A/N:

I'm really sorry for the delay. My e-mail service somehow became convinced that all my ff-net alerts are spam, and I assumed that, as no one is subscribing, there is no rush. (Plus, it took me forever to fix that cover image, and now it turns out it doesn't fit! Argh!)

The sport Niwa and Nakajima are meant to be doing involves getting to a certain location on a map as soon as possible while catching and 'incapacitating' members of other team(s) on the way. My dictionary says it's 'orienteering', but I'm not convinced it's even a word. And rogaining (the way it's described on Wiki) doesn't quite fit the description, but at least it's done by teams of two.

=4=

Aspiring freshmen treasurers number six and seven ran away from him not-quite-metaphorically screaming, but Kaoru wasn't overly concerned, even though he had only kicked out numbers four and five an hour before: the former, upon hearing that the aggregate extracurricular activity budget revision required information from the latest Student Council report, actually went to the Student Council office and came back half an hour later claiming the door was locked; and the latter, having misinterpreted the source of Kaoru's displeasure, ran to bother the new President and his two assistants/secretaries/spies on the court, of all places. After that, Kaoru had to spend almost an hour on the phone, trying to squieeze some useful information out of Narose's desperate flirty blathering (by casually admitting that Niwa hadn't been particularly famous for handling the paperwork timely, and he hadn't had a club to run – while very carefully not implying that Niwa had also never struggled with actual schoolwork and had been elected for possessing a true knack for leadership, rather than just being generally well-liked, in the first place). And, judging by the expression on their utterly clueless faces, the next two nameless freshmen didn't realise they were expected to key in the relevant information, not stare at the screens blankly waiting for him to finish the conversation and spell it out for them.

With a sigh Kaoru concluded that just doing it on his own would be significantly easier than struggling to deal with those who just couldn't keep up – and started to work on the required documents himself. It would likely take him a while, but after nearly a lifetime of 'I-didn't-mean-to-wake you-up's from a certain morning person creeping to the bathroom at precisely 6:30, Kaoru was well-acquainted with lack of sleep. What really bothered him was the cold.

It was certainly not the first night Kaoru had had to spend in the Treasury, so he wasn't sure why he had never noticed it before, but, apparently, after curfew the central heating in the administrative building shut down, and with every passing hour the temperature dropped a few more degrees.

By 4 a.m. Kaoru was shivering constantly, his fingers wouldn't work properly and the report was only half-done. He briefly considered confronting the new dorm-leader, but quickly realised that, even though the rule was generally disregarded, no student was technically allowed to be outside the dorms at night; not to mention the man hated him for an unspecified reason that may have something to do with the unfortunate accident involving a few prominent members of the karate club back at the first year. So he made sure to grab his warmest coat before heading back to the office in the evening, not that it helped much.

Thankfully, by the end of the second night the most time-consuming pieces of paperwork for the month were done: struggling through his morning classes sluggishly, Kaoru vaguely realised he likely couldn't take one more night in his freezing office. By lunchtime he was still freezing, his throat scratchy and his nose running, and he was starting to feel miserable enough to finally pull out his phone and dial Shinomiya's number, hoping he might know something about post-curfew heating. The phone was answered by someone else's soft voice, which informed him politely but firmly that Koji was in the middle of an important competition and was not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency. Iwai, Kaoru realised confusedly: he wasn't sure where exactly the secretive artist had ended up, but Osaka Medical College definitely didn't have an Art department. For some reason, the thought made Kaoru feel suddenly queasy, and he decided to forego lunch in favour of visiting the infirmary before the afternoon classes started. He was secretly very glad that the new doctor (Matsuoka was probably still on some tropic island, helping his boyfriend spend the compensation he had received from Suzubishi, or whatever was left of it after said boyfriend had had bought Matsuoka out of kidnapping charges) refused to give him any medicine, insisting he just needed to sleep it off.

After what felt like no time at all, Kaoru's phone chirped with a new message and started downloading a tiny image of Shinomiya, a golden medal lying innocuously over his pristine-white kimono, flanked by two familiar figures clad in identical khaki pants and grey t-shirts with nearly indiscernible emblem of National Defense Academy on the front; the first figure was hugging the exasperated-looking archer and smiling like he had no care in the world, the second adjusting his menacingly gleaming glasses with one hand, the other firmly clasped over a dark blue sleeve of presumably Iwai Takuto trying to get away from the camera.

Kaoru resisted the urge to throw the phone into the wall and let his head fall back on the pillow, inwardly cursing Niwa, the grinning idiot. The bastard probably didn't even understand how lucky he was, with Nakajima consciously choosing to be his lieutenant. Kaoru, on the other hand, sometimes couldn't help wondering, what if Omi's Japanese had been just a little bit better, or the average level of English in their class just a little higher; would they still…

His phone came to life once again and started ringing insistently:

"You call to wish Shinimiya good luck, but not us? I'm wounded, Kaoru-chan!"

"Fuck off, Niwa! And that's not why I called."

"Then why did you?"

"None of your business. I didn't call you, did I?"

"Well, Shinimiya's got a seminar on traditional martial arts in modern youths' upbringing or something; rogaining, on the other hand, won't even start till after dark, so you may just as well tell me what's up."

"It's nothing. Just a minor technical malfunction, forget it."

"What sort or malfunction? Maybe I can help. Well, I can ask Hide."

"Tell him to abandon his air of omnipotence and summon his guard-dog to handle it, like he always does," Nakajima's deep voice promptly supplied from the background.

"Yes, sure," Kaoru scoffed. "Good luck, Senpais."

"Thanks, I guess, but – seriously, Saionji, is everything OK? You don't sound like yourself."

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I'm fine. I was sleeping, that's all!"

"Sleeping? At seven p.m.? And, wait, don't you have a council meeting today, or did Narose cancel those, the lazy arse?"

"Shit, the meeting," Kaoru moaned, "Is it really seven already?"

"18:48. You can probably still make it. But, Queen, you do realise this discussion is not over, don't you?"

"Whatever."

Kaoru dropped the phone on the bed, dragged himself from under the covers and stumbled into the bathroom. Taking in his clearly slept-in clothes and his hair sticking limply to his sweaty forehead, he resignedly realised he was disgusted by the very idea of being seen like this in public; but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it in the next four minutes.

Having splashed some water on his face (with very little effect on his questionable state of wakefulness), he pulled a sweater over his wrinkled shirt, tied his hair into some semblance of pony-pail and set off to the Student Council conference room as fast as his shaking limbs would allow.