A car would not work for my birthday. It is not because anybody would be able to give it to me in a pestering away, not even Haruno could. In my family, I would need to pay for insurance, fuel, and maintenance. I don't have a license, so that responsibility would land on my shoulders. There are taxes on gifts like that as well. Also, I would be giving rides to Komachi and her friends, and not to mention how the Service Club would want to use me. Job motivators and time constraints are the antithesis to my lifestyle, livelihood, and happiness – well, at least my lifestyle. In terms of ideology, every part of freedom a vehicle offers is chained to investment in society and I am just not so comfortable with that either. Additionally, I don't even need a car as public transit worked well enough so far. Nope, I would be left better off without a car.

It is different for Hayama & Co., because they have different concerns. There is no worry for paying anything because of the First National Bank of Thanks Mom, Thanks Dad; no, that is a secondary cause: The first reason he doesn't have to worry is because he rolled a six when he was born – I rolled a two max. He doesn't have anyone expecting the courtesy of ride sharing. They are deer caught in his headlights; instead, I am sure he could just offer a ride to any passersby, and there it is, he is on a date. In terms of ideological rejection, well he is kind of like a sock puppet, merely a second skin to the mastermind's hand, which looks like fishnet stockings pulled over a tuna. I guess that is the agreement before the house rigs the game in your favor and it is too late to renegotiate that deal now.

"I would kill for a car like that!" Tobe excitedly admitted he rolled at least a four, "I could go on dates" - maybe a five - "and just get away sometimes, you know." – Definitely a four.

"Oh, where is the first place you would go?" Yamato obviously had something in mind, but he pitches to Tobe.

"Mount Fuji." Tobe replied quickly, "I would bring my camera and find the tallest building in Tokyo and take a picture of the mountain, then I would go to Fuji and take a picture of Tokyo. I would also try to take pictures in between. It would be my photo journal depicting how nature changes depending on where you are at. What about you?"

"I would take up surfing one summer and drive to all the different spots. Just have a real good time at all the different beaches you know."

"I like both of those ideas. I would take the Tokyo to Fuji circuit over the beach. Sure, it would be dangerous at high speeds with all of the turns; plus, it is going through crowded areas and there will be the police. I would take side routes so they don't know where to lay traps. I wouldn't want them hacking my GPS so I would have to drive it a few times slow at first." Ooka laid his fantasy on the table. I can't really see him unless I twist my head really far, so I remained watching another table over Haruno's shoulder. I get the feeling he doesn't know anything about driving. "The beach roads would be an easy drive. It is really C-rank stuff, but you can test the top-end and that is never dull."

"What about you, Hikitani? What would you do with this car?" Hayama conveniently forgot my name even after Haruno phonetically illustrated it not moments earlier. I guess he meant what I would do besides driving it off a cliff with his friends laced together in the trunk.

"Return it to the dealership." I somewhat responded to, and command at, him. "You guys have explored a few of the many possibilities of a car; well, think about how many other possibilities a car has. There are a lot right? A mountain of cash is even better, because it could be any vehicle. It is the possible combinations of any car and any fantasy… Better still, it could be no car. Imagine what you can do when you stop restricting your imagination to five wheels."

I whispered the last part, only Haruno could hear it, and she covered a ravenous smile by twisting her head away. I am not sure what she found so delicious; honestly, I would not turn away a pile of cash. Yukino neatly packaged my thoughts for everyone: "You trade a car for money, just to imagine what you would do with the money. Aside from your age, why not take up gambling instead?"

"That is really inspired of you to ask, but I have had really bad luck since birth. That is why I secretly know I would never win. For me, gambling is the same thing as wasting an opportunity." I have always been shamelessly proud of sharing facts. Haruno regained composure as a waitress arrived for our orders. The staff in a restaurant like this often had personality similar to the ambiance, and that would make her a bubbly, colorful, hide-rot-in-the-shadows type. She looked skinny in her dark fitted polo and her legs were long in the matching skirt.

