Chapter Text
KAGUYA WANTS TO SEE
Events begin on an unfortunate weekend when, out of familial obligation, Kaguya Shinomiya must attend a distant cousin’s wedding. The heat of summer does not penetrate her air-conditioned limousine, but the traditional clothing she wears for the occasion feels as restrictive as every other part of her upbringing. More unfortunately, the traffic has become dense and lethargic. She wishes not to be late to avoid her brothers’ chastisement yet celebrates every second of delay that will make the ceremony even slightly (and more bearably) shorter.
Out on the street, happy mortals pass by. Girls in western-style dresses. An old man failing to fan himself with a threadbare straw hat. Children clamoring before a stall selling shaved ice. A group of men unloading boxes from a truck. One man amongst them with fair hair and sharp defined eyes proudly squinting against the sun—
“President?”
She knows of his many part-time jobs, has heard him mention working on boats and delivering newspapers and now, right here, providing a moving service. She has heard but never seen him in an environment like it, so far removed from the austere halls of their school. He is without his gold aiguillette and black gakuran jacket, instead transformed by a white t-shirt and beige coveralls, the top half removed and sleeves tied loose about his waist. He wears heavy-duty gloves, but his forearms and biceps can be seen tensing against a box’s unspecified weight. He moves with confidence as he disappears inside a nearby office building, automatic doors shuttering behind him.
Kaguya holds her breath. His colleagues are congregating and passing around drinks, their faces ruddy, their demeanour rough. How will they behave when they are with the President? Will she ever get to see him again?
A car horn blares, and Kaguya bites her tongue. Not now. Not here. Please traffic, do not move. Let me glimpse into this world I will never be a part of.
“Miyuki!”
Thank you gods for this moment. Thank you loud uncouth foreman with the bald head and fat arms that are waving the President back towards her.
President—Miyuki—looks sticky with sweat, his white t-shirt smeared with dust. He raises a bare forearm to wipe his forehead. He looks in her direction, and he smiles.
Kaguya’s hands are pressed to the car window. This is like fireworks in broad daylight. Such a spectacle had not been scheduled; she was not prepared. The President accepts a bottle of water and drinks. Without his usual uniform collar, it is possible to see the elegant swell of his Adam’s apple, the gentle bob of his throat. In the bright sun and with his head tilted back, water splashes onto his face. It is a gesture of obscenity. Kaguya wants to hide. She wants to curl inside herself. She wants to reach for her phone and use the camera, but her chauffeur would report back to her family of such things.
Despite the air-conditioning, she feels flushed and warm. She is trapped in congested traffic on a busy street at the heart of a heaving city, and yet there is nothing left in existence. President and his water bottle and his t-shirt. What else is there to see?
The President grabs the hem of said world-defining shirt. He lifts it up to wipe the remaining moisture from his face. It is a fleeting gesture that lasts a couple of moments and, in its brief space, infinity is revealed and a whole new universe to Kaguya’s experience:
Abs.
The abdominal muscles or, in more common parlance, a six-pack. Its cruel taunt is shouted from the covers of popular magazines, ruining the hopes and expectations of men and women, respectively. It is something Kaguya Shinomiya has given no thought to. Her ideals of men have little to do with physique (save for a peculiar eye fetish), or so she had believed. No, it was not the President’s body she had fallen in love with. The President’s surprisingly toned body hidden beneath his uniform, the unacknowledged consequence of constant physical labor and a 15km daily cycle.
It would be her secret and hers alone.
(Are addicts good at keeping secrets?)
Kaguya has no time to reflect. The traffic has cleared, and her new universe grows ever smaller through the rear windshield. Behind her eyelids she has thankfully painted enough canvasses to fill a gallery. It will keep her more than content through the tortuous tedium of her cousin’s nuptials. And then Monday and the start of another week and the chance to learn everything that she wants to.
(There is only one thing.)
What lies beneath the President’s uniform?
MIYUKI SHIROGANE WANTS TO CRAWL
“Um, Ishigami?”
