Heartbeats and Illusions

Fujiwara Chika was eccentric, whimsical, and unbound by convention. She had a penchant for wild ideas and the tenacity to cling to them until her interest faded as abruptly as it arrived. In short, she was a free spirit, a lark flitting through life, singing joyfully and untiringly.

She was everything Kaguya Shinomiya was not.

Kaguya often wondered when it all began. When had their lives intertwined? She recalled a moment back in the fourth grade. It was then she had spotted Chika slumped before a piano, her usually lively face weighed down with fatigue. Kaguya had offered a single offhand comment, "If you don't want to play, then don't."

At the time, her own motives had been unclear. Had it been an insult to Chika's discipline? A reflection of her own dissatisfaction? Or perhaps she'd secretly envied Chika's freedom? Whatever it was, she hadn't anticipated Chika's reaction.

Chika quit playing the piano.

Instead, she began to appear wherever Kaguya went. "Kaguya-chan, let's eat lunch together!" "Kaguya-chan, walk home with me!" "Kaguya-chan, let's be friends!"

Every day. Without fail.

Kaguya, unable to endure the relentless persistence, had issued a challenge: a game. If Chika lost, she would have to leave Kaguya alone. If Kaguya lost… she would become Chika's friend.

Kaguya lost.

To this day, Kaguya wasn't sure if Chika had cheated or if she'd simply underestimated her. Either way, the memory wasn't what stuck with her. What stayed was the sheer joy in Chika's face at winning. The kind of joy that came from finding a first, true friend.

Now, as high school students, Kaguya still only had one friend: Fujiwara Chika. She had assumed it would always be that way—until the moment she watched Chika, utterly devoid of dignity, devouring the contents of the president's lunchbox.

Where was the poise? The elegance? Was Chika a reincarnated gluttonous spirit?! "Put down the president's lunchbox, you humanoid livestock!"

Kaguya glared at her friend with cold disdain, but Chika, happily oblivious, smiled as she rummaged through the bento. "Kaguya-chan, you have to try this!" Chika chirped, holding up a piece of hamburger steak. "It's amazing!" "I—" Kaguya hesitated, but then a bite melted in her mouth. "It is delicious!"

Her eyes lit up with genuine delight, momentarily forgetting her annoyance.

"Mmhmm! Even at room temperature, the flavors come together so well," Chika declared, her tone mimicking that of a seasoned food critic.

Watching the pair, Natsukawa Kanade sighed. His carefully prepared bento had transformed into a battlefield. The girls' delighted expressions and enthusiastic reactions confirmed one thing: despite their exposure to gourmet cuisine, they truly loved simple, homemade dishes.

Kanade himself had barely eaten. His rice bowl remained mostly untouched, and the side dishes he had prepared with such care were quickly vanishing into the girls' stomachs.

"Well, that was satisfying!" Chika patted her stomach, looking utterly content. Kaguya, too, seemed happier than before, her earlier irritation fading. I suppose I'll forgive her... just this once, she thought.

But as her mood brightened, she realized the president had barely eaten. It was her chance to act. "President, I'm so sorry for eating your lunch! Please, take mine as compensation…"

Her voice was honeyed with sincerity, and her hand extended her bento toward Kanade with an earnest gesture. But there was more at play here. The chopsticks she offered had already been used—by her.

The plan was flawless. A subtle indirect kiss to deepen their bond! Surely, he wouldn't refuse this time!

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm not really hungry," Kanade replied, shaking his head gently.

Kaguya froze, crestfallen. All her efforts—ruined.

Meanwhile, Chika observed the exchange with her usual peculiar insight. "President, it's bad to be picky! Even if Kaguya-chan's chef messed up, you shouldn't waste food!"

Kaguya felt a sharp pang of indignation. "Excuse me?! What did you just say about my chefs?!"

Kanade, caught off guard, could only blink at Chika's bizarre reasoning. "Are you… talking to me?"

"Of course!" Chika replied, nodding sagely.

Kanade shifted his gaze to Kaguya. Her downcast expression made him pause. He realized she might be feeling guilty for eating his lunch without offering anything substantial in return.

"Maybe you're right, Chika." Kanade nodded and reached for Kaguya's bento. "If you don't mind…"

"Not at all!" Kaguya's face brightened instantly.

As Kanade quietly began eating, Kaguya discreetly watched him, her heart swelling with satisfaction. For her, the small gesture felt like a victory.

To Kanade, though, it was different. While outwardly calm, he couldn't shake the sting of knowing Kaguya's heart likely belonged to someone else—Shirogane Miyuki.

Yet, he chose to endure. A world where no one gets hurt felt… complete.

Chika, however, was not one to leave matters alone. "Kaguya-chan, you still haven't told me who you care about the most!" she prodded enthusiastically.

"That's not important," Kaguya replied, her attention firmly fixed on Kanade. She watched his every movement with the intensity of someone trying to etch the moment into memory.

"How is it not important?! This is huge! Tell me!" Chika persisted.

"It's… my nephew," Kaguya finally said, her tone nonchalant, though her gaze never wavered from Kanade. "He's trying to walk, never cries when he falls, and he always smiles at me."

"That's cheating!" Chika protested. "That doesn't count!"

"Why not? I care about him," Kaguya retorted, feigning innocence.

"It just doesn't!"

As the two girls bickered, Kanade continued eating in silence. Their voices became a distant murmur as he tried to focus on his meal. But a familiar pang settled in his stomach—not from hunger, but from something deeper.

He closed his eyes for a moment, silently wishing that, just for today, the world could stay as it was—whole, harmonious, and unbroken.