"Luck? Don't make me laugh. Your phobia of rejection has developed into a phobia of losing. No its much worse, you have a phobia of others winning too; after all, that is like losing, but vicariously. . ." Doctor Yukinoshita diagnosed my condition. I would have to be an owl to see her, but I knew the look of this Yukino: somber, ruthless – she was probably nodding her head along to her own prosody - but it's not like I ignored the younger sister, I guessed my powers of observation were stretched thin at that moment.

Haruno didn't look over, but the waitress stared at her expecting something – whatever-it-was wreaked - but nothing happened. She appeared only moderately unsettled after Yukino finished chiding me. Without a clue as to what was going on - her confident smile and four-inch notebook only adding to folly - I watched her try to initiate regular conversation with Yukino. "Oh, miss you must be talking about your ex, right? Why can't guys just be proud of their girl. I mean, even if you aren't going out anymore, it's like why not still be a good sport about her moving on to better things." I glanced momentarily at her name badge and her introduction rolled through my head: Good evening everyone, my name is Kumiko and I will be your server, like okay. Oh and don't worry, laughs are on the house because I am tonight's entertainment.

"Yeah, why can't some guys be good sports?" Haruno stifled Yukino's correction. Her eyes casually incriminated me and I imagined my face wasn't burning - it is not as if I cared, I have had mix-ups like this many times, even Yuigahama thought we were dating once; but, it was plain weird when someone looked in on your personal life - that's all.

"Her and… him?" I watched Kumiko's eyes boomerang over me and back to Haruno, and it didn't help when her confusion felt like a gut-shot remark about my appearance. "Well, I guess we all like strange things, but then who are you?"

"They're sisters." Hayama subdued his smile by wrenching his jaw into his hand. I had more to say about this guy, but a certain four inch notebook broke my concentration in its not-so-haphazard collision with my face. It crash landed on my leg with a page loaded down by orders staring up at me. The shogayaki plate at the bottom sounded like a great choice.

"You creep! You shouldn't be sitting next to her sister like that! Do you think you are some sort of player? You are just the sort of two-timing scum all girls look out for." She turned out to be the more outspoken kind. I could see Haruno's hot gaze from the corner of my eye. I didn't know what she expected me to do, but I idly flipped to another page of dinner entrees. "You don't think she can see right through you? Frankly, I am surprised any of these people would hang out with such a low-life dumpster like you."

Haruno turned away from me a moment before a few tiny white crystals landed on the notebook, a few dozen nested in Haruno's hair, and a few million stuck to across our waitress' black shirt. I followed the trail back across the tabletop to find Yuigahama, red and ready to scream, holding an empty glass vial of a salt shaker in hand. I put shook out the bound pages and left them on the seat near me.

"What the hell did you do that for?!" The salted waitress rocked the table under the palm of her hand as she shouted; instead of any response, Yuigahama swiped the soy sauce from the table center. It was somewhere between her unscrewing the spigot and trying to stand up when Hayama realized his evening would be soon ruined.

"Look you two," Hayama stood from his chair to be a mediator; he looked like a referee to me, except for his disgusting, compromising smile. The caster voice boomed in my head: In this corner, standing at one-hundred-and-seventy centimeters and weighing in at forty-five kilograms, wearing all black and covered in salt. In this corner, standing at one-hundred-and-sixty-five centimeters and weighing in at forty-two kilograms, wearing the Sobu high uniform with red hair. "This is just a misunderstanding. Miss, your remarks were pretty assuming and judgmental. You don't really know the first thing about him. Yui, I get that you are angry, but you don't have to throw salt at her."

"I-I'm sorry," Yuigahama looked contemplative and defiant, as if the peace-keeper hadn't swayed her, but she came around to a serene grin. His politeness managed to catalyze her own and made me sick. She wanted to please people, and here he was, the person of all people to please. Aside from being a little bit formal for an apology, the only other surprising part of her crossing the table happened to be a white-cotton panty show. I tried not to look as hawks certainly flanked me at either side. Face-to-face, she perched on the edge of the table, her knees seemed to build the bridge to our server. "No hard feelings…"

"… but someone has to teach you a lesson." Yui's voice didn't flare in triumph or elation, but she remained serene even as a bottle of soy sauce gasped and poured over Kumiko. I didn't expect it. Predictable Yui twisted in the new light; I really couldn't fathom how even her panties managed to lie at that moment. A perfect cover proceeding the discomfort and excitement within the silence of liquid steaming down black hair and clothes.

