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Kunikuzushi was many things.
It depended on who you asked, really. To the average Akademiya student, she was the number one envy, an untouchable mystery whose world was filled with the adoration of all and riches they could only dream of. To her teachers, she was the top student, seemingly able to take on anything they threw at her without so much as breaking a sweat. To her classmates, she was the most sought after bachelorette, one with standards that extended to the high heavens. Trying to get close to her was like a death sentence — oftentimes, only cold rejection awaited their valiant attempts.
Although many had mixed feelings about her — jealousy, awe, adoration — they would all begrudgingly agree that regardless of her sharp demeanour, there was no denying that she was the epitome of perfection. But people talk, especially when met with an inhumanely flawless being such as her. Her disposition and behaviour were often hot topics amongst the student body, garnering no small amount of commentary.
“Isn’t she a little too cocky for her own good?”
“Just because she’s pretty on the outside doesn’t mean she’s all that, you know.”
“I heard another guy confessed to her again, and she walked away without saying anything. Even if she wasn’t interested, shouldn’t she be less cruel about it?”
It puzzled Sethos a little. Kunikuzushi wasn’t cruel.
Sethos was often perplexed by the people around her. In Kunikuzushi’s presence, they acted as if they were enamoured by her, wanting to get her to even glance at them once — but the moment she turned her head away, it was like a switch would flip within them, and their mouth would spew an endless string of blaspheme towards her. Her classmates would fawn over her beauty and brains, but then turn their backs and yammer about how she didn’t deserve a single thing to her name. Her teachers would praise her for a job well done, but then pit her classmates against her in the name of ‘healthy competition’.
Even the men who called themselves her devotees were entirely useless when it came to defending her. They would play nice for maybe a week or two, claiming that they just wanted to befriend the poor, lonely girl in the corner of the classroom. Then, it would progress to them getting touchy, and acting offended when Kunikuzushi reminded them of their initial desire of being friends. Oftentimes, it escalated to them blaming Sethos of all people for her rejections — claiming that she was intruding on what were supposed to be ‘private moments’. And when Kunikuzushi finally decided she had enough of their pretence, they would curse and shout at her, accusing her of leading them on.
It wasn’t as confusing as it was disgusting. These people claimed to be her admirers, her fans even — yet they knew close to nothing about her. From the way they spoke about her to the way they acted around her, Sethos could tell that they were looking at her with preconceived ideas of how she was supposed to be, how they wanted her to act. It was pretentious, pathetic, repulsive — the sheer lack of knowledge about her.
Teachers loved to praise her achievements, but they didn’t know how hard she worked every day just to keep afloat amongst the sea of assignments. Sethos would know — she went to her house every day to keep her company as she groaned over her classes. Whenever they arrived after school, the house was often empty, but her mother would often leave a box of food on the kitchen counter. The first few weeks, Sethos had to find ways to settle her own lunch — but as time went on, she soon found that there were often two boxes of food left behind for them to munch on as they studied.
Students loved to talk about her academic endeavours, but they didn’t know about her passions and interests. Sethos would know — she always watched as Kunikuzushi picked up her guitar during her free moments and started strumming. She always listened closely, with undivided attention, not wanting to miss a moment of the melodious sounds gracing her ears, even if they were just a few random notes. She would observe the loose pieces of paper strewn around her study table — they held notes, she noticed, and sometimes even lyrics. She never got the chance to look at them for too long before they were snatched away by a flustered hand, but she thought maybe she had spotted a love song in the writings. She could be mistaken.
The people who confessed to her loved to profess their feelings for her after barely a month of knowing her, but they didn’t even have a clue about her ideal romance. Sethos would know — Kunikuzushi had told her about it. She stated how she wasn’t one for big shows of affection, but she had talked about how being understood was something she liked — she wanted her lover to know her. It was one of the conversations Sethos remembered very clearly, even though she couldn’t really say why it left such a big impact on her. Ever since then, Sethos had engraved every piece of information she could glean from their talks into her mind — she wanted to know Kunikuzushi like no one else did.
And that was why it made her nauseous when people tried to get close to Kunikuzushi. It wasn’t that she didn’t want her to make friends with anyone else — every single one of them were just horrible candidates for friendship. They couldn’t know her like she did. They couldn’t understand her like she did. They couldn’t even say with confidence what every single one of her likes and dislikes were, which Sethos of course could. And then they had the audacity to call her cruel, when she denied their lacklustre attempts at conversation, which were often very obviously thinly veiled mocking towards her.
No, Kunikuzushi wasn’t cruel. She was aloof, sometimes cold — but never cruel. She was gentle, softhearted, passionate, beautiful, loving and caring. Sethos would know — she had listened to her late-night confessions one too many times to believe she wasn’t the definition of love itself.
