Chapter Text
Kirari Momobami was certain when it had all begun, able to pinpoint the precise moment that Sayaka Igarashi came into her life. Sayaka herself hadn’t even been present when it happened. No, she still hadn’t met her then. In retrospect, it’s fitting — poetic, even — that a person who would one day come to hold so much importance in her life could capture her interest without so much as being in the room. Gaining Kirari’s attention was no small feat, something her twin sister knew all too well.
It had been around three years ago, but Kirari could remember the details clearly. It was late in the afternoon on a spring day, and she had been Hyakkaou’s 105th student council president for less than a week at that point. Ririka and she were still staying in a hotel while they ironed out the finer details of moving from the ancestral Momobami Estate to a house closer to the academy so they wouldn’t have to make that miserable commute by helicopter everyday. And, to Kirari’s great satisfaction, their stay at the hotel had come with access to a large, indoor swimming pool. On that spring day, she had returned to the hotel immediately after classes, shedding her sister’s school uniform and mask in exchange for a bathing suit and a swim cap. From there, it had just been her and the water, her limbs and breath falling into a steady, comfortable rhythm as she propelled her body to and fro across the length of the pool.
Right arm, left arm, right arm, breathe. Left arm, right arm, left arm, breathe.
Yes, she had always loved being in water, having taken to it from a young age. She held cherished memories of jubilantly splashing in the bathtub with her sister when they were still too young to safely bathe unattended, and of the estate’s groundskeepers playfully arcing the spray of their garden hoses over their heads on scorching summer days, the falling droplets cooling their pale, sensitive skin.
Right arm, left arm, right arm, breathe. Flip, turn, push off the wall. Kick, kick, kick, kick, kick. Breathe.
Her fascination with aquatic life had first been incited by the large koi pond at the estate when she had toddled away from their caretaker to peer over the edge, the medley of the fishes’ bright yellows and oranges flickering under the water’s surface like a phantom flame.
Right arm, left arm, ri–
Something cracked against the skin between her shoulder blades like a hard, open-palmed slap and stole the air from her lungs. The harsh, stinging bite of chlorinated water rushed to fill the void left behind as the impact forced her to involuntarily draw in a sharp breath on instinct. Her chest burned against the chemicals and the lack of air, her arms windmilling wildly as she forced her shoulders and neck back out of the water. Her eyes stung and she choked briefly against the fluid lodged in her throat before she was able to cough hard enough to force the water out, sucking in a ragged gasp once her airway was clear enough.
Awful. I’m going to be tasting and smelling chlorine for hours…
She turned in the water to face behind her, in the direction of who or whatever had assaulted her, still coughing around shallow breaths. Kirari’s eyes first landed on a volleyball floating innocently in the choppy wake caused by her flailing limbs before flicking over to the edge of the pool where her sister — still dressed in her uniform with hair tied back in her looped braids — stood next to a rack of volleyballs and other pool toys. Despite her hair and clothes, the way Ririka was standing there, with her shoulders bunched up and hands clenched by her sides, her eyes large and far too expressive, was a dead giveaway that she was not Kirari.
“I’ve been looking all over for you!” Ririka’s voice shook with obvious agitation. “Get out of the damn pool, Rari!”
Ririka stomped her foot against the cool deck as if to punctuate her anger.
Kirari would’ve laughed if her throat hadn’t felt so raw from the chlorine.
“It’s always lovely to see you, dear sister–” Kirari watched, amused, as her older sister’s eyes flashed with annoyance; they only ever referred to one another as dear sister when they were peeved at each other. “–But was it really necessary to nearly drown me to get my attention?”
Ririka’s cheeks puffed and deflated and Kirari dipped her mouth below the water to hide her grin.
Just like an angry blowfish...
“I called your name, like, five times,” she grumbled.
Kirari hummed in acknowledgement and swam to the pool ladder that was only a meter or so from where her twin stood. The cold metal against her palms and the soles of her feet grounded her back in reality, away from the meditative weightlessness of gliding through water. Ririka stepped towards her as water cascaded off of her own body and she turned to face her twin.
“Look, I wouldn’t have done that if–”
And then, Kirari had squirted a stream of pool water directly into her sister’s open mouth, the latter squealing and sputtering against the harsh taste and sudden wetness.
You’re not the only one who can imitate a blowfish, you know.
“K-Kirari!” Ririka screeched. Kirari giggled as she watched her sister cough and blow raspberries in an futile attempt to shake the water off her tongue and lips. “That’s disgusting!”
“Just balancing the score,” Kirari teased as she patted down her body with the towel she brought down from their room. Ririka pinched the bridge of her nose and scrunched her eyes tight.
“How’d the meeting go earlier, by the way? The one with the student from the junior high school.”
Ririka’s eyes snapped open and Kirari was struck by the look her sister harbored in those pale eyes that were practically identical to her own: annoyance, worry, and — subtle, hovering around the edges, but nonetheless there — fear.
“That is why I was looking for you, why I felt the need to spike a volleyball into your back to get your attention,” Ririka huffed.
“Oh?” Kirari paused wiping down a leg with the towel.
“I think…” Ririka’s voice trailed off as her eyes darted around the pool area, only settling back on her when she was sure they were alone. When she spoke again her voice was barely above a murmur. “That girl, the one who asked for the meeting? I think–” She swallowed. “–I think she can tell us apart, Kirari.”
Kirari smirked and shook her head, resuming her work with the towel. What her sister suggested was next to impossible. Ririka had been so careful about blending in with the wallpaper at Hyakkaou while Kirari executed her takeover of the student council that there had been palpable shock that some unknown, nameless student had been made vice president.
Though just because it’s unlikely doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen...
“Kirari...I’m serious,” Ririka hissed.
“I don’t doubt that. Why do you think so?”
Ririka’s lips formed a thin line. “She was…” A faint blush bloomed across her sister’s cheeks.
Oh? What’s this?
“...She was going on and on about how incredible you are, or whatever –” Ririka rolled her eyes but her blush only deepened. “–And how she wanted to be by your side and learn more about how you do things. So she suggested becoming your secretary–”
“I don’t think there’s a secretary position on the council, though, is there?” Kirari interrupted.
