Mitsui kicked the base of the ladder, and rubbed dubiously at the residue on the metal bars. The ground where he stood was already cast into purple-blue shadows as the sun hastened to its resting place, while the water tanks, one hundred feet above him, blazed like ceramic heated in a furnace.

What was Kasumi doing up there? His mind had already considered all the possible surreptitious motives that she might have possessed – running away from work? Two drinks? For whom was the other? – simultaneously and hypocritically oblivious to his own furtive tracking.

He had accosted Anzai sensei after practice, and they had spend a good amount of time debating the various merits of his staying in the basketball club for the Winter Cup, and beyond; the coach advised that he should not fail to concentrate upon his academics, too. At this point, however, tertiary education seemed pointless to Mitsui, for he did not know what to apply himself to.

In such a brooding state, Mitsui had wanted to clear the air above his head with some exercise, but the sound of a ball bouncing in the gym had discouraged him. He did not desire to meet or play with any of his teammates at that time, so he had turned to leave. Some kind of presentiment had caused him to glance over his shoulder before he left the premises of the facility, and, with surprise, he noted the slim figure of Kasumi hurrying on her way.

And that is how Mitsui was transported to this rickety ladder, cursing at every draft of wind that seemed to make the bars underneath his limbs tremble, and reconsidering every urge that had made him think this course of action was in any way without grievous danger and therefore acceptable to an underserving and normal person like him.

A trickle of relief entered Mitsui when he caught the final rung, but he paused as logic returned to him. The houses looked very small beneath his shoes, and he fancied he could see all the way back to Shohoku High with a turn of his head, that was how high aloft he was. What would meet him at the top? There was no quick way of escape if he was unwelcome. Should there be someone else with –

"About time, yes?"

Without warning, Kasumi's head popped into sight.

A bolt of shock impaled Mitsui, upsetting his already drumming pulse, and he almost let go of the rung. The girl leaned down and grabbed his collar as he jolted against the ladder. A belated vertigo seized him, and Mitsui clung to the metal as his vision swirled with pinwheels of gray.

"Come on, then," Kasumi said.

She took his hand and heaved with surprising strength.

"You're not afraid of heights," Mitsui grunted, feeling perspiration running down his chest.

He finally crawled to safety, well away from the edge, and sank to the ground, breathing heavily. Kasumi, resting neatly on her ankles on the roughened concrete, watched him for a moment before riffling through her bag.

"Here, drink this. It will settle your stomach." She tossed him a can of orange juice. "I used to be scared while coming up, too," she said, smoothing away strands of hair that the wind insistently pushed into her face.

"Really? Nah, you're not afraid of anything."

Mitsui tried to disguise the tremor in his fingers as he snapped the tab on the drink, and swallowed almost half of the sweet beverage at once. His hair gleamed a midnight blue, and the evening light gilded the chiseled muscles along his forearms.

"The sunset is worth it," Kasumi said. She looked over her shoulder, and stood. "Come on."

Mitsui hooked the can in one hand, rose to his feet, and the two of them followed the curve of the water tank into the bright face of the sinking sun. There was a knee-high parapet around this top platform, and nothing more. Kasumi walked right up to it and surveyed the almost indecipherable, burning vista.

The river flowed serenely past the fiery orb, unaffected by the flaming surface of its mirror-like waters. The taller structures of glass and metal of the metropolis area glittered coldly, human-mined stars of ruby sparks and fire. The roar of traffic was lost in the steady beat of wind, and only a clean and clear air pierced the lungs at this height, enhanced by the scent of mildew that drifted from the tanks at their backs.

"You gave it to her, didn't you?" Mitsui said, joining her at the edge. His body, where it was bathed in sunlight, was delightfully warm, and he no longer felt that dizzying fear tautening his shoulders.

Kasumi glanced at him.

"The rose," he insisted. "It wasn't a secret admirer of Haruko-chan's. It was you."

The crease on Kasumi's brow disappeared as comprehension came to her.

"No," she said. Mitsui stared at her in disbelief.

