Chapter 2

The student council office was exactly as it should be: orderly, efficient, and completely under Azul's control. Four council members sat around the polished conference table, their notebooks open, pens ready. Secretary Watanabe had already distributed copies of the agenda. Treasurer Yamamoto had his calculator positioned precisely beside his notepad. Vice President Tanaka waited with the respectful attention he always showed during official meetings.

This was Azul's domain. Here, her authority was unquestionable.

"First item," she began, her voice carrying the crisp efficiency that had become her trademark. "Budget allocation for the spring cultural festival. Yamamoto, your report."

"Total budget approved at 180,000 yen," he replied promptly. "I've broken down expenses by category as requested."

Azul nodded, making notes in her leather-bound planner. Everything proceeded exactly as she had planned. Questions were answered efficiently. Problems were addressed with practical solutions. Her council members responded to her direction with the kind of seamless cooperation that came from months of working under her leadership.

She was good at this. More than good, she was exceptional. These meetings ran like clockwork because she made sure they did. Every detail was accounted for, every possibility considered in advance.

"Second item: venue scheduling conflicts with the drama club," she continued. "I've reviewed the booking calendar and identified three possible solutions. We can- "

The words stopped.

Azul stared down at her notes, her mind suddenly blank. What were the three solutions? She had spent two hours yesterday analyzing the scheduling conflict, creating a detailed comparison of alternatives. She knew this information perfectly.

So why couldn't she remember it?

"President?" Watanabe's voice was gentle, questioning.

The pause lasted maybe three seconds. To her council members, it probably looked like she was simply organizing her thoughts. No one looked concerned or confused. They waited patiently for her to continue.

But to Azul, those three seconds felt endless. Her heart rate spiked as if she had forgotten something crucial during a final exam. Heat crept up her neck, and she had to fight the urge to shuffle through her papers frantically.

"Option one," she said finally, the information returning as suddenly as it had disappeared. "Move the drama club's rehearsal to the smaller practice room. Option two: split our cultural festival setup into two phases. Option three: request extended access to the gymnasium."

The meeting continued smoothly after that. Her council members discussed each option with their usual thoroughness. Decisions were made efficiently. By all external measures, the meeting was another success.

But Azul couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Like a tiny crack had appeared in glass, invisible to everyone else, but impossible for her to ignore.

When the meeting ended and her members filed out to return to their afternoon classes, Azul remained seated at the conference table. She stared at her perfectly organized notes, trying to understand what had just happened.

She never forgot things. Never. Her reputation was built on being prepared for every situation, having answers to every question before it was asked. Students and teachers alike relied on her consistency, her competence, her complete control over every aspect of school administration.

That three-second pause felt like the first sign of a crack she couldn't afford to have.

Azul gathered her papers with more force than necessary and stepped outside the council office. The water dispenser in the hallway provided a perfect excuse to compose herself before returning to work.

As she filled her cup, voices drifted from around the corner. Two second-year girls, walking slowly as they talked.

"Did you see President Hayashi's presentation in morning assembly?" one was saying. "She's so confident. I wish I could speak like that in front of everyone."

"She's intimidating though," the other replied. "Like, respect and fear kind of thing. I don't think I've ever seen her smile. Not really."

"Do you think she even has time for normal stuff? Like dating or hanging out with friends?"

"President Hayashi? Dating?" The first girl laughed. "Can you imagine? She probably schedules her free time in fifteen-minute blocks."

"Still, she must get lonely. All that perfection has to be exhausting."

Their voices faded as they continued down the hallway, leaving Azul standing alone beside the water dispenser with a cup she had forgotten to drink from.

The words shouldn't have hurt. The girls hadn't been cruel or malicious. They were expressing genuine admiration mixed with natural intimidation. Most students felt the same way about her, and she had always considered that a sign of successful leadership.

But something about hearing her life summarized so accurately, the isolation hidden behind competence, the loneliness disguised as authority, made her chest feel tight.

