Normal Sunday update here! The modified SYOC is still currently open, and two spots have been taken, so I am now looking for 3 females and five males. Rules are in the previous chapter, but as a reminder- please send them to me by PM only, please. You can private message me on Tumblr if that is what you prefer, but whatever, as long as it is private :). Looking forward to see what other characters I get.

But anyway, here is the first of the character developing filler chapters that will cover the summer vacation. It is rather drably, but it is also exactly what is says on the tin. And by tin, I mean chapter title ^^.

As always, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave feedback!

He liked to think himself as someone who at least had some civility, despite giving up worldly life to pay off the price from all those years ago, but he just wasn't in the mood for breakfast. In fact, he wasn't that hungry in general. Instead, he just sat there, by the side of the old swimming pool that had been created so caringly for them. It had fallen to ruins since his time, given that a government secret had created it and it wouldn't really have been the done thing for others to know about it to be able to maintain it. He was surprised that Tsuwabuki (or even any of the others) had not stumbled across it yet, considering. So it had become little more than a dry pit, resilient vines and plants poking between the rocks and eroding them. It was rather pitiful, actually.

But even so, it was easy to be able to see that other, more idyllic version of both the pool and himself. That version of himself that was in the thick of quite possibly one of the most impossible-sounding endeavours ever, yet compared to the thing he had turned into now. Of course, he did not own rose-tinted glasses, he remembered the trouble this place had ended up being the catalyst for, but he also saw all of them. Karma being teased (for a change), Hinano and Yada splashing each other and laughing while playing catch with Okano and Megu, Okajima trying to take pictures of the girls, Isogai and Maehara paddling and chatting, the antics of the rest surrounding all them in a sort of carefree bubble.

And of course, there was her, floating around on the inflatable hoop, studying the bouncy ball in her hands and lamenting at her inability to swim (amongst other things). Her, above them all, because he'd taken so many of the scenes and times and moments they'd shared for granted. And now, he replayed them and replayed them as consolation and atonement for his inability to remain anywhere (the fact he was back in the forest the clear evidence of this failing), as he gazed out at the barren, pitiful former swimming pool and saw blue water, laughing teenager, and a ridiculous yellow octopus. The images, though vivid as they played and repeated, blurred at the edges with regret and hindsight.

No, he had no rose-tinted glasses, but it was fine. There were worse ways to spend a morning, after all.

…

No matter how early he got up to set up All is Possible for opening times, Sugaya could never get tired of it. The shop was his, after all. His idea and creation, his vision and his dream and in a sense, his reward. He'd saved his share of the reward money, figuring it would be useful for a rainy day, given that artists often toiled and struggled for a long time before even glimpsing success. But he'd ended up going in a different direction, and almost seventeen years ago, All Is Possible had opened its doors to the world, and had yet to shut them. And, as he spent yet another early morning putting things up and sorting out what needed to be sorted for the day to begin smoothly, he found himself grateful for the fact.

He'd initially thought of calling the shop 'Anything Is Possible', given that the phrase was more grammatically correct and that was the message he'd been wanting to convey with the array of items he was going to produce and sell here. But Mimura hadn't thought it fully captured the spirit of the shop, what with the sky mural that he'd lovingly painted onto the roof (one of the first parts of the shop he'd decorated, once he'd been granted permission to buy the site), and Fuwa had staunchly informed him it sounded way too superheroish for such a dreamy place. It was Hazama, that scary word wizard they were all inexplicably fond of, who'd suggested 'All is Possible' instead, as it had the more poetic ring. And she'd proved to be right.

Strategically out some of the more fragile sculptures that he'd stashed away the night before and making sure they were in visible but safe places, he looked out at the sun that streamed through the shop windows already. It was one of the main advantages of the summer, not having to head out in the dark. Although he'd learned from Mimura about the magic that all sorts of lighting could bring to a scene, to him, nothing beat the sunshine. And that sunshine would be bringing all sorts of customers to his door. He always had steady streams of both art students and aspiring young artists flocking here for advice as well as items, and various retired or unemployed hobbyists, and a couple of these even occasionally worked part-time for him, and their perspectives were always welcome. Not to mention the more kitschy types who wanted things to decorate their houses with, or to give as gifts. But with the holidays freeing so many of them from restrictions, there would be more of all these types of people, including those who enjoyed the arts but often could not find the time due to employment or full time studies. Then, there were tourists and those who came to the area from other parts of Japan because of family and friends, drawn to the things he displayed and wanting to know more. So many people with dreams and imaginations. Perhaps he would have one day found National Gallery-esque fame if he hadn't started this job, but what was fame compared to the genesis of an entire new world?