It was like that part of the roller coaster where you don't want to get on, and your friends make you, and you know what is coming, and yet, you don't; it could be compared to a creeping moment of reverence following by anxiety induced vomiting. I couldn't tell whether these were the girls I knew or a different breed. Would it be tears or hair pulling? Name calling or a fist fight? Fight or flight? My thoughts looped like this for a while, but even a pin drop would have pulled me out of the moment. The splash of the soy sauce dripping on tile awoke me knowing one thing: the bell goes ding-ding-ding.

Kumiko turned out to be a fighter, or at least, a little pissed off. Her hands wrapped around Yui's ankles, medium length nails dug into flesh, knuckles stretched white, and she pulled. The table groaned with the shifting momentum crashing on it. Saddled between ankles and legs, she struggled to reach the top of mount Yui, but squirming hips kept her off balance. With nothing to grasp, she anchored to loose clothing; first, she found sleeves, then a lapel, and finally the red knot draped over the blouse. After several tugs on the kerchief, she managed to hoist herself up the rest of the way.

Sprawled across the arena, Yui wormed backwards over the tabletop with red hair sliding and curling into pressboard. She couldn't make it very far. In fact, she didn't make it anywhere because her knees buckled around Kumiko's hips. After panic set in, she went after her opponents hair. Her eyes squeezed shut just before the first fist stung her cheek. The first hit, which could only be described as girlie, had been more of a second-knuckle slap without much wind-up or follow-through. It looked ferocious, even for a chicken wing looking hit, but not much else.

I tried to intervene, if trying is that thing which comes before failing. Getting out of my seat turned out to be quite the contortionist act with my legs twisted sideways on the ground. I saw Miura stirring across the table and she looked venomous. The shadow of mother-bear instincts sharpened her eyes to slits, and her hands began to reach out to protect he cub, but she reigned them in at the last minute. She must have worried about marring freshly done nails. It made me wonder exactly whose hair she wanted to dig her fingers into.

On the other side, Hayama – though already standing – remained motionless. Finally, I remembered my previous thoughts on him. The stupid fuck probably had a complete nervous breakdown. Usually popularity and drama go hand-in-hand and the choice is obvious, drama could be said to motivate his peculiar blessed existence, but he would be compelled to shatter a certain persona if he stood on the table and did something. My bloodlust must have matched Miura's in a way, but I would never beg for him to show me the nice guy he wasn't.

The struggle lost its coherency quickly, but Yui stayed defensive by keeping a firm grip on hair roots to hold the offenders head sideways. A pummeling of single-handed hammer punches indiscriminately dropped over her shoulders, but the landings were mostly benign. It really started looking messy.

I felt Yukino's fingertips cascade down my side until her thumb snagged my belt in descent. It lingered and pulled until I peeked over to her. Her free hand already curled under the table, she rolled her head in a gesture, and it appeared she wanted help lifting the table. I complied without hesitation, with a hefty shove, and the table teetered on its central ballast. The quarreling pair instinctively jerked with the changing incline, but nothing could stop their slow slide to Tobe and Ebina. On arrival, the duo split the two girls apart: Ebina ushered Kumiko far away from the table and Tobe coddled Yui on his lap.

After letting the table down, without the frenzy and distraction of flailing arms, I assessed Yui from a distance. Puffs in her hair framed a sore red face and a few scratches on her cheek. She would definitely bruise at a later time, but physically, she checked-out okay. While she recovered, the steam roller Yukino pushed me clear out of the seat, my best manners enabled me to lock elbows with Haruno and kept us both from falling. I pointed towards the exit to make sure the others knew where to find me, but no one really noticed. With a ban coming anyways, I figured escorting Haruno would be as good a way to leave as any other.

On our way to the front, I replayed my latest memories and noticed a smudge in them. I am an observant person, but something went below my radar and I couldn't find its trail. With precision empathy, Haruno pointed the way: "Is that the first time someone fought for you?"

