Behind the President

Chapter Sixteen-The Inauguration-Rin

Rin had never seen Washington look like this.

The city was crowded before he even arrived.

Cars filled the streets.

Security barriers stretched for blocks.

People stood behind them holding American flags, cameras, signs, and phones.

Everywhere he looked, there were police officers, Secret Service agents, military personnel, journalists, photographers, and thousands of people who had come simply to witness history.

And Rin?

He was standing right in the middle of it.

He adjusted the dark overcoat around his shoulders and looked down at the credential hanging around his neck.

He had expected one pass.

Maybe access to the afternoon ceremony.

Maybe a designated press area.

That was it.

Instead, when he arrived, an official had checked his name against a list and handed him a credential that made Rin stop and stare.

It wasn’t simply an inauguration pass.

It gave him access to the day’s official events.

Including the evening celebration.

The ball.

Rin blinked at it.

“The ball too?”

The staff member smiled politely.

“Yes, Mr. Tanaka.”

Rin looked at the credential again.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

Apparently, when the President of the United States personally invited you, you didn’t receive an ordinary invitation.

You received access.

Rin slipped the credential back beneath his coat.

He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He had originally planned to spend the day at home.

Now he was standing in Washington surrounded by history.

He looked toward the Capitol.

The atmosphere was almost impossible to describe.

Excitement.

Anticipation.

Pride.

Nervousness.

People were talking everywhere.

Journalists were already broadcasting live.

Cameras were positioned across the grounds.

The huge inauguration platform had been prepared.

American flags lined the area.

The stage was decorated with simple presidential symbolism—nothing excessive.

It felt formal.

Historic.

Almost sacred.

Rin took out his phone.

He took a few photographs.

Then another.

And another.

He wasn’t usually the type to take many personal photographs during work.

But today felt different.

This wasn’t just another assignment.

He was watching a president take office.

And he had been personally invited by the man taking the oath.

That thought still felt strange.

⸻

The morning had already been filled with ceremony.

The Vice President had taken the oath first.

The proceedings had moved with precision.

Every person knew where they were supposed to stand.

Every camera angle had been planned.

Every movement had been rehearsed.

Rin had watched everything carefully.

He had taken notes.

Not because he was preparing an article.

He wasn’t officially working the event.

But because being a journalist was almost impossible to turn off.

He watched the faces.

The reactions.

The politicians.

The diplomats.

The members of Congress.

The families.

The people in the crowd.

Then the atmosphere changed.

A murmur moved through the crowd.

Rin looked toward the entrance.

Gideon had arrived.

For a moment, Rin forgot to breathe.

There he was.

Not on a television screen.

Not inside a recording.

Not across an interview table.

In person.

Gideon Vance.

He looked exactly like the man Rin remembered.

Except somehow more imposing.

He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit beneath his overcoat.

His posture was straight.

His expression composed.

His face unreadable.

He walked with the quiet confidence of someone who understood exactly how many people were watching him.

Rin watched him move toward the stage.

The crowd erupted.

Applause.

Cheers.

Flags waved.

Cameras flashed.

Gideon acknowledged the crowd with a small nod.

Nothing exaggerated.

Nothing theatrical.

Just controlled.

Rin smiled faintly.

Of course.

Even on the biggest day of his life, Gideon Vance looked like Gideon Vance.

Rin lifted his phone and took a photograph.

Then another.

He lowered it.

For a moment, their eyes seemed to meet across the distance.

Rin wasn’t sure.

There were thousands of people.

Hundreds of cameras.

He could have imagined it.

But Gideon’s gaze seemed to pause in his direction for half a second.

Then the president looked away.

Rin’s heart gave one strange beat.

He ignored it.

⸻

The oath was administered.

The Bible was raised.

Gideon’s right hand lifted.

And then he repeated the words.

The oath was completed.

The crowd erupted.

Gideon Vance was officially President of the United States.

Rin watched quietly.

For all the politics.

For all the family history.

For all the arguments.

For everything that had brought this man to this moment—

there was something powerful about watching it happen.

Rin had interviewed Gideon before anyone knew exactly what kind of president he would become.

He had sat across from him and asked questions.

He had watched the man admit uncertainty.

Admit loneliness.

Admit that he didn’t know whether he was living the life he wanted or the life expected of him.

And now that same man stood before the country.

President.

Rin wondered if Gideon felt different.

Then Gideon stepped toward the podium.

The crowd quieted.

Rin instinctively reached for his notebook.

Gideon looked across the crowd.

Then began.

⸻

President Gideon Vance’s Inaugural Address

“My fellow Americans,

Today, we stand together not because we agree on everything, but because we remain united by something greater than our disagreements.

The United States has never been a perfect nation.

But it has always been a nation capable of becoming better.

That responsibility belongs to all of us.

I accept the office of President with humility, with determination, and with a deep understanding of the trust that has been placed in me.

