Author's Note: So I've had this chapter sitting on my computer for over a week, but I was just never really satisfied with it. I've poked at it and tweaked it several times, and now I'm just giving up and posting it. Hopefully it's not as bad as I think it is. :/

Kahoko went up to her room after she'd finished talking with her mother - more like, once she sensed that an appropriate amount of time had passed before she could leave the room without seeming too rude - but she soon found the confines of the house rather oppressive and went out to get some fresh air. She took her violin, music stand, and a folder full of sheet music and went off in search of an open space in which to play. After a bit of wandering, she found a park that seemed suitable enough and set up, smiling at the people who started to gather around as she took out her violin.

Halfway through her second piece, Kahoko saw Kazuki Hihara. He had his trumpet case in hand and greeted her enthusiastically as soon as she finished playing. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

She smiled. "Of course not!" Kahoko waited until Hihara had played through a couple warm-up exercises before turning to him and curtsying with a flourish. "Your public awaits, Mr. Hihara."

They took turns serenading the passerby and even played a few duets together. Kahoko found herself relaxing, laughing and joking with Hihara whenever he made a slip-up while transposing from her violin music.

When they finished their final piece, the small audience applauded heartily. One elderly woman even reached inside her grocery bags and took out two meronpan, giving them to Kahoko and Hihara as an offering of thanks for the music. They put away their instruments and sat down on a bench to enjoy the treat.

"Having a good Saturday so far?" Kahoko asked.

"I was, and it just got better."

"Why, because of the food?"

Hihara shook his head. "That too, but mostly for the company."

Kahoko blushed slightly. "Thank you, Hihara. It's good that you came by, actually. I think I needed some cheering up."

"Well, I'm glad I was able to help." He chewed thoughtfully for a few moments, then dared a glance at in Kahoko's direction. "I feel like I never see you anymore."

Kahoko frowned. "No, I've been kind of distant lately. There's been a lot going on."

"But not today?" Hihara asked.

She smiled. "No, not today."

Kahoko didn't return home until evening, and when she did, the house was empty. She made her way up to her room and collapsed onto her bed. A splash of color caught her eye, and she turned to look at her desk.

Her mother had taken the rose from Yunoki, trimmed it, and placed it into a small vase with some water. Kahoko sighed. Her mother did love her, and all things considered, she was extraordinarily accepting of the situation.

Not that her mother knew any of the details, but still.

Monday morning arrived much too soon, and Kahoko switched off her alarm clock with a groan. She stretched and got out of bed, sleepily shuffling her way to the bathroom. When she returned to her room to get dressed, her eyes kept drifting over to the rose on her desk.

Somehow, the sight gave her a sense of unease. Kahoko felt that she should feel happy and relieved that she wouldn't have to worry about dealing with Yunoki for a couple weeks (or longer, she hoped). This was her chance to breathe. To enjoy her life as it had been before . . . before all of that had happened.

But the rose.

Even when he was thousands of miles away, Yunoki had managed to place this reminder of his presence in her life. Disguised as something beautiful, as a romantic gesture, what Yunoki had really done was ensure that he was continually in her thoughts.

And though a growing part of her wanted to forgive him, wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt that he really had changed, that he really did care about her, when Kahoko looked at that rose, she felt a little sick.

At school, Kahoko turned her focus to the things that were actually supposed to matter in her life: her homework, her classes, her music practice, and most importantly, her friends. Now that Yunoki was away, Kahoko was able to spend time with Nao and Mio, and she didn't have to awkwardly dodge questions about her evening or weekend plans.

It took a few days, but eventually Kahoko let her guard down. She felt herself smiling more, laughing more. She hung out with Hihara, with Nao and Mio, with Shoko, and more and more frequently, with Tsuchiura.

They started going to Minami's music shop together a few times a week under the pretense of practicing together. Before she knew it, Kahoko was spending almost every day (well, when Tsuchiura didn't have soccer practice, that is) after school with him.

It started gradually, but Kahoko noticed that he kept offering to pay for things when they went out. "I've got it," he'd said the second or third time they'd grabbed food on the way back from Minami's.

"Are you sure?" Kahoko had asked.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it."

"But I feel like—"

"Kahoko," he'd interrupted, an exasperated look on his face, "I'm trying to be a nice guy here. Won't you let me?"

She'd stopped arguing at that point. Sometimes she wondered what Tsuchiura expected from her. He never actually said the word "date," so Kahoko tried not to think of their time together in that way. If Tsuchiura wanted to date me, Kahoko reasoned, he'd just ask. He's a pretty straightforward guy.

The problem was, the more that Kahoko thought about it, the more she wasn't sure how she was supposed to answer him if he did ask.

Kahoko had largely forgotten about the rose in her room by the time the second week started. She noticed that it was starting to look a little sickly, and knew that she needed to trim it and change the water if she wanted it to stay alive, but she just kept forgetting to.

It just didn't seem like that big of a deal.

After school on the Monday of her third week without Yunoki, Tsuchiura and Kahoko had gone to the local Aquarium. There was a weekday special discount for students, and even though it was nearby, Kahoko hadn't gone since she was in Elementary School. Tsuchiura had insisted on accompanying Kahoko home, saying that it was dangerous for a girl to walk alone in the dark. The sun had barely started its descent below the horizon, but Kahoko didn't argue with him.

They stopped outside the gate for her house, and Kahoko watched as the streetlights started flickering on. "Thank you for walking me home, Tsuchiura," she said. "It was very thoughtful."

Tsuchiura shrugged. "Anytime." He had his hands shoved in his pockets, but he stepped forward. "Kaho, there's something that I'd—"

She looked up at him, but as soon as she made eye contact, Tsuchiura trailed off. "Just kidding. Nevermind," he said.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Tsuchiura. You can tell me. I won't laugh, I promise. Unless it's meant to be funny," she added.

He hesitated. "I . . . I wanted to . . ."

"Wanted to what?"

Tsuchiura took a deep breath, leaned down, and kissed her softly.

Kahoko froze. She didn't know how to react. How she was supposed to react.

"Sorry," Tsuchiura said when he stepped back. "I just . . . it's easier than saying it." He laughed nervously. "You know me, a jock. I'm better with action than with words."

"It's okay," Kahoko said quietly. She held what she hoped was a warm smile on her face. "Good night, Tsuchiura," she said, and turned to hurry into her house.

She didn't allow herself to panic until she'd gotten to her room and closed the door. Her fingers stole up to her lips. That kiss, she thought, it was so different from how . . .

Kahoko trailed off as she looked at her desk.

The vase with the rose in it was gone. When she looked in the garbage bin in the corner, she saw the rose laying there, withered and black. She had neglected it, and her mother had thrown it away.

For some reason, that triggered the shock. Kahoko curled up into a little ball on the floor and cried and cried.