Ririka clenched and unclenched her fists, clearly worked up. “There isn’t, and that’s what I was about to tell her when she...when she…” Ririka bit her lip and inhaled sharply. “She was standing at the foot of the meeting table, and I was at the head, where your chair is–” Ririka’s anxiety became more apparent, her words coming faster and stumbling against each other in their haste to tumble from her mouth. “–That table is like two meters long, right? She was a fair distance away from me, but she… She looked right at me , Kirari. She looked right in my eyes, and said, ‘Was that really you?’” Ririka released a shaky breath and paused for Kirari’s reaction.
Now that’s interesting…
Kirari stilled. “And what did you say?”
“I got rid of her. I said she was free to leave, and that we’ll be in touch. As soon as I knew she was gone, I tried to find you.”
“Very well. And why did you start blushing just now?” Kirari raised an eyebrow.
Ririka squeaked in surprise and furrowed her brow. “I...I got the feeling that her interest in you, in the council, wasn’t…” Her twin seemed to roll the words around in her mouth, as if she wasn’t sure if she liked the taste of them or not. “...Her interest didn’t seem strictly academic , I suppose.” Ririka’s blush resurged. “And...it was just weird, okay? Hearing someone talk about my little sister like that...” Her twin averted her eyes. Kirari couldn’t help but laugh.
“Oh? Like what, my beloved big sist–”
“Stop! Can we just...Figure out what to do with this girl? Quickly? Please?” Rirka sighed. “I have her file back in the hotel room. I’ll do a full reenactment of how it all happened even, I just–”
“All right, all right,” Kirari wrapped the towel around her torso, satisfied she wouldn’t track too much pool water through the hotel on their way back to the room. “We’ll order room service for dinner and sort out what to do with…?”
“With…? Oh! Sayaka Igarashi. She’ll be moving up into the high school next spring,” Ririka offered.
Nice name. A bit plain, but nice.
Kirari nodded. “We’ll sort out what to do with Sayaka Igarashi, then.”
“Thank you,” Ririka breathed, her shoulders finally relaxing.
⁂
The surprised murmurs and chatter of the junior high school students became muffled when the classroom door slid shut behind them. The sound faded quickly as they progressed farther down the hall, making their way back to the portion of Hyakkaou’s campus dedicated to the high school, and specifically its Student Council Room. Soon, only the steady, synchronized rhythm of her and her sister’s footsteps tapping along the hardwood floors filled the corridors. Until, that is, Kirari had reached over and flicked the tip of her sister’s ear with a perfectly painted fingernail.
Ririka flinched and gasped, the sound transformed into a puff of static by the voice modifier in her mask. She didn’t need to speak: the empty voids of her mask’s eyes staring at Kirari as Ririka held her ear said it all.
“What was that for?!” Kirari could practically hear her say.
Kirari chuckled as the tiniest spark of warmth stretched and yawned in her chest before curling back into a quiet slumber behind her sternum. It was a new feeling, having been born just moments prior as she invited the small, bespectacled middle schooler to serve on the student council as its secretary. She could still feel where she had bumped the tip of her nose against the other’s, a selfish impulse she had immediately indulged.
Sayaka Igarashi… What a fascinating person...
They continued to walk, their footsteps falling into their own separate rhythms and her sister’s curious gaze still heavy on the side of her face. Kirari replied to her twin’s silent question.
“That was for giving me incomplete information,” Kirari began. “You didn’t tell me how cute she was.”
After a long beat, Kirari felt the weight of her twin’s eyes slowly slide off the side of her face.
Nothing to say, hm?
As they approached the council room, something caught her eye while they passed the windows in the corridor.
“Do you mind if we take a detour? Out to that tall tree there,” Kirari nodded at the window towards a looming tree top in the distance, near the edge of the school’s grounds.
Ririka was silent and steadfast, save for an almost imperceptible shake of her head; most people would’ve missed it, but Kirari and Ririka had developed something of a subtle language of their own over the years.
Their strides regained their synchronized rhythm as they stepped out of the corridor and into the fresh springtime air. They cut across the campus, swiftly passing through pristine courtyards and fragrant gardens that eventually gave way to running tracks and athletic fields the further they traveled from the school’s cluster of main buildings. The closer they got to the strange tree, the more their footsteps crunched against loose bits of concrete and pebbles, the cobblestones and pavers under their feet becoming more and more unmaintained. Eventually, after carefully stepping over the fallen branches and tall blades of grass bursting up between what pavestones hadn’t been pulverized into the dirt, they stood in a large clearing that was overrun with weeds. At its center was the tall tree Kirari had spotted from afar.
The tree would’ve shrouded a good portion of the clearing in heavy shade, but, even on the cusp of summer, the tree bore no leaves on its gnarled branches. Kirari had suspected as much when she had first spotted its naked limbs, but standing at its base and taking in all the details — the bare patches of the tree where the bark had peeled away; the spiky shoots springing from its base; the orange, shelf-like mushrooms clustered on its trunk like a terrible rash — it was clear the tree wasn’t even remotely healthy. In fact, it was–
“Rotten,” Ririka’s voice buzzed through her mask.
“Very much so,” Kirari agreed.
A strong breeze blew through the clearing and the tree groaned and creaked miserably as if crying out in pain. It had every right to, after all: it was a dying tree, left to fester and rot in an unmaintained and seemingly forgotten part of the school grounds. Kirari wondered if the area was in such a state of disrepair simply because it was an inconvenient distance from the heart of the school with no real purpose. If a building had been there instead, it would’ve demanded upkeep.
“It lived a long life, judging by the size,” Kirari shielded her eyes against the sun with her hand as she tilted her head up to survey the trunk. “But there’s no saving it now. Though, in its death, it’s allowed new things to grow and thrive, hasn’t it?” Kirari lowered her gaze and observed beetles skitter in and out of the underside of the mushrooms growing out of the tree.
Ririka tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that had blown loose in the wind.
“It’s not a bad spot for a new project; secluded, private. Construction would be out of sight…” Kirari murmured.
Her twin nodded. “Did you have something in mind?”
