Rating: T [slash]

Pairings: TatsuyaxMasaki, TatsuyaxMiyuki,MasakixKichijouji

Disclaimer: "The Irregular at Magic High School" is the property of Satou Tsutomu. The fanfic author is not making any money from this story.

Author's Note: Masaki calls Kichijouji "Jouji" in both the anime soundtrack and the original light novel, so I'll have Masaki do the same here. ("Jouji" can be rendered in English as "George," so Satou is being clever.)

Chapter 1

Changing Destinies

Friday, 8 August 2098

20:15

At the end of the Nine Schools Competition was, once again, the celebratory ball. As third year students, Ichijou Masaki and Kichijouji Shinkurou were attending the ball for the last time.

Masaki had managed to give the rest of his friends—who were mostly female—the slip. Temporarily. He stood by Kichijouji, sipping his nonalcoholic champagne, and watched Miyuki finish a dance with Tatsuya. Tatsuya wandered over to a server, getting a drink for himself, and Miyuki joined her group of female friends.

"According to the rumors, they'll be married as soon as they graduate," Kichijouji said, folding his arms behind his back.

"Mn." Masaki took another sip of champagne, the bubbles bursting against his tongue and burning on the way down.

"Will you approach her?" Kichijouji asked.

Masaki watched Miyuki blush and laugh. "My dad would insist that I do." After all, his father had filed an official application to engage them in an attempt to stop the Yotsuba's move. "If he were here, he'd have his hand planted in the middle of my back and would be pushing me out onto the dance floor."

Kichijouji chuckled. "That's true." He slanted a look at Masaki. "But that's as much about politics as it is about your father wanting you to be happy. The Yotsuba are already overpowered, even without the intermarriage, and Yotsuba Maya is dangerous."

The champagne burned Masaki's nose as he took a sip that was too large and then nearly swallowed it wrong. It made him sniff. "True. But politics or not, you know my feelings for Yotsuba Miyuki are real."

"Define real."

"What?" Masaki stared at Kichijouji. "What do you mean?" Kichijouji had never talked about Miyuki and the situation in this way before.

"You find her to be beautiful and talented," Kichijouji said. "You also have discovered that she's intelligent. But you haven't spent any alone time with her or dated her. You don't actually know her, so you can't take her full measure."

At first, Masaki couldn't even reply. Kichijouji had been fully supportive of him all this time and had never critiqued him. When he found his voice, he said, "You're saying it's superficial attraction?" He couldn't help the flash of pain that fired through him.

Kichijouji looked away. "Is attraction such a black and white topic? Is love? Or are we all so desperate to not be lonely that we'll swallow the most simplistic and binary definitions of love and marriage so we can rush out there, find someone, and get married—just to end up divorced?" He glanced back. "Surely there's something more."

As far as Masaki was concerned, Kichijouji was a genius in almost every way, and so he took the questions seriously. "You're suggesting I may have tunnel vision?"

Kichijouji met Masaki's gaze. "I'll support you in whatever you do. You know that. But you're an idealistic person who is grounded in his beliefs, values, and feelings. You value family, and you value the people around you as equals. You don't look down on the people who work for your family, like the bodyguards. To make a decision about who you'll marry based solely on her looks and talents and not on her inner self, values, and heart seems out of character for who you really are."

Masaki felt a weird thunking sensation in his chest, as though a stone had plummeted through his body. "Oh." He couldn't deny the observation.

"Get out there and ask her dance." Kichijouji took Masaki's champagne flute from him. "You'll regret it if you don't. Make your final bid for her, but if she turns you down, move on. For all you know, she doesn't share your values, anyway."

Masaki experienced internal pressure and then a mental sharpening, as though Kichijouji had just popped his brain like a balloon. "You're right, Jouji." He had to smile, even if it was wan. "This is why you're both my best friend and my strategist."

Kichijouji inclined his head.

Masaki marched across the ballroom, headed for Miyuki. My final shot. Here we go. This is probably going to hurt, but it's time to get this issue settled. We're getting ready to graduate. There's no reason to drag this out any longer.

From across the ballroom, Shiba Tatsuya watched Ichijou Masaki approach his sister. Fiancé, he mentally corrected himself. He'd known this would happen, of course. He'd been waiting for it. Given that Masaki had taken first place in both events he participated in—including Steeplechase Cross Country for the second year—Masaki's confidence would be bolstered. Also, Tatsuya and Miyuki's wedding date would be set soon, at their aunt's convenience, and would likely be in March, right after they graduated from high school. Masaki was running out of time if he wanted to make a play for Miyuki.

