He slammed down his pencil. Was it possible for the finals to be so lengthy and excessive? He looked at his watch. Twelve fifteen. Ah…he was, in fact, done two hours ahead of time. One of his crazy physics teachers had allotted six hours for a rather simple, but time consuming test.

Well, I guess it's time to go. He looked around at his working classmates. It wasn't easy being a genius. Well, actually…

"Done early again?" Professor Nouzui exhaled; exasperated.

He ignored her and resumed packing up his stuff. Last class, last test, last year, he couldn't imagine why there would be any reason to stay a moment longer.

"Have a nice career, professor." He replied as he was halfway out the door. She scowled back.

Along the hallway, he knew there were eyes on him from every surrounding classroom, but who could care at a time like this? He was the undisputable top of the class, receiving his master's degree roughly five years before most of his classmates, and had a job offering the moment he graduated (although he declined because he wanted to obtain his PhD in America). He felt…complete. Almost.

Although his mind was well at rest, his body still had one destination it would repeatedly go to. Every year since he moved to Tokyo, he would take what could be called a "pilgrimage" to one spot every two weeks. It was a place of memories; memories of dramatic change. Since a time of about ten years ago, his whole life turned around for the better, he made friends easier, even though the moves his family made were more frequent, his relations with his step-mother improved, and he had recovered the genius he had lost to depression. All of this, his heart claimed, amounted to one person. The person who always made him go back.

He trailed down the steps into the bright June afternoon. The sun was out, the birds were flying, and no one was done with their test. It was absolutely perfect to make his pilgrimage, although three days early.

Passing through the university gates, he took a couple steps in the direction of the bus stop, but thought better of it. What was three miles on the last day of graduate school in sunny weather?

Walking straight past a bus with a baffled driver, he quickened his pace and started whistling. Whistling? Who whistled? He looked around to make sure no one he knew saw him whistling. Good. But he was still baffled that the final exam would make him this…cheerful. He was never emphatically enthusiastic, and he never whistled. He was even about to smile. For what? The last time he smiled this broadly was when he had met his mother the first time since his birth, but ever since then, he wasn't that humored.

Something's up. He said to himself.

Oh really? Another voice said sarcastically. He almost rolled his eyes at himself.

You don't need brains to figure that out.

Well, if you ever need them…

Whistling? Smiling for no reason? Talking to himself? Were these the first signs of early insanity? He was sure to have read something about how dramatic changes in one's disposition sometimes led to chaos and hallucinations, not to mention being locked up in a mad house…err…insane asylum.

He passed under a bridge, and his footsteps echoed off the walls. He, being in his insanity, felt like his skull was becoming hallow. What happened to the thoughts and intellectual material which usually occupied this revered space? He walked out and breathed.

But, his troubles were not over yet.

Out of the tunnel, he walked over to a vacant bench to rest, and saw someone vaguely familiar walk by.

"Tommy?" He asked.

The boy turned around. Clearly, his assumption was correct, but the other didn't seem to recognize him.

"Hello…" Tommy replied. "I'm sorry, who are you again?"

Before he could reply, Tommy interjected.

"Hey! How are you doing?" The boy took his hand and shook it vigorously.

"I'm good, just out of school." He answered.

"Me too." Tommy exclaimed. "Just got let out last week."

"What are you doing here? I thought you lived…"

"Yeah, I'm visiting my aunt here." The other nodded and looked around. "Oh, there she is. I gotta go!"

And without another word, an old friend left. Apparently, he wasn't hallucinating, just seeing people he hadn't seen in years.

He stood up, shook his head, and continued on his way. The station was only five minutes from his sight.