Those beetles’ shiny, dark shells have such an intense, rich blackness. Like the night of a new moon. Or that girl’s eyes...
“Not yet, no,” she said as she turned to walk away, stroking her chin in thought. Ririka followed her and resumed her spot by her side. “I’ll have to wait for something to inspire me first, I suppose.”
⁂
It only took a month of Sayaka acting as the student council’s secretary for Kirari to determine that the younger girl was one of the most unexpectedly fascinating people she had ever met. At a mere glance, Sayaka was somewhat forgettable in her plainness, ordinary right down to the scent of generic body soap Kirari detected whenever she invaded her personal space. Kirari did find her to be quite pretty, though that wasn’t what made Sayaka so interesting to her. Kirari had discovered, over a month of planting hidden tests and quiet obstacles, that this exceptionally modest looking girl had an impeccable mind that could find patterns and logic as instinctually as one might blink or breathe.
“Sayaka?” Kirari turned from her perch in front of the then newly installed aquarium.
The council secretary set down her pencil immediately and turned her attention fully towards Kirari. “Yes, President?”
“Could I trouble you for a cup of tea?”
“Yes, of course, President.” Sayaka’s eyes met hers and Kirari felt as if she had just been analyzed somehow. “The second flush darjeeling tea this afternoon?”
One more pop quiz before your final test, just to be sure…
“Hm, how about the fresh sencha instead?”
There it was: the furrowing of her brows in confusion, the slight downturn of her lips, the narrowing of her eyes. Hesitation and doubt clearly wrote itself across the younger girl’s face. And then it was largely wiped away in an instant, replaced more or less with acceptance.
“Yes, President, I’ll get that started right away,” Sayaka said as she made her way to the tea cabinet.
You don’t even realize what you just did, do you?
“Thank you, Sayaka.” Kirari turned back to the fish tank.
During the few short weeks they had known each other, Sayaka proved herself ferociously booksmart, extraordinarily organized, and highly capable in her new role. Kirari had surmised as much from her résumé, so that came as no surprise. What did surprise her was all of Sayaka’s little idiosyncrasies. Like how Sayaka had a very specific way she adjusted her glasses when they slid too far down the bridge of her nose, or how she chewed on the inside of her bottom lip when deep in thought, or stood precisely in the center of the floor’s large, square tiles and never over a line of grout. But what especially delighted Kirari was the way Sayaka’s eyes seemed to lock, focus, and linger for just a second longer than necessary when that curious brain caught what should’ve been negligible wrinkles in a pattern, such as when she and Ririka traded places.
They had switched only a few times during those first weeks as a sort of test to see if Sayaka actually knew what was perhaps their biggest secret. Ririka was wary but mostly satisfied that Sayaka couldn’t reliably tell them apart and deemed her harmless enough to keep around. Kirari, unbeknownst to Ririka, found that Sayaka’s presence only highlighted the tiny ways they didn’t fully become each other when they swapped places. For one, Ririka was a bit more loquacious than Kirari was when she was acting as herself. For another, she noticed that Sayaka didn’t seem nearly as flustered when Ririka stood in as president. And as for the one that Kirari had tested that day: Ririka’s tea-drinking habits were slightly different than her own, taking similar teas but at different times of day, and adding sugar or honey to the black teas she found too bitter.
Kirari turned as she heard Sayaka approach with the tea cart. The younger girl carefully lifted a tea cup and saucer, offering it to Kirari with both hands.
“Your tea, President.”
Kirari made sure that their fingertips brushed as she took the cup and saucer, freely allowing a grin to stretch across her face when Sayaka’s breath softly hitched and her cheeks dusted pale pink.
So cute...
Kirari took a sip and hummed appreciatively. It was even better than when she made it herself. “Thank you, Sayaka. It’s perfect.”
“Oh, th-thank you! I’m glad you think so, President.” Sayaka glowed under the praise, genuine happiness and relief coloring her features.
Kirari looked down at the teacup, a pale image of herself reflected in the tea’s surface and her painted fingernails clasping the handle and saucer underneath. There was a part of Kirari that was somewhat amazed that she hadn’t scared Sayaka off yet. If Sayaka were an actual threat, she could’ve poisoned her or her sister by now, couldn’t she? Kirari had a special serum she stirred into her nail polish that could tell her if Sayaka had. The additive was one that would cause the pale blue polish to turn a garish fuschia upon contact if whatever food or drink that touched her nail contained any gamut of poisons or illicit substances. She maintained it as a safety net of sorts, but practically never bothered to actually discreetly dip the tip of her nail into something that she hadn’t prepared herself; it destroyed the mystery, eliminated the intrigue, killed the gamble. There were far more interesting ways to determine if someone was outright dangerous, simply foolish, or potentially useful than that. Such as the question that would be Sayaka’s final exam.
“I’ve been thinking,” Kirari felt Sayaka turn to look at the side of her face immediately. “Hyakkaou is a lovely school, and I’ve greatly enjoyed my time here so far. But introducing some specific reforms would really enhance it.”
The sound of Sayaka retrieving the small notebook she kept in her uniform’s pocket and turning to a fresh page made the corner of Kirari’s lip twitch up into a smirk.
“What did you have in mind, President?”
Once I reveal my plans, there’s no going back from here.
Excitement flickered inside Kirari at the thought. “Would you say the students at this school are aware of Hyakkaou’s unique traditions when they enroll, Sayaka?”
Sayaka paused for a moment and then nodded. “Yes, President. The most influential people in Japan enroll their children into this school because of the skills it teaches them through gambling.”
“And when it comes to the scholarship students, I imagine they see enrollment as a chance to change their station in life through social connections and unique education opportunities,” Kirari focused her eyes on the reflection of her and Sayaka on the aquarium’s surface, their ghost-like image looming large over the fish inside.
“...I would say that’s accurate, President.” Sayaka’s brows knitted together ever so slightly, an indication to Kirari that she was trying to follow her train of thought but wasn’t sure of her footing.
“I suppose it’s no matter, really, if a student is paying full tuition or here on a scholarship,” Kirari took a sip of tea. She would’ve much preferred the darjeeling Sayaka offered, but the sencha her sister took at this hour was fine too. “The reform I’ll be introducing will affect all students regardless of their financial status.”
