Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sayaka Igarashi lived in a small and comfortable studio apartment, near the centre of Tokyo.

It was a fifteen minute bus ride from the academy, it was a five minute walk from her workplace, and (although she’d never needed to visit) it was walking distance from the President’s manor. The apartment itself was like a safe haven for Sayaka. It was somewhere where she could do her work, completely undisturbed. Nobody had ever been to her apartment, and Sayaka entirely expected this to remain the case until at least university.

The day that this changed, was a Friday.

Sayaka was flicking through the reports for the council, promptly ignoring a stream of messages from Ikishima Midari, suggesting that she was up late because she was doing something lewd on the phone with her president. She hadn’t noticed the time. In fact, to Sayaka, it was still a Thursday night, and not a Friday morning with only a few hours left till her morning classes.

It was a knock on the door, that made her look up from the spreadsheet. She jumped. Nobody ever knocked on her door. Not unless she’d ordered something to eat, but Sayaka hadn’t ordered anything in weeks. Reaching for the taser, the cool plastic bringing a reassuring and familiar feel to her palm, she stood up and crept towards the door.

On the way, she noticed the day and time, displayed on a digital clock at the side of her bed:

Fri, 03:40

“Oh dear.” She muttered. She’d done it again. Once upon a time, she’d been able to get seven hours of sleep every night and stay on top of her schoolwork, but with the addition of her duties to the student council, that lifestyle was no longer an option. It wasn’t like she did it on purpose – she was trying to get more sleep. Things just… got out of hand.

There was a small peephole at her eye level, which she’d had installed after her first week living in the block. She peered through it, eyeing what – who – stood on the other side.

“Oh, what the fuck.” She groaned, her Kansai dialect spewing form her mouth completely unbidden. It was no surprise, really; not when you consider who was on the other side of the door, standing in the door frame like it was a perfectly normal and acceptable time to do so.

“Hey sweetie!” Her dad crooned, wearing his wide smile. One of his arms was strewn over his wife – Sayaka’s mother – and the other was holding a bundle of blankets to his chest. Her mother was smiling at her too, though there was an unusual tiredness in her eyes, and holding onto her hand with an iron grip was Sayaka’s younger sister. She was four years old, and a total menace.

“What are you doing here?” She asked warily. Her parents continued to smile, but said nothing. Her younger sister let out a loud yawn and stamped her feet. Sayaka’s eye twitched. A menace.

“Well, we need someone to look after Kaida and Hoshi.” Her father replied merrily. “May we come in?”

“Look after them?” Sayaka spluttered. She was busy, she didn’t have time for this.

“Oh, not for forever, dear.” Her mother said, passing Kaida’s hand into Sayaka’s. Sayaka stared at it in disbelief, but it didn’t seem to bother Kaida. “It’s just for the long weekend.”

“There is no long weekend? I have school in four hours.” Sayaka said angrily, pulling Kaida further into the apartment – that her parents simply invited themselves into – and sitting the small child on her bed. She had just turned four, and there was no reason at all for her to be awake at this hour. She was probably exhausted.

“Potato, potahto.”

“What’s the use of having a daughter that lives away from the house,” Her father said, placing Hoshi onto the desk, next to the reports, as if that was a perfectly adequate place for a baby. “If she won’t occasionally do the babysitting?”

Her parents hadn’t wanted her to move out at the end of middle school. They liked having her around – she was free childcare for her younger siblings, if nothing else, but they were the exact reason that she’d needed to leave. To breed perfect results, Sayaka had to stay away from the two that had bred her, so to speak.

 “That’s not my job.” Sayaka huffed. Kaida, who was usually so full of life, had crawled under Sayaka’s covers and fallen asleep almost instantly. “And you shouldn’t have kept Kaida up so late!” She added in a whisper.

“See, you’re babysitting material already.”

“There’s not room here! I have one bed.” She hissed.

“Nonsense,” Her mother chimed in. “You have a double bed, and all Hoshi needs is a drawer in a cupboard.”

“He’s almost twelve months old, not twelve days old. He needs a crib. I don’t have a crib. And I can’t share my bed with Kaida, either.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re sharing it with anyone else.” Her mother laughed, and her father joined in once the joke had clicked in his small, small brain. Sayaka tried not to bare her teeth in anger. Logically, she knew that most teenagers felt frustrated by their parents, but she was positive that hers tried to be particularly annoying on purpose. “Not our Sayaka.”

