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Keito knows exactly why he invited Fushimi Yuzuru to the archery club.
A boy who isn’t an official member of the student council, yet offers his help on behalf of his master. Who claims he’s the dog of a younger student and considers his work is merely an extension of that student’s. A boy who seems too perfect to be real. Please feel free to reach me if you need someone to lend you a hand, vice president-sama. Please don’t forget to rest your body and rely on me more, vice president-sama. A boy who speaks in an overly polite tone, like a true butler, even though no sixteen year-old teen should speak that way.
Keito thought it might help for the reliable Yuzuru to be in a more relaxed setting. After all, the archery club is Keito’s realm, the only place in the whole school where he allows himself to let his guard down. He doesn’t even have hidden motives; he only thinks it’d be nice to have an opportunity to talk with this boy about things unrelated to student council or idol work.
Club activities are mandatory in this school, he told Yuzuru, omitting to mention the real reason why idols have to join a club—so they’d have less time to focus on idol work. If you don’t have any idea which club you should choose, how about joining mine?
Yuzuru agreed right away—he had, perhaps, his own reasons to join the club even though he’d never tried kyudo before. It’s not exactly a problem, considering Yumenosaki’s club isn’t exactly competitive; still, Keito believes it’s best if he learns the basics of shooting.
“Then, allow me to first explain to you the principles of Japanese archery,” Keito offers. “If you want to become a real member of this club, the only requirement is that you properly shoot one arrow, but you have to understand the philosophy of archery if you want to do so.” This test is nothing but a way to ward off anyone who only wants to join because they want an easygoing club where they won’t be required to make any effort. He’s already accepted one new member since the beginning of the year, a first-year who’s experienced in mounted archery—Keito had literally no reason to reject someone who sincerely loves shooting and won’t cause any problem. Yuzuru, too, is quite hard-working; Keito doesn’t doubt that he’ll survive one of the club president’s long lectures about kyudo and will try his best to pass the test.
Yuzuru bows his head. “Thank you for your kindness, Vic—Hasumi-sama. I’m all ears.”
Who even calls his upperclassman with such a suffix? Eichi sure found a weird one for his unit, Keito thinks. Nonetheless, as he sits in seiza in front of the other boy, Keito starts his condensed explanation of what Japanese archery is. The truth is, he’s barely decent as a coach; he could teach Yuzuru everything there is to know about Buddhism, but he still has a lot to learn about archery. Shooting, after all, has always been a form of stress relief for him. He knows he himself doesn’t always follow all the principles he’s supposed to follow; who would let a fellow member of the club compose songs in the shajo and still call himself a proper archer?
“As an archer, you will try to achieve three goals. Look for the truth. Pursue beauty. Follow etiquette and be a good man.”
As he pronounces these words, Keito thinks this art could suit Yuzuru.
The younger boy’s proper behaviour might be an illusion, for all Keito knows, but he might be looking for a truth of his own—the true essence of a butler. As for beauty, the word describes Yuzuru’s appearance perfectly. Not only is he elegant and always moves with the grace of a man who’s aware he can be watched at any time, his delicate features are those of a porcelain doll, almost surreal, fitting for an angelic member of fine. His refined face is adorned with beautiful fuschia eyes, and the mole under his right one adds a certain charm to his gaze. Keito wonders if Yuzuru is truly human, and not an aerial sort of creature, descended to earth to protect humanity from an incoming cataclysm. His beauty isn’t one that awakens sexual desire; he’s beautiful the way the stars are beautiful—it’s an immutable truth.
Yuzuru sure follows etiquette, and he sure acts like a good man.
“Any questions?” Keito asks when he’s done, not sure he’s been perfectly clear.
Yuzuru looks at him with his piercing gaze. “I assume I’ll understand those principles with time.”
“Don’t worry too much about them,” Keito retorts. After all, just being able to listen to the whole lecture is part of the test. “There’s nothing good about following blindly old traditions. Archery is also a modern form of art. We are the ones who make it evolve.”