Sayaka jotted down a quick note and looked back up, meeting Kirari’s eyes in the reflection on the tank’s shiny barrier. Kirari held her gaze and Sayaka fidgeted.
“If someone is bad at gambling in this school, they’re treated like an outcast by the other students. It shows a lack of tolerance for those who don’t learn how to read an opponent, think carefully and critically, or how to grasp victory from the jaws of defeat.” Kirari paused while Sayaka wrote. “Why do you think that is, Sayaka?”
Sayaka chewed the inside corner of her lip. “To shame those who are failing into performing better, President.”
Kirari hummed. “But what if they don’t get any better? Do we really want to entrust the future of this country to people who can simply graduate without learning crucial life skills? The core teachings of Hyakkaou are sound, but the system allows for far too many loopholes, don’t you think?”
Kirari could practically see the spectacular machinations of Sayaka’s mind turning behind her eyes, whirring and crunching to make sense of what Kirari was saying. “If you’re proposing consequences for incompetence, President,” Sayaka licked her lips. “Then yes, I very much agree.”
“And if those consequences followed someone beyond high school–” Kirari turned from the reflection in the glass to look at Sayaka directly, “–If behaving recklessly and foolishly at Hyakkaou could potentially determine the rest of someone’s life, could strip them of their freedom if they didn’t mend their ways... Would you still agree?”
Sayaka met her eyes even as their staring contest tinted her cheeks and the tips of her ears pink. “Yes,” the secretary said more forcefully than Kirari had expected. “Those who are unfit to lead shouldn’t be allowed to simply because they were born into a certain class or family.”
Kirari raised an eyebrow.
This girl is full of so many wonderful surprises...
“We’re in agreement then, Sayaka,” Kirari set her tea down on the cart and stroked the new ponytail she had arranged Sayaka’s hair into just a week or so prior. The younger girl gasped and flushed deeper.
Well done, Sayaka, you’ve passed the final test.
“We can discuss these reforms more over the coming days, but in the meantime–” Kirari released Sayaka’s dark tresses and skimmed her hand down the younger girl’s upper arm, resting her hand over her tricep, delighting in the way the secretary shivered under her touch. “–Could you find a local arborist for me? There’s a rotten tree that needs to be removed.”
⁂
Kirari always found meetings with the elder members of The Hundred Devouring Families to be mind-numbingly boring. It was one of her essential duties as the new matriarch of the clan, however, and as such she was required to be in attendance every month when the major families assembled to give their status reports. Even so, these meetings often turned into an opportunity for each family to air grievances about another, which would quickly devolve into angry, boisterous voices booming from the speakers surrounding her. She would have to sit there in the middle of it all, the unblinking eye at the center of her family’s swirling hurricane of insults and accusations. It was a fantastic waste of time and energy, but it was her duty, and she knew the clan would spin into destructive chaos if she wasn’t there to issue the final word on each conflict. As interesting a prospect as that was, she had other plans for her greedy, conniving relatives, plans that would take time to come to fruition. The meeting on that day had been no exception.
Having been the head of the clan for less than a year at that point, Kirari usually used the two-hour meeting time to let her thoughts wander. She would occasionally return her attention to the call to make sure she hadn’t missed anything wildly important, but otherwise she let her mind roam freely. The call that day had gone placidly enough, with each family reporting revenue gained and how they were progressing toward their annual goals.
“Komabami speaking. Thank you for your time today, Lady Momobami. We’re happy to report that we’re on-track to meet our goal of increasing our profitability by 30% for this fiscal year. It seems our plan to...”
Kirari let her eyes drift around the room, from the ornate rug that rested below her chair and the podiums holding the speakers, to the immaculately painted panels on the walls, and finally to the clerestory windows that ran around the room just below where the wall met the ceiling. It was warm in the room, just to the edge of discomfort, which made sense, given that it was late summer. When Kirari had taken over the post as leader, she had slowly begun modernizing parts of the Momobami Estate, finding clever ways to hide air ducts and thermostat panels so as to leave the old-world charm of the buildings undisturbed. That particular meeting room hadn’t been updated yet, a circumstance she briefly lamented as a thin layer of sweat began to form between her skin and the heavy layers of her formal kimono. Despite the fact that she wasn’t visible to the other family heads, she was still expected to be in full regalia for their meetings. Speaking of which, Komabami’s voice had fallen silent, which likely meant that he was finished reporting.
“Thank you, Mr. Komabami. Would Mrs. Inbami care to go next?” Kirari asked without pulling her eyes from the window.
It was already evening, and she could barely see the tips of trees in the minimal light that lingered from the sun that had already disappeared below the horizon. Not that it would’ve mattered much, seeing as how large clouds had been drifting across the sky all day, only allowing small slices of sky to peek through. As if able to read her mind, the garden lights suddenly illuminated, bathing what little she could see out of the high windows in a warm glow. That meant this meeting would soon be coming to a close.
“Inbami here. Thank you, Lady Momobami. We’re pleased to report that our latest medication has gained clearance from the PMDA. This means…”
Kirari returned to her thoughts as the head of the Inbami family droned on. She had read something interesting the other day, concerning the psychology of laughter. While scientists weren’t fully certain, there was mounting evidence that laughter and screams originated from the same region of the brain, and that they might be more closely linked than previously thought. The article she read posited that both sounds, involuntary by nature, were responses to being surprised: when one was surprised in an amusing or pleasant way, a laugh would be produced. Conversely, if one was surprised in an unpleasant or unnerving way, the result would be a scream. If Kirari thought about it, she had never been prone to screaming, had she? No, the world was full of endless fascinations and amusements, even when those things presented themselves to her in ugly and unfortunate ways; she still wanted to experience it all. But that was probably because she–
“Um. Pardon me, Lady Momobami. Are you still there?”
Oh. Right. The meeting.
“Yes, I was just finishing making a note.” A half truth. She had been listening enough to know what was said, and she would commit it to memory to share with Ririka, but she certainly wasn’t writing it down. “Thank you, Mrs. Inbami, and congratulations on the PMDA approval. Would Mr. Obami like to go next?”