“I don’t know,” She muttered, trying to keep her anger at bay, “What that is meant to mean. But what I’m saying is, I can’t take the kids.”

“They’re your brother and sister!”

“They need parents! This is borderline negligent.” Sayaka snapped. Luckily, none of the sleeping infants awoke. She lowered her voice. “Where are you even going?”

Her parents were already making their way to the door. Her mother’s handbag knocked into one of her shelves, and a pile of books came down. Still, the sleeping children didn’t wake. It was probably a testament to how tired they had been. Sayaka scrambled to pick up the books.

“We’re going on a retreat, dear, and we’ll be back on Sunday to fetch them!”

“No, wait!” Sayaka cried, looking up from the fallen books in her hands. Her parents were already back out onto the balcony, waving goodbye.

“We love you, dear! Remember Kaida is allergic to shellfish and Hoshi is—”

The door slammed in Sayaka’s face.

This time, Hoshi woke up, squealing at the top of his lungs like a piglet. Sayaka let out another curse word, before promising herself that she wouldn’t again for another month – she’d worked hard to get rid of the way they’d used to speak at home. Her dialect was fine-tuned now. Elegant, like the President’s.

The President!

There was no way that Sayaka could go to school, not like this. She’d leave them with a nanny or something, but the school had no such service and Sayaka knew nobody on hand. Even if she did, Kaida would be sure to tell her parents and there would be no end to the reprimanding. For some reason, they were convinced that Sayaka had turned out the way she did because of all the paid childcare she’d had growing up. In Sayaka’s opinion, if more children turned out like her, Japan’s economy and politics would be in a far greater condition than it was currently.

Sayaka was at Hoshi’s side, rocking him steadily. She didn’t know anything about childcare, but this seemed to do the trick. The boy’s squeals went from porcine to quiet, and eventually he was giggling and dribbling, but nothing more. Luckily, Kaida slept on. Sayaka dreaded the child’s waking up.

There was no way she was going to school. Not today. She was stuck babysitting.

Irritably, she took out her phone and sent the school a notice of her absence, before forwarding it to Kirari, with another brief apology. Once she’d set her phone down, Hoshi burst out into another round of tears, and her job for the next three days was affirmed.

*

Sayaka <3

[[-attachment of absence notice­-]]

I’m so sorry, but I won’t be able to

attend the academy today. I have

sent the weekly report to your email.

Kirari had stared at the text for ten solid seconds, before putting her phone down with a concealed sigh. How frustrating. She could function just fine without Sayaka in school for a couple of hours, but a whole day, a Friday no less, was pushing it. Plus, nobody else made tea quite like Sayaka. Nobody else kept Kirari company quite like Sayaka, either.

She let out another stifled sigh. There was no need to think like that. It was odd, though. Sayaka had never missed a day at school. Not even when she’d somehow contracted tuberculosis. Kirari smiled at the memory of her sick, sick secretary.

“What’s so funny?” Runa asked. She didn’t look up from her Gameboy, and she didn’t take the lollipop out of her mouth to speak. It hung out a little bit from her cheek – lemon flavoured, Kirari noted.

“I didn’t laugh.”

“Didn’t you?” Runa looked up. “Nyaa-! Whatever. Where’s Igarashi-San?”

“She is absent today.”

For a moment, it seemed like the words didn’t hit Runa’s ears. Then, a slow smile filled her features.

“I see.” She said with a giggle, turning back to her Gameboy.

“That amuses you?”

Runa shrugged, turning the volume of her game up. If Kirari’s memory of her childhood was serving her right – which it certainly might not be – it seemed like Runa was playing Mario Kart.

“You have the weekly report, right?” Runa asked after a second. “It needs to be submitted before nine.” She said the last part in a singsong voice. Kirari’s lips twitched with annoyance but otherwise, she kept completely composed.

Impatiently, Kirari opened her email and sent the file to the board of directors. “I know that.” She said flatly, keeping any trace of annoyance out of her voice. In truth, it had slipped her mind. She needed Sayaka here.

“Just checkin’!” Runa giggled. “It’s going to be hard for you without Igarashi telling you what to do.”

“Do you think so.” It wasn’t a question, and Runa knew that. She’d gotten under the President’s skin. She let out a peeling burst of laughter, before hopping off the chair, Gameboy still blaring music, and exited the council room without another word. Kirari watched her go, her features finally falling into a soft frown.

Perhaps she’d gotten too used to Sayaka’s company in the morning.

