"Humans—they just don't get it."

This was muttered so quietly it was barely audible. He turned and saw Kanako holding the capsule that Ena had given him. Handling it as if she were holding a baby, she opened it and stared at the figurine inside.

To Ena it was junk:

"You can throw it away if you don't want it."

If a figure was useless just because it was a repeat, then Kanako, with her conspicuous imperfection, was obviously destined for the trash heap.

Tomoya closed his eyes again. The room was cold without the heater on, but he'd sleep without it. Searching his mind for places where Kanako's right arm might be, he fell asleep.

When he woke up, Kanako hadn't gotten up yet. Evidently, dolls need their sleep too.

Tomoya made his way across the room, took a shower and got dressed, and had a simple meal. He didn't know whether Kanako ate, but he made her an omelet and put it in the refrigerator just in case.

He'd devote another day to the search for Kanako's arm. He quietly fished through the wreckage of his room and found his backpack. It had three big round holes in it.

"Good morning, Tomoya."

With exquisite timing, Kanako sat up, rubbing her eyes.

"What's this?"

"Huh? Oh, that. It's tiring being scrunched up in there the whole time. It'll be more comfortable inside the backpack with my legs and arm sticking out through the holes. Left arm, both legs."

Kanako pointed to each of the three holes in succession. He pictured himself carrying the pack on his back with a little arm and two little legs poking out of it.

"Like a horror movie!"

"Think of it as art."

She was smirking; apparently, this was payback.

"Hurry up, get ready to go. There's no time to lose."

"First let me buy a new backpack."