Chapter 3

The student council office had been transformed into an impromptu lunch spot, the polished conference table now scattered with convenience store bento boxes and juice cartons. Yamamoto had claimed the president's chair and was spinning in slow circles while eating onigiri with theatrical dramatic flair. Yamamoto was attempting to balance his chopsticks on his nose, much to Watanabe's obvious amusement.

Azul sat at her usual spot at the head of the table, but instead of joining the casual atmosphere, she had spread budget reports across her section of the table. Her lunch, a neat bento her mother had prepared, sat mostly untouched while she made careful notations in red ink.

"President," Watanabe said, reaching over to tap Azul's pen. "You know food tastes better when it's actually eaten, right?"

"I'm reviewing the equipment requests for next week's committee meetings," Azul replied without looking up. "These forms need to be submitted by tomorrow."

"The forms that were submitted three days early and already approved?" Yamamoto asked, still balancing his chopsticks. "Those forms?"

Azul paused, realizing he was correct. She had finished processing those requests yesterday afternoon. So why was she reviewing them again?

"I'm double-checking for accuracy," she said, which was technically true, even if it wasn't the real reason she was avoiding the casual lunch conversation.

"You double-checked them yesterday," Yamamoto pointed out, spinning his chair to face her directly. "And triple-checked them this morning. At some point, the equipment requests are going to be more accurate than actual reality."

"There's no such thing as being too thorough."

"There absolutely is," Watanabe said with the gentle firmness of someone who had known Azul long enough to challenge her workaholic tendencies. "It's called obsessing, and it leads to stress ulcers and premature gray hair."

"I don't have gray hair."

"Yet," all three council members said in unison, then burst into laughter at their synchronized response.

Despite herself, Azul felt her lips twitch with suppressed amusement. These lunch breaks had become a weekly tradition over the past semester, and she had to admit that her council members had developed an easy camaraderie that made their work more efficient. They respected her authority during official meetings, but moments like this revealed the friendship that had grown beneath their professional relationship.

"Seriously though," Tanaka said, setting down his chopsticks and leaning forward. "When did you last have a lunch where you didn't review something? Like, actually focused on eating and talking and normal human activities?"

Azul considered the question, trying to remember. Last week she had worked through lunch preparing for the budget meeting. The week before that, she had spent the time organizing files for the upcoming school festival. Before that...

"I can't remember," she admitted.

"That's not healthy," Watanabe said, her tone shifting from teasing to genuine concern. "You're going to burn out if you keep working at this pace."

"I'm fine."

"You forgot a basic scheduling detail in yesterday's meeting," Yamamoto observed. "You never forget things."

The comment hit closer to home than Azul was comfortable acknowledging. Because yes, there had been other small moments lately, minor slips in her usual perfection that no one else seemed to notice but that felt significant to her.

"Everyone has momentary lapses," she said.

"Everyone except you," Tanaka replied. "That's kind of your thing. Perfect memory, perfect organization, perfect everything."

"Perfect is exhausting," Watanabe added softly. "Even for you."

Before Azul could formulate a response, movement outside the window caught her attention. Through the glass, she could see the courtyard where students clustered in small groups, eating lunch and enjoying the warm spring afternoon.

Beneath one of the cherry trees that lined the courtyard, someone was lying in the grass with complete disregard for their uniform or proper posture. Dark hair spread across the ground like a fan, one arm thrown over their eyes to block the sunlight. Even from this distance, the figure was unmistakably Eua.

Azul found herself staring, taking in details she shouldn't have been able to see from the third floor. The way Eua's shirt had come partially untucked. The way her tie hung loose around her collar. The way she looked completely at peace despite being surrounded by the controlled chaos of lunchtime campus activity.

There was something mesmerizing about the contrast, hundreds of students following predictable patterns of social interaction while Eua simply existed apart from it all, unbothered by expectations or schedules or the opinions of anyone watching.

"Earth to President," Yamamoto's voice cut through her observation. "You're staring."

Azul jerked her attention back to the table, heat rising in her cheeks. "I wasn't staring. I was observing campus activity."

"Observing Nakamura Eua specifically," Watanabe said, following Azul's previous gaze toward the window. "That's interesting."

"It's not interesting. It's administrative oversight."

"Right," Tanaka said with obvious skepticism. "Because monitoring individual students' lunch behavior is definitely part of your presidential duties."

"Some students require more monitoring than others."

"True," Watanabe agreed, settling back in her chair with the expression of someone preparing to enjoy a good story. "Nakamura is legendary for creative rule interpretation. Remember when she convinced the gym teacher that sleeping counted as meditation, which was technically a form of physical wellness?"

