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Today is different.
Or perhaps: she feels different.
The campus is still the same after all, just like the sun up above and the pale sky trying to rival her eyes for its color. There are students, in the courtyards, passing her by with their uniforms among the hedges and flower beds .
Feeling their gaze, Kirari does wonder if they see the difference in her today. If they do, she’s not sure she minds.
She’s more than sure that her sister remarked it when they met earlier, and how ironic it would be, considering that Ririka’s the one who cut her hair and showed the change in her of her own volition.
How odd it is, to see the weight of weeks, months, years in nothing more than a handful of moments. Or of hair, yes.
In Kirari’s case, no hairdresser was called upon. Her lips bend a bit, a smile she can’t show. If she wasn’t feeling so different she wouldn’t hesitate to call herself a fool.
She was in a classroom earlier. She won’t be President for much longer, but that doesn’t mean that her duties have stopped requesting her attention.
Thus, she spoke with who she had to, signed documents as needed. Once alone, her eyes set on a certain object. Just like her, nothing in its appearance made it different from the dozens in the rest of the classroom. When something is special there isn’t always a sign yelling it after all.
And when Kirari found herself standing in front of that desk in the first row, just like she had done half a lifetime ago… well.
Again, she would never admit it, but her chest felt so full, all of a sudden. There was a ghost in front of her, with cute black braids and thick glasses. It wasn’t scary though, not in the least.
You didn’t show half of the courage you possessed, and yet. I’m so grateful.
Kirari touched the wood of the desk, just like she had done so long ago. There was no nose to touch with hers, but well enough, she was touched anyways, and her credibility won’t be too hurt if she lets herself admit it.
___
Oh?
She’s the first to arrive today. The lounge is for her to take.
She can’t say she’s displeased… but perhaps she is. Just a bit. A crumb of disappointment, yes, and even then, maybe that’s for the best.
It’s her first time feeling like this, walking on such unstable legs. She did take a breath of fresh air as she crossed the courtyards, but it’s clear that whatever made its nest between her ribcage and her heart needs much more than a waft to go away. A typhoon, perhaps.
Kirari takes her seat. This chair has been hers for long enough she’ll miss it if she lets
herself think of it too much, but that’s the last thing on her mind right now.
There are documents waiting for her, yes, yes, always documents, as if her empire at Hyakkaou was built on forest after forest, instead of on her prowess. Another thing that soon enough will lose its importance.
She tries to force her eyes to read, instead of just watching those papers. She really does-- let me throw in a ‘I promise’, so as to save a bit more of her reputation.
But ghosts are known for haunting and the one she saw in the classroom just won’t let her be.
She’s waiting for Sayaka in the same way one waits for the sun after months of rain, and in this case, it hasn’t been months: it’s been years.
She is thankful, Kirari can’t deny it. She is happy! Yes, perhaps that’s the name of the huge something in her chest- happiness- but she’s not so sure.
She’s not used to feeling different. She’s not used to feeling in general, if she wants to be honest.
___
This is ridiculous, isn’t it?
That’s what she’d like to say. That’s what she’s supposed to say. That’s also not true and her hands are trembling a little, but it’s not ridiculous. It’s nice. Very much so.
“The usual, Pre-Kirari? “
“No. “
“N-no? “
She said it in such a direct manner, no wonder Sayaka’s confused.
“No, thank you Sayaka. “, says Kirari now, making sure her hands are as firm as the smile she offers, “I would like something different today. “
“Ah, such as? “
“Surprise me. “
Again, that tone. If Sayaka didn’t see the difference as soon as she set foot in the lounge- and knowing her, she totally did- there’s no way she doesn’t now.
She nods, as proper as ever, and sets down to work with the tea set. Kirari forces herself to ignore the way she glances at her as she keeps pretending to read generation after generation of trees stuck under ink that could have been put to better use.
You’ve seen me do worse things, I’m sure you’ll forgive me, she thinks with a different kind of smile.
Sayaka’s presence was supposed to bring her head back in its place. That’s what usually happens, at least.
But today is different, be it because the sky itself woke up in a different way, or because of Kirari and her awareness of that something resting in her chest, warm and protected.
It’s because I’m thankful, and because I can’t stand to keep it to myself.
It’s a bit late to express that through a tower. The school year ends in a week and a half and she doesn’t want to waste the remaining time in another project like that. She did ask for another something to be created. It’s much smaller than the Tower but it’s okay. There will be time for a grander scheme, just, not now.
Sayaka wouldn’t appreciate it after all, would she?
You made me greedy.
