Tomoyo, it seemed, was infinitely patient.

For all her patience, Satoru was equally hopeless.

His Mandarin accent was bizarre, at best.

Hong Kong was very different from Tokyo.

Tomoyo's father was not impressed.

But Tomoyo was infinitely patient.

And holding hands underneath tables,

Kisses stolen in the subway,

Blushes and whispers, sharing headphones and John Coltrane,

Satoru was infinitely patient as well.