Miyuki Shirogane’s current evening routine had started with such a question. To rely on his kouhai conjured familiar feelings of shame, familiar enough that Shirogane is more than able to withstand it.
“I’ll see you later?”
“Hn.”
This is a routine that involves waiting for the rest of the student council to leave and most of the school occupants. A routine shrouded in mystery enough that Fujiwara suspects romance, Iino is sure of delinquency, and Shinomiya acts with a frightening indifference.
Despite such reactions, Ishigami remains unmoved, engrossed by whatever game he is playing on his phone. Shirogane values the younger boy’s friendship but in moments like this would happily kill him.
“Crap.” Ishigami agitatedly removes his headphones. “I need to finish this at home.” He stands.
“You’re going?”
“You’ll be fine without me.”
Shirogane is practiced enough to maintain his composure. They still have an audience of one, though thankfully not the judgmental Iino or the unpredictable Fujiwara, it is perhaps the only person capable of inflicting such singular damage.
“President, do you require some assistance?”
Shinomiya’s pose might as well come with its own “How cute” neon sign hanging above it. Ishigami is already out the door, and Shirogane is left unguarded. There is something about how his vice-president has been behaving in recent days that has left him more on edge, fingers dangling from a precipice due to the combined efforts of his secret program and her strange actions towards him.
“No.” Not from you. “Ishigami and I have just been getting in extra workouts.”
“Workouts?”
What is with that tone of voice?
“Yes, exercise. I suppose he feels that he no longer needs to spot me.”
The lies pour freely, the shame boils down to its dense solid form, and Shirogane rises from his desk and walks to his doom with his back straight and head held high.
“You might have thought we were acting strangely.”
Shinomiya only smiles, her right hand held to her left cheek.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me…”
There is no going back, only forward. Let her think the very worst or something pointlessly false. In every deception, there is some truth. He could not think of a better lie. He has his bag and an escape route set. The doors to his freedom grow ever closer.
“President…”
A small hand on his arm. She has been doing such things lately. It is like a burn or a slap. Is she trying to hurt him? To tease? To remind him of how he is lacking?
Her fingers dig in sharply. Shirogane is trapped. He cannot move, does not particularly want to. Tell me the truth, he thinks. You think me fake. Weak. A fool.
“I can tell,” she says.
“What?” How does she know?
The fingers dig in harder. “That you’ve been working out.”
One hand still pressed to her cheek, she lets him go.
Shirogane wants to die. He wants to explode. It is a dream. This happiness he feels and that he does not deserve, not like this. He flees to the door with a painfully measured pace. Shinomiya’s back remains to him. His courage, unearned, rises to his tongue. She has spoiled him with gifts. He must return back her kindness.
“They’re not workouts as such.” Halfway out the door, he leaves her behind with the unvarnished truth: “Ishigami and I… well, he’s been teaching me how to swim.”
Doors closed, he runs. Call it a warm up on the way to the pool. He is breathless as he locks himself inside a changing cubicle. He hurries into his trunks and struggles with his goggles like a child desperate to get to the beach. There is danger in rushing at the water’s edge but not as much as he has faced in the student council chambers.
It is not an elegant dive, but with breaking the surface comes a sharp relief, and Shirogane soon finds his rhythm. Forgive your senpai, he thinks. Ishigami was right.
For once, he is no longer needed.
KAGUYA HAS SEEN TOO MUCH
The door closes behind him, and Kaguya drops to her knees.
Hand still pressed to her cheek, she is shaking. The gesture has lost its calming effect. Her universe has expanded too quickly.
“President…”
She has been reckless in her pursuit of knowledge. Even ignoring the obvious signs of his extracurricular escapades with Ishigami. Like a thief, she has stolen. Acted on lustful desires with the abandon of a harlot.
Every opportunity there has been for unnecessary physical contact, Kaguya has seized. She has taken the President’s innocence! Wanton and deranged. She feels shame, but there is no regret.