Avidity has always run in her family, but this is different. She built a tower to cement their relationship with Sayaka’s devotion, but she’s more than ready to tear it down with her own hands in order to obtain more. She’ll build something better in its stead, they both will.
That’s what she hopes for, at least.
She can drop the grateful act now that she realized what she’s really feeling, and it took her a while, but better late than never. She does know she’s not used to feeling in general, after all.
She tries not to chuckle.
A word. A syllable.
Now, does it really belong to me?
It does, or else she wouldn’t feel like this. Does it belong to Sayaka though?
I grew up to be a monster, my dear, and you will never hear me call you a beast but... what fierceness. The beauty of Saint Michael, but instead of driving me away from Eden, you locked me in with you… now look at me…
I must tell you about this. I won’t live otherwise.
Just like the Tower, they must share it. And yet, Kirari was conscious of the stakes that night, more than Sayaka herself.
This time…
It is not ridiculous, but it does make me laugh.
Three words. Three syllables, eight letters.
‘Do you want to be my secretary? ‘ was much more and yet so much less.
How many ounces of courage does it take to utter each of those letters?
Oh, now, I can’t use a scale for such business, can I? All that crunching numbers of yours is rubbing off on me, my dear… and I’m not complaining, oh…
Sayaka’s been waiting for this, she knows. Money isn’t an issue, but time is.
No more towers, tells herself Kirari, stern. Perhaps a castle, or two, or ten, but not now. I want more… and so does she.
Sayaka wants this as easy as it is. She likes simple tea, simple clothes. Not simple people though, or else she would be making tea for someone else- and by the way, what tea is she brewing? I don’t recognize this scent.
Sayaka wants this… but how can one be sure of what they can’t understand?
In the end, this is just another gamble, and even if Kirari is excited about it, she can’t say she enjoys these stakes. No one is like Sayaka, just like no one is like her, and there’s no denying it: if she were to lose there would be no rematch.
If I keep baiting you with the promise of those words, will you get tired? If I tell you, will you miss the rush of the chase?
Kirari sighs, the papers shuffle.
Those three words fascinate her. She doesn’t need any help, Lady Luck can mind her business for once, and there’s no point in praying if God doesn’t exist. Kirari does though. So does her confidence.
Like gambling, but no tricks. She can’t count the card, but she can count words, and letters and heartbeats too, if she feels poetic or worried enough; as they’re increasing along with her emotions.
No wonder: her eyes fell on the delicate nape of Sayaka’s neck.
She’s pouring tea in a cup, and in the end, perhaps that’s what those two are all about: Sayaka filling Kirari’s cup, more than Kirari building a tower for Sayaka’s devotion.
But it’s not a question of towers and cups. It’s a question of how much I love you. I can’t take responsibility for this, it isn’t my fault for once.
Sayaka’s turning, careful with the steaming tea.
“President? “, she asks, noticing her gaze.
Kirari smiles.
“Come here? “
By now Sayaka should be more than accustomed to her lap and yet: her ears are red enough one could mistake them for cherries.
“W-What is this, all of a sudden? “, she asks, approaching her nonetheless.
Kirari waits for her to set down the cup before helping her ease into a place that belongs to her more than to its owner.
“Why? “, she asks smiling, “Do you dislike it? “
If she doesn’t keep herself under control, Sayaka will hear her heart beat.
“N-No, it’s just… you seem a bit odd today… “
“Mmh. “
“Is everything okay? “
Kirari’s fingers settle in the delicate porcelain handle. She gives herself time to study that foreign aroma before smiling to herself.
No towers this time.
“It’s not my fault after all. “
“Your fault…? “
Kirari smiles again. She looks at Sayaka, and God doesn’t exist, but those eyes are a divine gift; the stars are still weeping for such a loss in their ranks.
To own such dark eyes…
“Yes. “, says Kirari. “It’s not my fault if I own y-... “
Sayaka blinks. So does Kirari. Contrariwise to God, she might exist, along with her confidence, but that won’t stop her from turning a good three shades of red in less than two seconds.
“Pre-Kirari? “
It was brief, but for a moment Sayaka almost chuckled at the blunder. A very good sign, notwithstanding the embarrassment of mixing up thoughts and words. Kirari’s struggling to contain her own mirth, which is only concerning the other more.
You wouldn’t have laughed back then, you wouldn’t have let yourself accept the fact that I too can fail at times… and I wouldn’t either.
“You were saying you owe me…?
Kirari shakes her head, laughter bubbling between her lips.
The cup is still in her hand, but she’s shaking so much trying not to laugh at the double misunderstanding that she makes the wise choice of putting it down, before turning towards Sayaka again.