Next, Keito introduces him to the different kinds of bows and explains how Yuzuru is supposed to choose his. He lends him a glove and makes him stand in front of a target. He then takes his own bow and stands in front of Yuzuru, his back to him. “Now, I’ll show you how it’s done, and then you’ll try shooting an arrow yourself. It’s okay if you fail and don’t reach the target. I mostly want you to try and experience the feeling of releasing the arrow at the right moment.”
He turns to see Yuzuru’s face—the boy seems to be focused on him, ready for the demonstration. “Alright, Hasumi-sama.”
“First, there are eight steps you are supposed to follow when you shoot. You don’t just draw your bow and take your aim. I’ll show you each step one after another. First, ashibumi. You need a good footing or else you won’t be able to shoot properly. This step is the foundation of your stance.”
Keito spreads his feet and carefully places his hands near his hips while holding his arrows and bow. He tells Yuzuru about the appropriate distance and the angle between his feet; then, when he’s done explaining what this step consists of, he moves to the next one. He teaches Yuzuru all about the steps of Kyudo Hassetsu until the moment of release, called hanare; as he lets go of his arrow, it splits the air and hits the target. It’s only when the arrow meets the fragile surface of paper that Keito lowers his hands, still looking in the direction of the target. “And this is yudaoshi, the eighth step,” he concludes. “Once you’re done with this one, you’re ready to shoot again. Do you need me to show you the steps again, Fushimi?”
“It won’t be necessary,” the other replies.
Keito sets down his bow and arrows carefully and turns around. Yuzuru’s face is devoid of his usual well-mannered smile; he’s already planted his feet on the floor, and although his posture isn’t perfect, Keito is surprised that Yuzuru’s able to reproduce the first step so well.
“It won’t,” Keito agrees. “Your bow should be a little closer to the floor, you’re holding it too high.”
Yuzuru immediately corrects his stance, and Keito appreciates his diligence. He can tell that Yuzuru is trying his best to keep all the principles he’s just learnt in mind while he tries to imitate the president of the club. He said he’s never held a bow before and Keito doesn’t think it’s a lie; still, he seems at ease as he tries to shoot. He’s not afraid of the bow.
Yuzuru is drawing the bow when Keito says, “Stop for a second, Fushimi.” The other boy complies, his eyes still on the distant target. Keito can’t say he’s not impressed: Yuzuru doesn’t make the mistake of looking in Keito’s direction even though he’s been called.
“Is there something wrong with my posture, Hasumi-sama?”
Keito shakes his head. “Not exactly something wrong, but—” He can’t tell what’s bothering him. He wouldn’t say Yuzuru’s stance is beautiful, but it’s not necessarily a problem; most beginners tend to try to hit the target first and foremost and don’t care much about the general harmony of their shooting stance. Drawing the bow isn’t that easy, even for those who have strength in their arms.
He observes Yuzuru holding the bow. The way his arms don’t shiver even though they’re making an effort they’re not used to. The serious expression on his face as he looks at the target, already wondering how to shoot so that his arrow hits the centre of the target. The firm way his feet stand on the ground. There’s no hesitance, no fear of missing.
Yuzuru looks like he’s already had a weapon in his hands.
I can feel your bloodlust from here, Fushimi.
“Are you sure you’ve never done archery before?”
Without moving his eyes away from the target, Yuzuru offers him an amused smile. “Of course not, Hasumi-sama. I’m nothing but a mere butler.”
Keito nods. It doesn’t feel like the truth at all, but now isn’t the time to think about this. “Okay. Now, you can complete your draw.”
Yuzuru releases his arrow at the right time, so Keito isn’t exactly surprised that it hits the target, too. It’s no easy feat, and Keito doesn’t know many people who managed to do it on their very first try—and it’s often sheer luck. Yuzuru, on the other hand, seems to be a fast learner, which isn’t that surprising considering he managed to join fine even though he has no experience as an idol.
Keito smiles. “Congratulations. That was a good shot.”
Yuzuru lowers his bow. “So will you accept me as a member of the archery club, Hasumi-sama?”