No one sees her beyond the perfect mask.

The thought appeared unbidden, carrying more truth than she wanted to acknowledge. Because yes, that was exactly right. To everyone around her, she was President Hayashi first, last, and always. A role rather than a person. A function rather than someone with needs or desires or moments of uncertainty.

Even her council members, who worked closely with her every day, saw only the polished performance she delivered in meetings like the one that had just ended. They respected her efficiency, relied on her leadership, admired her competence.

But did any of them actually know her?

Azul finally took a sip of water, trying to wash away the uncomfortable realization. She had built this reputation deliberately, crafted this image with careful precision. It was exactly what she had wanted to achieve.

So why did it suddenly feel like a prison?

In Class 3-B, the afternoon sunlight streaming through tall windows couldn't quite reach Eua's desk in the back corner. She had positioned herself there deliberately, as far from the teacher's direct line of sight as possible. Her head rested on her folded arms, dark hair falling like a curtain around her face.

To anyone watching, she appeared to be sleeping. Her breathing was slow and steady, her body completely relaxed. But her eyes were open just enough to track the teacher's movement around the classroom, calculating exactly how long she could maintain this position without being noticed.

Mathematics had never been her strongest subject, but she was excellent at the mathematics of minimal effort. Fifteen minutes of apparent attention at the beginning of class, followed by strategic positioning and careful timing, usually bought her forty minutes of peaceful rest.

Today, however, her calculations proved imperfect.

"Nakamura."

The sharp call of her name cut through her drowsy contentment. Eua lifted her head slowly, blinking as if genuinely surprised to find herself in a classroom full of students.

"Yes, sensei?"

"Perhaps you'd like to solve problem number seven on the board?"

Eua glanced at the blackboard, where several equations waited in neat rows. She had no idea what any of them meant, having missed the entire explanation while crafting her napping strategy.

"I was... taking detailed mental notes," she said, her voice carrying the kind of innocent confusion that suggested she genuinely believed this was a reasonable excuse.

Several students snickered quietly. The teacher's expression grew more severe.

"Mental notes. How thorough of you." His tone could have frozen water. "And what conclusions did your detailed mental notes reach about quadratic equations?"

"Uh... mathematical conclusions," Eua replied helpfully.

This time the snickers were louder, and someone in the front row actually laughed out loud. Eua could feel the familiar ripple of amusement that always accompanied her interactions with frustrated teachers. She had become something of a classroom entertainment, though she had never particularly intended that role.

"Stand in the hallway," the teacher ordered, his patience clearly exhausted. "Perhaps the fresh air will help improve your focus."

"Certainly, sensei."

Eua gathered her things with unhurried movements, as if being kicked out of class was a perfectly reasonable way to spend her afternoon. She bowed politely to the teacher, nodded to her classmates, and walked toward the door with the kind of dignity that made her punishment look almost elegant.

The moment she stepped into the empty hallway, her expression shifted from sleepy confusion to quiet satisfaction. Standing in the hallway was hardly punishment, it was liberation.

She glanced both ways, confirming that no other teachers or hall monitors were nearby. The afternoon sun cast long rectangles of light across the polished floor, and the building held the peaceful quiet that settled over schools during class periods.

Instead of taking her assigned position outside the classroom door, Eua began walking. Her steps were soft, purposeful, carrying her away from mathematics and toward something infinitely more interesting. The spring cultural festival was coming up, posters already plastered the hallways, rehearsals echoing faintly from clubrooms, and Eua knew that meant one thing: Azul would be buried in paperwork. If there was anywhere to find her in the middle of class, it was the student council office.

The student council office was on the third floor, positioned strategically near the main administrative offices. Eua had never had official business there, student council activities and chronic rule-breaking rarely intersected in productive ways, but she knew exactly where to find it.

She paused outside the door, listening. The sound of shuffling papers and the soft scratch of pen on paper confirmed her suspicion. Azul was inside, working alone while her council members attended their regular classes. She had probably been excused from class specifically to prepare festival paperwork, a privilege granted only to the student council president.

