He forgot he had them. Which is bad. Other people have friends, acquaintences, groups they fall into readily. Mamoru has his books — books that are now piled at their feet, covered in mud and slop from the morning's rain. Expensive textbooks he paid a pretty yen for, dirty and impossible to exchange if he ever decided to part ways with them.
And he's not even bothering to pick them up.
Part of his mind registers this, panics with the realization that this girl — a virtual stranger in one sailor suit after another — is taking precedence over the education he's devoted most of the memorable parts of his life to. Mamoru's aimed high and reached beyond his goals and supposed limitations since elementary school, and now a pretty face and pair of blonde odangos is suddenly more important than that.
It ought to feel more foreign, but it doesn't. There's something alarmingly natural feeling about holding her in his arms like this.
no subject
He forgot he had them. Which is bad. Other people have friends, acquaintences, groups they fall into readily. Mamoru has his books — books that are now piled at their feet, covered in mud and slop from the morning's rain. Expensive textbooks he paid a pretty yen for, dirty and impossible to exchange if he ever decided to part ways with them.
And he's not even bothering to pick them up.
Part of his mind registers this, panics with the realization that this girl — a virtual stranger in one sailor suit after another — is taking precedence over the education he's devoted most of the memorable parts of his life to. Mamoru's aimed high and reached beyond his goals and supposed limitations since elementary school, and now a pretty face and pair of blonde odangos is suddenly more important than that.
It ought to feel more foreign, but it doesn't. There's something alarmingly natural feeling about holding her in his arms like this.