“Of course.” Keito was only trying to offer him a place to relax and to be himself, but now he’s even more curious about this boy. He’s clearly a mystery, someone who hides so much of himself that it becomes unnatural—and Keito wonders if Yuzuru himself knows what he’s hiding inside. “Welcome, Fushimi. Feel free to come whenever you want to.”
And Yuzuru’s smile seems almost genuine as he bows to thank Keito.
*
Sometimes, it seems as though Yuzuru spends more time in the student council’s room than Tori, even though he himself isn’t an official member. Keito doesn’t even have to send him a message to ask for his assistance; Yuzuru comes of his own volition, offering his aid, proving himself as efficient as Mao—while being a member of a unit that’s not trying to overthrow the current system, which is definitely a bonus. He doesn’t chat much, as he’s no fan of small talk, but it suits Keito; the vice-president enjoys the hours they spend alone in the office when Mao practises with Trickstar and Tori with Wataru (unless he’s running away from the eccentric man. Keito sure wouldn’t blame him for that), in complete silence save for the few times Yuzuru asks him a question, and Keito answers in a few words.
Eichi hasn’t come back from the hospital yet; when he does, the atmosphere of the student council might change again, but for now, Keito enjoys how peaceful it is. Letting his best friend take on the position of president was, perhaps, a terrible idea for his well-being; Keito loves being in charge, and he knows Eichi won’t let him do everything he wants. Still, he believes it’s for the best. A man like Keito isn’t fitted for the number one position; he’s not one to stand in the spotlight himself, preferring acting as a right-hand man who does most of the work in the shadow. He’s only a leader of an idol unit because he needed one that could dirty its hands while fine stayed immaculate; and if Akatsuki hasn’t disbanded yet, it’s for reasons that have nothing to do with his personal ambitions or his plans for the school anymore.
Yuzuru breaks the silence by saying: “I’m done with the mail, vice president-sama. Do you perhaps need me to do something for you?”
“Thank you, Fushimi.” Keito doesn’t bother checking Yuzuru’s work. He doesn’t doubt that a man like him can put letters into envelopes just fine; even Tori could do it. “Could you sort out these Dream Festival proposals, then?”
This task, on the other hand, isn’t easy. Yuzuru will have to read every proposal they receive and reject any that have no chance of being approved. He’ll then put the others in another pile for Keito to examine them later. This isn’t the kind of task you should leave in the hands of someone who knows next to nothing about idols, and at first Keito was rather hesitant to assign it to Yuzuru, who just transferred to follow his master. However, Yuzuru is a fast learner and he soon proved that he could do it better than some students who’ve been in the idol course for two full years.
“Of course,” Yuzuru replies. Then, he frowns. “You seem tired, vice president-sama. I’ll also prepare tea, if you wish.”
Keito almost wants to decline, but he’s been yawning a lot for the past ten minutes so it doesn’t seem like a bad idea, actually. “Please, Fushimi.”
A couple of minutes later, a cup of tea is set down on his desk, and thin hands grab another pile of paper.
Keito takes a sip. He has no idea how Yuzuru goes about it, but the tea he brews is always delicious and invigorating; it tastes as good as Souma’s, even though Keito’s unitmate has learnt how to make proper tea since a very young age. It must be part of his butler training, Keito thinks, not that he knows what exactly Yuzuru has been taught. According to Tori, his cooking is awful and bland, which doesn’t exactly align with Keito’s idea of what a butler can do; then again, it’s probably an endearing flaw of Yuzuru, at this point. Otherwise, that boy would be too perfect, too faultless, not too different from the stereotyped characters in Keito’s favourite mangas.
The more he learns about Yuzuru, though, the more Keito realises that Yuzuru might not be as pristine as he appears; there’s something underlying his affable facade, something dark, rotten, that Yuzuru takes care not to show, but Keito can feel it’s there, waiting for an occasion to resurface.
“It’s good,” he compliments Yuzuru, “thank you, Fushimi.”