Eua turned the handle slowly and stepped inside.

The office was exactly what she had expected: immaculate organization, carefully labeled files, a conference table that looked like it was polished daily. And there, behind a desk covered with neat stacks of documents, sat Azul.

She looked up when the door opened, her expression shifting immediately to sharp alertness. For just a moment, Eua caught something that might have been surprise, or maybe even pleasure, before Azul's professional mask snapped back into place.

"What are you doing here?" Azul demanded, her voice carrying the authority that made most students mumble apologies and retreat immediately.

Eua closed the door behind her with deliberate care. "Visiting."

"This is the student council office. Students don't visit here without appointments or official business."

"Don't they?" Eua moved further into the room, her eyes taking in the organized chaos of school administration. "It seems very... presidential."

"Nakamura." Azul's tone carried a warning. "Explain why you're not in class."

"I was asked to leave," Eua said honestly. "Standing in the hallway seemed less productive than... this."

"You ditched your punishment to come here?"

"I elevated my educational experience to include student government observation."

Azul stared at her for a long moment, clearly trying to decide whether this creative explanation made the situation better or worse.

"You can't just wander around the school during class time," she said finally. "There are rules about unsupervised students, policies about- "

"About what?" Eua moved closer to the desk, noting how Azul's grip tightened on her pen. "About students talking to the student council president during office hours?"

"These aren't office hours. This is administrative work time."

"You work too hard," Eua said, the observation slipping out softer than her usual teasing tone.

Something shifted in Azul's expression, just for a moment, like clouds passing over sunlight. But before Eua could identify what she had seen, the professional mask returned.

"My work schedule isn't your concern."

"Isn't it?" Without invitation, Eua perched herself on the edge of Azul's desk, careful not to disturb any of the organized papers. "When was the last time you took a proper break?"

"I take breaks."

"Scheduled breaks don't count."

"All breaks are scheduled. That's how time management works."

Eua studied Azul's face, noting the small signs of strain that would be invisible to anyone who wasn't looking carefully. The slight tension around her eyes, the way her shoulders held just a little too much stiffness, the careful control that suggested she was working harder than she wanted to admit to maintain her composure.

"You know," Eua said conversationally, "most people would consider surprise visits from notorious rule-breakers a form of stress relief."

"Most people would be wrong."

"Are you sure?" Eua leaned slightly closer, noting how Azul's breathing changed almost imperceptibly. "You seem less tense already."

"I seem less tense because I'm planning how to properly document this violation for your disciplinary file."

"How thorough of you, President." Eua's smile widened.

"Stop calling me that when we're alone."

The words slipped out before Azul could stop them, carrying more honesty than she had probably intended. Eua felt something warm unfold in her chest at the admission.

"What should I call you then?"

"You should call me nothing, because you shouldn't be here in the first place."

"But I am here," Eua pointed out reasonably. "And you haven't actually told me to leave yet."

"I'm telling you now. Return to your classroom immediately."

"Are you sure that's what you want?"

The question hung between them, loaded with implications that made the office feel smaller, more intimate. Azul's eyes met Eua's directly, and for a moment something passed between them that had nothing to do with student council authority or disciplinary procedures.

Then the door handle rattled.

Eua moved faster than Azul would have thought possible, slipping off the desk and dropping to the floor beside it in one fluid motion. She disappeared beneath the heavy wooden furniture just as the door opened to admit Secretary Watanabe.

"President?" Watanabe stepped into the office, carrying a folder. "I have the updated roster for next week's committee meetings."

Azul fought to keep her expression neutral, hyper-aware of Eua's presence inches away from her feet. "Thank you. You can leave it on the conference table."

"Should I wait while you review it? In case there are scheduling conflicts?"

"No need. I'll examine it thoroughly and contact you if changes are required."