She usually liked the chaos that life brought, but some things should never be altered. Like her morning cup of earl grey, that the house pet hadn’t quite made right. And the cup of green tea that was meant to follow. Neither had satisfied the thirst in her throat, and now she was heading to her first period class – that she’d had to look up the room for by herself – completely unmotivated.

Her notes were lax, she noticed. Her pencil didn’t write her kanji the same. She sighed. She definitely needed to teach someone else how to blend her tea properly, for it had seemingly ruined her entire day.

“Something the matter?” Her masked partner asked.

She shared the class with her twin sister. Nobody would have known it was her sister; they exchanged polite pleasantries at the start of the lesson, and remained in silence for the rest of the class. It frustrated Kirari to know she was being so obvious, that even Ririka had noticed her distress.

“Not at all.”

“Igarashi-san isn’t here today.” The vice-president said slowly, as if she was trying to gauge Kirari’s reaction. “I saw it in the registers.”

Kirari hummed in acknowledgement.

“She’s never missed a day off school.”

That addition was unnecessary, because of course Kirari knew that, and so she didn’t grace her sister with any reply at all.

“You don’t…” The masked figure paused, probably sighing. “…You don’t think she’s hurt or in trouble, do you?”

Kirari paused, her pencil hovering over the paper. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Briefly, she’d pondered Sayaka’s absence, but hadn’t really delved into it. She was sure the shorter girl would tell her when she got back, and she was sure the reason would be sound and logical. Everything Sayaka did was sound and logical – everything, perhaps, except her never-ending devotion to Kirari. Not that that could ever be done away with.

“I hadn’t thought of it.” Kirari said simply, turning over her notes and pasting on her best nonchalant smile. Truthfully, she was somewhat worried at the notion that Sayaka could be in danger, and the more she thought on it, what other logical reason could there be that she would miss school? And Sayaka was nothing if not logical. There had to have been an incident. Perhaps it concerned the clan, or perhaps it didn’t, but now Kirari was borderline concerned.

“Maybe I should call her.” The Vice-President said passively. “She even came in when she had tuberculosis that one time.” A low chuckle came from the mask. “She quarantined herself in your office so she could work.”

“Logical, even at her most illogical.” Kirari mused. She wondered if she’d tricked her sister into thinking she didn’t care, but the truth was far from it.

Idiotic. That was how she’d acted in the last hour. Sayaka would never simply be absent. In what universe was Sayaka Igarashi absent? The best case scenario was that Midari had her held at gunpoint in the basement, and the worst…

The Vice-President had returned to working in silence. Kirari would have found this more comforting, if she hadn’t been working in overdrive internally. Should she call security to Sayaka’s apartment? Would Sayaka even be at her apartment? Or had her kidnappers taken her someplace else, maybe to a warehouse by the sea. How would they kill her? Or would they torture her first, and bring her to an inch of her life, so they could call Kirari and ask for a ransom? Maybe there was a brown envelope on her desk containing Sayaka’s pinkie finger, and she had the nerve to sit here doing Japanese class.

A small, stressed smile grew on Kirari’s face as she pictured Sayaka, tears streaming down her face, hands tied behind her back, her body resting idly on an old and crooked chair. The warehouse was dark. There was a man, pointing a gun to her head. She was crying out Kirari’s name, calling repeatedly for her president, who was all the way in Tokyo attending her afternoon classes, blissfully unaware of her condition.

No, that would not be the happenings of the afternoon. By the afternoon, Sayaka would be saved – Kirari would make sure of it.

“President Momobami?” The teacher’s voice broke her sickening fantasy.

Kirari drew her attention to the front of the class.

“The answer to number six?” The teacher asked. There was nervousness in her voice, and rightly so, for she had decided to call on Kirari Momobami, and the President had not been listening.

Kirari stared at her sheet. She’d only gotten to question five before her mind had wandered off. She smiled at the multiple choice sat in front of her. A gamble. What an amiable distraction.

“C.” She said with perfect confidence. It wasn’t A, and it wasn’t D, so she had a fifty-fifty chance. Plus, ‘B’ had been the answer to question one and two. The odds were stacked in her favour.

“Actually, it’s B. But a very… Very good attempt!” The teacher stammered. She was clearly frightened that the President would somehow punish her, despite the fact that even though she ran the academy – and essentially all of Japan – she was still just a student in her class.

“Ah” Kirari shrugged. “I’ll know that for next time.”