Yuzuru is sitting at a desk that isn’t his, per se (but he’s the only one who sits there, so at this point it’s become his place, as if he was an official member of the council), skimming the proposals he’s going to review. “You’re welcome, vice-president. There’s an unusually high number of A1 proposals today.”
“A couple of students who had to disband their units after their first A1 failed are trying again,” Keito explains. “And other new units have formed recently, so the proposals are adding up. It’ll calm down in a month.”
Yuzuru nods. “I see. I shall take that into account.”
Keito refrains a sigh. The Dream Festival, the A1 category for the newcomers, the unit systems; all these things have been implemented for a reason, and Yuzuru knows nothing of it. It’s probably for the best, in Keito’s opinion: the past should stay buried, forgotten. He, too, isn’t as pristine as he looks; he’s standing on top because of all the sacrifices he’s made—at the expense of other students. He always prioritises his student council duties over idol work, something his unitmate never blames him for. How will Yuzuru react when he learns that Akatsuki used to be a tool to kill and destroy, to ensure that anyone standing in their path would get crushed?
For now, Keito thinks the established system is good enough. And if Kuro wants to act up behind his back and revive the Dragon King Competition, then he’ll have to crush his dream, too.
(That’s what he claims. But he feels indebted to Kuro in so many ways he’s not sure he can really say no to what this man truly desires. But that’s a problem for another day, something he’ll deal with when he’ll have no other choice but to take care of the matter.)
They spend the next hour and a half in complete silence, enjoying the quietness of the room. Now, this is what Keito would call quality time: being able to get some work done without any disturbance, drinking savoury tea while the only other person in the room is as silent as he is. Keito sometimes allows himself to raise his eyes and cast a glance in Yuzuru’s direction. The boy works diligently, focused on his task. He once lifts up his head at the very moment Keito gazes at him, and his face softens, as if he didn’t dislike the attention at all.
And then Yuzuru gets up again to give back a smaller pile of Dreamfes proposals. When he looks down at the very first page, Keito notices that he took the time to write down some suggestions. Yuzuru is a little less imaginative than Anzu, but he’d make a good producer if he wished to be one, so Keito appreciates the extra effort he put into his work. This will make Keito’s part a lot easier, and perhaps he’ll be able to go to sleep a little earlier tonight.
“Thank you very much, Fushimi,” he says, from the bottom of his heart.
Yuzuru observes him carefully. “Vice president-sama. Do you still have work for me?”
“Not today. I was thinking of heading home soon,” Keito replies. He’ll read the proposals tomorrow with a clear head; by then, he doesn’t doubt that more work will fall on them, and the same routine will repeat itself—which is far from unpleasant.
“Then, allow me to offer you a massage, as a reward for your hard work.”
Keito frowns. He wouldn’t say he’s astounded, right now, as he’s already seen Yuzuru give a massage to his master, so he’s aware that it’s one of his skills—truly, Keito wonders how butlers are trained nowadays. Still, he never thought Yuzuru would care enough about him to suggest one. “Why?”
“I told you before, vice president-sama. You stand at the top of the school. Thanks to your hard work, my master and all of the idols enrolled in this academy can focus on their idol duties with no worry. I am merely concerned about your health, as you don’t seem to get enough rest.”
Keito feels like Yuzuru isn’t telling the whole truth. There must be another reason, one that may or may not have something to do with Himemiya Tori; he wouldn’t be surprised, for instance, if he discovered Yuzuru was also trying to get in his good graces.
Who cares, though. It’s true that he’s tired, even though he tries his best to hide it. It’s only the beginning of the year so far, so Keito isn’t utterly exhausted yet; but he knows, from experience, that he should try to relax whenever he can.
“Well, my neck is really stiff right now,” he admits, “so I’ll take you up on your offer.”
Yuzuru nods and bypasses the desk. He walks behind Keito and, for some reason, Keito suddenly feels tense. There’s something unsettling about this situation, perhaps because of how noiseless Yuzuru is as he steps behind him, and it’s only when the other boy puts his hands on Keito’s shoulders that Keito understands why. He’s unable to feel Yuzuru’s presence at all, as if there was no one at his back, the contact between warm palms and his nape being the only hint.