"Or when she turned that detention into an impromptu concert and somehow got the music teacher to count it as extra credit," Yamamoto added.

"She's certainly... unique," Tanaka said diplomatically. "I've never understood how someone can drift through school so carelessly. Doesn't she worry about grades or college prep or future planning?"

"Maybe that's the appeal," Watanabe mused, glancing back toward the window. "No stress, no pressure, no expectations. Just existing without constantly worrying about performance or reputation."

"Sounds irresponsible," Yamamoto said.

"Sounds peaceful," Watanabe countered.

Azul listened to the conversation with growing discomfort. They were talking about Eua like she was some kind of fascinating specimen, a curiosity to be analyzed and categorized. None of them seemed to consider that there might be more complexity beneath Eua's carefree exterior.

But then again, how could they? Azul was probably the only person in school who had seen beyond the surface performance of lazy indifference.

"I wonder what it's like," Tanaka said thoughtfully, "to care so little about what other people think."

"Probably lonely," Azul said before she could stop herself.

The other three turned to look at her with varying degrees of surprise. She had spoken with more feeling than the casual observation warranted, revealing more of her thoughts than she had intended.

"Lonely?" Watanabe asked. "Why lonely?"

Azul scrambled to find an explanation that wouldn't reveal too much. "When you don't engage with social expectations, you also don't engage with social connections. It's... isolating."

"Huh," Yamamoto said. "I never thought about it that way. I always assumed people like Nakamura were just naturally antisocial."

"Maybe she's not antisocial. Maybe she's just... selective."

The words came out softer than Azul had intended, carrying implications she wasn't ready to examine. Because that was exactly what Eua was- selective. Careful about who she trusted with her real self. Protective of her inner world in ways that most people mistook for indifference.

"You've given this a lot of thought," Tanaka observed.

"I've given most behavioral patterns a lot of thought. It's part of understanding how to work with different personality types."

Watanabe laughed softly. "Looking out for your greatest campus enemy? That's a side of you we don't see in meetings."

Greatest campus enemy. The phrase sat uncomfortably in Azul's chest. Because from the outside, that was exactly what their relationship looked like. Public confrontations about uniform violations, disciplinary meetings that never seemed to result in behavioral changes, an ongoing battle between order and chaos that played out for the entertainment of other students.

If only they knew the truth.

Three months earlier

The rain had started during fifth period and showed no signs of stopping. By the time the final bell rang, water streamed down classroom windows in thick rivulets, and students clustered in the main entrance, waiting for the downpour to ease.

Azul had stayed late to organize files for the following week's meetings, working in the comfortable quiet of the empty student council office. The sound of rain against glass was oddly soothing, creating a peaceful atmosphere for detailed administrative work.

When she finally finished, the building was nearly deserted. Most students had either braved the weather or been picked up by patient parents. The hallways echoed with her footsteps as she made her way toward the main entrance.

A soft sound stopped her near the old music wing, not quite crying, but definitely distress. It was coming from the direction of the old music room, the one that was rarely used for actual classes.

Azul paused, torn between her natural instinct to help and her practical desire to get home before the rain got worse. The sound came again, weaker this time, and her decision was made.

The music room door was slightly ajar, letting a thin bar of light spill into the darkened hallway. Azul pushed it open carefully and stepped inside.

Eua was curled on the old leather couch, but this wasn't her usual casual napping position. She was shivering despite the room's warmth, her face flushed with obvious fever. Her uniform was even more disheveled than usual, her hair damp with sweat.

"Nakamura?" Azul called softly.

Eua's eyes opened slowly, unfocused and glassy with illness. It took her several moments to recognize who was standing in the doorway.

"President," she whispered, her voice rough. "Come to scold me for unauthorized room usage?"

"You're sick."

"Very observant."

"You should be home. In bed. With proper medical attention."

"Should I?" Eua's smile was weak but still carried that familiar hint of mischief. "Sounds reasonable. Thanks for the advice."

"Then why aren't you following it?"

"Home is..." Eua paused, seeming to struggle with the explanation. "Complicated. Easier to just sleep here until I feel better."

Azul stared at her, processing the implications. Eua was planning to spend the night in the music room rather than go home to recover properly. The thought was both touching in its independence and horrifying in its impracticality.

"That's not an acceptable solution," Azul said firmly. "You need proper care. Medicine. Nutrition. Temperature monitoring."

"Need," Eua repeated softly. "Such a demanding word."