I know the weight of this office.

I know the expectations that come with it.

And I know that no president can solve every problem alone.

Our work will require Congress.

It will require our states and communities.

It will require businesses, workers, teachers, doctors, parents, students, and citizens willing to participate in the future they want to build.

My administration will focus on the things that matter most to the everyday lives of Americans.

A home that a working family can afford.

A healthcare system that people can depend on.

An economy where opportunity is not reserved for those who were fortunate enough to begin with it.

Schools where children are prepared not simply to find jobs, but to build meaningful lives.

A government that is strong enough to protect its people, but accountable enough to earn their trust.

We will defend our interests abroad while remembering that strength is not measured only by what we can defeat.

Sometimes strength is knowing when to negotiate.

Sometimes it is knowing when to listen.

And sometimes it is having the courage to choose peace when peace is possible.

To those who voted for me, I thank you.

To those who did not, I say this clearly:

I am your president too.

You do not owe me your agreement.

You owe your country your participation, your honesty, and your willingness to believe that tomorrow can be better than today.

And I owe you my service.

I will make mistakes.

I will face opposition.

There will be moments when the path forward is unclear.

But I promise you this:

I will never confuse the privilege of this office with ownership of this country.

This country belongs to its people.

And I will serve it with everything I have.

Today, we begin.

Not a perfect chapter.

Not an easy chapter.

But a new one.

May we meet it with courage.

May we meet it with humility.

And may we build, together, a country worthy of the hopes we place in it.

Thank you.

May God bless you.

And may God bless the United States of America.”

⸻

For several seconds after Gideon finished, Rin simply stared at the stage.

Then the crowd erupted.

Applause thundered across the grounds.

People stood.

Flags waved.

Cameras flashed.

The sound seemed to roll through Washington.

Rin slowly lowered his notebook.

He hadn’t expected to be impressed.

He had expected a good speech.

Gideon was a politician.

Of course he could give a speech.

But this had been different.

There had been no unnecessary theatrics.

No exaggerated promises.

No attempt to convince people that he could magically fix everything.

It was measured.

Direct.

Responsible.

And the line—

I am your president too.

Rin wrote it down.

Then underlined it.

Once.

He looked toward Gideon again.

The president was shaking hands now.

People were congratulating him.

The cameras followed every movement.

Rin smiled.

“That’s good.”

Very good.

He understood why people trusted Gideon.

Not because Gideon promised them perfection.

Because he admitted the work would be difficult.

Rin looked around.

The country had just witnessed the beginning of the Vance presidency.

And for the first time, Rin understood something.

Gideon hadn’t simply inherited a political legacy.

He was trying to define his own.

⸻

After the ceremony, Rin moved through the crowd.

He took more photographs.

The Capitol.

The stage.

The crowd.

The flags.

The newly inaugurated president.

Then he spotted familiar faces.

His NBC crew.

His boss.

Rin smiled.

His boss spotted him at almost the same time.

He walked over, shaking his head.

“You.”

Rin laughed.

“Me.”

His boss looked at the credential around Rin’s neck.

“Since you said you weren’t coming.”

“I said I wasn’t coming.”

“Yet here you are.”

Rin held up the credential.

“I got a personal invitation.”

His boss stared at him.

Then laughed.

“Well, lucky you.”

Rin smiled.

“Apparently.”

His boss looked toward the stage.

“How did you get invited personally?”

Rin shrugged.

“President Vance called me.”

His boss stopped.

“He called you?”

“Video call.”

“You’re joking.”

“No.”

His boss stared at him.

Then looked at the credential again.

“Well.”

He shook his head.

“Very lucky you.”

Rin laughed.

“That’s what you said.”

“Because it’s true.”

The crew around them began talking about the speech.

One of the producers said, “That housing line was good.”

Another nodded.

“The accountability section.”

Rin listened.

Then looked back toward the stage.

Gideon was still surrounded by people.

He was shaking hands.

Smiling for photographs.

Accepting congratulations.

But even from a distance, Rin could see the exhaustion behind his eyes.

The presidency had already changed him.

Or perhaps the last few months had simply revealed more of him.

Rin watched quietly.

Then Gideon turned.

For one brief second, their eyes met.

This time, Rin knew it wasn’t his imagination.

Gideon saw him.

And smiled.

Not the presidential smile.

Not the practiced one.

A small, private smile.

One that seemed meant only for him.

Rin’s own lips curved upward.

Then the moment disappeared.

Gideon turned back toward the crowd.

Rin looked down at the credential hanging from his neck.

The inauguration was over.

But apparently, his day wasn’t.

Because beneath the official schedule was another event.

The presidential inaugural ball.

Rin looked at the invitation again.

Then sighed softly.

He had originally planned to spend tonight at home.

Instead, he was apparently going to a presidential ball.

He looked toward the stage one last time.

“Well,” he murmured.

“Guess I’m staying.”