He doesn’t even hear Yuzuru’s breath even though the room is quiet.
Yuzuru presses hard and Keito understands why Tori sometimes makes faces when he’s massaged. It’s not painful, though; just different from what Keito imagined. And it’s also far from unpleasant.
“Why,” Keito asks out of the blue, “did you agree to join the archery club?” Something feels off. He’d expected Yuzuru to join the same club as Tori; tennis or archery, it doesn’t make much of a difference if he never practised any, so why not pick the club that would allow him to keep an eye on his beloved master?
Yuzuru chuckles. “Because you invited me. Isn’t it a good enough reason for you, vice president-sama?”
He’s dodging the question, Keito can tell. “Not really. I’m pretty sure you would’ve been accepted in any club. I invited you, but you have no reason to stay if you don’t like archery, right?”
What kind of answer is he expecting? He knows by now that Yuzuru won’t let go of his mask, which means he won’t ever be entirely sincere. Yuzuru isn’t a liar, but there’ll always be a point where he’ll just smile and stop replying. But Keito respects his desire for secrecy; if Yuzuru doesn’t wish to say too much about himself, so be it.
“Then, let’s say I saw the captain of the archery club shoot. I was enthralled by his grace. I never imagined that something as beautiful as the Eight Steps of Shooting existed.”
Keito feels the blood rise to his cheeks. He clears his throat in an attempt to give himself a composure. “I see. Well, I can understand your decision, Fushimi. It’s clearly better than picking a club just because your favourite manga character has joined it too.”
“Is that why you joined the archery club in the first place, Hasumi-sama?”
“What do you think, Fushimi?”
Keito, too, can act mysterious if he wants.
Yuzuru softly laughs. “I think I was right to join this captain’s club.”
Keito can’t help but smile, and the conversation dies down in the most comfortable way. Keito lets his mind drift away as Yuzuru’s hands help him relax. It’s really soothing to finally silence all his thoughts, to just let himself feel.
After a while—he’s unable to say how much time passed, and to be honest he doesn’t really care—, Keito feels rested enough to talk again. “This club is my territory,” he confesses. Despite what Yuzuru said, he’s not the one standing at the top, nor does he want to occupy such a position. This is why he needs a place where he can be himself—a place where Eichi himself isn’t allowed, a place where the rules he had to set for the sake of Eichi’s dreams wouldn’t count anymore. “I don’t accept many members,” he adds, remembering the time when the place was nothing but a gathering of delinquents, of people who didn’t take idol jobs seriously and kept littering the shajo, “but I’m glad you joined, Fushimi. I thought you, too, could use a place where you can be yourself.”
Yuzuru’s hands freeze on his neck, and Keito wonders if he’s said too much. “I’m perfectly happy as my master’s butler, vice president-sama. I don’t think I need to be myself, or however you want to formulate such a need.”
But you still accepted my invitation, Keito thinks. Was it just a way to get close to a man of power?
He doesn’t think he’ll get the answer today. And a couple of minutes later, Yuzuru lifts his hands, telling him that he has to go and take his master home. Keito rolls his shoulders; he’s never felt that relaxed before. He almost wants to ask Yuzuru to please give him a massage again, but the words don’t leave his mouth. Instead, he only stares at the butler in silence as Yuzuru gathers his belongings.
“Then, I wish you a pleasant evening, vice president-sama. Please don’t go to bed too late, if you can.”
“See you tomorrow, Fushimi,” says Keito.
Yuzuru doesn’t leave immediately, though. He stares back at Keito, as if trying to figure something out. Then, with a ruthless smile, he finally adds: “If I may say, vice president-sama. I don’t doubt that you know how important it is to gather information about your enemies and your allies. However, there are things that you’re better off not knowing.”
For a short moment, Yuzuru’s mask cracks, revealing what lies behind—and Keito shudders.
Even though Yuzuru’s tone is still as courteous as usual, there’s no warmth in his words. It’s a warning, not exactly a threat but close; and Keito can’t help but smile, because he, too, has skeletons in his closet.
