Work Text:
The Arima Kinen. New Year’s. And Valentine’s Day.
This year, Valentine’s Day arrives for me too, just like it does for anyone else.
Last year, despite clearly seeing the shelves piled high with chocolate and the heart-shaped decorations in the stores, I somehow failed to remember what day it was until the retainers said, “Happy Valentine’s Day!!” to me. That’s how bad it was. It all worked out in the end, but I still wound up scrambling around on Valentine’s Day itself. The winter fireworks were beautiful, so in the end it became a nice memory—but rushing around that blindly is hardly what you’d call adult behavior.
So, having learned my lesson, this year I’m different. I even asked the retainers over Retainer LANE how their chocolate progress was going—apparently they’d made another masterpiece this year—and it got me fired up to do my best too.
It feels awkward in a sweet and ticklish way, doing something like this when I haven’t since I was a student. But at Tracen Academy, where there are so many girls around, exchanging things on Valentine’s Day isn’t unusual. There’s no reason to make a big deal of it.
Telling myself that, I tap a hand lightly against my chest as if to calm my slightly unsteady heart. Then, stopping her as she’s about to pass the trainer’s office, I pull a wrapped package from my bag.
“—Happy Valentine’s Day, Journey! And thank you for everything!”
Trying to imitate the retainers, I greet her in proper Valentine’s style. Dream Journey blinks in a way I can only describe as being like a pigeon hit by a bean shot. Blink, blink. She freezes up, looking back and forth between me and the package. I can say with certainty that I have never seen this expression on Dream Journey before. My unnecessarily bright voice echoes down the hallway, but no reply comes.
Did she get weirded out by a grown adult acting this excited?
A cold sweat slips down my back. Trying to hide the way my hand is shaking around the chocolate, I hurriedly start explaining.
“No, wait, I didn’t mean anything strange by it. You always help me out so much, Journey, and I wanted to thank you properly. I also checked with your trainer and she said you’re not on any food restrictions right now, and I bought it from the shop Orfe mentioned, so I thought it should be okay…”
I’m sure that if I calmly explain the full story, she’ll at least nod and say, I see. I’d expected her to smile gently the way she always does.
Instead, the moment she hears me out, Dream Journey does something I’d call genuinely, truly rare: she draws her brows together ever so slightly, and the corner of her mouth twitches.
The moment I see that expression, I become convinced I’ve done something wrong after all. I hurriedly try to pull the chocolate back.
“I-I’d heard you don’t really like sweets that much, so maybe this was a bother? Sorry.”
“…No, I was only a little surprised. To say it was a bother would be absurd. If anything, I’m the one who behaved rudely. My apologies.”
“No, not at all—I’m the one who surprised you, sorry.”
That makes sense too. From her point of view, being handed chocolate by me probably never crossed her mind, so of course she’d be taken aback. I owe her too much to count. As long as she doesn’t hate it, that’s what matters.
Relief loosens my chest and the tension from a moment ago melts away.
But in contrast to that, Dream Journey’s smile looks different from usual. The color of her eyes, so like Orfevre’s and yet not like them at all, even seems faintly troubled.
“…Before I accept this chocolate, may I ask one question?”
“Of course,” I answer, tilting my head. I wonder what could possibly be bothering her.
“—Did you give Or… did you give that girl your chocolate before you gave any to me?”
“…Orfe? No, I haven’t given her anything yet… actually, I haven’t even seen her today.”
Orfevre hadn’t come to the trainer’s office yet, so there had been no opportunity to give her anything in the first place. No more, no less.
And yet, the instant I answer, I see the same expression from Dream Journey again. I’d just been thinking this was the first and only time I’d ever see that face from her. A tiny, startled breath escapes her too.
Is that really so surprising? It’s my turn to break into a second cold sweat.
“W-well, you know… last year she said sweets from you, her sister, and from the retainers were more than enough. And after those grand masterpieces of theirs, if I showed up with some ordinary store-bought chocolate, there’s no way it’d surprise her at all. That would be kind of rough, right…”
Why does it feel like the more I explain, the sharper Dream Journey’s eyes become?
I’m not saying anything wrong. Dream Journey herself is hardly the type to imagine something out of a fairy tale like Orfevre will be delighted by my totally ordinary commercial chocolate.