"Really?"

Kasumi nodded. "Is it so hard to believe, Mitsui-san?" she asked, squinting at him.

Mitsui ran a hand over his head. "Getting Haruko and Rukawa in the same place, suggesting that Miyagi surprise Ayako, thereby letting you present Haruko a gift that would make her seem popular. Anyone with eyes and a brain would know that you orchestrated everything."

"You make me sound oh so very cunning when you describe things this way," Kasumi said, "but I can promise you, it was not me."

The shadows stretched, and the orange circle of the sun was fast disappearing among the streaming clouds at the horizon. The soft cawing of crows could be momentarily heard. They watched the twilight encroach, vignetting the sky with deepening blue. A countless number of things flashed through Mitsui's mind as they stood there over the world together, which shall go undescribed.

"I want to help out," Mitsui said suddenly.

Kasumi gave him a look of surprise. "Eh? You want to work at the flower shop?"

"Yes."

"Don't you have other things to do? I can think of a thousand things that would be more interesting than floristry, if I'm honest," Kasumi said.

"What else should I do, then?" Mitsui reflected, placing one foot on the parapet. "I know nothing besides basketball."

"That may be more truth than would be wise to admit," she said cheekily. "Rukawa mentioned that you guys were almost banned from the Nationals because of your terrible grades."

"How do you know Rukawa?" Mitsui demanded, emboldened. The fact that she had been fully aware of his futilely furtive actions, and did not seem disinclined to his presence, seemed to construe an acceptance, if not amicability.

"I was asked to tutor him in English."

"No, you know… how do you talk to him?"

"Who, Rukawa?" Kasumi frowned in puzzlement. "We usually talk about the western world, I guess. I think it's no secret that he wants to make it big, and the NBA seems the way to go. He's quiet, but he does have a perfectly functioning brain. If you can get his attention."

"And you?" Mitsui was determined to unearth the bottom of their unusual connection: the reticent star player and this Akiyama Kasumi, as mysterious as her shifting, transient namesake. "How do you know so much about the West? Your English is good, too."

"So… you want to work at the shop," Kasumi mused. She seemed to have forgotten his question. "I want to let you know that Mother returned to her hometown, and carved out this livelihood all by herself."

Mitsui watched her irises jump around like splattering raindrops, lost in memory.

"I was eleven when I was plunged into this strange, strange fishbowl of a place. I knew that she continued to be ostracized here as she had been in the States. There, she was made fun of for not knowing how to speak English exactly like everyone else. They thought that she was dumber for it. Here, her little hafu child, who used to have blonde hair and amber eyes, was bullied, and that broke Mother's heart because she knew it was a battle that it did not deserve to fight. The memory of Mother crying over the tax books on that scruffy settee, was the same memory of the woman crying as she took off her child's shoes at the doorway of the house.

"What I wanted to convey, I guess, Mitsui-san, is that we are the same. When we confront our past, no matter how painful, we do not return to the weaker selves we have once been."

Mitsui felt a chill; Anzai sensei had said, just this afternoon, that returning to basketball had made him far more valuable than that MVP in middle school.

"I looked at the two cultures that I hated with my whole heart, and I decided to embrace them. Now, you have also found the reward in this wisdom. How did it feel to shoot that last three-pointer against Sannoh?"

Mitsui had no words; he only lifted a hand over his heart. To speak was to justify, and to justify was to undermine the infinity in the trajectory of that ball; the motion of it tumbling through the air, dropping nearer and nearer to the mouth of the basket. The cool waft of air against his empty palms. The tug at his spirit as he landed back on the ground and lowered his arms.

She read his eyes. Kasumi nodded, and tapped her own chest.

"That is what I feel when I can show Mother a clean report, with a clear conscience, and thank her for giving me an education. That's why my English is good. Fulfilment is a good feeling, yes?"

"I think now is a good feeling, too," Mitsui said.

Kasumi looked at him levelly.

"It is."

She grinned faintly as a murder of crows winged past the towers, spiraling down towards the darkened canal.