A few of the classmates that had dared to look back, were now firmly and fiercely facing the front of the class. Kirari paid them no attention at all. She couldn’t, however, ignore the eery and unmoving gaze of the mask beside her. It stared at her, wordlessly, and Kirari had never felt so assessed by her sister in all her life. It was uncomfortable.

The bell went before either twin could say anything.

Kirari should have gone to her next class. That was what would have made sense; and it was where she should have gone. However, the thought of Sayaka in that warehouse had embedded itself into the back of her brain, and she couldn’t shake it free.

She texted the chauffeur, and soon found herself stood outside a black limousine at the front gate. She had to make sure, before she jumped to conclusions. Also, that afternoon, she had math.

“Where to, President?” The driver asked, holding the door open for her. She shut it herself.

Finding Sayaka’s address on her phone, she told the driver, and soon they were on the move. It was only a ten minute car ride, even with the traffic. She supposed that made sense – Sayaka couldn’t have lived far away, considering she’d once ran all the way home to finish a report and ran all the way back, just to make a deadline that had slipped Kirari’s mind. She thought back to that day – to the sweat that gleamed over Sayaka’s brow, to the way she’d thrown her crimson blazer over her  shoulder because of the heat – and allowed herself a tiny, tiny smirk.

“This is the place.” The driver said. This time, the door opened automatically. Kirari didn’t question the courtesy of when and where doors should be opened for her – it seemed like most drivers had their own set of rules.

“Thank you.” She said simply, stepping out onto the busy street. They were near the centre of Tokyo. She recognised the area – it wasn’t far from her own home, or the one that she and Ririka inhabited during the school year, anyway.

A man bumped into her as he walked quickly down the path, and for the first time in Kirari’s life, he didn’t cower in fear when her cold gaze met his.

“Watch it, bitch.” He growled. His breath smelled of something unpleasant. “Damn school girls…”

And with that, he continued striding down the street.

How odd. He must not have known who she was. She wasn’t a public figure as such – not like the Prime Minister, even if she did wield more power than him. The general public didn’t know who she was exactly, but it had never been a real problem for her, because she so rarely entered the general public and when she did, her aura was menacing enough to dispel most of the unwanted attention.

Sayaka’s apartment, however, was very much in the general public, and apparently, Kirari’s aura didn’t work here.

The building was the nicest on the street, but still probably the worst space Kirari had ever entered – if you didn’t count Midari’s basement, that is. There was a man stood in the lobby, who smiled at her stiffly before turning back to his paper. It was a fonder reaction than Kirari had been expecting. Maybe Sayaka’s neighbours were nice; the thought was comforting. She’d hate for Sayaka to live in the same building as anyone like the man who had barged into her on the street, not her sweet, small Sayaka.

The lift wasn’t the smoothest journey upwards, but it did the job. Kirari applied hand sanitiser once she’d exited the metal box, not because she’d touched anything but simply because it was the principal of the matter, and she felt dirty. The apartment building consisted of four floors, each with a balcony jutting out to go to whichever apartment you wanted on said floor. According to the school, Sayaka lived on the fourth, and highest, floor, but it said nothing of apartment number.

Kirari decided to try the third door on the balcony. One seemed too close to the lift, and two was an even number and she hated even numbers. Any further than three, however, and Kirari was sure to pass out from exhaustion.

She knocked once, then withdrew her hand to her side.

“I’m getting’ the door!” She heard a child’s voice cry from inside the room. Kirari’s anxiety dissipated when she realised that this wasn’t Sayaka’s apartment, couldn’t be. Perhaps hers was two. Kirari despaired at the thought. She almost turned away, when—

The door swung open, and a very small-looking Sayaka stared up at her. Kirari paused, struck by the sight of her. She couldn’t have been taller than Kirari’s thigh, and as short as her secretary was, she’d never been that small. And her hair had never been cut into a bob, not in all the years Kirari had known her. Sayaka’s hair was long and silky. The child’s face though… That was Sayaka’s face.

Kirari blinked, slowly.

“Woah.” The child said with wide, violet eyes – Sayaka’s eyes. “You’re tall.”

Kirari noticed the fullness in the girl’s cheeks, and the small thread of freckles peppered over her nose. She noticed the thinness of her lips, and the unkept mess of eyebrow above each eye. Maybe it wasn’t Sayaka’s face. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

“Kaida, come back here right now!” Sayaka’s – her Sayaka’s – voice came from behind where the child stood. Then, she came into view.

