A Necessary Discourse
“I would say it is a pleasure to see you, Momobami-san,” Sachiko sneered, her honeyed baritone dripping with thinly-veiled malice. “But the occasion appears somewhat mandatory, and you have gone quite out of your way to summon me here outside of school hours.”
Her heels clicked coldly on the hardwood floor as she strided into the darkness of the Student Council room, lit only by the cold, blue light of the aquarium embedded into one of the walls. No one but the President lied in wait for her, sitting at the head of the table, one leg haphazardly slung across the other. The doors shut close behind Sachiko with a decisive thud, sealing her fate. Now to see whether I am the hunter or the prey tonight .
“Hello to you too, Juraku-san.” Kirari’s voice rang lightly into the air, lacking the harsh power behind Sachiko’s tone but still cutting through all the same. No one with an ounce of common sense would mistake the President’s breezy, almost cheerful tone for kindness—it was only another component to her psychopathy. Such softness only lulls the idiotic into a false sense of security, only for Kirari’s voice to betray her when she indulged in her impulsive, sadistic gambles and it raised into a sort of maniacal glee. Only the extremely stupid would dare provoke her—she was the reigning President of Hyakkaou Private Academy for a reason.
But Sachiko was neither stupid nor a common student at the Academy. She certainly appreciated Kirari’s extreme nature, especially for her implementation of the housepet system, but Kirari’s little games bored her to no end and this meeting was a big inconvenience for her tonight. Fiery red met glacier blue. “Momobami-san, I have my own affairs to attend to, so I would appreciate brevity. What demands my in-person attendance so greatly?”
“Always so hasty, aren’t you?” If Kirari was affected by Sachiko’s impatience, she did not express it. Sachiko paused at a chair a few feet away from Kirari’s position and rested her hand atop its backrest. Kirari arched her eyebrow when Sachiko made no move to sit down. “You won’t do yourself any good craning your neck down to look at me while we’re talking, so take a seat, won’t you?”
The hard edge to Kirari’s tone left no room for argument, but Sachiko still hesitated. “I have urgent matters to attend to at home. At least tell me why you have demanded my presence, and it better not be one of your gambles.”
“You think I have called you here to make you a housepet? That I have tired of the great mistress of Hyakkaou Academy?”
Sachiko narrowed her eyes at the girl in front of her. “If you were anybody else, I would think that you were trying to provoke me. Your teasing is quite inconvenient.”
“You assume the worst,” Kirari’s eyes shone with mirth, “Have you not considered the possibility that I want to have a little chat, omega to omega, when I spend my days surrounded by hot-headed alphas and cleaning up their messes?”
The edges of Sachiko’s mouth bent into a twisted smile as she finally sat down. On that topic, she had hers who she had left alone in her car. All worked up and heated, and in desperate need of her master. “We both know you enjoy your meddling. Is that what it is? You want to gossip?”
“Not gossip, but discuss,” Kirari retorted, “And I do believe these matters do involve you. As for your insistence on brevity, you usually entertain yourself with my gambles, so it must be the absence of your little pet that bothers you. She hasn’t run away, has she?”
“What I do with my pets is none of your business, Momobami-san, but she is where she needs to be. Unfortunately she has been causing… trouble, lately, and I must deal with her tonight.”
“How sweet, her mistress is as attached to her little pet as her pet is to her.”
Is she trying to provoke me? Sachiko’s eyes narrowed fractionally. Does she know?
Mikura had begged her not to leave, tears welling up in her eyes as she whimpered pathetically in the back of the car. She had been waiting all day, hiding her condition, and right when they were about to return home her master was summoned by the President. Even Sachiko felt a twinge of guilt and more than a little annoyance at the sudden order, but the sadistic pleasure of seeing Mikura’s desperate arousal countered the two feelings.
By now the alpha would have been entering the beginnings of her rut, but she was alone in their car, without her master holding onto her leash.
“I doubt you’re here to talk about my pet, President,” Sachiko retorted, refusing to take the bait.