“Pre- Kirari…? “
Kirari shakes her head. Her lips search for the sharp angle of Sayaka’s jaw. There’s the aroma of tea mixing with the familiar scent of Sayaka’s clothes and hair, there’s the white, soft flesh of her throat calling for Kirari like mermaids did with sailors. There’s no merciful wax: Kirari’s teeth sink in the skin. It’s gentle enough not to leave a mark, but Sayaka’s sigh is just modest enough not to be a moan.
There’s no love without pain after all, is there? If that wasn’t true, far too many hopeless poets such as yours truly would have long been forced to find themselves a better occupation, and Kirari might not know much about writing, but she sure knows about the beauty of fierceness.
“As I was saying. “, she says, once her hunger is satiated, “It is not my fault if I love you. If all, it is yours. “
She’s back to her tea, she even manages to grimace at its odd taste before Sayaka offers a reaction.
“You… you do? “
Kirari hums.
“I can’t help it, and I don’t mind. Quite the contrary, in fact. “
There’s tears in Sayaka’s eyes as Kirari caresses the hair away from them.
“You do know I like you no matter what. “, says the latter, “But when you smile… ah, ah, that’s a different matter. That’s better now, yes. “
For Sayaka is smiling, and laughing too, a bit, drying away the tears.
“You- You really do? “
“Yes. “
“But-... “
“No. No buts. I won’t let you contradict me on this. “
“Ah, s-sorry… I just… “
Sayaka’s jaw is trembling. Kirari’s lips find the corner of her mouth. Not to shush, though. To help.
“I just… “
“It’s okay. Take your time. “
Kirari moves her attention back to the tea, allowing her some respite. Another sip elicits the same reaction.
“I know this might not be the best moment to ask, but what… “
“Jin Xuan Tea. “, replies Sayaka, lucid in her disarray, “Also known as Milk Oolong. At
times it might have a light note of peaches, that’s why I chose it. “
“Mmh, I see. “
Kirari puts the cup back down.
“So? “, she asks, gentle.
“I- well, I-... “
Sayaka’s trying to hold back a smile.
“There’s nothing to do: you are prettier when you laugh. “
“Oh, leave it! I am trying to give you a proper answer! “
They both chuckle now, Kirari kissing her jaw again, and Sayaka hugging her shoulders, her smile oh so bright.
“I love you too, Kirari. “
“Ooh. “, Kirari’s smile is as bright as the sun, “And you even managed to say my name properly for once. Good, good. “
Sayaka chuckles, hiding her face in her hands.
“C-Can I… ? “, she then asks.
“Of course. “
Her nose is hard against Kirari’s shoulder, the hug is warm enough to melt a winter, and her Secretary is scrawny, sure, but there’s more than enough for Kirari to hold.
Isn’t it terrifying?, thinks Kirari, the odd taste in her mouth, Sayaka’s scent in her mind, I’m not afraid of dying, and yet I was foolish enough to be afraid of being happy. This… this is also your fault, but you don’t need to know that…
Kirari pulls away: Sayaka’s eyes are still a bit lucid, her cheeks are as lively as ever. The smile is still tugging at her lips and it’s begging to get kissed. Kirari smiles too, allowing herself the sight of such a wonderful lover.
There will be time to worry about the rest, even if I know you’re already thinking about names and whatnot.
I’ll be leaving you alone, and a year sounds like a lot, I ache just thinking about it. But it’s for the best.
I wouldn’t let you follow me, not even if I could. We need it. This love does, if love it is.
Their lips touch. Sayaka tastes like home, but Kirari’s home was never as beautiful as this.
That doesn’t mean that I’ll forget about you, nor that I’ll let you forget about me. I do love you. I do own you.
Her teeth are gentle on Sayaka’s bottom lip.
There’s a ring, waiting somewhere in Kirari’s bag. It’s silver, just like the moon that night, so many months ago. The symbol engraved in it is small enough that one would need to be far too close for either Kirari or Sayaka’s comfort to see it. A lily was the best choice. Kirari would have never branded it- branded Sayaka- with the crest of her family.
It is not for the left ring finger, but its meaning is almost the same.
Sayaka’s holding her with so much strength, as if afraid she will disappear in a moment or two.
She’s not so wrong after all.
There will be time for the ring. There will be time to say goodbye and for us to see if this love of ours is meant to be. But for now…
The sunlight’s streaming through the windows behind them, its warmth soaking their backs. For Kirari, it would be more than silly to think that something such as a perfect day exists. Perhaps someone else will be more than ready to contradict her though.