“That should be my line, Fushimi,” he warns back.
For some reason, Yuzuru seems strangely satisfied as he leaves the room.
*
Eichi finally leaves the hospital, and as relieved as Keito is, this event marks the end of his peaceful days.
His childhood friend never misses an opportunity to make fun of the dark circles under Keito’s eyes. Eichi’s probably worried about Keito, but he’s not one to say it openly; messing with Keito is apparently one of his favourite things in the world. (Keito puts up with the teasing because he’s secretly happy that Eichi feels good.) With summer approaching, Eichi’s health should be stable enough for him to enjoy the next months; however, once fall comes, it’s going to be another story.
And of course, Eichi’s return does not mean less work for Keito, on the contrary. At the very least, the situation with Trickstar is appeased for now; it’s the student council’s duty to support them as the school’s representative for the SS competition. Which means hours spent at his desk, with nobody but Mao by his side as they both try to work on the most pressing issues. They might have to think about SS, but the influx of dream festival proposals hasn’t decreased in the slightest. On top of that, several clubs need authorization for summer camps and the like, and they still have to patrol around the school to take note of the various problems encountered by the students.
He barely has the time to take care of his own unit, and most of the time Akatsuki takes other units up on any offer for a joint performance. Kuro, who claims that he’s a brainless guy who can’t do anything on his own (one day, Keito will have to work on that issue, because Kuro is more intelligent than he believes, and he definitely has what it takes to lead his own unit), does wonders as the second-in-command, and he also finds the time to sew their outfits, which removes another thorn from Keito’s side. Souma may rely on his upperclassmen a lot, but he also tries to find small ways to relieve them from their burdens, and he often drops by to see how Keito is doing. Keito is glad he shares the stage with these two wonderful idols.
Keito is the vice president of the student council, an idol, but also a student; and he refuses to settle for passing grades, not when he’s always been at the top of his class.
In short: Keito’s life is hell, right now.
Today, he decides to focus on his studies and he goes to the library after the lectures are over. He still has to check a couple of things before he can finish his paper for his Japanese history class; so he picks a table near the windows, opens a few books and starts working.
He’s finishing his conclusion when he hears a familiar voice ask: “May I sit in front of you, vice president-sama?”
Keito doesn’t even look up from his essay. “Go ahead, Fushimi.”
He barely hears any sound coming from the other boy as Yuzuru sits down and takes his belongings out of his bag. The noiselessness was a little creepy the last day, but today Keito is rather grateful, as it allows him to not break his focus. Because of Yuzuru’s discretion, he’s able to write the last sentences of his essay in a few minutes, and he sighs in relief when he finally puts down his pen, satisfied with his work.
Keito finally pays attention to Yuzuru, and to his surprise, Yuzuru isn’t studying. He’s holding a manga whose cover Keito knows all too well. His pen name, Mizuhanome, is written on the cover in white characters.
“Why are you reading that?” he asks, baffled, as he realises that Yuzuru is reading one of his mangas.
Yuzuru raises his eyes. “President-sama told me I should read it. I know next to nothing about manga and the young master seems to be interested in them, so I decided to give it a try. Have you perhaps heard of it?”
I’m going to murder Eichi the next time I see him. “Yes, I have.” It would be useless to lie, after all; he knows Eichi won’t straight up out him, but he’s definitely capable of saying Keito is a fan of Mizuhanome, or something similar. Keito really regrets having his mangas in the Yumenosaki’s library, but it’s not like he can ask for them to be removed from the collections without a good reason. “I read them, sometimes,” he adds, which once again isn’t exactly a lie because he does read his own work from time to time.
When Keito said he had skeletons in the closet, he didn’t only mean the war; he also meant his embarrassing career as a mangaka. Not that he regrets it, of course; he loves drawing, it’s another passion of his, and he never hides the fact that he reads mangas. Still, it’s an all too different thing to actually make your own; and while it taught him a lot about composition and storytelling (skills he still uses for Akatsuki’s performances), it’s also a secret he’d like to carry to the grave.