Kirari’s lips parted a fraction of an inch before she could stop them. There, was her perfect secretary, dressed in a cotton white shirt and loose-fitting blue jeans, her hair still held in the signature ribbon, and to her chest, she was swaddling a small baby. A small, purple-haired baby, with chubby hands and chubby arms and eyes the same colour as Sayaka’s.

Was Sayaka secretly a teen mom?

“Sayaka.” Kirari greeted coolly. She had an excellent poker face – it was second nature to her, being the President of a school that ran exclusively on gambling.

Sayaka’s gaze came up instantly from the small Sayaka lookalike, to Kirari. Her mouth practically dropped off her face. If Kirari hadn’t been reeling at the sight of her, she might have found it amusing.

“Pr-President!” She cried, horror coating her features.

The president forced herself to smirk, despite the fact that her mind was running at one thousand metres per second.

“This is certainly a surprise.” She said in a relaxed manner. “May I come in?”

Sayaka only managed a nod, her face the colour of strawberry ice cream. Kirari side-stepped the small child at her feet, despite the girl’s loud complaints that ‘there was no room at the inn’, and took her shoes off politely.

“It is lovely to meet you.” She said to the girl, crouching down to meet her level. “Kaida, if I heard right? Little dragon.” She mused. “A good name, I think.”

Kaida looked at Kirari plainly, before reaching out and smacking her right across the face. The president let out a gasp of surprise, but the slap hadn’t hurt. There was little to no force in it.

“Kaida!” Sayaka yelled, eyes wide with mortification, depositing the baby onto a nearby desk and rushing forward. She grabbed the small child – an overgrown toddler, really – and moved her away from Kirari and towards the other side of the small apartment.

The commotion gave Kirari a second to look around. There was a bathroom next to her, but everything else seemed to be squashed into one, very small room. A double bed was pressed against the wall nearest to her. There was a desk and chair, a small wardrobe, and a mini fridge and table, but not much else.

A picture on the wall caught Kirari’s attention, however. In it, Sayaka sat alone on a red brick wall, age undetermined, and on either side were – who Kirari could only assume to be – her parents. There was nobody else with her.

“Who is the father?” She asked, once Sayaka had returned to her side.

“Hm?” Sayaka turned to her, her face blank. She tilted her head in the same way a puppy would. Kirari always found that particularly cute.

“The father of your children?”

Sayaka blinked.

“My what?”

Kirari frowned. “These two. Your offspring.” She gestured to the two infants.

Sayaka blinked again, before understanding finally crossed over her features. “O-Oh! President! No! No, no no. These are my siblings. I don’t have, uh, any children. I’m not—Well. It wouldn’t exactly be poss—” She cut herself off before finishing. Kirari decided not to dwell on it.

“Your siblings.” Kirari nodded. That did make more sense. She wasn’t sure when Sayaka would have had time to get pregnant, carry a baby, and raise one, in the last couple of years. A feeling of worry that she hadn’t sensed before evaporated from the bottom of her chest. “I see. And these two are why you couldn’t attend school today?”

“Yes.” Sayaka said. Her voice was filled with shame. “I… I am very sorry. I didn’t… My parents…” She scrunched her face up in annoyance. “They just gave them to me and left, and I don’t even really know where to, and I can’t just give them to a day care because they run background checks and stuff which lasts days so I just had to take them in and deal with them and it meant I couldn’t come into school, and—” She took a long-suffering breath. “—And I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Oh, my Sayaka,” Kirari simpered, moving a lock of hair that hung astray and placing it behind the smaller girl’s ear. She revelled in the redness over her secretary’s nose and cheeks. “That is quite alright.”

“My Sayaka!” Kaida yelled, stomping over and dragging Sayaka with all the might her little fingers could manage. “She is my Sayaka! Not your Sayaka!”

Kirari stared emotionlessly at the child. “I see.” She said shortly.

Sayaka had possibly never looked so panicked, as she tried to tug the small child off of her arm. “I’m not your Sayaka, Kaida. I’m not anyone’s Sayaka. Come on, please let go. Please let go.” But the girl didn’t seem to want to let go, for she held on with everything she had.

“Play with me! Play!”

The other child – the baby – must have been asleep, because their sister’s outburst woke them up. An awful noise, one that shook Kirari to her core, erupted from the baby’s mouth, and the bundle of cloth on the desk began to move, arms in the air. Kirari looked at it in horror.

Sayaka finally ripped herself free of her sister, who had began to cry, and was making her way over to the baby.