“Of course, Lady Momobami. This is Kenta Obami speaking. Thank you for your presence this evening. Earlier this year, we started branching out into pachinko parlors. We did this because…”
Now, where was she? Ah, that’s right: she wasn’t a person who was easily startled, a far cry from her sister. Ririka and she occasionally mused that they would be a fabulously well-rounded person if their mother’s egg cell hadn’t split them into two different beings. Her older sister was so quick to cry and felt everything with such terrific intensity, both the good and the bad. And then there was Kirari, who, well, didn’t. She didn’t feel much of anything most of the time, if she were honest. Nothing good or bad, just something that floated in the middle.
“Thank you, Mr. Obami. The pachinko venture sounds fruitful. Mr. Honebami, would you like to conclude our meeting with your report?”
“Yes, Lady Momobami, thank you. Alexei Honebami here reporting on…”
Kirari glanced down at her hands, neatly folded in her lap like the proper young lady her grandmother had raised her to be. Particularly, she gazed at the subtle calluses on her fingertips, formed over years of playing koto and, eventually, harp. The human body’s ability to adapt and build tolerances was nothing short of impressive. Plucking at the strings on her instruments had once hurt, leaving welts and blisters in their wake. Eventually, that abused skin became thicker and tougher until she could no longer feel the painful bite of thin strings digging into soft flesh. The protective barrier on the pads of her fingers weren’t the only thing that had formed a callus in response to harm. Repeated disappointments and disillusions during her childhood had rendered her emotional landscape so flat that she bordered on being numb.
“...Don’t act coy, Alexei. You Honebamis are getting sloppy. Remember that body that washed up on the banks of the Abashiri River…?”
Kirari pressed the edge of her thumbnail into the pad of her index finger. Nothing. She pressed harder, the skin on her fingertip turning white from the pressure, until, finally, a tiny spark of pain. She had found that she could produce a similar result emotionally if she experienced something stimulating enough. Those instances could range from simple things like trying an exotic dish from some distant land to more dangerous things like scuba diving with sharks, or the thrill of a high-stakes gamble. She was always chasing the next thing that could make her feel something, anything. Anything but this listless, grey fog that descended over her if she was left idle for too long.
“...Shut your mouth, Obami! Pachinko parlors, really? What, did you get tired of your cheap scams with the used car dealership, you old hack?”
Though that dull fog had started to shift, hadn’t it? Ever since transferring from having a private tutor to attending Hyakkaou, and even more so since Sayaka had become the council’s secretary. What was it about that girl? Was it that Sayaka could see her , even when she didn’t realize it? What did Sayaka see when she looked at her? Did she see Kirari’s money? Her status? Her connections to the most powerful people in Japan? No, Sayaka likely didn’t know about that. Kirari hadn’t told her about the Devourers, nor her position in the clan. She probably knew she was well-connected, just not how well-connected.
“...You’re really throwing stones from glass houses, Alexei. You’re lucky that body was waterlogged: there were partial palm prints on the plastic sheeting wrapped around the body, but thankfully the river smudged them to hell and back. Our pachinko business, on the other hand...”
Sayaka’s style of attentiveness towards her was so, so new. Had anyone ever shown a genuine interest in her like that before? She knew she had never been wanted, except by her own twin, and, to the faintest degree, her grandmother, but only because her existence provided her with an heir. Kirari and Ririka learned very early on that they had to cling to each other, like two lost travelers huddling for warm against a blizzard. It was her and her sister, together, against everyone else, including their own family; especially their own family.
“...Kenta, I don’t think you have much room to talk to Alexei like that. Do you recall when you invested in bitcoin and lost an appalling amount of money…?”
When Sayaka blushed and sighed and became flustered by Kirari’s presence, it felt like the sun’s rays had broken through that blizzard to offer long-awaited warmth. She had been surrounded by poker faces her entire life, masks of flesh and bone that were so cold and unmoving they could pass for stone. Sayaka’s expressive face — her entire range of emotions, rippling across her features for the whole world to see — was refreshing; Kirari was charmed.
“...Listen here, you bastard…!”
They’re still talking? Really?
“That’s enough.” Kirari swept her gaze across the various speakers that fizzled and crackled into silence as soon as she spoke.
“Mr. Obami, your venture into cryptocurrency was, while forward-thinking, ultimately ill-advised. I do hope you’ve learned from your mistakes.” She shifted her eyes to another speaker, as if it were the actual person she was addressing. “As for Mr. Honebami, I assume the partial palm prints left on the body were due to the unique gloves some of your family members wear. While I can appreciate the application from a sartorial perspective, when dealing with business matters, please wear full-coverage gloves from now on.”
“Y-yes, Lady Momobami. It won’t happen again.”
“Likewise, I vow to learn from my mistakes, Lady Momobami.”
“Thank you. I think that concludes this meeting, unless anyone has something they’d wish to add?”
The muffled sound of a throat being cleared into a fist came from a speaker, but nothing else.
“Very well,” Kirari rose from her seat. “I bid you all a pleasant evening. We’ll reconvene next month.”
She was met with silence as the speakers powered off and the people behind them went on with their lives. Or so she had initially thought.
As Kirari slid open the shōji-screen door and breathed in the humid evening air, she heard a quiet sniff crackle through one of the speakers. She turned to look over her shoulder at the circle of speakers facing her empty chair.
I wonder...
Kirari slid the door shut a bit harder than usual, enough to produce an audible clack. And then she waited, her body frozen in place lest any movement would produce noise. After nearly a minute, a voice spoke softly.
“I think she’s gone…I heard the door close and it’s been long enough for her to walk away.”
“I don’t hear anything from her side…”
“Yes, I think we’re in the clear.”
“Good. I don’t know what the former head was thinking, appointing a damn child.”
“It’s absurd, is what it is.”
“Her grandmother couldn’t have waited a few more years until she was an adult? She might’ve been married off and we could get someone other than her.”
Kirari could only stare as the speakers spilled venomous words into the air.
“You think someone would willingly marry her? Ha!”
“Like, marry her just for her as a person? Absolutely not!”
A woman — the Totobami head, perhaps? — laughed. Kirari remained still.