The constant buzz of the aquarium’s water filter sounded loud in Sachiko’s ears as she waited for Kirari to respond. Kirari seemed to be eyeing her curiously, not at all like how she would judge challengers who had not yet humbled themselves—with bored disinterest.
A distinctive element of chaos remained in the President’s eyes, and Sachiko knew there would be a game tonight. A card game? A bet to be made under the table—perhaps a game she’ll keep to herself. However, Sachiko’s preoccupation with her pet still trumped that of her curiosity, as involving oneself in the President’s entertainment rarely led to beneficial results.
“A little side effect of Full Bloom, Mibuomi-san’s little passion project–that’s what I wish to discuss with you tonight.” Kirari broke the silence between the two.
What? Well that changed things. Sachiko frowned at the unexpectedness of the topic, but then again—this was Kirari that she was talking to, and who knew what machinations she was orchestrating? Full Bloom was nothing more than an upstart conspiracy led by mere sophist, Aoi Mibuomi. A better gambler than most, kind and approachable compared to other members of the Student Council, and with an underlying cunning that allowed him to earn the position of Treasurer.
But he was no match for herself or Kirari.
Both of them could single-handedly destroy Aoi’s schemings with one match, and it was rather pig-headed of him to assume he could get away with his plans without Kirari noticing.
“Just go on with it,” Sachiko prompted Kirari. It wasn’t like she knew the President’s intentions, “We both know you could easily deal with him yourself.”
Kirari suddenly relaxed into her chair, chuckling lowly as she gazed up at the ceiling. “You flatter me.”
The Presidents mood swings were quite strange, Sachiko had to admit. “I’m speaking realistically, Momobami-san. Now what do I have to do with this? He’s atrociously bland enough on his own–I have no desire to interact with him more than I have to,” she droned on, annoyed at the President’s tactics, “If you want me to make him a housepet, I will–it’s in my best interest to do so, if Mibuomi-san continues with his antics.”
Sachiko doubted Aoi would ever go through with the pledges he relied on so heavily for his support base–a degenerate, mindless horde of first-years and bitter housepets. In Kirari’s aquarium, only the strongest would survive, and a pack of minnows can not escape the jaws of sharks.
In fact, if Aoi did manage to, in some absurd occurrence of events, somehow overthrow Kirari, he would have two choices: to go through with his promise and lower himsel if to the level of the rabble-rousers, or maintain the power structure and break his promise to set them free. For all his caring, man-of-the-people facade, an egoist like Aoi would never choose the former, and it would be likely that he’d be drawn to the appeal of the latter. But then that would anger his following, and unlike Kirari, Aoi did not have the manpower or security to defend himself against the wrath of an angered mob–it would be absurd to believe that he would expect the vengeful housepets to simply play by his rules after going back on his promise, but it seemed that he did.
In all possible scenarios, Aoi would land himself in a bind. The fool was incapable of foresight, or was blinded by his own ego.
“Oh I don’t care specifically for Mibuomi-san,” Kirari laughed breathily, “But I’m growing rather bored of his insolence and self-absorbed ego. I was hoping you could assist me by disposing of him.”
Sachiko scoffed–it wasn’t like she found Aoi any more favourable than Kirari did. “And why is that? Why not do it yourself and make a show of your authority or whatnot? It’s not like it would hurt your reputation.”
“Well, I know you have an interest in Miharutaki-san.”
The playful glimmer in Kirari’s eyes did nothing to reassure Sachiko’s sense of what Kirari wanted from her. It was no secret that Sakura was simply infatuated with Aoi, completely and utterly fooled by his persona. Sakura was nothing but a pawn to the farcical boy, and despite her gambling prowess and reigning position among the Student Council, she showed no sign of realising the fact any time soon.
Sakura had a passionate sense of morality about her which put her at odds with Sachiko, especially when it came to her treatment of Mikura. It was indicative of her underlying sense of kindness, and Sachiko loved to watch her squirm and blush whenever she witnessed Mikura trailing behind her, collared and leashed. But Sakura never took further action to stop Sachiko’s supposed mistreatment of her, and she still took it so personally. It was likely she had some thoughts of her own—but Sachiko was yet to figure out what side of leash she may have wanted to be on.
