That's all Toshiro can think as the week progresses. As time crawls forward and he spends more and more time with Katrina, he can only think of how familiar their day to day felt to his heart. Like he and Katrina had met several times over, many a year ago, and they were just picking up right where they left off. How easy it was to fall into a routine that felt like it had been repeated time and time again.
Toshiro found himself falling in love with how easily his life and Katrina's life seemed to mesh. How quickly it seemed that they became inseparable. He found himself craving the end of the day, just so he could see her. Be near her. The last few nights, she had even invited him into her home, and the two of them would fall asleep on the sofa, curled into one another. In the morning, Toshiro would wake up with a sore neck and an aching back; but it wouldn't matter when he would look down and see Katrina sleeping soundly in his embrace.
How could one human be the center of his world? How could one person cause him this much happiness?
He found that it was truly beautiful it felt to have found someone who could hear the music of his soul and value it's tune for the melody it was. Someone who could find joy in the moments of laughter, but also find solstice in the silence.
Over the course of the week, he and Katrina would spend countless hours together. It didn't matter what they were doing: research on Halliday, reading silently, or learning a new dish to cook; no matter what, it felt like Toshiro's soul was ablaze. For the first time in a long time, he felt alive. And for the first time in a long time, Toshiro had spent more time in the real world than in the Oasis. The comfort that he use to find in the Oasis had changed. He longer felt like he had to escape to a world a make believe to feel alive, not when there was a woman in front of him that made him feel like time was endless.
That was the magic of Katrina.
And he knew that she felt the same way.
As the week progressed, he noticed her becoming far more comfortable with him. As they walked home, she would now walk hand in hand with him, rather than threading her arm through his. Her slim fingers curled perfectly around his, almost as if their hands were made to fit together. Sometimes, she would pull his arm over her head, forcing him to rest his arm across her shoulders and pull her close as they walked along side each other. At first, he thought it was because of how late at night it was and believed she worried about the area they were in, but it wasn't until she continued to take his hand when they were alone that he realized that it was intentional. The way she would lean into him when they were sitting at her apartment. The way her hand would gently caress the nape of his neck or how her fingers would tangle in his hair. The way she would lay her legs across his laps as she studied, allowing him to trace shapes across her skin.
