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Prologue...
The Wind...

"Oh…"

Two pink petals descended from the skies, waltzing with the wind. They blew by Keitaro's face and then swirled slowly towards Motoko. She watched, half-paralyzed with mild surprise. The young man exhaled audibly, pushing his glasses up against his nose.

"K-Keitaro…" she murmured awkwardly. No response.

It was odd to find him on the roof, alone. But then, everything he did was odd to her, because she knew so little about him. Apart from their relationship as landlord and tenant, they really didn't have anything in the way of real friendship. Sure, she did have some feelings for him, but admitting that was just beyond her capacity right now. Besides, what good would it do…?

"Is there something you need?" Abruptly, he turned around and addressed her. Motoko blinked, somewhat taken aback.

"N-no… I was just going to…" She had forgotten why she had come up to the roof in the first place. "…call you down for dinner." Her heart accelerated slightly, and she nearly looked away from his face with embarrassment.

"I see," he smiled, speaking in his silly voice. "I guess I'll be going down then."

His smile permeated her thoughts: seeing it made her chest throb painfully. It was so completely wrong—it was just so fake... As he started moving towards the staircase, she shot out her hand and took him by the shoulder. "Why…?"

He looked down at her hand, "Excuse me?" Even though Keitaro continued to smile, his voice wavered a little bit. She felt the urge to hit him.

"Why are you smiling?! How can you be so emotionless when Naru—!" His muscles tightened, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to hold her voice. But the damage had already been done. Keitaro stumbled backwards, grasping the wooden railings to stabilize himself. His face twitched between a half-smile and a grimace of utter heartbreak.

Motoko backed away, suddenly frightened. A heavy gust blew against her body, exaggerating the movement. In her effort to stay upright, she found herself falling forward as soon as the wind had died down.

"Ugh!" Keitaro grunted as he caught her in his arms. Motoko blushed trying to pull away. For some reason, he held her for a fragment of a second. When he released her, she had lost the will to back off. Instead, she braced herself against the same shoulder and stared lamely at the ground.

"I guess, in the end," he sighed, resigning himself, "I couldn't keep up with her…"

"…" He was blaming himself. But it hadn't been his fault. They had missed Naru's train by only two minutes, and even then Keitaro had pushed himself to the limit trying to get to her stop before she did. The only one who had really done anything to try and stop her had been him. None of this could possibly have been his fault. She told him this, but he only withdrew.

"Maybe if I could have been more honest with Naru, she might not have left. If I had been able to tell her how I really felt, then she wouldn't have just run away."

Keitaro no longer tried to smile. His voice no longer carried its upbeat tone. A darker side seemed to emerge, and it seemed he was hopelessly lost in his own abyss.

"How can you blame yourself for what happened?" Motoko looked into his eyes, trying to find some reason for this madness. Keitaro looked away, trying to hide his guilt, or whatever it was he felt he had to carry.

"How can I not?"

"Because," she hesitated. "Because everyone tried so hard to bring her back. If you take the fall, then everything we did for you means nothing."

He looked up incredelously. "So you're telling me that you tried to catch her for my benefit?"

Motoko's cheeks turned red. "You didn't really think that I did all of that on a whim, did you?" she asked. It seemed he had, for he turned his head away in a shameful manner. "Keitaro," she cooed soothingly, "You can't put this all on yourself. It's partly our fault too, you know."

He shook his head childishly, stepping back into the railing. Motoko stroked his cheek, wiping away a tear before it fell. He swallowed hard as she began to cry.

It had been something she had done out of a sense of being motherly. Now, it seemed, parenting Keitaro was the thing furthest from what she really wanted. Her heart began to thud against her chest. She staggered with pain.

She had wanted Keitaro to be happy. Did that mean to her own expense? "It's not fair…" she uttered, hiccupping with a sob. "It just isn't fair to be the only one to blame!" She smothered her face against his shirt, crying, "I want you to notice me too, Keitaro! If you're the only one at fault, then how can you acknowledge everything I did for you?! Do I have to dress up as Naru for you?! Will that—…!" A gag, followed by muffled sobs.

Keitaro stared, his eyes glazed. "Motoko, I…" he said softly. He couldn't find the right words to say. How did one react to a confession of love as hers had been? There wasn't a single solution in his mind to the conundrum. How could he really say he was in love with her, since the one person he wanted was Naru? But he couldn't bear to think of the pain she would go through if he rejected her. It was too much already.

He didn't want to do it anymore. Naru was gone, and Motoko was here. One was a memory, the other a living, breathing being. This was real. He wanted something real. Shadows didn't satisfy him anymore…

Embracing her slowly, Keitaro caressed her shoulders and back. She shivered, looking up at him. "What are you—?" she started, but he sealed her lips with his own.

Motoko blushed hotly, shuddering slightly as her hands tried to push him away. She stopped breathing, holding still until he parted, where she panted profusely, body convulsing with each breath.

"Motoko," Keitaro beckoned. There was a hint of desperation. "If I promise to hold you, will you stay with me? You won't run away, right? Motoko…?" Something like a groan escaped her. Whether it was "yes" or "no", she didn't know, but she shook her head mechanically, as though the answer had been washed into her mind.

"I don't," he started, "I don't want to go through it again. I don't want you to leave…"

"I won't," she whispered, finding her breath. "I swear I'll always protect you." She placed her hand against his chest, symbolizing her oath to him, and took his hand and pressed it against hers. "This," she said, "will always be yours. No matter how you use it, it's yours…"

"Then," he replied, leaning forward and squeezing her breast, "How can I use it to make you happy?" He tried to say her name, but found he could not.

After a moment, Motoko smiled. She pressed against him, whispering in his ear, "Like this…" Their lips met a second time, and she felt his tongue slide past hers. She groaned anxiously, yanking against his hair.

Another gust of wind blew a single cherry blossom onto the deck. Far below, the wind chimes at the entrance could be heard singing their song.