When you participate in the Gundam Fight, fun is one of those things you find yourself missing.  When the only person you have steady contact with is Domon Kasshu, at least.  That's selling him a little short now, but at the time he was not the easiest person to deal with. 

                As I was saying, Valentine's Day was an easy one to celebrate.  Domon would protest taking time off from the Fight, he would walk out of a party if I somehow managed to get us invited to one, but he would never turn food down. 

                I was traveling alone, playing catch-up, I guess I could call it, when I made a five minute stop in a convenience store.  It was a dingy, dirty run-down place where the clerk behind the counter clearly trusted no one, but the likelihood I'd find a nicer store on the Earth without looking hard was slim. 

                I bought a box of assorted chocolates and was on my way again in no time, keeping a close watch via the wonders of technology on my partner.  This was several days before Valentine's Day, but I wanted to be sure I was ready when the day itself came.  Interesting situations have a way of cropping up, so it's best to plan as much as you can in advance. 

                When did I start planning what should have been whims days in advance?

                On the designated day, I didn't wait for an opportune time or try to bring up anything in conversation. 

                Domon was sitting on the floor of the Shining Gundam's cockpit, still in his Mobile Trace Battle Suit.  It was soon after his victory that I approached him, but not soon enough that he should still be in battle-mode.  The suit was powered down. 

                "The left leg isn't working properly," he said when I entered the cockpit, not even bothering to look up.  "You'll have to fix that before my next challenge."

                "I'll take a look at it," I said.  "But, first," I held out the chocolate, "Happy Valentine's Day."

                He looked at me oddly for a moment, as though he didn't understand what I had said.  I should have seen that coming; he had been training for ten years and probably hadn't thought about Greeting Card holidays like Valentine's Day in years.  There was a stretch of time before he accepted the white rectangular box, but when he opened it, his lips twitched.  Fighting a smile, maybe?

                "Don't let me you don't remember Valentine's Day," I chuckled.  Of course, it dawned on me once that sentence popped out that if he was as well versed in Valentine's Day as the average fourth grader, then he knew it was a romantic holiday.  "Any excuse for candy is a good one." I added quickly sitting down on the cool surface of the cockpit floor so that I was facing him.

                He didn't seem to be paying much, if any, attention to me. 

                You know those creme-filled chocolates?  Apparently, there are people who like those, after all.          

                He never said thank you.  He never offered me a chocolate, but when I swiped a few anyway, he never complained.

                "Valentine's Day was never one of my favorite holidays," I said, trying to make conversation.  "My relationships always fizzled between New Years' and February."  I was watching Domon as I spoke, taking the opportunity to real take a look at him without him noticing.  I had a lot of trouble understanding what he's thinking most of the time.  It's hard to understand someone who can be completely focused on their goals to the point where they tune out the rest of the world, but at the same not be concerned with what they are doing.  He tensed when I mentioned my past relationships, though.  I'm sure of it. 

                I snatched a chocolate then and popped it into my mouth.  He looked up at me like something startled him and I couldn't help but laugh.  Domon is generally very perceptive when it comes to his surroundings.

                "You at least have to share," I said after I'd swallowed, wagging a finger at him.

                "This is a waste of time," Domon said, setting the box to the side.

                "No, it's not," I protested.  "It's fun.  When was the last time you paid attention to pointless days like this?  There's more to life than Kung Fu, you know."

                "Rain," he muttered, like he didn't know what to say.  I shouldn't have been surprised he didn't know what to make of relationship chat.  A few months later, I became his first.  Domon's hand snaked back to the box for another chocolate.     

                "Don't you miss celebrating holidays?" I asked him while he chewed on the candy.

                "No," he said simply, before taking another.

                I looked at him skeptically. 

                "I know you've got good memories,"  I prodded.  "Remember the time our families went camping together during Golden Week when we were seven or eight?  Don't try to tell me you didn't have fun, I was there."

                He looked at me with a sort of dull expression I'm not sure how to describe.  I got the feeling he thought I was pretty stupid at that moment.

                "I've got good memories," he replied, "but they would only stand in my way."

                It was then I realized that most of Domon's holiday memories involve his mother, his father, his brother...  Thinking about happy times with Kyoji would make his, our, goal that much more difficult.  Thinking about his mother at all must be painful.  I couldn't begin to imagine how deeply his mother's death must have hurt him.  Domon went home after ten years only to learn that he didn't have one anymore.

                "I'm sorry," I whispered.  "I wasn't thinking."

                "The Shining Gundam's leg still needs to be fixed," was Domon's reply.  I still don't know if that was his way of saying 'No, you weren't' or 'That's okay.'  Or maybe it was his way of saying 'I don't really care if you were thinking or not.  Fix my Gundam.  Now.'