“The only reason someone would willingly marry Kirari would be to get at the Momobamis’ wealth and status. An opportunity to live in the lap of luxury and maybe a shot at the throne, but that’s it.”
“We’ve all made sacrifices to be where we are today, but marrying Kirari? That’s just too high of a price to pay!”
Laughter broke out across the speakers, filling the room with a raucous din that Kirari could feel as much as she could hear. It was enough to break through that dense fog that enveloped her, causing a sensation that echoed one she hadn’t felt since she was a very small child. One where that strange, warm creature that had taken up residence in her chest grew agitated and cruel, digging its claws into her ribs with a scorching ache.
Her breathing skipped and became uneven as something bubbled up her throat. She tried to stop it, truly. An entire childhood and adolescence of stifling her emotions and thoughts lest they be used against her should’ve been enough to hold it back. But the feeling was far too strong, and, unbidden, her mouth opened and the thing in her throat gushed out.
It was a laugh. A big, terrible laugh that made her ribs ache from the force her lungs exerted to birth it into the world. It sounded different than her usual laugh, and that startled her a bit, this alien laugh pouring forth from some place inside her. But that surprise just made her laugh even harder.
The cacophony over the speakers died almost instantly. After a beat of palpable shock, the words came.
“L-Lady Momobami!? Is that you–?”
“Lady Momobami! W-we didn’t mean what we said, it was only a joke, we–”
“Lady Momobami, I’m–”
Kirari continued to laugh as the family heads tripped over themselves in their haste to save face, a howl that made her throat feel raw and her stomach sore, but that she still couldn’t stop. She remembered what she read about laughter and screams.
“Allow me to explain–”
How laughter and screams came from the same place.
“Lady Momobami! Lady Momobami, please–!”
As tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and her jaw hurt, she wondered which one exactly it was in that moment.
When Kirari made her way back to the cool quietness of her grandmother’s old room — now her room when she visited the estate — it was late, and she was tired, but not in the way that demanded sleep. The voices of her relatives echoed in her skull as she retrieved her phone from the nightstand and sent her sister a quick text.
Kirari Momobami – 10:24PM
Just got out of the meeting. Same old status reports and family drama.
Ririka Momobami – 10:24PM
Uneventful is good. You in for the night? 😴
Kirari Momobami – 10:25PM
Yeah, about to shower and sleep. You know how exhausting these meetings are.
Kirari noticed the tab for her conversation with Sayaka was marked with the ellipses that indicated she was typing. The echoing voices plaguing Kirari’s head faded and the ache in her ribs ebbed. She set down her phone and began peeling away the layers of her kimono while she waited for a pleasant text from her secretary. Just as she slipped out of the final layer, her phone buzzed to life on the bed. Kirari quickly flung the hiyoku onto the bed to snatch her phone.
Ririka Momobami – 10:28PM
Ugh, srsly. Let me know when you’re taking off tomorrow. Night, Rari. 💙
Kirari shrugged away the numbness she felt when the text hadn’t been from Sayaka. She also noticed Sayaka was no longer typing. Her big sister was important to her, of course, but she had been craving something else...
Kirari Momobami – 10:28PM
Of course. Night, Riri. 💙
Kirari set her phone back down on the nightstand and assured herself that by the time she returned from showering, a text from her secretary would be waiting for her. Except when she returned to the bedroom with her torso wrapped in a fluffy towel and her hair freshly washed and dried, there were still no new messages.
This won’t do…
With tense shoulders, she rummaged in her bag for her earbuds and quickly pressed one into each ear before unlocking her phone and hovering her thumb over Sayaka’s name. She glanced at the time; it was a little past eleven.
It’s late… She might be asleep now, but perhaps not. More importantly, what was she typing before?
Kirari knew the clan didn’t particularly like her or her sister, some members even outright despised them. She had endured their slights her entire life, both directly and indirectly, just another callus that built up over the years. But something about that evening’s display seemed to have struck a nerve.
Why was that?
She tapped Sayaka’s name on her phone and waited, but not for long. Sayaka’s voice came through her earbuds in the middle of the second ring and Kirari felt her shoulders relax a bit.
“Good evening, President. This is Sayaka speaking.”
“Goodness, I should hope this is my adorable secretary. I did dial her number, after all,” Kirari smiled as she heard Sayaka gasp and stammer on the other end of the call. She tried to imagine the blush that was almost certainly flaring across her secretary’s cheeks.
“Y-yes, of course! Is...Is there anything I can do for you, President?”
Straight to business, hm?
“Perhaps I just wanted to talk with you. I do realize it’s late, however. Did I wake you?”
“Ah, n-no, I was still awake. What did you want to talk about?”
Kirari didn’t detect any grogginess in Sayaka’s voice that would indicate anything contrary.
“What are you doing that’s kept you up so late?” Kirari pressed; she wanted to know what Sayaka was texting her about before.
“Oh, I was just doing some reading, President.” Kirari heard fabric rustle behind Sayaka’s voice, reminding her of the fact that she was still wearing only a towel and standing in the middle of the dimly-lit bedroom. The only source of light came from a small lamp on the nightstand.
“Is that so? What about?” Kirari sat on the edge of the bed before turning off the lamp, plunging the bedroom into near darkness as moonlight struggled to break through the passing clouds.
Sayaka drew in a breath. “It’s...It’s a book about best practices for executive administrative assistants,” the secretary muttered quickly.
“Just some light reading before bed, hm?” Kirari teased.
“I-It’s just–” Sayaka swallowed. “–I just want to make sure I’m doing the best job I can for you, President. A-and the council too, of course!”
Kirari couldn’t imagine reading something so dry for leisure, though she supposed some of the topics that lined her own bookshelves might seem boring to others. Still…
“I see. Well, your hard work is certainly appreciated, Sayaka, I do hope you know that. Though I also hope you find time to relax.”
Sayaka sighed deeply as if she were about to reveal an embarrassing secret. “To tell you the truth, President, I get a bit...restless when I’m not occupied somehow.”
Kirari had noticed that early on. She would sometimes ask Sayaka to complete a menial task if she noticed Sayaka’s hands becoming tense in their idleness, and, like clockwork, the small tasks would get her secretary’s hands to unclench. Though she responded to a lack of stimulation differently herself, she could sympathize with the younger girl, empathize even.