That was truly an amusing thought. Out of all people, Kirari would have likely picked up on Sakura’s behaviour, but that still had nothing to do with Aoi.
“With Full Bloom?” Sachiko spoke doubtfully, “Miharutaki-san has expressed her… displeasure towards the treatment of housepets, and she certainly seems enchanted enough with Mibuomi-san to believe he truly does as well, but she has enough sense not to engage in a full-blown conspiracy. Not when it could fall apart so easily.”
“Even when she is blindsided by her infatuation with the boy?.”
“Well, that would be quite a rash decision for someone as conservative as her to make. Certainly out of character, to an extent.”
“Who knows?” Kirari rebuked, gesticulating languidly in the air. “Infatuation does wonders to one’s rationale.”
Right. Like it does to your little pet. “What you say is true, but to not underestimate her—Sakura’s integrity prevents her from… taking available opportunities in gambling, to say. She wouldn’t be too difficult to eliminate if one truly put the effort into it. So why bring her up?”
“Well, you find it entertaining when she gets worked up over seeing your pet following ever so diligently behind you,” Kirari leaned forward, the playful lilt in her voice even stronger, “I can’t help but wonder if you ever think about what is going on through Sakura’s mind when she makes herself all flustered.”
Sachiko couldn’t prevent a fond smile from spreading across her face at the thought of Sakura’s frustration, although most onlookers would claim her expression leaned towards sadistic glee. “Right, she is quite vocal about it.”
“So what do you think will happen in the scenario that Aoi is made a housepet?”
She will either be blindsided by anger or grief. Honestly, the alpha's potential was hindered by her infatuation with the corrupt fool—and a bland one at that. At best, Aoi looked like the boring stock-photo images that cheap universities plastered on the front page of their recruitment pamphlets. His character was equally uninspiring—Sachiko had her ruthless sadism, Kirari her unpredictability and mysterious genius, and even Midari or Sumeragi had their unique trademarks.
Aoi was simply so one dimensional. Power hungry, charming, able to mask himself as a man of the people—the foundational talents for entertainment, but used in such repulsive predictability. Now as for Sakura… She was different.
Another hot-headed alpha, easy to read but whose true intentions remained concealed—perhaps even to herself. Sakura was entertaining, and someone worth investing her time in.
“Miharutaki-san… she… she is refreshing. A Romantic, perhaps—a fighter who revels in notions of the fight for idealism, but isn’t deluded by them.”
Sachiko smirked at the words–there was something fascinating with the way Sakura fought herself, struggling to hide her inner turmoil between moral righteousness and concealed desire; she was yet to determine what exactly Sakura had in mind, but it was clear that Sakura found some sort of appeal in their dynamics, no matter how much she protested. After all, hidden desires are rarely easy to acknowledge. Imagine, our little Sakura virtuously resisting the encroaching temptations of hedonism .
Kirari grinned. “Well then, don’t tell me I’ll be seeing two pets following you around soon, regardless if Mibuomi-san falls?”
Sachiko let out a harsh bark of laughter. “No, I have no interest in collaring her like I did Mikura—but I do admit I find… amusement in her antics.”
“Of course, one would be rather hard pressed not to.”
“Speaking of pets, those two seem like your Igarashi-san just a bit, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Igarashi-san is not my pet, Juraku-san,” Kirari snapped, her tone suddenly low and dangerous. Sachiko merely grinned, resting her chin on her palm as she dug her elbow into the table’s surface. She had struck a nerve. How interesting, Madame President.
“Really? I only meant in relation to their stubbornness and devotion, not necessarily unwarranted adoration as per Miharutaki-san’s affections. You chose well—she seems infatuated enough with you, your Sa-ya-” Sachiko sang Kirari’s signature cadence.
Kirari’s clenched fist struck the table in a surprising display of unrestrained anger. The President’s lips curled into a menacing snarl, her features briefly morphing into twisted aggression before relaxing into nonchalant ease in a second. It takes a lot to break your mask… I suppose Igarashi-san’s affections are returned to a further extent than we all assume.
“No. Sayaka is not my pet, and you will not refer to her as such, Sachiko-san.”