"I can't really remember, but yeah, I'd say so." It felt like one of those things I should feel awkward admitting, but I had a feeling not many people had anyone to fight for them either - maybe they did - I put it on the list of things I didn't know. Kumiko rushed by us in small quick steps, undoubtedly going to see the manager.

"Here we are leaving a man behind." Haruno observed callously. She knew I was going to wait for them and I refused to give her a response. She leaned on my shoulder, the dark collar on my uniform pulled into my neck when her other hand pulled on its sleeve; our pace slowed to a flower-picking crawl, except there were undertones of sweet citrus and musk-like ocean breezes. "What are you going to say to her?"

I didn't have a good response for Haruno, or Yuigahama. I never needed to fight - a few mean remarks weren't about to change that – and it was not like I expected anyone to stand up on my behalf; seriously, that possibility never occurred to me. It all said a lot more about her than it would ever say about me. She didn't seem to mind when anyone from the service club berated me with their flak, here or there.

The manager pointing at the exit, appeared down the aisle in front of us. He said something when he got closer, I nodded like I heard it, but he kept on walking. When I didn't answer her again, Haruno approached from another angle. "She will do it more, if that's what you want."

"You are mostly right," I replied without squirming. "I resent that you'd think I could want her to do something so unnecessary, to hurt herself without any reason. Actually, it's quite more than resent, I wish you-"

I stopped talking before I could do something unnecessary myself. Haruno, ironically, had nothing better to do. "You won't tell me what you think about me, is that it? I hope it's not because you're hiding a sister fetish. Don't worry, I won't judge you. Just be honest."

I couldn't stand the way she looked up at me while awaiting a response, she needed so much attention. It wouldn't do any good to tell her that. Before I pantomimed a less controversial observation, she pushed the edge of my nose with a finger like it was a shut-up button. "You are just too cute! The way you try to pretend to be empty with all of your emotions swimming on your face is adorable. You don't even have to tell me you were about to lie; I know it."

"Well, if you were honest first!" I blurted out, flustered again. She smiled more and I thought it was perfect how she could tell when I was honest too.

"Honest?" She asked me quizzically, a finger on her mouth, eyes looking away. "Have I lied to you, if so, I can't remember."

I couldn't remember a time where she lied either, but as I searched my memories I saw her wide eyes staring, then she winked. "Screw you." I said in a plain tone and looked away, "Am I really that easy for you to read?"

"Oh, not just me." She managed to speak in a way scary enough to make me wonder, then she took me forward the last few steps out the door. "We have had a real breakthrough here, but that is enough of your 'honesty' for now."

I could see Hayama's car before we exited, or rather, I saw the giant blue bow on its cabin. I recognized a rusty needle sewing envy in waves around my chest, but then I realized the roof was black; on top of all the other car-related activities, it would also have to be washed every week to keep dirt from showing. It definitely wasn't a car seeking my endorsement.

"What do you think of it?" Haruno asked me as we separated. I took a look around before responding and she explained some more things, "Don't ask me too much about it. I only know what was told to me. It has a nice Playota engine, it really is a supreme luxury branding of one of their cars, so you know it is going to last forever without very much depreciation."

"High resale value is good, of course. It is a good-looking coupe." I hesitated about saying anything too much; I didn't know very much about cars either and I got the strange impression that she knew a lot more. I did like coupes, they were the closest thing to a loner car, but sportier cars came with higher premiums on the insurance. Nope, the true loner vehicles stayed the scooter, the bicycle, and the unicycle; I would've taken either. I had a bitter sweet moment looking at the interior: the black leather so dark and sinfully attractive, and the back seat was hilariously short in contrast to the spacious front. I imagined all his friends squeezing in like a clown car. "The chrome trim and black paint is also very nice."

"That is why I picked it." Haruno agreed with me. "My car is silver, buuut I am not a teenage boy, so I thought: what would he want?"

The restaurant door opened again with the rest of the group swarming out. They were all amped out on drama and yelling about the new car. Yuigahama and Yukino, last out, split from the group heading to the train station. One of these groups beckoned me, and I obviously took the nearest opportunity to join up with them.