And yet somehow I sound like a student fumbling excuses for a forgotten assignment. This isn’t what I mean. Not the whole of it. And yet the words refuse to come out right. In the end I trail off and avert my gaze.
The sound that reaches my ears is a single, quiet sigh. After letting it out—a sigh so unexpectedly sensual for someone so small—Dream Journey folds her arms.
“…I see. I understand the reason very well—at least, I do.”
…Hm?
“I do”?
What’s with that emphasis?
And more importantly, I’m suddenly very aware of a shadow looming over me from behind. Of the fact that there is, perhaps, exactly one person who would come to my trainer’s office at this time. Of the fact that on the school’s floors there is exactly one horse girl whose footsteps are so quiet they barely exist…
“—You.”
The weight in that voice is like having my head forced into the dirt. I can’t turn around. I can’t even lift my face.
More than anything, I really do not want to think about who Dream Journey is looking at over my shoulder.
Because from the voice alone, I can already tell that the one standing behind me—Orfevre—is absolutely furious.
“—To ignore me and turn your back upon me? Your insolence knows no bounds. Raise your face at once. You stand before your king.”
The trainer’s office. A wall at my back. And Orfevre right in front of me.
This is, in fact, the third time I’ve been in this exact kind of situation.
The first time was New Year’s, in the year Orfevre moved up from Junior to Classic. She demanded I offer her some sort of spectacle, and when I tried to improvise a dish on the spot for her, I somehow wound up pinned against a wall.
To be completely honest, I still do not understand in the slightest what she meant by, “You are the offering.” At the time I wasn’t her staff yet, only her fool, so perhaps I did manage to provide some kind of entertainment. Is my startled face really that funny? I have no desire to comment on other people’s—or rather other horse girls’—or rather kings’ tastes. If she enjoyed herself, then all is well.
The second time needs no explanation. It was after the Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe.
Back then, all that mattered was staying by her side. I didn’t care if she shouted at me, or handled me roughly. For some reason, I wasn’t afraid. It hurt a little, sure, but that was trivial.
Because the voice she used then—one that sounded as though she might burst into tears at any second—has never left my ears. That was the day I resolved that I would never leave that lonely younger girl alone again. That I would stay beside her. That I wanted to stay.
It was the day I could truly feel that Orfevre needed me as her staff, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
Now then, in this third commemorative situation—
Without even being given time to say farewell to Dream Journey, much less hand over the chocolate, I was literally grabbed by the scruff of the neck and dragged straight into the trainer’s office.
No, there is nothing “commemorative” about this.
This third version of her isn’t wrapped in the same fierce blaze as that night. Her ears are pinned, her mouth set in a deep pout, and she only glares down at me. Even though I’ve once again been granted front-row access to that devastatingly lovely face of hers, she will not actually tell me why she’s angry. She only stares.
This must be what getting shaken down by delinquents feels like. The moment I try that kind of reality-escape thought, a violent noise erupts from the wall.
What was that whip-crack sort of sound?
And what, exactly, was the delayed thud afterward?
When I cautiously dart my eyes sideways, I see Orfevre’s arm.
…To put it in vulgar modern terms, this is a kabedon.
But the kabedon I know from pop culture usually happens in romantic situations. Not in life-or-death ones. Also, I’m pretty sure the wall cracked.
God knows how many times I’ve broken into a cold sweat today, but this might be the worst one yet. My heart pounds violently, and just imagining that force hitting me instead of the wall makes me want to throw up.
But trapped as I am—boxed in by her arm like prison bars, walled off by the cascade of her hair, with my chin held in place by her other hand—I’m hardly in a position to worry about repair costs.
“…Insolent. I do not recall granting you permission to take your eyes off your king.”
“Um, Orfe…?”
“Who gave you leave to speak, fool?”
Okay, wow. Unreasonable.
This is strange. Orfevre is overbearing, yes, but not usually unreasonable. Even when something she says seems impossible to accept at first, if I explain myself carefully she’ll hear me out. Which means right now she’s really angry.
The truth is, I have a guess why. It’s definitely a misunderstanding, and to clear up that misunderstanding I need to speak—but I hadn’t expected her to refuse me permission to even open my mouth.
