He watched the children running around and around the track. Yuko was cheering them on, directing them on how to move their arms and legs, how to breathe more efficiently. She really looked beautiful right now, pouring herself into these children she barely knew anything about. It was times like this when he thought, maybe, it would be okay. This could last, and he could make her happy, and he wouldn't do it again. Minato looked up sharply the second or third time she addressed him and apologized.

"My thoughts were somewhere else."

He walked her home and they talked about her plans and her fears, and the way the other girls treated her. Simple, everyday things. He listened and tried to say the right things when it seemed like she was waiting for him to speak. They didn't talk much about him. He knew they could if he wanted to, but he didn't have anything to say…there was so much about himself that he couldn't confide in her, or even express properly to a "normal" person. Maybe that was why he always…Minato forced that line of thought to end. Just because it had happened before didn't mean it had to happen again. This time…it would be different.

He waited outside her house until the light came on in her room. He stood in the yellow glow of it for awhile and wondered what it must look like in there. Maybe one of these days he would get to see it; he always thought you got a better feel for someone after seeing their room. As he walked home he thought about different rooms; Shinjiro's room which he had lived in like a monk and which still held one small, pitiful box with his possessions, Junpei's room which was always warmer than anywhere else in the dorm because the sheer mass of things scattered around kept it insulated, Akihiko's clean but cluttered room with its equipment and trophies. And then there were other rooms…Fuuka's room. Chihiro's. Yukari's.

He reached the dorm and let himself in. Most of his friends were there, sitting quietly around the table. Yukari and Fuuka were among them, reminding him of his thoughts earlier. Somehow when he had ended things both of them had understood, even though their personalities were so different. Now they were arguably closer than ever; both of them had told him they felt better for knowing him and spending time with him. They didn't even seem to know about each other; if they did, it hadn't impacted their friendship. That meant everything was fine, didn't it? He frowned. Except…I get the feeling things should be different.

For awhile now he had started to think that he was incomplete somewhere. People were drawn to him, it was true, but he didn't honestly understand why. He wasn't friendly like Junpei or passionate about anything like Akihiko-senpai. And when it came to dating, he couldn't get deeply emotionally involved with one girl like Junpei (or, he privately suspected, Akihiko).

He didn't just feel that way about women, though…sometimes he almost felt like everyone around him was interchangeable, and that any one of them would do as long as they gave him some sense of reality and belonging. He went from one to the next almost without end, always with this strange sense of urgency. Minato shook his head and ascended the stairs. Why was he afraid of being alone? Why did it feel like time was running out?

They were sitting across from each other at Wild Duck Burger. He had seen a nice-looking purse on Tanaka's show and ordered it for her on impulse and she had really seemed to love it. Right now her face was lit up as she examined it. It was a nice face, he thought, pretty, maybe a little round. But certainly not a face a man would get tired of. The thought lifted his spirits.

But then she was asking him whether or not he thought she ate too much, and he had to disguise his annoyance as he answered her. He didn't like insecurity in others, maybe because it reminded him of the uncertainties he had about himself, and the constant obsession these girls had with weight and beauty was always a tiresome thing to talk about. He hoped she'd drop the subject soon. He didn't notice his impatience or make the connection that he was beginning to slide back into a pattern.

A couple of weeks later they were sitting on her bed. Minato had forgotten his thoughts earlier, when he had only wanted to see her room so he could learn more about her. He was busy unconsciously noting, and responding to, all the little signals she was giving him: the nervous way she moved, her flushed cheeks, and the way she kept starting meaningless conversations and then letting them die into silence. Finally she asked him if he would like to stay longer. He accepted without thinking; there was no reason not to.

Later, he would still come across her sometimes in that same place in the hall he had often gone to meet her before. When he passed her by without speaking, he glanced back and thought he almost remembered it; the way his steps had quickened with excitement before he rounded the corner, the feeling of elation he used to have whenever she was there, and the heavy disappointment he felt when she wasn't. He tried to recall the nervousness of picking out a good present for her and then debating on when to give it to her, gauging what was too soon. Occasionally, he even spoke to her. But usually he didn't, because she always said the same depressing things: "I miss you. I'd like to see you again sometime."

Like the others, she'd never held anything against him…she knew he was busy. That's right, Minato thought, I'm just busy. That's all it is. Later, when I have time… It was wonderful to be with someone, but you had to balance things…and right now he didn't have time to be with her today.

Mitsuru-senpai had told him to come see her when he had finally managed to get the high score on his exams. He had to hurry.