Beneath his uniform she has sensed with her hands like a blind man what her eyes already knew.
She told him so! Kaguya writhes upon the floor. Embarrassment or pleasure? Who knows or even cares?
President has a secret he has shared with her and her alone.
It takes several minutes to regain any semblance of composure. She sends a message to Hayasaka to say she does not need picking up until later. Studying. She has a study session with the President. So what if he is the subject? Biology is science and science is discovery and Kaguya is now the world’s most intrepid explorer.
She makes her way through the barren jungle of Shuchi’in to its only watering hole, where thirsty creatures gather. In the evening light, she can see from the shadows its sole inhabitant. A previously unclassified species:
Miyuki Shirogane, revered student council president, performing a fairly competent front crawl in a pair of school-issue speedos.
The data gleaned so far had only supported her hypothesis. Now has come visual confirmation. The hypothesis is fact!
Well, Kaguya, take as long as you need. You must be sure that it is true. Beyond a reasonable doubt for the court is the legal burden of proof. Judge, scientist, philosopher. The many shades of Kaguya look on and bask in their victory.
President is now on his thirteenth lap of her observing. He appears to struggle then stops mid stroke in the center of the pool. Does he have cramp? Is he drowning?!
Kaguya does not wait to see. She runs and dives in, aiming for the endangered species of one. “President!” Grabbing on, she attempts to haul his body to the side of the pool. The body doesn’t budge. It is standing, feet securely reaching the bottom, as Kaguya hangs from its distractingly broad shoulders, her legs impotently treading water.
“President?”
Kaguya is clinging, fully clothed and now fully soaked, to the President’s naked torso. He is staring at her in unconstrained horror. She can see all his muscles up close and tensed.
“Shinomiya-san?”
Kaguya can feel their definition beneath her fingers. She can see the blurred outline of a six-pack below the surface. She can hear the fear in his voice as her eyes roll back and she faints.
Kaguya!
“Can you hear me?”
When she opens her eyes again, she can see the moon.
“Shinomiya, are you okay?”
You called me Kaguya. She is sure she heard it. “Did I save you?” She thinks that she might faint again.
A sturdy arm is at her back helping her to sit up. A dry towel is wrapped around her. A warm face enters her vision, more pleasing than any cursed moon.
“I guess you sort of did,” Miyuki Shirogane says.
I would always save you. “I thought that you were drowning.”
“I got water in my goggles. I couldn’t see.”
Somehow their marks around his eyes make the latter more becoming.
“You have a beautiful breast stroke,” he admits.
He watched her rush to his botched rescue? “You did well for a beginner.” Then he must be a voyeur as much as her.
“Would you teach me?”
Kaguya is suddenly aware once more of the President’s exposed skin. He is blushing down to his pectorals. She is helpless and blind, turning her head away. “Please… President, you’ll catch cold.”
He is wearing a sweatshirt when she can see again, his hand held out to her. “We should get changed. I can lend you my gym clothes.”
And so they find themselves eventually transformed, the President returned to his school uniform and Kaguya cocooned by an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. He finishes her off by draping his school jacket around her shoulders. Down to only short shirt sleeves, Kaguya is aware of his bare arms, yet they can barely look at each other. It is a long and entirely too brief walk through the abandoned school halls and to the chauffeur-driven car that is waiting for her.
“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he says. “It nearly killed you.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I know how hard you work, President.” Her head is bowed so she can only see his elbows to his hands and the front of his shirt. She remembers what there is that lies beneath when she whispers, “Every part of you shows it.”
Kaguya does not explain to Hayasaka what has happened as she darts into the back of the car (though she will force every explicit detail upon her as she gets ready for bed later that night). She bravely manages to look back and catch the President wave her a dignified goodbye. She can look for only a second as she sinks into the comforting blanket of his jacket, so she does not see him raise his fist and scream his satisfaction at the moon in the moments that follow.
Kaguya has seen enough for tonight.
RESULT OF TODAY’S BATTLE: Undeclared mutual victory!