That said, I’ve been serving this king for three years now. If I were still only her fool that would be one thing, but I am her staff now. A staff that flinches before her anger is useless to her.
So I gather my courage and speak anyway.
“…Then would you let me explain? I don’t want today to end with you still angry at me.”
When I meet those beautiful, strange-colored eyes head-on, Orfevre narrows them further.
But this time she doesn’t rebuke me. Instead I feel the heat of a fiery sigh brush past my nose.
“…Oh? So you believe you possess a reason sufficient to justify what you did earlier?”
“I did prepare something for you for Valentine’s Day, Orfe.”
She still hasn’t told me exactly why she’s angry, but by now I can piece it together.
From Orfevre’s perspective, I must have looked like a complete idiot—presenting tribute to Dream Journey without offering anything at all to the king herself. And after overhearing our conversation, that impression would only have grown stronger.
But I did think about Orfevre. I did prepare something only for her. Unlike last year, when things fell into place by luck and chance, I wanted to give her something after thinking it through properly, with my own hands and intention.
“I just… really can’t give your present to you right now. Will you wait until tonight?”
“…That does not even qualify as an excuse. Why should that result in my sister receiving her gift before I receive mine?”
“Sorry. That was the only timing I’d have to catch Dream Journey, and I got ahead of myself. And because I wanted the evening to belong only to you…”
My plan had been to hand things out to Dream Journey, the retainers, and my coworkers during the day, just as thank-you gifts for all they do. At this rate, though, I may not end up giving anything to anyone at all.
Well. That’s fine.
Because Orfevre’s face has finally stopped looking quite so terrifying. Only a little, but still.
The cage of her arms opens and I’m released. Her breath no longer hangs right against me.
“…Your punishment is postponed. But the thing you’ve been so secretive about had better be worth it.”
“…I honestly don’t know!”
“You… still with that.”
“But there’s something I really want to show you this year too. When training’s over today, will you wait for me in front of the dorm?”
If she says no, my whole plan is ruined. But Orfevre does not shake her head.
Thank goodness. Maybe I won’t live to see tomorrow’s sunrise, but at least I’ll get to see tonight’s stars.
Letting out a breath of relief, I add:
“—It’s going to be cold tonight, so please dress warmly.”
I arrive right on time to pick her up, and though Orfevre’s ears are no longer pinned flat, she is even more sullen-faced than I expected. Still, she did listen to my request to dress warmly.
A thick coat. A fluffy scarf. Even a rechargeable hand warmer.
Dream Journey must have prepared all of it. I feel even more indebted to her than before.
As I drive, we leave behind the bustle of the city, then pass through country roads with barely any streetlights at all. Once we arrive, I call out to Orfevre.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. We’re here.”
“…And this is where you dragged me all this way in order to show me… what, exactly?”
She steps out of the car, asking in a flat voice.
I don’t answer.
Instead, I point upward.
Orfevre lifts her face as though pulled by the movement of my hand—and there it is, reflected in her eyes and in mine alike.
Countless lights. A winter sky full of stars.
In the clear winter air, the stars shone brighter than ever even through our white breaths. It was a sight that could only be seen right now.
Orfevre widens her eyes and lets out a tiny breath.
“…The stars?”
“Yeah. I searched for a broad plain within driving distance of Tracen Academy. I’m so glad the weather held…”
I laugh and tell her I spent the past two weeks glued to the forecast, and she seems to smile a little too.
“…To stake so much on a clear night—were you corrupted by Nakayama, perhaps?”
“Honestly, yeah, it was a pretty huge gamble… But I really wanted to show this to you.”
“This sky?”
“Yes, but not only that. Look there.”
To guide her gaze, I slowly point out a bright red star shining in the southern sky.
“When you’re looking for Taurus in the south, the first thing you look for is Aldebaran.”
“…Taurus. Because it is my sign?”
“That too, but not only that. Aldebaran means the follower.”
The star’s name comes from the fact that it follows the Pleiades cluster through the sky, I explain.
The moment I learned that—of a dazzling fixed star being pursued—what flashed into my mind was Orfevre’s back.
That gold on the turf, colored by sunlight.