Watanabe nodded and placed the folder exactly where Azul had indicated. "The drama club representative also asked about venue confirmation. Should I tell them you'll have an answer by tomorrow?"

"Yes. Tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

"Perfect. I'll let them know."

The conversation felt endless, each polite exchange stretching like elastic while Eua remained hidden beneath the desk. Azul could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, could feel sweat beginning to gather at the base of her neck despite the office's comfortable temperature.

Finally, Watanabe bowed politely and left, closing the door with a soft click.

Silence settled over the office like a blanket. Azul stared at the closed door, processing what had just happened, what could have happened if Eua hadn't moved so quickly.

Then, from somewhere near her feet, came the sound of barely contained laughter.

"That," Eua's voice drifted up from beneath the desk, "was incredibly close."

"That was incredibly stupid," Azul corrected, though she could feel her own laughter threatening to bubble up. "What if she had seen you?"

"She didn't see me."

"She could have."

"But she didn't."

The laughter started small, just a gentle shake of Azul's shoulders. But it grew as the absurdity of the situation sank in, the student council president hiding a notorious rule-breaker beneath her desk like some kind of ridiculous romantic comedy.

When Eua's laughter joined hers, soft and warm and completely unguarded, Azul felt something ease in her chest. The stress from her morning meeting, the uncomfortable realization about her reputation, the constant pressure of maintaining perfect control, all of it seemed to dissolve in the face of shared absurdity.

"You can come out now," she said finally.

But Eua didn't stand up. Instead, she shifted position, settling more comfortably on the floor. Her head came to rest against Azul's leg, casual and trusting in a way that made Azul's breath catch.

"This is nice," Eua murmured, her voice carrying the contentment of someone who had found exactly where they wanted to be.

Azul looked down at the top of Eua's head, at the dark hair that looked impossibly soft in the afternoon light filtering through the office windows. Without conscious decision, her hand moved to touch it.

The strands felt like silk between her fingers, warm and real and completely unlike the cold perfection she maintained everywhere else in her life. Eua made a small sound of contentment, pressing closer to the gentle touch.

"We can't do this here," Azul said quietly, but her fingers continued their soft movement through Eua's hair.

"Do what?"

"This. Us."

"You mean our relationship?" Eua teased gently, a lazy smile in her voice. "You worry too much."

The honesty in Eua's voice made Azul's chest tighten, from the fear of what it meant to hold something so fragile in a world that demanded perfection from her.

"Your teacher is going to notice you're missing," Azul said instead of trying to answer the impossible question.

"Probably."

"You'll get in more trouble."

"Almost certainly."

"It doesn't bother you?"

Eua was quiet for a long moment, her head still resting against Azul's leg. When she spoke, her voice was softer than usual, less playful.

"The only trouble that bothers me is the kind that would keep me away from you."

The words hit Azul like a physical impact, carrying more weight than any confession she had ever heard. Because this wasn't a casual admission or playful flirtation. This was truth, offered without expectation or demand.

"Eua..."

"I know. It's complicated. It's probably impossible. But I can't seem to care about that when I'm sitting here with you."

Azul stared down at her, processing the magnitude of what had just been said. In the span of twenty minutes, her perfectly controlled afternoon had transformed into something unrecognizable. Her office, her sanctuary of order and authority, had become the setting for the kind of intimacy she had never allowed herself to want.

It was terrifying.

It was also the most alive she had felt in years.

"You really should go back," she said finally, though her hand never stopped its gentle movement through Eua's hair.

"I know."

But neither of them moved. Outside, the muffled drone of a teacher’s lecture drifted through the thin walls, punctuated by the shuffle of footsteps in the corridor. Inside the council room, even the clock on the wall seemed hesitant, its ticking swallowed by the quiet.

Azul felt the edges of her discipline blur around Eua’s presence- the faint warmth of her sleeve brushing hers, the steady rise and fall of her breathing. It wasn’t safety, not certainty, but something far more dangerous.

And yet, she stayed.