"It's an accurate word. You have a fever. Probably dehydration. Possibly other complications that require- "

"Are you going to call my parents?"

The question stopped Azul mid-lecture. Because yes, that was the appropriate response according to school policy. Contact the student's family, arrange for pickup, document the incident properly.

But something in Eua's expression, a flash of genuine fear beneath the fevered confusion, made her hesitate.

"Do you want me to call them?"

"No."

The answer was immediate, definitive. Whatever Eua's home situation was, she clearly preferred spending the night on a music room couch to facing it while ill.

Azul looked around the room, taking inventory of available resources. There was a small sink in the corner, probably installed for cleaning instruments. A storage closet that might contain supplies. No blankets or pillows, but her own blazer could serve as makeshift covering.

"This is completely against protocol," she said finally.

"Most good things are."

Despite the fever, Eua's ability to find humor in difficult situations remained intact. Azul felt something shift in her chest, irritation transforming into something warmer and more complicated.

"Fine," she heard herself saying. "But if I'm staying, we're doing this properly."

"Staying?" Eua's eyes widened with genuine surprise. "You don't have to- "

"Someone needs to monitor your condition. Make sure your fever doesn't spike dangerously."

"How responsible of you."

"How foolish of me," Azul corrected, but she was already moving toward the sink to wet paper towels with cool water.

For the next several hours, Azul found herself in completely unfamiliar territory. She had never taken care of anyone before, had barely been sick herself, and certainly never in situations that required improvised nursing care.

But somehow, it felt natural. Pressing cool cloths to Eua's fevered forehead, encouraging her to drink small sips of water from the paper cups she found in the supply closet, adjusting her own blazer around Eua's shivering form.

"You don't have to do this," Eua said during one of her more lucid moments.

"I know."

"Then why are you?"

Azul paused in wringing out another cloth. It was a fair question, and one she wasn't sure she could answer honestly. Because the truth was complicated, involving feelings she hadn't fully acknowledged even to herself.

"Because you're sick and you need help," she said instead.

"But I'm your greatest enemy. Everyone knows that."

"Everyone knows we have public disagreements about school policy."

"Same thing, isn't it?"

"No," Azul said quietly, pressing the cool cloth to Eua's temple. "It's not the same thing at all."

They fell into comfortable silence after that, broken only by the sound of rain against windows and Eua's gradually steadying breathing. Outside, the storm had eased from a furious downpour to a steady drizzle, and through the tall windows the late-afternoon light began to soften, gold bleeding into gray as the sun sank lower. The music room glowed dimly in that in-between hour, shadows stretching long across the floor.

"You know," she murmured, eyes half-lidded but clearer than before, "you're different when no one else is around."

Azul looked at her, puzzled. "Different how?"

"Less perfect. Less untouchable." A faint, fever-worn smile tugged at her lips. "It suits you."

Azul didn't know what to do with that observation, so she reached for the cloth again, wringing it out even though it was already damp enough, just to give her hands something to do. When she set it back against Eua's temple, the words lingered.

"Can I tell you something?" Eua asked after a pause, her voice soft in the rain-muted twilight.

"Of course."

"I like being around you... maybe too much." Her words were hushed, almost lost under the patter of rain.

"Even when you're scolding me, I don't mind. It feels like... you see things no one else does." She faltered, her eyes tracing the droplets sliding down the glass. The fading light caught in Azul's hair, and for a moment Eua's lips curved into a faint, tired smile.

"I shouldn't say this, but... it's hard not to." A breath, fragile, unsteady. "Sometimes, when you're like this... I think I'm- " She stopped, the last word swallowed.

The words seemed to escape before she could stop them. Eua turned sharply toward the window, cheeks burning, trying to bury her face against the crook of her arm as though hiding could erase what she'd just said.

Azul froze, the damp cloth in her hand forgotten. Her chest tightened, heat blooming where she knew it shouldn't.

"Eua..." Her voice came out softer than she intended, almost uncertain.

"I- " Eua's voice wavered. "I know it doesn't make sense. I know I'm the last person you should be caught up with. You have your place, your image... and I'm just- " She stopped herself, flustered, pressing her arm tighter over her face.

"That's not- " Azul started, but the words tangled in her throat.

Eua let out a shaky laugh, muffled against her sleeve. "Every time you scold me, it only makes it worse. Every time you look at me, I feel like I can't breathe. And now I'm just saying it out loud like an idiot." She peeked at Azul from beneath her arm, face flushed, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and something braver. "But... it's true. I like you."