“I can’t judge the story yet,” Yuzuru goes on, “but the art is quite impressive. The backgrounds look so detailed and the faces so expressive, I can understand why the young master would spend his time reading mangas.”
In truth, Keito’s art is rather average; it’s one of his older works, after all, so Yuzuru’s compliments show that he’s a complete novice in the genre. “You’ll find even more detailed sceneries in other works. Mizuhanome-sensei doesn’t work with an assistant, though, and the manga you’re reading is one of their early works. Their drawing style was still unconfident.”
Yuzuru gasps. “Oh, is that so? I couldn’t tell. I still think it’s impressive of them, vice president-sama. They clearly drew this story with passion.”
Before his heart threatens to explode in his chest, Keito decides to divert the topic a little. “Now, if you ask me about the story itself… it’s a decent plot, but you can tell the writing is immature, too.”
Yuzuru frowns. “Then why did president-sama ask me to read this one?”
Because you might realise that Mizuhanome-sensei’s drawings look a lot like mine, Keito thinks. He’s waiting for the moment you’ll realise this is my work so he can have a good laugh at my expense. “It might be Eichi’s favourite,” Keito replies. “Or one of them. I think he’s fond of Mizuhanome-sensei.”
“I’ll be sure to check their other works, then,” Yuzuru promises, and it takes all of Keito’s will not to tell him that he shouldn’t. The fewer mangas from Mizuhanome Yuzuru reads, the safer Keito’s secret is.
“I can make you a reading list if you want,” Keito offers. “As a thanks for all the times you’ve helped us out.”
He expects Yuzuru to tell him that it won’t be necessary, because he’s only helping for the sake of his master, and really he doesn’t want to bother Keito. But Yuzuru tilts his head, clearly interested.
“That would be kind of you, vice president-sama. I’m looking forward to reading what you suggest to me.”
Keito takes a blank piece of paper and starts brainstorming. The first title he writes down is Doraemon; anyone who wants to read mangas should start with the classics, and Doraemon is one of Keito’s favourites. It’d be fun to talk about Nobita and Doraemon’s shenanigans with Yuzuru; the thought fills him with warmth. He wonders why, though. He could find other readers, too, but the idea of Yuzuru being the one he talks with feels special.
Keito believes that Yuzuru would keep his secret, if he knew. Still, he doesn’t find the courage to open his mouth and tell him. It’s too unnerving to let yourself be vulnerable around someone you don’t know that well, and Keito isn’t ready to take that step yet.
*
“Vice president-sama, have you perhaps seen the young master? I looked all over the school but I couldn’t find him.”
Keito frowns. Yuzuru is standing at the entrance of the kyudojo, looking clearly distressed. His eyes are wide open, his lips trembling. It’s an unusual sight, albeit not a surprising one; when he’s around Tori, Yuzuru always shows a wide range of emotions, from pure elation when Tori thanks him for staying by his side to true horror when he realises his young master has disappeared from his side. Keito doesn’t doubt that Tori is currently running away from him. He has no idea where Tori is right now, although he did see him less than an hour ago.
“The last time I saw Himemiya, he was with Eichi in the student council’s room,” he replies. He doesn’t tell Yuzuru that Tori had thrown his dignity away and was sprawled on Eichi’s lap; it’s best if Yuzuru ignores it. “He might have gone somewhere with him. Eichi wanted him to do something, if I remember correctly.”
Yuzuru sighs. “And the driver who’s supposed to take him home just arrived…”
Keito almost pities him. Yuzuru might be a little at fault himself, since he’s always so overbearing; Keito can’t exactly blame Tori for trying to grasp whatever moment of freedom he can. “I’ll text Eichi if you want.”
Yuzuru nods. “I’d be grateful.”
Keito puts his bow away and grabs his phone. He usually leaves it in the back during practice, on silent mode so he won’t be bothered by a call, but still close enough for him to check his notifications from time to time. Eichi’s answer isn’t long in coming: Tori’s with me at the moment. I’ll free him in forty minutes!