Tatsuya took a sip of his nonalcoholic champagne and just watched.

On one hand, Tatsuya couldn't blame Masaki for the effort. Any confident high school boy would do the same thing—and probably most men, too. On the other hand, Tatsuya wondered why Masaki persisted, given that his feelings couldn't be anything other than an infatuation. Also, the Yotsuba had not accepted Ichijou Gouki's attempt to stop the engagement.

But, as Tatsuya had learned, this was just the way high schoolers tended to be. And, since he wasn't romantically in love with Miyuki, Tatsuya wasn't the least bit offended or threatened. He had promised Miyuki he would try to think of her as a woman and not just his little sister, but as of yet, his brain hadn't made the conversion. He wasn't sure it ever would. The only thing he was sure of was that he would find a way to make Miyuki happy. It was his life's goal.

Masaki and Miyuki were talking now. Masaki was blushing. Miyuki was smiling. Whether she agreed to dance with Masaki this time was entirely dependent on her current mood and whatever it was Masaki said.

Tatsuya felt like he was watching real life TV.

To Tatsuya's surprise, Miyuki took Masaki's offered hand, and they headed out onto the dance floor.

"It's temporary," Tatsuya murmured, although there was no way for Masaki to hear him. And Miyuki, why are you leading him on? Don't you understand that Masaki will take this the wrong way?

Tatsuya experienced a flash of genuine frustration.

He couldn't be said to have a friendship with Masaki, but he had worked together with Masaki twice now. Masaki had proven to be a worthwhile ally. Masaki's talent had never been in question, but on top of his power, he was dependable. Masaki was quick to take action, he could be counted on, and he stayed calm in a crisis. Tatsuya could respect all of that. And, provisionally, they got along now.

As a result, Tatsuya wasn't happy to see Masaki being led on, especially when all it could do was muddy the water between himself and Masaki. The world was getting more unstable, and Tatsuya felt sure he would need to work alongside Masaki in the future.

Turning away from the sight of the smiling Masaki and the equally smiling Miyuki, Tatsuya headed toward the table where his friends had gathered. It was then that his gaze ghosted over Kichijouji Shinkurou.

Kichijouji was also watching Masaki and Miyuki, and he was frowning, his brow furrowed.

Is he worried for the same reason I'm uncomfortable? Tatsuya wondered. But something about Kichijouji's expression made him pause. No, wait. I don't think that's it.

Tatsuya found himself gliding over to Kichijouji's position.

"Kichijouji Shinkurou," he said by way of greeting.

Kichijouji glanced up at him. "Shiba Tatsuya." He looked away, brow still furrowed.

"He shouldn't have asked Miyuki to dance," Tatsuya said. "Then again, she shouldn't have accepted."

Kichijouji snapped his gaze back to Tatsuya. "It's better to try and fail than to not try and then wonder if you could have succeeded."

"Wise." Tatsuya took a sip of champagne. "But something about it worries you."

Kichijouji jerked slightly. He stared at the floor, a miserable blush on his cheeks. "It's doomed to fail."

Instead of sounding like a prediction of doom, the words sounded like someone trying to convince themselves. "You don't want Miyuki to marry your best friend?"

"I just want Masaki to be happy."

For a moment, Tatsuya had to re-analyze everything he knew about Cardinal George and the Crimson Prince. Oh. You have those kinds of feelings for Masaki.

Tatsuya started to scoff and turn away. Everyone knew that gay and lesbian relationships were unproductive and inappropriate. It was just a matter of lust.

In fact, Tatsuya did turn and take two steps.

Then he stopped as his analysis completed itself.

Wait a minute. Tatsuya turned back to Kichijouji, who now had his arms crossed over his stomach, apparently having read Tatsuya's look of censure. "How long have you been friends with Ichijou?"

"Five years," Kichijouji murmured.

"How did you meet him?"

"He and his family's volunteer unit rescued me during the Sado Island invasion."

Oh. Just like I saved Miyuki in Okinawa. "And you've been at Ichijou Masaki's side ever since?"

Kichijouji nodded.

"And Ichijou is very protective of you." This wasn't a question. Half or more of the reason Masaki had lost to Tatsuya during the Monolith Code was because Masaki got distracted by Kichijouji's endangerment and paused to protect him.

Kichijouji nodded again anyway.

"And you would do anything for him," Tatsuya concluded, thinking of Miyuki, who had likewise dedicated herself to his wellbeing and—he now knew—had fallen in love with him because he saved her during the attack.