Just because you can not physically see it does not mean the collar and leash do not exist, President. The alpha could be seen trailing the President at all times, ever protective and obedient. There was an undeniable similarity between the President’s secretary and Mikura—for them, it was their obsessive rapture, or perhaps their wholehearted dedication towards their masters. And it seems the sentiment is more than just mutual.
“Well, then,” Sachiko relented, “I believe our matters are over. Only one thing—if you insist I am the one to make Aoi a housepet, that would damper my lovely relationship with Miharutaki-san, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, I’m sure you’re clever enough to find a way to bankrupt him indirectly.” Kirari shrugged.
“Hmph. You’re not wrong, it’s just more effort.”
Sachiko rose from the table, the sound of her chair against the floor grating and rough. The President’s cold, pale eyes tracked her every movement, aloof and intense all at once. Ruby red and ice blue, both as manipulative and sadistic as the other. Apart from their eyes, one could have easily mistakened them for relatives, with their long, white hair.
Morality and convention meant nothing to them, but they each revolved around their own tenets. It was what set them apart from pure, unpredictable psychopathy. Perhaps human nature was simply that predictable to have such parallels.
“Will you tell me what’s in it for you?” Sachiko asked the obvious question as she turned to leave. Bluntness was probably the easiest method for an inquiry Kirari would answer cryptically if anything. “Entertainment? Or are you truly looking for something else? You’re talking to me, Momobami, there’s no need to hesitate.”
Sachiko didn’t look back as she strode toward the door. She could feel Kirari’s steely gaze boring into her back. It appears even a master of understanding the human mind like the President can find herself confused. It only takes the right subject.
“Don’t be offended, President,” Sachiko sighed, pausing with her hand on the door handle. Kirari had no sense of true goodwill toward others besides Igarashi-san, but even if her actions were for her own observational purposes, Sachiko could relate. And it wasn’t a good idea to anger her. “You and Igarashi-san complement each other well, and you are not one for hesitation. Then if your hesitation is that you want to see Igarashi-san’s true feelings without inhibition… anyone would say they are obvious. But as you said, infatuation does wonders on a person. I can assure you that alphas get quite honest in rut. You would not be taking advantage of her if you intercept her before it fully hits, as her… emotional inclinations will become apparent first. As for mine, she is quite impacted by hers at the moment, so I must attend to her now.”
Kirari didn’t respond, and Sachiko promptly exited the room. The door clicked shut with a decisive close, leaving the President bathed in the cold, winter moonlight.
Turning to face the blue-tinted glow of her aquarium, she gazed at the little fish circling in and out of the stone structures inside. In and out, in and out. Right, left, up, down, in a finite prison. Out of all people, she didn’t expect to hear relationship advice from Sachiko, nevermind half decent advice. Kirari supposed that they may have been more similar than she had initially thought, though she hadn’t given the idea much of it in the first place. It was no doubt that Sachiko relished the process of taming Mikura, but now neither of the two could live without the other, even if Sachiko hadn’t quite come to realise the fact.
Now, perhaps she and Sayaka were the same.
An amused grin spread across her features; emotions could both be terrifying and addictive for the immature. Either they were too fallible for hardened souls, or it bred recklessness in the foolhardy. But Kirari lived for unpredictability and thrills—they were what made life worth living. It was what made life life.
So it was true that she did not recognise the emotions she felt when she thought of Sayaka. The longing in her heart for when she was gone, the lightness in her body when she heard her laugh or saw her smile, all the way to the unfamiliar sensation in her gut when she flustered Sayaka. Knowing it was her making Sayaka blush and fidget under her touch, or her gaze. The sensation was foreign to her, only recognizable as what people likely referred to as romantic love because of her theoretical understanding of the concept.
Rising out of her chair, Kirari approached the aquarium, bringing her fingers up to the cold, glass barrier. A few of the fish swam up to her fingers, and her eyes flicked between each tiny, vibrant creature. Maybe Sayaka had made a fish out of her, cluelessly swimming in an aquatic prison.
But of course, life is the most thrilling when one finds themselves in the deep end of it.