I don't own anything related to Katawa Shoujo, nor do I pretend to. Please forgive any minor grammatical errors, since I have no Beta.

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It was a day like any other; the summer months were approaching and the weather in Tokyo was steadily warming up. The city was sprawling with activity, as usual, and among the commuters was one young man by the name of Hisao Nakai.

Hisao's light brown hair was whipping behind him as he ran to the bus station, slipping on his coat while shuffling school papers in his arms. He was running late to catch the midday bus home, and though normally he tried not to over-exert himself, today it couldn't be helped.

As he ran he was silently thanking Emi, wherever she was at the moment, for keeping him on a strict exercise regimen and allowing him to live more normally in spite of his arrhythmia. Before, in his high school years where he let his condition control his life, he never thought he could ever participate in sports or do something as simple as running again. Now he was here, keeping up with the fast-paced city, and studying at Nihon University. Life changed before he knew it, and Hisao was glad of it.

As he neared the stop, he was relieved to see that the bus was still there. Upon closer inspection he realized that the delay was thanks to a young girl in a wheel chair. The process the driver had to take to lower the bus' ramp and buckle the wheelchair into place was a few minutes long, and that was all Hisao needed to get there before it left.

After tapping his bus pass on the cash machine, he took a seat next to the girl in question. She looked to be a few years younger than him, maybe a year from graduating senior high school. Her sailor fuku was black, and her shoulder-length hair was dark blue. She was on edge, and her slight frame seemed to shrink smaller and smaller as more and more passengers snuck peeks at her. She caught him looking and blushed, turning away in shame and discomfort.

He turned away as well, and tried looking out at the other passengers, and even the people on foot outside of the window he was leaning on. He liked to watch people, especially in the city where so many of them get together, doing any number of things that endlessly fascinated him: like a few very bored schoolchildren who routinely poke a sleeping homeless man he knew to be called "Dirty Shou," or the antics of a troupe of mimes that performed by the park every day at noon.

Looking back at the girl, who by now had withered under the inquiring gazes of the passengers in the bus, Hisao felt a pang in his chest. It wasn't the heart-murmur kind, but the nostalgic kind that tugged at old memories of a girl back in his high school years who had the same issue with crippling shyness. Her name rose up slowly from a deep place in his mind, Hanako Ikezawa. Though he had never known her very well, and had generally kept to himself and a small group of friends, he remembered her because this girl in from of him made him think of her. He didn't want this girl to end up like Hanako did: fading into the shadows until all that was left of her was a fading memory and a blank image in the yearbook with her name underneath.

He quickly tore out a sheet of paper from his school folder and scribbled a note to her, getting so enthused that it turned out longer than he intended. He placed it discreetly on her person before casually looking out the window, giving her a private moment to read. She jumped a little when the paper landed on her lap, and she quickly plucked the folded note and read:

'You shouldn't be ashamed of your disability. Straighten up and look forward; nothing can really change, only your perception of your situation. You look like a nice girl, and I wanted you to know that I am disabled as well.

I used to be a lot like you, and to this day I regret ever letting my disability rule my life and turn me into a recluse. I have arrhythmia, and for a long time I lived in constant fear of the day my heart finally gave out. But once I was able to embrace it and get past it, I found I could live to seize the day and make the most of my life.

I ran here today, despite having arrhythmia. My girlfriend is a successful artist, despite having no arms; and my personal trainer is a championship runner, even though she lost her legs years ago.

Work hard and you will be able to go places and accomplish things you never dreamed of. Don't be ashamed of your disability; embrace it.'

Her hands seemed to tremble, and she looked up to thank this kind stranger, but when her eyes found his seat, he was no longer there. The bus had stopped, and Hisao had gotten off, hoping he could be of some comfort to a kid who reminded him of days gone by.

After paying for his purchases, Hisao hefted the sack of oranges over his shoulder, adjusted his other bags in his other hand, and made his way to the flat he shared with Rin.

Rin. He found himself smiling just thinking about her. He could hardly imagine life without her, and didn't want to. It was nice to come home to her every night and to have someone to share his day with. Having Rin there is what made his little apartment a home.

Originally, his parents weren't too keen on letting him go to school in the city, what with it being so far away, but in time they came to accept the fact that he was going regardless of their opinion. What was really hard to pass by them was the fact that he would be living with his girlfriend. Alone. Unsupervised.

Rin parents were easy enough to talk to, since their daughter would have someone to attend to her daily needs. His mother was understandably concerned, but, upon seeing her son's resolve, said nothing to deter him.

"For the love of God, if you're going to do this, use protection," his dad had said after relenting. Hisao had turned red and tried to stutter out a denial, but his father interrupted him. "Don't think I don't know what kids these days are up to. I was young once like you too, you know."

"I… I," Hisao had muttered pathetically, too taken aback by his father's request to really form a coherent thought.

"Just say you will; for your old man's sake. I'm not yet sure this whole heart thing isn't genetic, and it would be a shame if you gave your mother a heart attack by knocking this girl up," his father had added with a chuckle. Ryouta Nakai was never one to delve into sober talks with his son, and turning things into a joke was his general approach to most things when it came to stern parenting.

Remembering this, Hisao found himself laughing out loud in the middle of the shopping plaza. He ignored the looks people gave him and started walking faster, eager to get home. Soon enough, his complex appeared over the trees on the other side of the street. He took the stairs up to the third floor slowly, forced to forego taking the elevator. It was currently shut down for repairs.