Keito shows the text to Yuzuru, who sighs again. “President-sama could’ve warned me too, at the very least. Well, I’ll call the driver to inform them of this setback.”
(Keito empathises. He knows how it feels to have a friend, or a master, who keeps doing as they please and was a real pain in the ass.)
It takes less than a minute for Yuzuru to make the call, and when he hangs up, Keito offers: “Since you have some time, how about shooting some arrows with me?”
Yuzuru’s eyes widen again, but this time for a different reason. “I’ll get changed, then.”
Keito uses the time it takes for Yuzuru to put on his black hakama and white keiko-gi to collect the arrows he’s already shot. He’s hit almost all his targets, today, which is rather impressive. Well, Keito does feel calm. Everything is going smoothly, lately; Akatsuki’s last performance was a resounding success, Tori’s finally doing his part of student council work and he’s even found time to draw more, lately.
Yuzuru finally appears again and they both get into position, Keito standing behind Yuzuru’s back. This means that Yuzuru is the first one to shoot, while Keito has to wait until Yuzuru’s arrow hits (or misses) the target to release his own. Keito, as the most experienced archer, likes to take this position; it allows him to look at Yuzuru’s shooting form while still focusing on his own target. When you start readying the bow, you’re supposed to look at the target, not at your partner; it’s not time for you to aim yet, either. The point of this step is to make you focus on what’s right in front of you, to ’send your spirit forward’ even though you’re not ready to shoot yet. It’s a matter of concentration, and it takes some time for an archer to be able to do that while aligning themself to the rhythm of the archer shooting before them.
So Keito can tell, as Yuzuru releases his first arrow, that the younger boy’s mind isn’t relaxed at all.
When they’re done shooting their arrows, Keito has hit the target all the time save for one, while Yuzuru has missed half of the time.
The butler sighs. “As I thought, I can’t focus well.”
“You’re thinking too much about Himemiya,” explains Keito; it’s not even hard to guess what’s wrong with Yuzuru, after all. “You’re incorrigible. You should let him live his life, sometimes.”
Yuzuru turns around, his eyes dark and sinister. “It is my duty, though, to ensure that my master is safe and sound.”
“And it’s your duty, as an idol, to make sure you shine as much as him,” Keito retorts.
He wants to laugh. Now, he is the one talking about idol duties? When he stood behind Kuro so many times, aiming for a default win, knowing that their opponents fear them not because of their qualities as idols, but because of Kuro’s physical strength? It sure took him time to understand what an idol duty truly is.
(He promised, though. He told Kuro that one day, he’d make him sing in front of a crowd, as repayment for all the sacrifices Kuro made for his sake—even if Keito himself didn’t know if he’d be standing next to Kuro when it’d happen.)
Still Keito knows how it feels, to sing on the same stage as someone you believe you owe something to. Be it a debt, or an oath you made as a butler, it takes time to free yourself from these shackles.
Does this mean Keito understands Yuzuru? Maybe not entirely. But they’ve known each other for a while now, so there’s at least one thing he’s sure of.
“Well, it’s not like I can convince you to change who you are that easily,” Keito concludes.
And he’s surprised when he sees Yuzuru’s face relax, his tension leaving way to a much more tender, much more normal expression. At this very moment, Yuzuru looks nothing but a regular high schooler, and Keito remembers something Eichi told him once about his unitmate after their ’vacation’ on a tropical island this summer. He’s too competent for his own good, but I think he’s learning how to enjoy a normal life.
“I’ve already changed a little, don’t you think, Hasumi-sama?” Yuzuru asks.
Keito’s heart skips a beat.
This Yuzuru who’s smiling with all his teeth even though Keito just told him a bitter truth isn’t one Keito is used to seeing, but he likes this version of him nonetheless. Perhaps Yuzuru had known, all this time, that he couldn’t be a butler only. Maybe that’s why he accepted Keito’s invitation to the archery club in the first place; he knew this is where he can be himself, if he so wishes, while Tori will go his own way—just as Keito hoped.
“I guess. You really changed, Fushimi.”