And then of course, there's all the 3E students, can't forget them. Not just those of our 3E, but those of this current 3E, as well.

Once Sugaya was satisfied with the arrangement of the clothing section, he moved over to the second great masterpiece of All Is Possible- the great painting. Or, 'THE GREAT PAINTING!' as Maehara often liked to jokingly proclaim. It had been in him since that time of 13 years ago, this painting, as it was her imprisonment and his disappearance that had begun to signal that their tightly knitted collective was fraying. At almost four years running, the shop was still getting used to its feet, as it were, and so although naturally Sugaya had rallied around, perhaps he had not felt it too deeply. I'd been sure that that not all was lost, that the disappeared one would reappear. And of course, he did. But never long, never permanently. He had become a colour that was difficult to mix, a picture that refused to materialise on the campus, a sculpture that could not be made.

And then, much later, Hinano Kurahashi had been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and any pretences of hope had fled. Oddly enough, he had surfaced that day, for that particular reunion party, which may have precipitated the rush of feeling, the beginning to a creative impulse that throbbed and roared. But it easily could have been the fact of the tragedy in general, the fact it was happening to the sweetest member of the class, the one everyone loved, or the fact that he knew her children well and had been encouraging one of them along their dreams of fashion design, or the fact that it had seemed to hollow out their former P.E. teacher, who'd been especially close to this adorable animal-loving student of his. So many facts and feelings could have contributed. Even now, as he studied the painting carefully to be sure it hadn't sustained any damage or wear and that it didn't need any touch up anywhere, he was aware that he reason was not once which could be so easily divined

All he really knew that one evening, while closing the shop up as normal and getting ready to hand the reins over to Nishioka and Ueda so that he could rush over to the hospital earlier than planned, the inspiration he usually channelled to create his works had come up and overwhelmed him, tinged with despair, and before he or anyone else could stop him, he'd cleared that wall of what had been on it before, and grabbed a pencil. The basic outlines for the image had been completed overnight. He'd drawn in the final details the next morning before opening, and had cordoned off that section of the shop to protect it that day, often going under to start the basic painting during quiet moments, pulling more late nights and early mornings in pursuit of it.

He'd consulted the 3E photo album, both the actual album and the secret compartment within the covers of it to make sure he was true to the spirit of what he needed to portray, and he'd been finished within a fortnight. Ueda and Nishioka had tried to step in, to help or assist him, but he had refused. He, by nature, was not one of those pissy temperamental artists who threw fellow artists' work out of the window or other such things, but the painting was his, and his alone. Though his two colleagues had been helping him run the shop for almost as long as it had been up and functioning, and although he trusted them, he didn't let them interfere with this. For the simple reason of them not having been part of that 3E, of that big and messy and complex and-even through the blows and the setbacks-wonderful entity of youth that he'd once been part of. Hence why now, although they had used to come in at the same time to set up each morning, he made them come in two hours later than he did. This morning was no different.

"And that painting, the way you all were in that….were you that sort of class too?"

As he scrutinised each section of the painting once again, just to be sure, Sugaya found himself recalling the words of Hana Aoshima, especially as he moved to the part of the painting that portrayed Hinano, and then the section that portrayed those two. Of course they'd been that sort of class. Of course we were. And I wonder, if that 3E will be just like us. They're embarking on a pretty big adventure themselves, they're in the thick of something way bigger than any of them could have ever conceived and it's something that is all their own. Just as we made the whole assassinate-our-teacher-to-save-the-world situation our own. Since helping Reimiya and Akira with the poster designs, he'd been finding himself looking forward to seeing them again, to witnessing what would become of them and their particular brand of heady youth.

Carrying the particular sets of paints, brushed and varnishes he'd set aside especially for the painting back to the safe he kept it in alongside the precious album, he grinned a little and started to hum a tune, keeping it up as he stashed it and locked it up before moving onto the next tasks. He wondered if, when Ueda and Nishioka got here and the store opened for the day, if he'd see Reimiya, or Akira, or Tada, or Kitabayashi, or Hana or any of them. He wondered if Hayami would come by with Kayo, or if it would be Chiba instead. Maybe all three of them would come, or perhaps it would be another friend completely. Mimura had finished the shooting of his latest film, Rio had the tendency to drop in randomly just to tease him about something, Isogai was always stopping by to check on everyone, and he'd heard the Akabane kids were in town this summer. So all sorts could happen, and he was fine with that, because though he kept himself firmly linked to the past, what with the great painting and the memories behind it, it was in the future that all things were possible.

And this morning, just as with every morning, he couldn't wait to find out what those possibilities were.