"What of it?" Kichijouji murmured, still staring at the floor.

You're a male Miyuki, Tatsuya thought, surprised. Masaki takes you with him almost everywhere he goes. You gladly accompany him. Masaki protects you and always acts to save you. And you fell in love with Masaki because he was instrumental in saving your life during the attack. The two of you are . . . Miyuki and me.

Tatsuya gazed across the dance floor at the smiling Masaki, the parallels making him uncomfortable.

Then he considered the way Miyuki would react to his dancing with a girl from Third High, if the roles were reversed.

Tatsuya's homophobic worldview began sliding sideways. Suddenly the "everyone knows this to be true" was on shaky ground. "You are in love with Ichijou Masaki."

Kichijouji was already a pale-skinned boy, but he turned paler still. He threw up both hands. "It's not like that!"

"It is," Tatsuya sighed. A final piece came crashing down on his head. "And what's more, your love for Ichijou is just as taboo and forbidden as Miyuki's love for me is."

Kichijouji lowered his hands. "Yes. It is. But she still gets to marry you." The words were filled with so much rage and hurt that they could have cut steel.

And so the person in the most agony tonight is Kichijouji Shinkurou, not Ichijou Masaki. Tatsuya abandoned his champagne flute on the table behind them. "I will see if I can wake Ichijou up. Not for your sake, but for mine. I need him to stop chasing after my fiancé. It doesn't offend me, but it could cause problems down the road."

"Masaki is straight," Kichijouji said, eyes wide.

Tatsuya noticed for the first time that Kichijouji's eyes were crimson. Red. Which is Masaki's favorite color. How fitting. Even the name Shinkurou means "deep crimson," at least with the kanji your parents used. If I believed in destiny, I would think you were made to be at Masaki's side. "Maybe Ichijou is. Maybe he isn't. He's followed around by an entire gaggle of Third High girls, but he doesn't date them. And the girl he does have a crush on lives on the opposite side of Japan, which conveniently keeps her far away. He can't actually date her. Have you ever considered that Ichijou only has a crush on Miyuki—who is obviously unattainable for him under these circumstances—so that he doesn't have to face his sexual deviation?"

Those crimson eyes flashed. "It's not a deviation," Kichijouji hissed. "Do a little research, why don't you? History, biology, psychology, sociology—take your pick."

"Very well. I shall." Tatsuya headed across the dance floor toward the far doors. "And when I can catch him alone, I'll give Ichijou a nudge. Without mentioning your name, of course." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a search engine. He could do research and plot his strategy at the same time.

Tatsuya was already outside in the cool night air before he realized his description of Ichijou Masaki as surrounded by girls who were crushing on him but in whom he had no interest matched everyone else's description of himself.

Thirty minutes into his research, Tatsuya became aware he was no longer alone. He was on a bench outside, near the water fountain but hidden by an archway of wisteria blooms covering one walkway. Thanks to his quick reading speed, he'd been through five psychology articles, one sociology article, three history articles, and one biology article. His assumptions about sexuality had taken an extreme diversion already, and he wasn't even done researching yet.

He was also feeling abashed. I went right along with my culture without any research or analysis of my own. I don't do that about other things, so why did I swallow our sexual mores so blindly?

Catching sight of his prey—one very dejected-looking Ichijou Masaki—Tatsuya stowed his phone and stepped under the archway, hiding himself behind the wisteria blooms.

Masaki crossed the expanse, noticed the bench, and headed for it. He plopped down with a groan and rubbed his face with both hands.

Tatsuya gave Masaki three minutes of silence to sort his thoughts. Then he stepped out and stood at the edge of the bench. "Ichijou Masaki."

Masaki jumped faintly, having clearly been deep in thought, and gazed up at him. A rueful smile crossed his lips. "Here to warn me off?"

"I know I don't need to," Tatsuya said. "I am well aware by this point that Miyuki only has eyes for me. I was surprised by her confession, but she's told me that she's been in love with me since I was thirteen." Just like Kichijouji with you, it would seem.

Masaki slouched on the bench. "Ah. I was never on her radar. No one was." His tone was flat.

Tatsuya dared to sit by him. Standing over him would make Masaki feel threatened or dominated. Facing him would make the conversation seem antagonistic. Only sitting beside Masaki would signal a normal conversation. "True. It is nothing that I planned for or intended. It just is." He sighed. "I admit I'm more affectionate toward her, even publically, than is typical for an older brother. But I don't have sexual feelings for her."

Masaki stared at Tatsuya, wide-eyed.

