In May, she smelled like jasmine. Two maybe three freshmen would stop and take in this powerful scent. Indiscreet and young, they would follow Shizuru's form up until she ascends the stairs. They would perform the same routine willingly for the next two months.

'Does she have a boyfriend?'

'It's Reito-sempai, isn't it?'

'I hear she dates a star.'

'Really?'

'My cousin's friend saw them.'

Natsuki knew the truth of course. There were signs all over. The way Shizuru would smile, the way she would slowly drink tea and listen to her senseless tirades. What mattered was that Shizuru didn't say it out loud. If she did, Natsuki wouldn't know what to do. Run, stay, run, and stay. It was a tick-tack-tick rhythm and there will be no end to it.

'Do you want to have dinner tomorrow?'

'Some other time; I still have things to do.'

It was a routine that was stagnant for a while. Like the steady rhythm of Natsuki's bike on the road. There were nothing more outside the council room. And that, Natsuki decided, was that.

--

Up until Haruki entered the scene. Haruki; the boy who sang the blues. Three o'clock in the afternoon and Shizuru stood rooted on the ground. The left-wing corridor never felt so colourful. Haruki's violin struck a high note and ended in a sharp C.

'Do you play?' Shizuru knew exactly what he meant.

'I can.' she said. It was about time someone made her happy for a change.

Natsuki will face losing the game.

--