…

The best thing about summer holiday mornings for Kinomoto was that he could take his muesli, honey and chopped fruits, put them in the bowl and mix them so it was all just the way he liked it, and then take it up to eat in his treehouse. It was a recently acquired favourite, for he'd only thought of it after the last day of the term, but now, it felt as if he'd never stopped coming to the tree house.

I kind of wish I hadn't stopped coming here. He'd neglected it for what, two, three years? Time did funny things when you were grieving, and what with taking on most of the housework (thanks to Satsuki and Konatsu being ridiculously lazy), the turmoil of being in 3E, Ending the End Class and more besides that, the years had slipped. I hope you understand that, Dad. It's not that I'd forgotten this place at all. He looked at the windows with a bittersweet eye, remembering the making of it.

"Can I try putting in the next window pane, Dad?"

Standing by the window-to-be of the treehouse, his father turned away from the view it was about to frame and regarded him carefully for a moment, before breaking out into a big grin.

"I thought you'd never ask, Makoto. Here then, give it a shot. You remember how I did it, right?"

"Yep!"

Kinomoto could not help but smile in his remembering. Now that the pain had mellowed and become something that he knew his way around, he was able to know that neither of his parents would have begrudged him for it.

Time really is a funny thing. It was something he wanted to tell Tada, really. It had been a bit of a revelation, back during that study group when they were new friends, to know that Tada was currently at the beginning of the curve that he himself was nearing the end of. And after knowing that Tada's mother had once been in the same position they were in now meant he couldn't escape this knowledge, and the comparisons his mind inevitably brought up. But, I don't mind that. I've had the time, and he hasn't yet. Though he knew that Tada's parents had died separately, Kinomoto also knew the two events had been recent in the grand scheme of things, and that they'd occurred on the heels of each other- one long and dreaded, the other sudden and unexpected. Not enough time to recover from the first blow before the second one hit. In a way, it's like I have something to be grateful for, because although everything turned upside down that day, the rest of my world still remained intact. I had things to live for.

And I still have them now, Kinomoto mused as he finished the last of his breakfast and looked back out of the window. Lots and lots of things to live for. And speaking of which, I'd better get going. With a sigh and a groan, he hoisted himself up and then manoeuvred down the ladder. He mentally evaluated the weather as he did that and then headed back into the house. It was warm and bright, just as the other mornings of this summer so far had been. He'd definitely need to water the flowers at the building, and he hadn't done the deadheads in a while either so those would need doing too, if he wanted to keep the flowers looking good. Haru and Tsuwabuki would be accompanying him, as had become habit, but Hirigi would also be tagging along today. So he needed to hurry to make sure he did not keep them waiting.

"Yo, Makoto, you going anywhere today?" The eldest of his sisters, Satsuki, wandered into the kitchen as he dried off his bowl and spoon and put them away. She immediately wandered to the fridge to look for the left over bacon, so she could reheat it in the microwave. Kinomoto shuddered as she pulled the plate out, but smiled genially as he answered the question.

"Yes, I'm going to tend to the plants at the campus with my friends."

"They let you wear casual clothes when visiting the school?" Satsuki turned and eyed the cobalt blue jeans and the short sleeved brown sweater he'd pulled out of his wardrobe.

"It's an isolated campus, Satsuki-nee-san. I don't actually think anyone cares."

"Right, yes, I'd forgotten about all that shizzle." Kinomoto chuckled- Satsuki's lackadaisical attitude to the whole 3E system had never failed to amuse him. I need to get her to meet the rest of my class. And perhaps he could. But in the meantime, there were things to do.

"Okay, I need to rush off now, and I'll be gone a while, so make sure you and Konatsu-nee-san wash your dishes when you've finished breakfast."

"Yeah, yeah." Satsuki said. "You don't need to tell me." Which, naturally, meant that he did have to remind her. Kinomoto just shrugged it off. He was used to it by now, so it was hardly a big deal. He'd probably end up having a heart attack from shock the day he came back to discover his sisters had cleaned up the house.

Once he'd grabbed his things, he went to the front and slipped on his trainers before yelling out to his sisters so that they knew he was leaving, and he slipped out of the house. When he got to the gate, he paused and looked back over. From here, he could spot the tops of the cluster of trees that included the one where his tree house was located. The way his breakfast had tasted all the better for being there was still fresh in his mind, which sealed the deal for him. I'll be going back there tomorrow morning, I think. Being in the treehouse had bettered his state of mind, and making the plan to return again just amplified that feeling. So, the anticipation buoying him, he turned back around and headed onwards towards the other things he still lived for.

