[ Cushy? Is that how some experienced their lives? The description gives Minato pause. Each day he woke up, went to school, wandered about before returning home. Perhaps the uneventful nature of those days could be described as "cushy."

Judging by this girl's dirt-streaked face, it probably is in comparison.

He doesn't answer her question immediately. There are several different ways to respond, given the variety of things he'd seen, of other people he might have known. But there's one thing in particular that churns in his head. ]

...I see someone who looks like me.

[ Because that... couldn't be him, right? ]

He looks tired. Something knocks him down over and over again, but he keeps getting up.

[ It's puzzled him ever since he'd first had that dream. ]

...I don't know why.

[ Why would he keep struggling? What was the point? It didn't make any sense. ]