Does the dense, grey fog chase you too, Sayaka? Does it sink into every pore and cell until it’s all you can taste or feel?
“Can I tell you a secret, Sayaka?” Kirari dropped her voice low and smiled to herself when she heard Sayaka hold her breath in anticipation. “I’m much the same way.”
“You...R-Really?” There was relief in Sayaka’s voice, and then skepticism. “But...you always seem so poised, President.”
“I get bored easily,” Kirari shrugged despite the fact Sayaka couldn’t see it. “Though I suppose that isn’t news, is it?” She chuckled.
“No, no, I suppose not, President,” Sayaka replied with a soft giggle.
Tension bled from Kirari’s body at the sound as she glanced out the window. The clouds seemed to be thinning out, and she could just barely make out the tiny, bright pin pricks of stars in the brief slices of dark sky that peeked through.
“I just…” Sayaka began. “I feel like I’m wasting time if I’m not doing something… And then my thoughts get very cluttered with all the things I could be doing and, oh–!” Sayaka sucked in a sharp gasp. “I’m sorry, President, I’m...I’m rambling…”
No, it’s not the fog for you, is it? But it’s something similar. My world gets too slow and hazy and dull while your world gets too fast and bright and loud, like the sun beating down on blistered skin...
Kirari felt the weight of the day flow into her limbs, beckoning her to rest. She stood and dropped her towel to the floor before pulling back the covers of the bed and crawling under the sheets. She had never tried sleeping nude before; the opportunity hadn’t really presented itself before that night.
“I don’t mind, Sayaka, truly. You entertained my exhaustive tea lesson on your first day, after all,” she hummed as her bare back settled against the mattress.
Was that really only a handful of months ago? How time flies...
“It was interesting, President, and I learned so much! I appreciate you taking the time to teach me, and–”
Kirari reveled in the new sensation of bed sheets brushing against every inch of her skin. She was suddenly hyper-aware of her body in a way she practically never was.
“Are you in bed, by chance, Sayaka?” Kirari interrupted. She knew it was rude to cut her off, but she felt pleasantly drowsy and perfect manners seemed of little importance.
A soft, surprised squeak came through Kirari’s earbuds. “I’m–I...yes, I’ve been sitting in bed for a little while, President. I was going to read until I started falling asleep.”
Oh? Were you in bed when you were texting me, then? You thought about me while in bed...?
Kirari suppressed the soft sigh that threatened to slip out of her at the thought. Her sweet secretary’s voice swirled in her ear as she lied in bed, naked as the day she was born.
“I’m in bed too. I’m lying down right now, in fact. Lie down with me?” Kirari’s eyes fluttered closed and a small smile pulled at her lips as she heard Sayaka’s breath hitch.
“P-President!”
“Perhaps we can help each other sleep, even with the distance between us,” Kirari offered. With her eyes closed, she could pretend she and Sayaka were lying next to each other. Her stomach fluttered pleasantly, similar to the way it did when she dove from a swimming pool’s highest diving platform.
“Oh, ah, w-well...” Kirari heard fabric rustle on Sayaka’s side again. “That reminds me: I wanted to ask how your trip was going, b-but I didn’t want to pry, so…”
Aha! So that’s what it was. You were curious about what I was up to, then? How cute…
“I find your curiosity very charming, Sayaka,” Kirari confessed. It was the truth: she was fascinated by how Sayaka’s mind worked; it held an incomprehensible pattern of thoughts that connected seemingly disparate dots. Her sister, on the other hand, appeared to find Sayaka’s scrutiny and knack for solving things that should be unsolvable unnerving.
“I–” Sayaka released a breath. “–Th-thank you, President,” she mumbled.
Kirari wondered if Sayaka was blushing to the tips of her ears. She quite enjoyed when that happened.
“Are you lying down, Sayaka?” Kirari kept her voice low and gentle.
More fabric rustled behind her secretary’s voice. “I am, President,” she breathed.
Kirari opened her eyes and she held her breath at what she saw: the clouds had thinned enough that only pale wisps passed in front of a gloriously bright crescent moon. The bedroom was bathed in soft, pale moonlight.
“Tell me, Sayaka–” Kirari licked her lips. “–Do you have a window near your bed? Can you see the moon tonight?”
“Oh, um–” Fabric rustled once more and something metallic clinked. “–Ah. I’m afraid not, President. I just opened my blinds and it seems I can’t see the moon from this side of the house. Should...should I go outside and look at it? Would you like me to? I-it’s no problem, I can just slip on a pair of shoes, and–”
“No, no, that’s quite alright, Sayaka, thank you,” Kirari hummed. “It’s very bright and beautiful tonight, is all. A waxing crescent, I believe…” She shifted and shuddered pleasantly as the sheets caressed her skin. “It would be lovely if we could lie down and look at the moon together, wouldn’t it? Alas…”
“That sounds wonderful, President…” Sayaka whispered, as if saying it too loudly would make the moon run away.
The warm, soft thing in her chest seemed to purr against Kirari’s breastbone at Sayaka’s admission. She was struck with an idea.
“Wouldn’t it be interesting, Sayaka, if you could turn your room to face the moon?”
After Kirari finally bid Sayaka good night, she fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of a sea of pale, fragrant flowers dripping with silver moonlight. The dream blurred and swirled into another of soft bed sheets perfumed with the scent of plain, fresh body soap.
When she awoke in the morning, the cool blues and greys of the night had been replaced by the pale pinks and lavenders of dawn. The first few notes of birdsong contrasted against the otherwise still sleepiness that always blanketed the early morning hours. Kirari was something of a night owl by nature, but her life’s responsibilities had dictated that she bore witness to countless sunrises during her young life.
She slipped out of bed and shivered, unsure if the cool, humid air greeting her exposed skin or her mind swirling with the possibilities of the ideas sparked by her conversation with Sayaka were more to blame. Kirari shrugged on a thin bathrobe and quietly slipped out onto the veranda outside her bedroom, the cool wood spanking the soles of her bare feet. After she was sure none of the estate’s staff had started making their rounds yet, she made her way out to the peach orchard.