…

"Oh bloody hell, I'm coming, I'm coming." Still in her pyjamas, Ruko grouched along the landing to her front door and opened it, ready to give whoever it was an earful- unless they were coming with the order of Drama CDs she'd ordered recently. It would certainly be nice to accompany her 10am breakfast with some attractive male voices telling a story. But instead, the moment she glimpsed the person on her doorstep she flung the door shut again and-

"Wait, Ruko-kun!" Ueno cried out. He stuck his foot in the door and managed to prevent it from getting squished, a fortunate thing for he only had sandals on his feet, and he was wearing shorts to boot. "Hear me out a moment."

Why? All the same, she didn't storm away, though she didn't go near again. I've missed you, you know, Shou-Chan. You and your need for boxes shutting me out with no explanation. Instead, she waited. Through the small gap, she saw Ueno heave a sigh of relief and then shrug off the backpack he was wearing to get something out of it. Once he had, he held it out through the gap.

"Here, look at this." Ruko narrowed her eyes, then stepped out far enough to grab what he was holding and scrutinise it. As it was a folded sheet of paper, she unfolded it to read it. And then stopped, and blinked.

"Why have you handed me a photocopied form?" And why the bloody hell is this the first thing you tell me after five months? She looked at it again, her eyes picking up on particular words and phrases. Opt-Out. Kunugigaoka's Escalator System. Reasons. Principal's Approval. Date of Completion. Alternative Education Route.

"Is this….something to do with school? Are you moving away or something?" Not being a complete blockhead, she tried to put together what she could based upon what she was holding and who had handed it to her.

"No, not moving away. I'm just…trying to find something else to be proud of, something else to take pride in. And I'm starting to think that if I stay at Kunugigaoka for the rest of my school career I can't do that properly. Because…well…what I'm proud of now isn't a part of Kunugigaoka, at least, not in the approved of way. So I'm exiting there, and we'll both be taking entrance exams, and then perhaps we may even get to be in the same high school."

Ruko just blinked at him.

"Do you want to reword that in a way that makes sense?" she asked, keeping her tone clipped. She couldn't trust Ueno yet.

"I'm…I'm trying to say that I was wrong. For valuing the school rules above our friendship, and for not trying to see things from your view and for not being a good friend…for everything that happened since you got into 3E, basically."

"Right…and that's why you…what, made some random form to get yourself out of the escalator system? That helps make your case how, exactly?"

"Oh, it's a real form, Ruko-kun." Ueno went through his backpack again, pulled out the school manual and held it out to her. She snatched it and read the page he'd opened it on. I didn't know this was an actual thing. Presumably nobody bothers because it's only 3E-ers who'll ever need to deal with entrance exams.

"Well, so it is." She said, lightly, as if it wasn't such a big deal. Except it is, because Shou-Chan said that he did it for us. For me. If that's true then he's done something massive because…well…this is Shou-Chan.

"Did you really hand this in? "She asked. "As in, are you seriously going through with this? I didn't think you were that sort of person."

Something rippled across Ueno's face, and if this had been times of old, upon seeing that sort of expression she would have dragged him inside, plonked him on the sofa and shoved ice-cream at him in an effort to get him to talk. But if this had been an ordinary morning before 3E, she wouldn't have had a reason to keep him at the door for ages like this in the first place. So she waited it out, because everything was different and she needed to be sure she was acting in the right way, that she was judging things right.

"Maybe because I'm trying to figure out what type of person I am, myself. I don't think I ever really knew that as well as I'd thought….anyway, I get if you don't believe me, so you can ask Kitakawa-kun."

Ruko face-palmed instantly, misgivings forgotten momentarily.

"Which one, you nitwit?"

"Huh? Oh, right?" Ueno laughed sheepishly. "Hiro-kun, I meant. She also opted out. We went to Principal Okikura on the same day about this."

"Huh." Ruko didn't know what to say to that. She watched Ueno's face, searching for any sign of contempt, any indicator that he was stringing her along and was just trying to rub things in her face. But all she could see was regret. So he means it, huh?

Briskly, she held out the photocopied form and the manual for Ueno to take, and then she opened the door just a tiny bit, before fixing Ueno with her best laser stare.

"Do you have sweets?" she asked brusquely. The way relief bloomed over his face was incredibly endearing, a throwback to better days. And a signal for better days yet to come, she thought, as he pulled out a bright purple box and handed it over. It was slightly heavy and tied securely with a bright blue ribbon, which looked a bit like one of the hair ribbons Aimi used to tie to her bag during second grade. The memory made her grin unrestrainedly. Welcome back.

"Well then, you'd better come in. I was just about to have breakfast, and boy oh boy, I have a lot to tell you."