The tree was too narrow and flimsy to support the weight of a person or a ladder, yet too tall that shaking it near the ground only produced the smallest of shivers at the principal branch, positioned too far from the enclosing walls to attempt a scaling from atop them, and the cats were too willful even if they were in the frame of mind to comprehend commands to 'fetch.'

They all mulled in various states of repose beneath the tree, with the exception of Rukawa, who squatted unsociably at a distant bed of plants, nearer to the back door of the laundry shop, his wide back an uncommunicative tabula rasa.

If I had something, Mitsui thought again, I would snipe the damned bird and teach it a good le– wait, shoot

"Shoot it!" he crowed excitedly. Mitsui rushed over to Rukawa, and now saw that the freshman was tossing a pebble in the air repeatedly from the palm of his hand.

The light tap that he performed to his temple would have infuriated Mitsui, even if it had not been accompanied by a snort which connoted 'long enough.' The latter, struggling to maintain a civil composure, snatched several pebbles from the soil, and the rock from Rukawa's palm, and ran back.

"It isn't any use even if we hit the key," Mitsui said, because the item bad been inserted onto an almost vertical offshoot. "We'll have to break the branch."

It took Mitsui, Miyagi, and Kogure thirteen pebbles to accomplish the job. The former had the pride of achieving the greatest number of strikes, as well as the final blow that sent the key plunging earthward like a precious stalactite.

"I can now tell my parents that basketball does have its uses," Miyagi remarked.

The group trooped over to the café as soon as the shed had been successfully unlocked, Kasumi insisting that only one of them – Miyagi – should remain with her to shift the consignment within.

Meanwhile, Ayako ordered enough drinks and snacks for the eight of them, and then some. Mitsui and Miyagi pondered over the menu as she did so, stumbling over the English words and culinary jargon. The anglaise was definitely foreign, a pan-seared filet of Haddock sounded vaguely marine – dock, was dock a species of animal? – and a Bloody Mary confounded the entire table. Kogure suggested it might be a gimmick beverage for entertainment purposes, as it was only served in the night time from 7p.m.

The food had just arrived, served by a demure girl who nonetheless blushed when Mitsui accidentally touched her hand while receiving the utensils, when Miyagi and Kasumi arrived at the moss-touched gate that bordered the al fresco dining area.

A few fallen leaves swirled around their ankles as they came down the short brick path, and Mitsui saw the sunlight scatter like diamonds in Kasumi's loose hair as she moved.

"Ayako-chan." Miyagi rounded to the empty seat beside her, but did not sit. He produced a luxuriant bouquet from behind his back, a tall design of lilies and violets, and presented them to Ayako. "This–these are for you. Please accept them."

No, this wasn't a confession, but it came quite close. Ayako's mouth hung agape. Haruko pressed a hand to her mouth, and Kogure's eyes widened. Mitsui and Rukawa each raised an eyebrow.

If it had been in any other, less romantic setting, in the presence of peers a fraction less familiar, the bouquet would never have continued its blessed and purposeful existence. But the effortless beauty of the swaying foliage overhead, the light breeze running its fingers through their hair, the crisp intensity of the summer colours in sky and ground was wrong to disrupt.

No cruel blow came from Ayako's surprised lips, only a graceful and favourable acceptance. She complimented the interesting contrast of the elegant white trumpets with the full, rounded purple blossoms.

Mitsui caught Miyagi, glowing with contentment, exchange an almost imperceptible wink with Kasumi. The latter only gave a shadow of a smile as Ayako tried to hide her trembling hands under the bouquet.

"Haruko-chan."

The poor girl, who was so immersed in the shared feeling of camaraderie, and dazed by the thoroughly blatant and stylish manner that Miyagi had flourished the present, remained deaf.

"Haruko-chan," Kasumi sang, bending at the waist to pat her cheek.

"Huh?" Haruko jumped, and pretended that she hadn't been staring at Rukawa's large, masculine hands next to the gold-fringed teapot. "Y–yes, Kasumi-chan…"

"This," Kasumi said gently, placing a single red rose in her upturned palms, "is from an unnamed admirer, who thanks you for your constant caring attitude, and faith in the people around you." Mitsui thought Haruko was going to faint, by the way she turned so quickly from fair, to white, to red, upon perceiving the lovely bloom.

"I–this must be a mistake, I can't–it's not for me is it?" Haruko sputtered.

Kasumi sank into her chair, unable to hold back a smile. "It is. It's for Haruko-chan."

"No, I just –never thought that… do you suppose it's from a boy?" she whispered fiercely, turning her head so that her flaming cheeks were hidden from view.

"I think, whomever the person may be, Haruko-chan can be assured that she has an admirer who is able to see her true heart."

Haruko seemed to snap back to her senses, and presently recovered her cheerful disposition. "I must not be complacent. I will be happy to know that someone has taken the time to send me this flower, and not be so presumptuous as to assume that this kind person wants me to know who he is. Yes." She clenched her hands into small fists, firmly restored. She reached for a puff pastry. "Rukawa-kun, do you want a kuro–a kurowassan?"

Kasumi politely asked Mitsui to pass the creamer for her tea. The only manner in which she returned to the topic was a light gibe at Rukawa, Mitsui, and Kogure. "Any of you free gentlemen have an especial interest? My mother would be happy to oblige. She insists it's much of the fashion nowadays, and women need something to look at, and admire."

"We'll let you know when need arises," Kogure said in good humour.

"As will I," Mitsui said evenly. "If roses can improve my vertical, or daisies my shooting percentage."

Rukawa continued to consume his crème brûlée, wrinkling his nose at the bitter crust.