As I've already mentioned, when the master first moved in, this vacant land was unfenced, and the gentlemen of Rakuunkan, just like Kurumaya no Kuro, could wander among the pawlonia trees at will. They would sprawl themselves about on the bamboo grass, shooting the breeze, eating their lunches, or doing whatnot. In their wake were lunch box remains, bamboo sheaves and old newspaper to mention a few. This land, it seemed, also attracted their old zōri, old geta, or anything else deemed old and worn. The master, surprisingly, carried on in total and complete indifference, neither expressing concern nor raising any particular objection. I can't say whether he wasn't aware or whether he was aware and just chose not to engage. Our young gentlemen, however, growing into bonafide gentlemen as their schooling progressed, with time abandoned this north quarter, only to set their sights on infiltrating the south. Perhaps the word "infiltrating" is inappropriate when describing the movement of gentlemen, but there's no other apt word. Like a wandering desert tribe, breaking camp to seek out the next oasis, they quit the pawlonias and advanced upon the cedars. The cedars grow just off the living room. Only the boldest of gentlemen would advance with such audacity. It was clear in the course of days, however, that audacity breeds audacity. There's nothing worse than schooled gentlemen. Not only did they camp outside of the living room, but they chose this spot to let loose with song. What song it was, I can't recall, but it was certainly no tanka. It was a lively tune, drawing on the common vernacular. The master, in spite of himself, was duly impressed with their musical talents, and I have to confess that I was too. We couldn't help but lend them an ear. That being said, I'm sure the reader will appreciate that the same thing can be, on occasion, both wonder and scourge at the same time. Most regrettably, this was one such occasion where these disparate attributes met. The master, I believe, regretted this too. More than once, he felt compelled to break from his work in the study, rush forth, admonish the students, remind them they didn't belong there, and shoo them away.