Work Text:
The room is smaller than Kirari expected. Cluttered in the way the average teenager's room would feel; a stack of old note books, clothes and tissues scattered everywhere, the faint scent of whatever incense Sayaka’s mother had bought last week.
“I…” Sayaka’s voice trailed off. She stood in the middle of the room, awkwardly trying to shove a stack of binders under the bed with her foot. “I would’ve had time to clean if I knew you were coming. I apologize, president.”
“Didn’t I tell you to call me by my name, Sa-ya-ka?” Kirari drawled, starting to look around the room once more. A bed that looked like it had housed more depressive episodes than slumber, a wooden desk that had a small head-shaped crater where a book should be, and, arguably the most obnoxious part of the space, a large hutch with two plump rabbits inside. One white and one black.
Just as Kirari was about to make some romantic comment comparing the two rabbits to herself and her secretary, said secretary rudely interrupted.
“M-My apologies, Kirari.”
Never mind. Pleasant interruption.
Kirari tilted her head, now staring at Sayaka’s face. Sayaka’s eyes, specifically. Like twin black holes, dark and gravitational, pulling in every stray glance and swallowing the light around them until all that remained was the quiet, inescapable orbit of her nervous gaze. Kirari swore that if she looked into them for a moment too long, she might never be found.
Not that she would mind of course. She would prefer it that way.
Kirari’s gaze finally fell on a solar system poster that hung crooked on the wall, the edges of it were ripped, signalling age. Gas giants, icy dwarfs, tiny specks of rock pretending they matter. Next to the poster sat a telescope, dusty and unused. Kirari steps closer to the poster like she’s cataloguing it. Not judging. Just noticing.
“Nice poster.” Kirari says, subtly trying to kill the awkwardness that circled them like hungry vultures.
Sayaka shrugs, now self-conscious. She quietly shuffles from the middle of the room to stand next to the other , “Oh… yeah. I was really interested in space as a kid.”
“I learn something new about you every day, Sayaka,” Kirari smiles. It’s small, curious. Never a good sign. “What changed?”
Sayaka pauses. There’s a whole universe's worth of answers she could give.
There’s more intelligent things I could focus on… like the student council.
I grew out of it.
Why would I need to look up to the stars when I have my entire universe right in front of me?
Sayaka would never say that last one. If she tried, it would probably come out as a flustered, “why… would I… uh… uh… entire… yeah.” Kirari would’ve giggled, and turned her attention back to the poster.
Sayaka, realising she had been calculating the best answer to give Kirari for 20 seconds now, offered a weak, “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I just… don’t know.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“Because I- you can’t just come into my home at any whim and expect me to…” her voice trailed off.
The albino girl's attention was already back onto the poster, studying it akin to how an archaeologist would study a newly dug fossil. Sayaka forced herself to look away from the angelic being standing before her.
They stood in silence for a while. Not the bad kind of silence, just the kind that makes people aware of their own breathing. Finally, with shaking hands, Sayaka points to Pluto. “You know..”
“Yes?” The other eagerly looked up, already bored of her inspection.
Sayaka sighed, picking rabbit fur off of the telescope, busying herself. “Have you heard of Pluto and Charon, president?”
“Of course I have.”
“Oh… never mind then-“ Sayaka brought her hand away from the telescope, instead scratching the back of her neck.
“No. Tell me.” She gazed into those vast black holes she loved so dearly. Kirari swore she could see a tiny universe in them. A future.
“Well, if you’ve already heard about it there’s no point in telling you again.”
“I don’t mind,” Kirari’s grip tightened around her wrist. “I like listening.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Tell me.”
Sayaka sighs. It's long, drawn out, exhausted.
And so she talks. It’s shaky at first, but soon enough, she sounds like a professional. Kirari had heard about this story long ago, but she couldn't help but be drawn to the specific way Sayaka explains it. It’s shy, tentative… so utterly Sayaka.
