Kaguya Needs to Love
Back and forth - that was the way she had been taught to stir tea. With anxious but distinct motions, Kaguya swept the stirrer to and fro within the cup. The tip never touched the edge. That was improper etiquette, and she knew because she had been taught well.
While the student council would have met together and set about their respective tasks, on this particular, unimpressive day, Iino was out on hall monitor duty, Ishigami was out buying the latest copy of Momokan, and Fujiwara was out on a school wide Tabletop Games Club excursion.
The room stood eerily silent. It was as if a thousand peering eyes watched from every nook of the room, ready to pass judgement on every move. Kaguya could not help but feel a little unlucky. Normally she would have found the hovering presence of her best friend an annoying hindrance to her schemes, but now she wondered if she would have found solace in being in the same room with more than just Miyuki.
The mistresses of the estate never taught her the matters of the heart well.
All she could think to do now was stir her cup of tea, but she knew that the tea would turn cold and bitter before time would pass. Maybe she would occupy herself with another menial task, but then the eyes that watched over her would snicker. What a fool, they would chant. Fool, fool, fool! Here lies a girl who could do everything but did nothing at all.
A thousand haunting voices tinged with guilt. Kaguya could not move an inch more without losing composure.
I don't have to speak to him, anyway. I won't gain anything from this. I won't gain anything from trying. All I will do is hurt everyone over and over again.
Everyone who ever loved her in her childhood left with scars in their hearts. This would be no different. It would be best to strengthen her resolve, she thought, and wall herself off in her nest of thorns. Nobody can get hurt if they never get close.
Yet what was this twinge in her heart?
I'll just sit here and wait till Fujiwara gets back. Then I'll talk to her about her dog. She loves talking about her dog. Don't get too close to Miyuki. The last person I want to hurt is him. This is to maintain the distance between us. Please, let me speak to Fujiwara.
But something was intensely, stubbornly different this time. A youthful rush of emotion, like a thousand white doves breaking into the autumn sky, swept through Kaguya. An unimaginable warmth and yearning filled her heart to the brim.
"Pres," she spilled.
Kaguya could feel Miyuki stiffen. For a fleeting moment, she considered uttering not a word more, but the very idea brought on an inexplicable sense of defeat. The room seemed to grow quieter than before, as if to make space for Kaguya's words. The old air conditioning unit whirred, ready to spring into a cacophony of temperature regulation. It, too, seemed to ridicule Kaguya, threatening to betray her inadequacy should she fail to speak in the next few moments that followed.
"Do you...want some tea?"
"Ah, um, sure."
"...Thank you."
It was as if he almost forgot.
Kaguya felt a sense of relief wash over her, like a warm shower on a chilly winter day. The wishful possibility that Miyuki might have been as tense as she was carried her spirits a little higher. The room seemed at ease, as if it too had been served a cup of tea.
The room pushed Kaguya towards the President's desk. Perhaps 'pushed' was too strong a word - she followed the flow of the room. With both hands supporting the saucer upon which a cup of hot, fragrant lavender tea rested, she strode carefully towards Miyuki. This was a conversation in itself, the room a silent river.
"Thank you." Miyuki said again, as he diligently accepted the tea, in fear of betraying his inner bewilderment at this sudden change in atmosphere.
Is this okay?
In an bold act of defiance, perhaps spurred on by her prior rush of adrenaline, Kaguya switched the air conditioning off. The old machine grumbled in response. The flaps shuddered as it grew quieter and quieter in defeat.
With slow, but gentle steps, she paced towards the sizeable ornate windows behind the President's chair. And again, with slow, but gentle movements, she unlatched the windows and pressed them forward.
A cool breeze rustled their hair. A stronger gust of wind brought with it the nostalgic scent of rain. Petrichor, Kaguya recalled. An earthly scent produced when rain falls on dry soil. The afternoon drizzle had not abated, it seemed. Together they watched the last students mill about the grand square below. Umbrellas streamed out from the building just before the entrance, a mesmerising medley of colour on this dull, overcast evening.
Just this much is okay, right?
The 18th-century styled street lamps flickered on around the square below. Soon the campus became enveloped in a soft, homely light. Perhaps it was the lavender tea, but Kaguya felt a surge of steely calm that had been absent for the longest time.
Please let me do this much.
She wondered if Miyuki felt the same, whether spring had bloomed in his heart like it did for her. But it did not matter. Kaguya had come to the realisation over time, and her heart blossomed with happiness.
All her life she had yearned to share a mutual affection with others, to meet with friends and experience everything that any childhood deserves. All she met with were hurt hearts and enemies. She had resolved to never let anyone grow attached to her, so that she could no longer hurt them. But now, before her, stood her chance! Her opportunity to throw away the consequences of her upbringing bit by bit and start anew. Regardless of whether her feelings would be reciprocated, she could try. Strength comes not just from being loved, but from loving as well.
A first love was all she needed. She thanked Miyuki from the bottom of her heart, a bottomless well of gratitude.
On this melancholy midsummer night, Kaguya resolved to try a little more.