Always beautiful, always brilliant, always so bright it hurts to look—and I realized then that I loved that part of her so desperately.
“…Everyone is captivated by your brilliance. They chase after you, no matter where you are or what you do. I’m one of them too. No matter how fast you run, I’ll chase after you, and I’ll stay beside you forever… that’s what I wanted to tell you. That’s why I wanted to show you this star.”
“…I see.”
Looking up at the stars, Orfevre murmurs:
“…You speak boldly enough for someone armed with half-digested trivia. But the brightest star in the Pleiades, Alcyone, is only third magnitude, while Aldebaran—the one following it—is first magnitude. A staff more brilliant than its king is absurd.”
“…Oh.”
Of course. Orfevre reads constantly; she’s knowledgeable not only about racing, but about all sorts of things. Which means that everything I just explained about the stars was something she already knew.
“…Well, the Pleiades are also called Subaru in Japanese, and there’s a theory that the word comes from suberu, meaning ‘to govern,’ so that suits you too, and… doesn’t that count?”
“Doesn’t that count, she says. Save such nonsense for your sleep.”
“Ugh… not good enough?”
“I shall acknowledge the sentiment, at least. See that you strive harder next year.”
Apparently my desperate salvage attempt has been accepted. Orfevre taps my shoulder lightly in what might almost be affection, and there is no pain in it.
Her mood has clearly improved now—her ears have relaxed to the side, her whole posture looser than before.
Which is why I let out a breath of relief.
And then, immediately—
“—Now then. Where is the chocolate you prepared for me?”
…That one really did blindside me.
Perhaps I am the only human being on earth whose mind can go completely blank when asked for Valentine’s chocolate on Valentine’s Day.
But the truth is, I didn’t prepare any chocolate for her at all. Even the store-bought sweets I’d meant for Dream Journey and the others are still back in my room.
“W-well, I don’t have chocolate, but I did make a lunch box full of your favorite foods. Don’t you think a nighttime picnic has a nice sort of atmosphere to it?”
“…Is that all?”
“U-um, I brought cocoa too!”
“—Then your crime, for still failing to understand rank and order, shall require punishment.”
That was a fail point too!?
Come to think of it, she got angry over something similar last New Year’s too.
There’s no way I can produce something right now that would both surprise Orfevre and leave her satisfied. And while she likes sweets, she isn’t the sort to just gorge herself on what she likes. More importantly, after she herself said last year that her sister’s and the retainers’ offerings were enough, I never imagined she would care this much about my chocolate.
“P-please wait until next year! Next year I promise I’ll prepare something that’ll really surprise you!”
“Fool. Not only do you still fail to grasp precedence, you would have me, the king, wait?”
The smile Orfevre gives me then is the smile of a mischievous child.
Which, to be clear, is far more dangerous than when she’s openly in a bad mood.
Remembering that whenever she smiles like that, I’m usually the one who suffers for it, I immediately clap my hands together and plead for mercy.
“Please! It’s just—didn’t you already say sweets from Dream Journey and the retainers are enough? So I thought… maybe if I waited a year and came up with something special, that’d make you happier…”
By the time I reach that point, Orfevre can’t hold it in anymore and bursts out laughing.
I look up, stunned to find her wearing the very same expression I’ve seen before—back when she demanded we take a break together while out and about. An expression that was half exasperation, half delight.
“Ha… haha… You appear to be laboring under a misunderstanding.”
“…A misunderstanding?”
“Or is it jealousy, perhaps?”
The word catches on something in me.
…Jealousy? You mean, envy?
What part of that conversation sounded like that?
For a moment I begin to sink into pure confusion—then it hits me.
The way I phrased it could have sounded like: You already get sweets from Journey and the retainers, so you don’t need mine, right?
I shake my head at once.
“N-no! That’s not it! I just thought ordinary chocolate wouldn’t surprise you!”
“To demand the most valuable thing in this world, and then to demand even my heart as well… truly, you are a greedy woman.”
“No, that’s not—”
“Is it not? Do you not care for me?”
“…I do.”
It isn’t not jealousy, perhaps, but it still feels slightly off to call it that.
Even so, I don’t deny it any further. Seeing the corner of Orfevre’s mouth tilt up and her mood brighten, I decide that’s good enough.
