It hits home, in a way, but not like an arrow. It feels true, deeply and intimately, in a way few things ever have. It feels, strangely, almost like looking at his Palace.

He smiles. It's a joyless, empty-eyed expression, but it's sincere. "Someday," he says. "Today I'll probably just go home. Sorry."

(Inside his Palace, Futaba will see the walls of the house ripple slightly and then stabilize, as new words are added to the cognition that shapes them.)