She explains about 4 billion years ago, Pluto and Charon collided, similar to how our moon and Earth did. But, instead of destroying each other, the two collided with such gentleness that they formed something akin to a kiss. They stuck together briefly for a few hours, before they then separated into a permanently bound, tidally locked pair orbiting a common center of mass.
Now, they’re always facing each other, like two dancers frozen in motion. Not touching. Not leaving. Just circling. Together.
Kirari blinks. Her expression shifts. It’s not dramatic, there's no sudden earth shattering epiphany, no grand understanding. But, something changes.
It’s a law of the universe that she is never caught off guard. Never surprised. Always composed. Calm, collected, blunt. And yet, for the first time ever, the head of the Momobami clan, the 105th president of Hyakkaou Private Academy, the Kirari Momobami, was at a loss for words. Her eyes softened, a faint flush appeared on her neck. She turns her attention to the poster, feigning interest in Pluto’s heart shaped region.
“It’s like…” Sayaka searches for words, hates how they refuse to come. “It’s like they chose it. To stay close. Even if it’s… unconventional.”
Sayaka scoffs, insecurity creeping into her voice now, “I mean, it’s not like a real love story or anything. It’s science. Just interesting science.”
“That's...” Kirari swallows, fingers hovering over Pluto’s faded heart. “Beautiful, the way you tell it.”
“Huh?” Sayaka finally looks up, and freezes.
Kirari is blushing.
It's faint, a quiet suggestion of pink beneath porcelain skin. But it's real. Human. Almost. And Sayaka’s brain promptly stops working.
Blushing? She’s blushing? Why is she blushing? Did I say something weird? Was it the kiss comparison… Oh dear. Oh god. Did I say kiss? I said kiss. Oh my god.
She should realistically say something. Anything. Anything to finally shoot down those hungry vultures. Instead, she stares. Kirari doesn’t look at her. She’s apparently very invested in the cheap paper of a ten-year-old solar system poster. Sayaka inhales. Exhales.
“So,” she begins, and her voice almost cracks. Her heart somewhere in her throat, fighting ruthlessly for escape, “that’s all it took to crack your indifference? Corny space stories?”
There’s a beat. Kirari turns her head. Their eyes meet. And then, their lips meet.
It isn't theatrical, it isn't dominant, there's no tilt of the chin, there's no whispered declaration. It’s quick. Soft. Sayaka’s entire body locks.
This is new.
Terrifying.
Good.
Kirari’s lips are warm in a way Sayaka never would’ve predicted, and gone as soon as she registers them. The room feels smaller than before. Her heart, which was initially crawling at her throat, had now found its way to her tongue. She steps back, cheeks so red that she’s certain they rival Mars.
Kirari blinked at her, dazed. For a moment, she seemed surprised by her own boldness. Then, her usual smile returns, wider than normal. Slightly shaky. Only Sayaka would’ve noticed her tremor.
Well, she would have noticed, if she was looking.
Sayaka was staring at the rabbits in the hutch, watching them huddle in together. Her eyes then darted to the bed, then the desk, then the poster once again. Anywhere but Kirari’s face. “You... uh… you… you.”
“Yes, me, hi!” Kirari’s smile sharpened like she had won a bet no one else was playing.
“You can’t just–” Sayaka’s hands flapped uselessly in front of her, as if she was trying to magically rearrange the last ten seconds back into something salvageable.
“Well, thank you for having me Sayaka.” Kirari pivoted toward the door with absurd composure, smoothing her sleeve as though she’d merely commented on the weather. “Your hospitality was… enlightening.”
“What-? You can’t just-“
Kirari slid the door open. And left. Just like that.
The faint click of it shutting echoed louder than it had any right to.
Sayaka stood frozen in the center of her own room, staring at the empty space where Kirari had been. Her brain, normally a well-oiled machine calibrated for council logistics and Kirari-related data analysis, had completely blue-screened.
The rabbits shifted in their hutch. The white one nudged the black one. Together. Always facing each other.