It was no wonder why. Tatsuya had just shared something personal, something that left him somewhat vulnerable. He was taking a risk, but it was part of his strategy for opening this topic. "You have an entire group of girls who follow you around."

"As do you," Masaki said.

"But you date none of them, or so I've been told."

"I've heard you don't date any of the ones following you around, either."

They gazed at each other, measuring each other up.

"Why not?" Tatsuya asked, taking the plunge.

Masaki shrugged. "I don't hit it off with any of them. A lot of them are pretty, but I'm looking for something I can't put my finger on. I'll just know it when I find it." He sighed. "Jouji says it'll have something to do with my personal values."

He actually answered the question! Tatsuya felt oddly pleased. He'd expected to be rebuffed. "And Miyuki has this element?"

"She does seem to have some of it. But it's also—" Masaki blushed. "Ah, never mind. I can't say that. It's inappropriate."

Tatsuya felt even more pleased. So you do have manners. I had wondered, especially when I first met you. "But you don't actually know yet if she has all of it."

Masaki paused, then nodded. "You?"

"I don't fall in love."

Masaki stared again.

"Perhaps one day I will explain that in more detail," Tatsuya said. "It's private."

"Understood." Masaki gazed into the distance, toward the fountain.

Tatsuya waited, but Masaki didn't push. Once again, he felt pleased. So you do have some level of respect for me, even if you've considered me your number one rival for three years now.

Silence stretched out between them.

"Someone already loves you," Tatsuya said. "I apologize for broaching such a private and personal topic, but because I can't avoid drawing parallels between certain parts of our lives, I have noticed this. You have your own Miyuki."

Masaki snapped his gaze back to Tatsuya. "I do?"

Tatsuya nodded. "It would be inappropriate for me to name the person in question; that is up to them to confess. But there is no denying it. Miyuki, although she is not perfect, has been a source of support and encouragement to me these last five years. She stands by me. And she always will."

"If I have someone like that, then it's not a girl," Masaki quipped.

Then he froze. A blush leaked into his cheeks, and his gaze was pinned on the grass.

"Yes, I know it's awkward," Tatsuya said, realizing he felt some degree of empathy. "Certainly Miyuki and I have both gotten the side-eye ever since we were engaged. My aunt's move to adopt me is transparent at best."

Masaki rubbed the tops of his thighs in a nervous gesture. "Even if I had those kinds of feelings for a boy—and I'm not saying I do—you know I could never act on them." His face was scarlet by this point. "I'm expected to marry a woman and have heirs. Most especially because I'm the Ichijou scion."

"So marry a woman and have heirs," Tatsuya said. "Many men, especially among the Ten Master Clans, have lovers on the side. My father did." He shrugged, not finding that to be too private to share. "When powerful clans and their bloodlines are at stake, marriages are often made for alliance, convenience, or pedigree, not love. Marry whom you have to. Keep the one you truly love as well."

"Is that not immoral?" Masaki stared at Tatsuya as though he'd never seen him before.

Tatsuya shrugged again. "Moral or immoral, it's just life. Political marriages don't inspire fidelity, and recent research I've done suggests that our view of sexuality and sexual morals is too black and white." As in, research I just began tonight. "Be open and transparent with both partners. Don't act in secret. Value both partners equally. That's all I can say without reading up on the topic more."

Masaki didn't reply.

Tatsuya didn't expect him to. Once Masaki got shocked enough, he tended to stutter and panic.

A good three or four minutes passed.

Masaki stood, his fists clenched and his head bowed. His blush had receded, but he still radiated tension. "You've . . . given me a lot to think about. I'm not sure what I feel about it, but . . . Well, thank you."

"It's no problem." Tatsuya stood as well. Inexplicably, he found himself wishing the gap between them would close now—now that Masaki had likely given up on Miyuki. Of course, it might just get wider instead. He could resent me forever for getting to marry Miyuki. But Masaki hadn't acted irritable with him so far. It's better for me to keep someone as strong as you on my side. 'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' But at the same time, I would prefer not to be enemies with you.

And then, without a second thought, without even knowing why, Tatsuya reached out and clasped Masaki's shoulder .

Masaki jerked slightly, given he hadn't been looking Tatsuya's direction, but he didn't pull away.

A weird feeling that Tatsuya didn't recognize filtered through him, faint but pleasant. He'd only felt something similar once before. What is this?

Masaki gave him a wry smile. "I look that terrible, huh? All right. I'll pull it together, then." He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, and then he headed back toward the hotel.