At any rate, I lift the lunch box with all the solemnity of a tribute offering.
“…May I present the boxed meal now?”
“—Permission granted. Depending on its contents, I may reconsider your punishment.”
And beneath that sky overflowing with stars, Orfevre smiles.
Wrapped in starlight, she is the most beautiful thing in the world.
The moment I see her like that, my chest hurts. My breath catches. My eyes burn. No one else exists anymore.
The light of her is so dazzling that I find myself entertaining the absurd thought that if I were burned blind by it for the rest of my life, I wouldn’t mind.
And then, at last, I become fully aware of it.
Ah.
So it really is love, after all.
But I probably will never tell her this feeling.
Because I want to remain her staff until the very end.
Now then, whether you call this an epilogue or a story of the future—
Time rushes on. After finishing her second Prix de l’Arc de Triomphe, Orfevre decides she will graduate from Tracen Academy. Naturally, I continue supporting her as her trainer until that graduation comes.
And then, one Valentine’s Day, Orfevre enters the trainer’s office.
“—You are coming with me.”
“…T-to where?”
“Are your eyes mere decorations? Can you not tell from this?”
“I-I mean, I can tell, but that’s not the point, and… wait…”
I am fully prepared to accompany the king on her triumphant return anywhere in the world.
That is, unless “anywhere” turns out to be her new home.
The map she extends toward me is marked with an address in the same elegant, perfectly ordered handwriting that suits her so well.
I stare back and forth between the paper and her eyes and, quite literally, clutch my head.
“…Wait.”
“…Would you make me wait yet again?”
“But…”
—This doesn’t mean “feel free to come visit,” does it?
Her tone may be the same as always, but the heat in her eyes and the hardness in her voice are nothing like usual. I’m not so dense that I can’t understand what that means.
And suddenly everything makes sense. No wonder she’s been bringing me to her house more often lately. No wonder I’ve been meeting her parents so much. Not long ago she even came with me to my family home…
These are the parts of her that make her seem so terribly earnest and careful and adorable. But this time, I can’t laugh them off as adorable.
“The move is next month. Make your preparations before then.”
“…Orfe, listen…”
“You truly remember nothing. No matter how much I discipline you, even this year’s Valentine’s Day ended with offerings given to my sister before me. For a dullard such as you, what is needed is not explanation, but environment.”
“I really did not expect to lose to graduate Dream Journey of all people…”
Never mind that I once again lost the Valentine’s opening move to Dream Journey.
What Orfevre is saying is obvious: Move in with me, and from this point on offer everything to me in the truest sense.
Yes, yes. I get it. The logic is sound.
But before I am her staff, I am a somewhat older adult. And because of that, I cannot simply nod and agree the way I always do.
If I accept what she’s offering, I know I will be crossing the final line between us.
It isn’t like the days when I could say, in innocent ignorance, I want your future.
As an adult, what I’m supposed to do is talk reason into her.
Tell her there are other futures she could choose.
Tell her it’s enough for me to stay at her side as her staff and nothing more.
But those respectable, proper words fall apart utterly in front of the tiny shadow of loneliness in her lowered eyes.
“…Do you intend to break the promise you made to me?”
The fingers holding out the paper tighten. I see them trembling, just slightly, and suddenly I remember the voice she used that day.
…The resolve I made then—to never leave her alone—still lingers around my wrist, even if it can’t be seen.
I had decided not to say it.
But the one I ought to believe in isn’t society’s common sense, or my own idea of “how a proper adult should behave.”
It’s my king.
I take the trembling hand Orfevre offers and look straight back into her eyes.
“No… Please let me stay beside you. Next year, and the year after, and after that too—forever.”
The moment I answer, Orfevre pulls me toward her. The map slips from my fingers and flutters to the floor. There is no chance now to pick it up.
The warmth of her arms. The softness of her body. That clean scent of hers with a trace of sweetness beneath it. The word Late, whispered against my ear.
Once I taste that, I can’t pretend any longer that merely standing beside her would be enough for me.
—You were right, Orfe.
When I let out that little wry laugh, her arms only tighten around me. I wrap mine around her back in return and, so that only she can hear, I whisper softly into the space between us.