As good as he had been doing earlier, he did get a bit winded on the way up, and found himself panting after only the third flight of steps. 'Another hurdle to get past', he thought optimistically. Maybe with time he could get to the point where climbing those steps didn't tire him out.

He got to his door and entered with a flourish, calling, "I'm home~!" He put his bags down on a small end table by the door and carried the oranges with him into their small kitchen. The flat was well lit thanks to the large glass windows to the right wall facing the city. It illuminated the already-spacious area, or rather, the area was spacious for a studio apartment.

The door fed into a small hallway where, around the corner, their little kitchen was snuggled up beside a room divider that led into Rin's studio nook. Her workspace was littered with art supplies, and the window she worked next to cast a brilliant, multi-colored light as it was smeared with all manner of paints. The roof was slanted over half their apartment, as they occupied a corner flat.

It was nice, by any standard, and Hisao felt fortunate that they managed to buy this place with what little they had.

As he turned the corner of a rice-paper room divider, he was met with a familiar voice calling out a muffled "Hello". Rin was at her stool, one brush in the grasp of her right foot, and another two dangling from her mouth. Her shock of red hair had flecks of paint in it, and the untied sleeves of her white shirt swayed, empty, in the breeze that was created by the overhead fan. She had no arms, the effects of being born with Phocomelia, a defect that left her with severely underdeveloped arms. It was due to this that she was currently painting with her feet.

She twitched as though she wanted to turn and look at him properly, but was too absorbed in her artwork to act on the impulse. Hisao leaned in to kiss her on her cheek, seeing as how her mouth was occupied at the moment. She took her gaze off of the painting and her large, forest green eyes settled on the sack of produce in the crook of his arm.

"Ah dose orangef?" she asked through the brushes in her mouth. In answer, Hisao chuckled, and with a solid whump, plopped the bag onto the kitchen counter before turning to her and telling her he had to change first.

He walked off to the bedroom at the back of the apartment, found in an elevated alcove set in the wall above their sitting area. The living room was large, considering that they had no TV and no dining area. The kitchen counter doubled as their table; and who needed television with Rin around? Rather than a sofa, there was a floor couch that wrapped around a rug Hisao had gotten as a going-away present from his mother.

Stepping over his laptop table and a discarded textbook, Hisao quickly changed out of his stiff coat and into some loose sweats and a tee shirt. He came back to find Rin had moved to one of the stools by the kitchen table, eyes intently watching him as he approached.

There had been a time when he looked at her from behind in the atelier above Sae's gallery and he was resentful of the fact that Rin had never seemed to ever really be looking at him. Then it seemed Rin's heart was some guarded, dangerous territory. Now he could feel her attention on him more than ever. He would sometimes catch her looking his way and it made him happy that, for once, he wasn't looking at her from behind… she was finally looking back at him.

"Will you be sharing those, or is there something else you had in mind?" she asked in her usual way. She loved oranges. They were a rare delicacy for her, seeing as she couldn't peel them without assistance. It was for this reason that Hisao took pleasure in buying oranges to share with her.

Hisao laughed and grabbed an orange and began peeling it, wondering how he ever got to be with someone like Rin.

Later, when the sun was casting long shadows outside, Hisao was reading a book on the floor couch while the smell of dinner wafted in from the kitchen.

He tilted his head all the way over the back of the chair and looked at Rin, seated atop a platform he had built for her so she could cook with her feet at level with the waist-high countertop. They had always been rotating cooking duty, but sometimes, when Rin wanted to clear her head, she worked on learning new recipes or trying new things even on days when it was Hisao's turn. Days like today.

Cooking was always something she had aspired to try, and now, when she felt her head clogged like an artery ready to burst, when her thoughts could not be sorted by art alone, she cooked. It was at times like these where Hisao could see her more often wearing a soft smile of satisfaction. She didn't lapse into a trance the way she did when she painted. It was a whole new kind of fixation. Granted, she never made more than was necessary to feed them, since her toes could only handle so much weight when it came to heavy pots and pans.

She had doffed her overalls, as they tended to irritate her legs when exposed to steam from the rice. Her legs were bare except for a pair of baggy shorts, and her naked stumps poked out of the short-sleeved shirt she wore. Even so, a bit of perspiration stuck her bangs to her forehead.

"How is everything, Rin?" Hisao asked over his shoulder, "are you sure you don't want my help?" He worried, even though he knew how dexterous she was with her feet, that something would happen whenever she dealt with hot surfaces. Rin was known to have a flighty attention span.

"No. I find that when I do this alone, the flock of butterflies clears out of my head. As though it doesn't like the steam or something," she replied in all seriousness. When talking with her, one must retain an open mind and quickly keep up with her metaphors.

"You mean it clears your head?"

"Yes. No… I think, but I'm not sure. It's hard to say, but it's as if the dam in my head that holds back all these loud, fuzzy things suddenly opens and lets it all flow out of me and into thin air. What's left are small ones that are easier to handle. I feel like I lose weight, but not in the sick way; in the way that you do when you come out of the bathroom."

Hisao wrinkled his nose, more than a little put off by her bathroom imagery.

"Does that mean you have to use the toilet, then?" he asked, trying to make a joke.

"As a matter of fact, I do, now that I think about it," she replied, hopping off of the platform and taking long, calm strides to the private toilet found just inside the living room. She turned the door handle with her foot, already wearing her toilet shoes, and kicked it closed behind her.

It was in this manner that Hisao found himself alone with the unfinished dinner, desperate not to burn it before she got back.

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