It had been a rough night. Hours were spent pouring over a project due the next day. Kunikuzushi’s teammates had been all but useless, leaving her to do everything at the very last minute. Sethos had volunteered to help, but the other refused, saying something along the lines of, “It’s my own blunder for taking pity on such useless individuals. No need for you to clean up after my mess.” Sethos, however, insisted on being around, going so far as to tell her grandfather in advance that she was staying over at her friend’s house that night, so she let her stick around as moral support.
“I’m really sorry your teammates bailed on you like that, Kuni,” Sethos began, “It must suck to have to do all of this at this hour.”
Kunikuzushi barely looked up from her project when responding, too engrossed in trying to get it done on time. “Don’t apologise for their shortcomings. I’ll take it upon myself to pick better members next time — even though I doubt it could get much better than this, with the pool of incompetent insects I’m selecting from.”
Sethos hummed, acknowledging the statement. She swayed her legs rhythmically, sitting on the side of the bed. She took a long look at the sight below her — Kunikuzushi was sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes darting between the papers that surrounded her, before scribbling on the largest sheet right in front of her. She would have done the work for her in a heartbeat, but she knew that the top student of the Akademiya prided herself on her work ethic — if it was her assignment, it was hers to do alone. So there she sat, twiddling her thumbs, hoping her presence would help enough.
Another hour passed them by. Soon, the sounds of rain began to fill the void of silence, droplets pattering against the window. Sethos glanced at her phone: 1:55AM. She turned to the pile of stress on the floor, wondering if she should say something. It was getting late, and she was worried for her well-being… but she also knew that Kunikuzushi wasn’t the type to give up on something halfway.
As if she had read her mind, Kunikuzushi turned her head towards her and began to speak, “I’m almost finished. If you’re tired, you can sleep here tonight. My mom’s overseas, so I can take her room if needed. Lie down.”
Sethos shook her head vigorously. “No no, I’m good! I’m more worried for you, if anything… Don’t you have to present this in the morning too?”
She turned back to her work. “Suit yourself. I’ll be done within the next thirty minutes.”
Sethos nodded. They went back to silence, intermittently broken by the sound of papers shuffling and pens scribbling. After staring at the ceiling for what felt like forever, Sethos tapped her phone screen and watched it light up: 2:37AM.
“Alright, alright, I’m done. I told you that you could turn in first, didn’t I?”
Sethos perked up, jumping to her feet. “Done? Finally! Can I help clean up?”
Kunikuzushi rolled her eyes, a small grin threatening to break out on her fatigued expression. “Whatever you want.”
Two pairs of hands made quick work, and the mess on the floor was promptly tidied. They each went about their nightly routines, Sethos finishing a little before Kunikuzushi did, and sitting on the bed as if awaiting instruction. When the sound of the bathroom door opening resounded through the room, Sethos turned to her and pointed towards the bed.
“So… The sleeping situation…?”
Kunikuzushi didn’t make eye contact with her, simply stretching and letting out a small yawn. Her raised arms hiked up her camisole, exposing her midriff ever so slightly, catching Sethos’ eye. She had never really noticed it in particular before, but her figure was… really nice. Pretty. She guessed it made sense — everything about her was gorgeous and alluring, so this was no different. Was it creepy to think that of a friend? Not really, right? It was a factually correct statement. Kuni’s eyes are violet, her favourite colour is blue, and she has a beautiful midriff that Sethos can’t stop staring at. Not just Sethos, but anyone in her position in general would totally–
“Hello? Are you deaf?”
What?
Oh, she had been talking. She had been talking to Sethos and she was just staring at her midriff.
Kunikuzushi clicked her tongue, before repeating herself with faux exasperation, “I said sleep wherever. But you’re in the centre of the bed, so at least move a little.”
“Right. Right, sorry about that,” Sethos muttered, shuffling towards the edge of the bed. She had one foot off the bed touching the floor, as if she was undecided on whether or not she should leave. She continued to watch as Kunikuzushi tucked herself under the covers, making herself comfortable. When she was all settled in, she turned towards Sethos, catching her off guard with the sudden eye contact.
It took an embarrassing amount of effort from Sethos not to stammer out her question. “Yes?”
Kunikuzushi blinked back at her. “Turn off the light. The switch is next to the door.”
She got to her feet swiftly, thankful for the excuse to widen the distance between them for just a moment. She flipped the switch, and the room went dim, the only remaining light source being the small gap between the window and the curtain. None of them made a single noise.
There was the shuffling of footsteps, and then fabric, and then Sethos found herself under the covers face to face with Kunikuzushi. It was deep into the night, and it had been hours since Sethos last left the room, but suddenly her heart was beating as if she had just ran a lap around the block. Kunikuzushi let out a breathy laugh, and at that moment Sethos swore she was lying beside an angel.
“What are you staring at?”
Sethos smiled bashfully, yet somehow cheekily. “You.”