She was used to being in the orchard at dawn: it was the one other time aside from twilight that provided enough light to see while also leaving her pale skin unscathed. Her sister and she had learned quickly at a very young age that the reduced pigment in their eyes, hair, and skin — leucism, a doctor had once called it — meant that their skin was especially sensitive, and could go from the soft pink of a hatsukoi no kaori strawberry to an angry, peeling red in a shockingly short amount of time. As such, her time among the peach trees was limited and precious, even more so since she had moved away to attend Hyakkaou.
Her footsteps cut a path through dew-covered grass until she arrived at a tree that hadn’t been harvested just yet, which was surprising given how it was so late in the summer they were just on the cusp of autumn.
Perhaps it was a late-bloomer?
Kirari rose onto her tiptoes and grasped the nearest peach, testing it with a practiced squeeze she had learned over the years; it was firm, but a slight give under her fingertips that revealed its perfect ripeness. With a quick twist of her wrist, the peach was plucked free from its branch and Kirari, with her head still swimming with ideas about the moon and flowers and Sayaka, sank her teeth into the peach’s flesh.
At the first bite, the peach’s abundant juices ran down her chin and throat, staining her skin in sticky sweetness. Her mouth was flooded with its taste as she pulled back to sink her fingers around the edges of the pit, pulling it out of the way so she could continue eating unimpeded. When she went in for another bite, the tip of her tongue laved over the slick bumps and grooves where the pit once was, the texture making goosebumps erupt across her arms. The sound her mouth was making against the peach’s blushing flesh was unmistakably wet and lewd, and she trembled a little as the juice continued to flow into the hollow of her throat before spilling over, dripping down over her sternum. The flushed hues of the peach remind her of Sayaka’s beautiful blushes, and a soft moan hummed deep from the back of her throat. Kirari’s eyes fluttered closed at the thought as more nectar coated her tongue.
What would her grandmother think, to see her heir moaning into fruit at the crack of dawn, nearly nude, and making a mess of herself out in the open of the orchard? What would she do if she knew her granddaughter was breathless and aching for a girl? Those thoughts only made her stomach quiver and an airy giggle bubble from her sticky lips. She despised that woman. To know that her grandmother, far away in an elderly care facility, would recoil in disgust and anger if she knew what was happening right then in that orchard energized Kirari in a way that made her feel light, as if a terrible weight had been lifted off her chest. She clung to the tree, intoxicated and giddy, humming tunes to the leaves and branches in between bites of fruit, a few notes slipping past her lips at times, her voice as soft and soothing as a lullaby.
As soon as Kirari arrived back at her and her sister’s new house near Hyakkaou, she was determined to get to work on drafting the ideas brought on by the overwhelming wave of inspiration that had washed over her while talking with Sayaka. Her sister, on the other hand, had had different ideas. Ideas about lunch at the new place in town, maybe even a little shopping. “C’mon, it’s a Saturday, Rari,” she had said. “I hear the cheeseburgers are really good,” she had insisted. And, knowing she’d rather be pulled away from her drafting table than deal with her twin sulking and pouting all weekend, she had acquiesced.
By the time they returned to the house with a few shopping bags each, it was early evening, and Kirari had started to grow restless, desperate to get thoughts on paper before they slipped out of reach into the recesses of her mind. Ririka must have sensed it, because she didn’t pry when Kirari had retired to her room with an excuse about how lunch was so filling she wasn’t hungry for dinner. When she shut her bedroom door behind her and sat down at her desk, it took only a moment before she began sketching and hastily jotting down notes.
The ideas and questions had rushed out quickly. What kind of structure should it be? A building, something they could go inside of. How tall? Very. It needed to stretch high into the sky, like the tree that came before it. But this time, it would be made of metal and stone; it would stand strong against time and the elements. How many stories? Three is too low. Four is unlucky. Five felt good, auspicious. Like the five-tiered, Buddhist pagodas she’s always admired. What would it be used for? A game, of course. A test that came with consequences. More accurately: it would be a gamble. What kind of gamble? Lots of different puzzles, logic-based ones. They need to be logical. Perhaps it’s a bit like a maze, just vertical. How does the moon factor in? It’ll be a clue. A clue about what? About how the tower works. How does the tower work? It rotates. The solution follows the moon. What does the solution reveal? What the tower really means. And what does the tower really mean?
Kirari stared down at the large expanse of paper taking up the top of her desk, most of the surface covered in either drawings or words.
What does the tower really mean?
The answer, Kirari knew, was inside of her. Yet it hid from her, like it wasn’t ready to be seen just yet. Why was it—?
“Rari?”
Kirari snapped her head to her side, where her sister was standing in her pajamas, holding a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in one hand and a fork in the other. The food was fresh, with steam still curling up from the eggs in pale wisps. Her sister’s face was solemn, eyes searching Kirari’s own and brows furrowed ever so slightly.
How long has she been there?
“I made breakfast,” Ririka said slowly. “I thought you might be hungry, since you haven’t eaten anything since yesterday.”
...Yesterday?
Kirari tapped the face of her phone, the lock screen clearly displaying that it was half past six in the morning.
Oh.
“You didn’t sleep, did you?” Ririka murmured. “You’re still wearing the clothes you wore out to lunch and the shops…”
Kirari glanced down at herself as if the concept of even having a body was strange. But sure enough, she was still in the same clothes she had put on at the estate before boarding the helicopter back home. Whatever spell Kirari had fallen under during the night began to lift, and the fatigue of what she had done threw itself down on Kirari in the former’s place. As if on cue, an embarrassingly loud growl rumbled from her stomach.
The corner of her sister’s lip twitched up a little at the noise, and her eyes grew softer, the worry that had once occupied them fading into the background.
“It would appear I lost track of time,” Kirari sighed. Her own voice sounded rough with disuse and weariness. She shifted a stack of architecture books on her desk to clear some space.
“I can see that,” Ririka chuckled as she set the plate and fork down. “Did you finally find some inspiration for the clearing where that tree was?”
“I did,” Kirari nodded drowsily, a small smile pulling on her lips. “Or rather, I think it found me.”