Thanks to his actions in last week's episode, is the truth about Hazuki's current state finally about to become apparent to Rokka?
Quite possibly, as she returns to her flower shop to find a lot ofg clearly recognisable flower arrangements laid out around the place, while all of Shimao's tools and his sketchbook are missing, as are items from his room which was previously left untouched after his death. Although Rokka calls up Hazuki and accuses him of stealing, it seems as if she is getting more than an inkling as to what's going on.
As for Shimao himself, he decides to use his continued occupation of Hazuki's body as an opportunity to go on something of an adventure, drawing out the money left untouched in his bank account and heading off to who knows where. We quickly realise who knows where - Rokka herself, as she too sets off in pursuit of the "thief". While all of this is going on, Hazuki is beginning to find his memories drawing him in and threatening to trap him in his current surreal picture book world, suggesting that he needs to take action sooner rather than later if he is to regain control of his body and, perhaps just as importantly, control over his love life.
Having delivered another notable high point in last week's instalment, this was another episode of Natsuyuki Rendezvous that failed to really live up to those dizzy heights - it never really managed to make the most of either Rokka's confusion and anguish or Shimao's sense of stubborn desperation in situations where there was clearly far, far more drama that could have been drawn out of the scenario with which we've currently been presented. Instead, the episode relied on relevant but far from interesting flashbacks, and spent too long prodding at Hazuki's psyche when it continues to be one of the less interesting aspects of the series as it stands. Given its inconsistent delivery upon its premise however, who knows what we'll have proffered before us next - I just hope it manages to exhibit what's fantastic about this show rather than the layer of mediocrity under which it's been buried all too often.