"...how long will I still make it...how much longer will I last?"

That's the constant thought Nagata had nagged him all the time non-stop while he walked around Shibuya, without a real point. He didn't have a real place to stay, nor enough money for him to live normally like anyone else. He's life was...miserable, but somehow he always managed.

In the end, he was just a poor man, with nothing but his theatre company that wasn't even really known and of which everyone thought poorly too, thinking that the shows were too strange to the others.

Nagata stood up from the sidewalk on which he was sitting previously and started to walk through the crowded streets of the city, not really knowing where he really was going.

As he walked, he stopped in front of a display case in which there was a painting. He couldn't help but admire it. He was so engrossed that for a moment he forgot about everything that was happening around him, until he snapped from his trance and looked at the space next to him---there was a beautiful woman that was looking at the same painting he was looking at. Something in her had awakened a strange feeling in him...something he couldn't describe, but it wasn't a displeasing feeling.

When she started to walk away and gave him that small soft smile when their eyes met he couldn't help but go after her. He didn't care if he seemed like a creep with that messy hair of his, those old clothes or those...those shoes he had on that were the same as the one that women wore.

He had gone after her, touching her shoulder, trying to initiate a conversation.

"I-...your shoes...we have the same shoes."