Madoka changes her view higher, and Tidus can't help but do the same once she's finished speaking. Wondering himself, curious. If it were the sea, he might agree: there was a distance and endlessness to it that Tidus could never escape when he looked out to it. That made him feel--simple. A piece. Small in the scale of life.

"I like that," he starts, head bobbing as it comes back down, his arms rested on his knees. Considering the vast stretch of space to hold so many planets and life. --well, sorta.

"I mean, it's weird--it's hard thinking about everything your world's put up with and knowing there's more going on out there. Or there's people who could come and sort it out, but they didn't." That's a bummer.

"But if it's always been like that... well, I'm still me." He looks, from the rock pool and its fish, the coral, over to Madoka. "In the end, I've always been me. And you're you, no matter how many people there are. We're all making a difference to the ones we meet, and that's okay with me. I like my small life."