The other seemed taken aback by this forward answer, choosing to avert her eyes and turn her body face up. “Idiot.”
The atmosphere was tranquil. The only thing that could be heard was the soft taps of the rain. It was cold outside, but the warmth of the quilt and their bodies being so close together more than made up for it. The repetitive stimuli was comforting, slowly lulling Sethos into slumber as her eyelids started to droop.
“I’m glad I have you, Seth.”
She blinked the sleep out of her eyes. She turned her head towards the voice. Kunikuzushi didn’t bother to look at her, only staring straight into the ceiling and gripping the blanket with a little too much force. Sethos could only smile tenderly.
“I’m happy with you too, Kuni.”
Kunikuzushi closed her eyes, content with her response. She turned her body back to face Sethos, shuffling closer to her. When she finally moved close enough for her liking, she let out a breath that she seemed to be holding in. The position they ended up in was oddly intimate and awkward at the same time. Sethos was left clueless on where to put her hands.
Kunikuzushi mumbled, ever so softly, “Let’s be friends forever, okay?”
It was gentle. It was loving. It was everything Sethos knew Kunikuzushi was. She would be a fool to not assure her that she wanted to be by her side for as long as her body would last her, especially since these moments of pure softness were few and far between with Kunikuzushi. The request was so meek, so vulnerable — it made her heart swell with an instinct she had never felt before.
So, against her better judgement, she wrapped her arm around her shoulders, patting it rhythmically, and ignored the pang in her heart. The love within it dulled the sharp pain that came with desire, allowing the lie to come out as sweet as honey.
“Of course, Kuni. I’ll be your friend until you’re sick of me.”
That night, as Sethos drifted off to sleep, her mind was filled with pictures of the angel that slept so soundly right next to her, peacefully unaware of the turmoil that she could cause to her heart.
It would not be the first time Sethos pictured Kunikuzushi in that light.
Nights like those became a more common occurrence, after that first time. Sethos would visit her house in the afternoon, linger for more than she knew she should, and it would end up with her shooting her grandfather a quick text before she climbed into the covers with her beloved friend. It came to a point where traces of Sethos were everywhere in the house — her slippers laid near the front door, her uniform hung on the cupboard handle, her pyjamas folded neatly and placed in a corner of a shelf. It felt forbidden, this kind of closeness — even though there was no one to forbid them from doing whatever they wanted in the privacy of their own home.
Sethos hoped that the heartache was a one-time thing, soon to be a distant memory of the past — but no, the feeling soon bled into her daily life. Her world had shifted significantly and permanently, but everyone else seemed to stay the same. Kunikuzushi was still the envy of her classmates, the apple of her teachers’ eyes, and most infuriatingly of all — the object of all the boys’ desires.
She hated it — maybe it was Kunikuzushi’s influence, but she found herself being in disbelief with the audacity of these rabid animals to even attempt to get close to Kuni, her Kuni. It repulsed her before, and it made her furious now — she could scarcely hold herself back from telling all of them to leave her alone. As much as she called them animals, she didn’t want to seem like a ferocious guard dog. Even though sometimes she did feel like she was on a leash.
Hearing people call Kunikuzushi cruel made her even more sick with anger than before — they had no right to gossip about her in that way when they barely made the effort to understand her. They wouldn’t dare utter words like that if they knew her like Sethos did — knew her softness, her gentleness, her love.
But, ah, would Sethos even want that? For someone else to know Kuni like she did? Would she ever want to share that sacred experience, those cherished nights spent basking in her presence as the girl of her dreams that she called her best friend slumbered in her arms? Would she be willing to let go of the heartache, if it meant risking the pouring love that came with it? Would she even think about it for a second?
She already knew her answer.
And so, whenever Kunikuzushi looked up at her, glass eyes filled with a silent devotion, and asked her to be her friend until the end of time, Sethos would always smile so sweetly as she tucked her hair behind her ear, and lied like her life depended on it. The question felt like a knife to her heart each time, its intensity never easing no matter how many times it was repeated — but maybe Sethos liked it that way. She would let Kuni toy with her heart a million times over if it satisfied her hunger for anyone else. She would gladly allow her to be so casually cruel — it was ritualistic, the way she offered her very being up for the taking, and Kunikuzushi seemed so eager to sink in, seemingly oblivious to the way Sethos ached for more than just sleeping in the same bed at night.
So, yes, maybe Kunikuzushi was a little cruel. What about it? Sethos would let her take and take and take, if it meant she could always be by her side. Sethos would let her rip her heart out and cradle it to sleep at night, if it meant she could be comforted by the rhythmic thrum of it beating just for her. Sethos would let her ask, over and over, if she could stay her friend forever, even though she wanted to be her everything. And Sethos would lie, over and over, if it meant she would rest in her arms for one more night.
Even until the desire shattered her, she would cradle her beloved with a tender embrace, and shield her from the jagged shards.