Azul's breath caught. Her own cheeks burned, traitorous in their warmth. She didn't know what to do with the fluttering in her chest, the dizzy rush of relief that scared her more than she'd ever admit.

"I..." It was all she could manage.

"You don't have to say anything," Eua whispered quickly, retreating into her arm again. "Just- forget it. Pretend I never- "

But Azul didn't move. She stayed there, close enough that the storm outside felt very far away. She didn't answer with words- she couldn't- but her silence, her lingering presence, the faint flush dusting her own cheeks, were all the answer Eua needed.

Eua peeked out from behind her arm, just enough to catch it. Azul, actually blushing. Her cool, untouchable Azul, pink to the tips of her ears. The sight sent a wild jolt through her, burning away hesitation.

Before she could second-guess herself, Eua reached out and caught Azul's wrist. Her grip was small but insistent, her voice trembling yet bold. "You... you really are blushing," she said, almost in awe, as if the discovery itself was a secret too precious to keep.

Azul's breath hitched, her heart stumbling over itself. "Eua- " she tried, but the single word came out strangled, betraying her.

Eua laughed softly, half giddy, half nervous, her fever-bright eyes shining. "Then maybe I'm not such an idiot after all," she whispered, still holding on.

Azul's face flared hotter, her composure unraveling completely. She turned her gaze away, but it was too late; the damage was done. Eua had seen it, every crack in her carefully guarded calm.

Something fragile and unspoken settled between them, as warm as the fever, as gentle as the rain.

That afternoon at sunset, in the quiet music room, they had crossed into something neither could undo. It was clumsy, unplanned, and impossibly sweet.

And it was the beginning of everything.

"President? President!"

Yamamoto's voice cut through the memory, bringing Azul back to the present with jarring suddenness. She blinked, realizing that her council members were all staring at her with expressions of concern and curiosity.

"Sorry," she said, shaking her head to clear the lingering images of storm-light and whispered confessions. "I was thinking about... budget allocation strategies."

"For ten minutes?" Tanaka asked. "Must be some very complicated strategies."

"Complicated," she agreed, grateful when her phone buzzed with a text message that provided an excuse to look away from their questioning faces.

The message was from Eua, her name lighting up the screen immediately:

Looking all official from down here. Try to eat something that isn't paperwork.

Azul's eyes flew to the window, where Eua was now sitting up beneath the cherry tree. She waved lazily, that familiar half-smile playing around her lips.

Azul typed back before she could stop herself: You can't even see what I'm doing.

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Don't need to. I know that look on your face anywhere.

Heat flooded Azul's cheeks as she realized Eua had been watching their lunch gathering, had noticed her distraction and somehow managed to send exactly the right message to bring her fully back to the present.

"Everything okay?" Watanabe asked, noticing Azul's reaction to the text.

"Fine," Azul said quickly, typing back: Then why were you sleeping there instead of eating?

The response came immediately: Sunlight is free. Lunch costs effort.

Despite herself, Azul felt her lips curve in a suppressed smile. Trust Eua to find a perfectly legitimate way to do something that felt completely illicit.

"You're smiling at your phone," Yamamoto observed. "That's... new."

"It's just a scheduling confirmation," Azul lied, but her fingers were already typing: Eat something that isn't grass.

Grass is very nutritious. Full of vitamins.

That's not how nutrition works.

Says the girl who hasn't touched her actual lunch.

Azul glanced down at her bento, realizing that Eua was absolutely right. She had been so focused on work and memories that she had forgotten to eat entirely.

"Okay," she announced, closing her phone and reaching for her chopsticks. "You win. Lunch before work."

"Victory!" Yamamoto declared, throwing his hands in the air. "Mark this day on the calendar. President Hayashi chose food over paperwork."

"Don't get used to it," Azul warned, but she was smiling as she said it.

Outside the window, Eua had returned to her position beneath the tree, apparently napping again in the spring sunlight. But even from this distance, Azul could see the contentment in her posture, the peace that came from knowing someone was watching over her, even from afar.

Azul took a bite of her lunch as Yamamoto argued with Tanaka over the last piece of karaage, Watanabe laughing so hard she nearly spilled her iced tea. Sunlight caught on the glass tabletop, turning their bent chopsticks into lines of silver. With a quick, careful glance to make sure no one was watching, Azul lifted her phone and snapped a picture of Eua beneath the cherry tree outside, capturing the way the sunlight dappled her hair without anyone at the table noticing. She kept the phone in her palm, feeling the small warmth of the screen and the pulse of connection to Eua across the distance, even if Eua was unaware in her sleep.

For once, that felt like enough.