Sunday — The Shinomiya Residence, Noon
Hayasaka Ai slipped through the service entrance, her body still humming with the memory of last night, her mind still processing everything that had—and hadn't—happened.
No time to rest.
Kaguya-sama is waiting.
She changed into her maid uniform with practiced efficiency, and when she emerged, she was no longer Hayasaka Ai, nervous girlfriend. She was Hayasaka Ai, elegant and perfect attendant.
The mask settled into place.
Kaguya's Room
"I'm thirsty."
Kaguya's greeting was characteristically direct.
"Young Mistress. What would you like?"
"Hayasaka." Kaguya's eyebrow arched. "You only know how to make coffee, correct?"
Your tea is inferior to mine. Let's not pretend otherwise.
Hayasaka accepted the implicit critique without reaction and prepared coffee.
Several Minutes Later
"So." Kaguya's tone was carefully casual. Dangerously casual. "Where did you rest last night? Was the bed… adequate?"
Curiosity. Hayasaka recognized the signs. Burning, insatiable curiosity wrapped in aristocratic nonchalance.
"Young Mistress." She set the coffee on Kaguya's desk, her golden ponytail swaying. "If you wish to ask something, ask directly. Circumlocution suits no one."
Kaguya paused.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper:
"…Was it comfortable?"
"We didn't do anything of that nature."
Kaguya's expression performed a remarkable transformation—anticipation curdling into disbelief.
"Hayasaka." She rubbed her temples. "You spent an entire night with him. In a love hotel. And you're telling me nothing happened?"
A pause.
"Is there something wrong with Sakurai General Affairs?"
"Young Mistress." Hayasaka's voice remained flat. "He's my boyfriend."
"I'm aware." Kaguya sipped her coffee, then added, almost reluctantly, "You're very beautiful, Hayasaka."
"Thank you."
No modesty. No denial. Just acceptance of a simple fact.
"Then why?" Kaguya leaned forward. "Did you truly just… hold each other? All night?"
This innocent act—
Hayasaka suppressed a sigh.
"Young Mistress. Are you truly this eager for us to… get together?"
"Of course not!" Kaguya's gaze slid away, suddenly fascinated by her desk's grain. "I merely… wondered. As your employer. Concern for my staff's wellbeing."
You've been reading materials again, Hayasaka thought. And you're too embarrassed to admit your curiosity.
"Naturally." She let the word hang. "Nothing happened. I hate that sort of thing most of all."
Kaguya nodded firmly, as if this settled everything.
Subject Change
"Oh! Right!" Kaguya seized upon new topic with visible relief. "There were robbers in your area yesterday. Did you encounter them?"
Hayasaka considered.
"No. Passersby mentioned it, but since no one was injured, concern seemed minimal."
Island nation society, she added silently. Indifferent to everything except how it affects them directly. Train suicides are dinner conversation. Robberies are weather reports.
"The movie," Kaguya pressed, relentless in her curiosity. "What was it like?"
She sounds like she's conducting a household registry investigation.
"A romance." Hayasaka's response was measured. "The plot was predictable. One could guess the ending within the first fifteen minutes."
She didn't mention that she'd spent most of the film making out with her boyfriend, too distracted to follow the story.
Though Sakura-chan was genuinely moved, she recalled. He cried.
He likes romance more than he'd admit.
(He preferred orca documentaries and violent zombie films, normally. Romance was apparently his secret weakness.)
"And after… dinner?" Kaguya's question was pointed. "Who paid?"
"I did."
"He let you pay?" Kaguya's brow furrowed. "For dinner and the tickets?"
"It's fine."
"You're not angry?"
"He paid for the hotel."
Kaguya's brain briefly short-circuited.
Hotel.
He paid for the—
They—
But she just said—
But the hotel—
That means they—
Her expression cycled through approximately seventeen emotions in three seconds.
She's showing off.
This is absolutely showing off.
I walked into this trap.
Hayasaka's lips curved—just slightly, just enough.
The Hair Tie
"Oh." Hayasaka reached into her pocket. "This is for you, Young Mistress."
A red and black hair tie rested in her palm.
Kaguya blinked.
"What is it?"
"You mentioned wanting to change your image." Hayasaka moved behind her, gently gathering Kaguya's ink-black hair. "Starting with a hairstyle seems appropriate."
Kaguya sat perfectly still as skilled hands worked.
All girls want to be cute, Hayasaka thought. Even Kaguya-sama.
The ice princess hairstyle had served its purpose. But if she wanted something softer, something warmer, something new—
"There."
Kaguya touched her hair tentatively. Different. Lighter.
"…It's acceptable."
But her reflection, caught in the mirror's corner, showed a different truth.
Hayasaka Ai guided her mistress toward the wardrobe mirror with gentle hands.
"How is it?"
Kaguya blinked at her reflection. Turned her head slightly, studying the unfamiliar shape of her own silhouette.
"It feels… different."
Different, but not wrong.
Her gaze drifted sideways, catching Hayasaka's reflection. The blue hair tie—her gift, given so long ago—still held its place in golden hair.
She still wears it.
After all this time.
"We stopped at an accessory shop after the movie," Hayasaka explained, following her glance. "They had matching phone charms too."
For us, she didn't add. For Sakura-chan and me.
But the hair tie for Kaguya hadn't been an afterthought. It had been waiting—in her mind, in her planning—for weeks. She'd simply found the right one.
"Thank you." Kaguya turned fully, examining the back. "I'll treasure it."
She thought of me.
On her date.
With her boyfriend.
She still thought of me.
Hayasaka watched her mistress's softened expression and felt something warm unfold in her chest.
The Student Council changed her, she thought. Shirogane? Sakura-chan? Both?
The shell she built—it kept out cruelty, yes. But it kept out care too.
Now she's softer.
Dumber, sometimes.
But better.
The Other Matter
"Young Mistress." Hayasaka's voice shifted—still respectful, but carrying weight. "I'd like to rent an apartment."
Kaguya's expression flickered.
"Why?"
"He asked where I lived." Flat. Matter-of-fact. "When he walked me home."
Ah.
"Why not simply tell him?" Kaguya's brow furrowed. "That you work for the Shinomiya Family? The truth isn't—"
"I considered it." Hayasaka's pause was almost imperceptible. "But last time I disguised myself as 'Hasaka' for karaoke…"
And the confession.
And the misunderstandings.
And—
Kaguya's thoughts caught up.
The Shinomiya Family isn't safe.
For him. For her. For—
"I'll handle the arrangements myself," Hayasaka continued. "You needn't concern yourself, Young Mistress."
Kaguya nodded slowly.
She's protecting him.
From my family.
From me.
The truth of her position settled around her like a familiar weight: no power, no assets, only a inheritance right so negligible it was almost insulting. Her father's health was fragile but stable—years left, probably. Years of this careful, precarious balance.
Hayasaka deserves this.
Deserves somewhere of her own.
Deserves—
"Proceed." Kaguya's voice was steady. "You have my permission."
Not that she needed it. Not really.
But the gesture mattered.