Tatsuya watched him go, noting the way Masaki assumed he needed to "man up," although that wasn't the message Tatsuya had meant to send. Well, that tells me something about what kind of father you have. He must be the manly-man type: tough, gritty, and filled with fortitude.

And, for the first time, Tatsuya found himself genuinely curious about the person of Ichijou Masaki and who he really was.

Masaki had intended to return to the ballroom. He even made it within ten feet of the ballroom doors. Then he veered left and entered the lobby instead.

Only a few students were in the lobby, clustered in groups and laughing. The chandeliers cast a warm glow on their hair and faces, as though the light existed only to illuminate their happiness.

Masaki walked past them, silent, trying to look as if he didn't feel burning pain.

The anguish was coming and going in waves, like the ocean. While he was talking to Tatsuya, Masaki had been distracted enough for the tide to go out. Now the tide had come back in. He had seen the finality of Miyuki's answer in her eyes. He had felt it radiating off her skin. And for the first time, he'd seen beyond her otherworldly beauty—the beauty so ethereal that it enchanted boys and girls alike—and registered the person underneath it. He had seen that her engagement to Tatsuya wasn't a political arrangement. She was in love with him. The determination she felt to see the marriage through was like a steel cable running through her body.

Masaki headed down the hallway on the far side of the clerks' desk. There were conference rooms there. He found an empty one, slipped inside, and shut the door.

For a moment, Masaki leaned against the door, his face tilted upward. He closed his eyes, watching the light pierce his eyelids. He felt the burning sensation of tears, and with no one to witness them, he didn't stop them. He finally understood the phrase "stabbing pain" in an emotional context. Flashes of agony exploded outward like lightning bolts firing out of his heart and through his lungs.

It took five minutes for him to vent the pain fully. He could only be glad the conference table had a box of tissues on it.

Once Masaki was calm, he sat at the table and stared at the little pile of wadded tissues he'd created. He understood the biology of crying. Human beings were made to cry because it triggered a chemical release in the brain—one that granted pain relief. He sank into that relief.

Only then did Tatsuya's words return to him: "You have your own Miyuki."

"Jouji," Masaki whispered. The instant Tatsuya had said it, and Masaki had realized whom Tatsuya meant, he had seen the potential truth of it. It made sense. A lot of sense. But Masaki would have to see Jouji in person to verify it. He wanted to look into Jouji's eyes.

However, that didn't change the fact that three years' worth of intense emotions for Miyuki had just been ripped right out of him.

Masaki took deep breaths as a wave of agony seared through him again. He kept breathing deeply until it passed. He felt certain he would have nightmares that night. But there was nothing he could do to hang on. The door had been slammed in his face, and he knew he was the kind of person who would move on now. It wasn't in his nature to stand still. Even at his highest level of competitiveness, he always retained the ability to recognize when a match was over.

Perhaps the thing that hurt the most was the revelation that no match had been possible in the first place.

For a moment, Masaki wanted to hate Tatsuya. Forever. He wanted to pray Tatsuya's marriage to Miyuki would fail. He wanted his father to apply all the Ichijou Clan's power to stopping the marriage in the first place. And he never wanted to see Shiba Tatsuya's face ever again.

The moment drifted away from Masaki, nothing but vapor.

Masaki stared out the window into the night. The moon, nearly full, hung low in the sky, beginning its accent. Venus shone nearby, its light brighter than the stars.

More of Tatsuya's words returned to him: "It is nothing that I planned for or intended. It just is."

Masaki sighed, expelling his remaining anger. Tatsuya's lack of agency and romantic interest could have made Masaki even more miserable. An uninterested man gets to marry Miyuki? But Masaki found it had the opposite effect. It made it hurt less. It brought Masaki some relief to know Tatsuya hadn't been scheming in the background, planning a romantic heist.

"Whatever will be, will be," Masaki muttered. He gathered up the wadded tissues and headed for the door.

He paused by the trashcan, tossing away the tissues. He wished he could toss away his heartbreak, too. But the anguish would pass, and he knew it. Neither one of his parents had married their first loves, and they'd still found happiness. Masaki just had to keep breathing through the waves of pain.

Masaki left the room, shutting the door behind him. He shut the door on the image of Shiba Tatsuya as his rival. He shut the door on the chapter of life known as high school—several months early.

And as Masaki walked down the hall toward the elevators, in his mind Shiba Tatsuya was simply a fellow magician. A fellow magician that Masaki would likely be fighting beside many, many times in the future.

Masaki decided he could live with that.