life has its purpose. The smile she had awarded him with was lovely, but for some reason she seemed slightly relieved. She couldn't think so poorly of herself, could she?

At nineteen minutes he can picture the turning point in his life, much like winter gives way to spring. She seemed to be blossoming into a whole new person right before his eyes. The loss of her old self reminded him of how from here on out, there would be no going back.

At eighteen minutes he recalls the loss of the turbulent post-winter winds. From now on both of their lives would be more stable. He thinks stable is good, of course. After all, stability is the only thing a person can try to hold onto when they've lost everything else.

At seventeen minutes his mind brings forth the day he coincidentally ran by her outside of school. Free of her uniform, she once more looked like a completely different person. Still, he smiled because he knew that she was still the same on the inside.

At sixteen minutes he remembers the rain on the city sidewalks. Rain is meant to bring the earth rebirth and rejoicing. He can't help but to think of the rain as God's tears. Even goods have feelings, he knows. He wonders why up until now his emotions had been all but gone. She just tells him not to worry.

At fifteen minutes he recalls a certain conversation he'd had with her about the staircases in the school. Personally, he thought them dangerous and unneeded. He was always the realistic, systematic one. She argued with him and said that a person could not live life without the thrill of danger. It would be much to routine, she believed. His mind screams against her, but he can't bring his voice to fight back.

At fourteen minutes he remembers her joking, comical nature. She had always been there to brighten up his mood, and he was oftentimes grateful to her. He didn't feel the need to tell her that the glimmer in her eyes was all he needed to make his day. And so she would continue bestowing jokes and riddles upon him, and he'd continue to be thankful.

At thirteen minutes all his mind can see is the plastic smile she used to wear for her friends. He knows that the others can't tell the difference, but then again it might just be him. He knows for a fact that human nature is hidden from the eyes. He knows, but he doesn't understand.

At twelve minutes the alarm from long ago sounds off in his mind. He remembers the chatty students pouring out of his room. The door shutters closed, and in a bizarre moment of clarity he realizes he is actually quite similar to his classroom. Closed on the outside, but warm, inviting and understanding on the inside. His lips pull back in a soft smile.

At eleven minutes his brain can't help recalling the time he took his class on a trip to the zoo. The students were, for the most part, too busy fooling around with one another to notice the irony of the animals' situation. The encaged animals may have been physically trapped, but their minds were open and untainted by outside influence. Humans (who are really just another kind of animal) wander freely, but their minds are constantly closed and narrow due to fear of what others would think. She catches the irony, of course, and his heart swells with pride.

At ten minutes he remembers a late spring tragedy. He had been told by one of her other teachers that she had been in a car accident. He'd rushed to the hospital and hadn't thought of the impropriety of the situation until he was at her bedside. He turned to leave, but she used her uninjured hand to catch his. She told him, once more, that life wasn't worth living without a few risks. On that day, he decided to live a little.

At nine minutes he pictures himself trudging by the scene of the accident, and wincing at the shattered glass. Like mirrors they may reflect his face, but they don't reflect his heart.

At eight minutes he recalls the long weeks he spent without her. Back then was nothing compared to the reality he lives in today. His new revelation leaves a bitter, acidic taste in his mouth.

At seven minutes he can still feel himself writing her a letter. He truly did worry for her, but at the same time he knew the letter was more for himself then anybody else. He had felt the delicious pounding of adrenaline through his system the last time he had been exposed to danger. He'd become a completely different person, but he managed to convince himself that he was still the same.

At six minutes her arrival back into his classroom comes to mind. She had come running into his waiting arms, and as he held her he thought that there could have been no better reunion. He knows better now.

At five minutes the season in his mind changes and he remembers the feeling of thick summer heat. He grudgingly admits to himself that he can't hold on for much longer. He really, really needs her, just as much as she needs him.

At four minutes his rationality fails him, and he recalls the tension and passion in the air. He could feel her soft body pressed against his, and he at last gave into his carnal instincts. In between kisses he realized that they were running out of time.

At three minutes his greatest secret had caused him to live his life in fear and tredipation. Meanwhile, she foolishly basked in the thrill of being a sinner. The clock ticked after them.

At two minutes the morbid truth strikes him and he learns that they never had any time in the first place.

Every other memory fades away around him when he reaches one minute. He remembers how her hopeful eyes had shattered as he pushed her away once and for all. He recalls the painful feel of his heart shattering just as her eyes had moments earlier.

He thought it was his duty to protect her.

He thought wrong.