Work Text:
The Rumour
There were things Ichimiya Sorato did not do.
He did not run in the hallways. He did not eat while walking. He did not respond to provocations from overly enthusiastic second-years who thought they could challenge the Student Council President simply because they had just watched a yakuza film.
And above all, above all, he was not fascinated by the Phantom Busters.
That was the official version.
The unofficial version, the one that lived somewhere behind his navy-blue eyes and between the pages of his school planner (never empty, always organised, never opened to the month of July where he had quietly glued a photo of Mogari and Eugene taken at the school festival)… was slightly different.
«These extracurricular activities lack administrative rigour. I’ll have to keep a close eye on them.»
What he meant: they’re so cool it’s driving me insane.
That Tuesday, the problem began with a ghost in the second-floor toilets.
Sorato knew this because Yoshiki, his vice-president, burst into the council room looking like someone who had just reconsidered all of his life choices.
«There’s… a… a ghost in the toilets!», Yoshiki gasped. «I mean. FOR REAL. With moaning and doors slamming on their own.»
Sorato put down his pen. Picked it back up. Put it down again. He ran the necessary calculations.
Calling the Phantom Busters meant talking to Mogari Shishikuno ; whose irresistible red eyes gave him the irrepressible urge to shout «incredible» out loud ; and to Eugene Korekishi, whose habit of analysing everything aloud was so satisfying to listen to that Sorato often had to cough to cover his own murmurs of approval.
Not calling the Phantom Busters meant leaving a ghost in the second-floor toilets, which was clearly unacceptable from a school regulations standpoint.
«Summon the relevant club», said Sorato. «For regulatory reasons only», he added, in a calm voice.
Not at all because I saw them in the hallway this morning and Mogari was wearing his uniform with such effortless style that it occupied my mind for the entire budget meeting.
The Arrival
They arrived three minutes and forty seconds after the call. Sorato noted this mentally, not out of obsession, but because he was president and punctuality was an important quality for Sorato.
Mogari Shishikuno entered first, hands in his pockets, his scarlet gaze sweeping the hallway with a nonchalance that defied all laws of social physics. Behind him, Eugene Korekishi adjusted his glasses and consulted something on his phone.
«Yeah, you’ve got a ghost. You can feel it from the bottom of the stairs», Mogari said flatly.
«We should first determine the type of entity in order to adapt our approach. Mogari, do you perceive anything particular in the ambient vibrations?», asked Eugene.
«Mmyeah. Probably a student who died of boredom during a maths class, given the energy.»
Sorato nearly died.
They’re even more fascinating in person. Why are they even more fascinating in person? It should be illegal. I should draft a motion.
He crossed his arms, adopted his expression of president-who-finds-this-perfectly-ordinary, and said:
«I expect a written report within forty-eight hours. Two copies. A4 format.»
«…Are you serious right now?», Mogari said, indignant.
«I am always serious.»
I am not serious. I am currently memorising the way you tilt your head when you speak. For entirely professional reasons.
Eugene watched him with that pensive look of his — the kind that meant he was analysing everything and reaching entirely correct conclusions.
«You know, Ichimiya… you don’t have to pretend that none of this interests you», Eugene murmured.
A silence.
«I don’t know what you’re talking about», Sorato replied.
«You reviewed our reports from the last three months. In detail. With annotations.»
Another silence. Longer. More painful.
«It is my institutional role to...», Sorato began.
But Mogari cut him off:
«You also asked the librarian if she had any information about my family…»
«The library is a shared academic resource and...»
«She told you that you were «the third person to ask this week» and that the other two were Sunao and you in a hat», Mogari continued.
The Fall
It was at that precise moment that Ichimiya Sorato, Student Council President, top of his year in applied school law, understood that the situation was slightly beyond him.
His face did not move. That was his greatest talent: his face never moved.
Except.
Somewhere in the equation, he had forgotten to account for the presence of Mogari Shishikuno, who was looking at him with the expression of someone who had just solved a puzzle and was very pleased about it.
«Your ears are red, Mr. President.»
Sorato raised a hand to his left ear. Withdrew it immediately. Too late.
«It’s the temperature in the hallway that...»
«It’s barely seventeen degrees. I checked», said Eugene.
«The ventilation is...»,Sorato searched.
«It’s fine, we’re not judging you. Well, I’m judging you a little, but that’s because the hat wasn’t your best idea», said Mogari.
A third silence. This one had a particular quality to it. Sorato recognised it as the silence of fate laughing at him.
He took a breath. Straightened his shoulders. Decided, with the solemnity of a man accepting defeat without fully showing it, to go with the only strategy he had left.
«…You have genuinely interesting combat techniques from a purely theoretical standpoint», said Sorato.
Mogari and Eugene exchanged a look.
«Do you want to see how we hunt a ghost?»
Sorato’s ears reached a shade of red that had, until that moment, had no name.
«For the administrative report. Only.», the student council president agreed.
«Of course», Eugene added.
Mogari followed:
«Obviously.»
Neither of them was smiling. Sorato was deeply grateful for that.
They all lied very well.