You open your locker, and tilt your head as you reach in. Kazuha, your best friend, smiles a little beside you, peeking over at the envelope in your hand, with the most beautiful, anonymous love poem written in cursive decorating it’s letter.

Oh.. This is your fifth one this week, is it not?

Kazuha asks, though he seems awfully giddy, hand gently resting on the wall beside you.

Someone must really like you..

Kazuha, of course, doesn’t tell you, that the poem was his own.