Kirari just sat there, paralysed. The noise was grating, but there didn’t seem to be anything that she could do.

Kaida, who seemed to become even more upset that Sayaka wasn’t paying her any attention, started to cry louder, and Kirari couldn’t stand it. Finally, she snapped.

She grabbed the girl’s hand and sharply pulled her towards her. The child didn’t like this at all, punching and pounding at Kirari with all her might (thankfully, not a lot).

“Unhand me!” She yelled.

“You said you wanted to play, did you not?” Kirari asked silkily. If this tone worked on one Igarashi, perhaps it would work on all.

The child faltered, her arms falling to her side. Kirari decided it was safe to let the girl’s wrist go.

“You will play with me?” The child asked slowly, as if she thought Kirari a liar. If only she knew.

“What game would you like to play?” Kirari asked. She knew you were meant to speak to children in a softer voice, so they could follow the words more easily, however her parents had never spoken to her in such a way and look how well she had turned out.

“Hide ‘n’ seek.” The child announced, crossing her arms.

“No.” Kirari shook her head instantly. “There’s no room for that here. How about poker?”

“Pokémon?” Kaida’s eyes shined with excitement.

“Poker.” Kirari corrected, producing a pack of cards from her pocket. It wasn’t her lucky deck, but then again, she didn’t want grubby, greasy child-fingers on her lucky deck.

“President, she’s too young to play poker.” Sayaka said quickly from the other side of the small room. She had managed to quieten the baby, and was gently rocking him in her arms. Kirari stared at the sight for a fraction of a second too long. It was almost obscene to her, that her secretary would have to do something so… Motherly.

“Nonsense.” Kirari waved her off. “I was playing poker at a much younger age than her. How old is she? Ten? Eleven?”

“Four and eight and ten days.” Kaida said proudly.

“Eighteen, Kaida.” Sayaka said again, not looking up. Her focus was still on the baby.

Kirari rose her eyebrows. This child was four? “Is she tall for her age?” She asked Sayaka.

Sayaka shook her head. “A little, uhm, short, actually.”

“Oh.” Kirari said. “Well, it’s never too early to start playing.”

“President, I really don’t think—”

“We’re going to play poker.” Kirari said decisively, shuffling the stack of cards. Kaida watched in wonderment.

“Hands move so quick! Quick hands!” She cheered.

Sayaka let out a long sigh. “If you must.”

*

Sayaka wasn’t sure how it happened.

One minute, she’d been trying to coax Kaida to stop drawing on her wall with red crayon, whilst balancing a crying Hoshi in her arms, and the next, Hoshi was sound asleep, and The President was on her carpet, playing poker with her four-year-old sister.

“Fold.” Kaida said proudly, folding her card in half.

Kirari chuckled, her blue eyes glancing up at Sayaka in amusement. Sayaka felt her heart clench at the sight, but tried not to let it show. Nothing, however, would hide the redness on her cheeks. They were always her downfall.

“You don’t have to actually fold the card.” Kirari told her baby sister. “Just put it down, see. Like this. I fold too.”

Sayaka was shocked that Kirari was folding, especially since there were only two of them playing and it didn’t matter what cards she had if Kaida had folded. Maybe she was a better teacher than Sayaka had given her credit for. A better teacher of poker, that was to say.

Admittedly, she had her reservations about letting the President teach her sister how to gamble, but the child would probably end up at the academy one day, and maybe it was better to start young… It didn’t seem likely that Kaida would turn out the way Sayaka had, since her parents practically discouraged academics with her, so gambling might be the child’s only hope at a successful and stable future.

“Your sister thinks too hard.” Kirari told Kaida. The girl turned around to stare at Sayaka, who smiled weakly.

“Sorry.” She said. “Maybe I do.”

She lowered Hoshi onto the end of the bed. He was twelve months old, and Sayaka was sure he slept more in a week than she had in the last year of her life. The baby didn’t stir, snuggling into the covers and letting out a babbling noise. Kirari stared at him, mild interest showing on her face.

“I like his onesie.” She said, catching Sayaka staring at her.

“His… Onesie?” Sayaka turned her attention slowly to the boy. Her parents, who simply refused to be helpful, hadn’t left her with any clothes, so he was still wearing what he’d arrived in that morning. A blue onesie, decorated with grey sharks. “Yes. I… Suppose you would.” She said shyly, turning her attention back to her sister’s hand.

“I have lots of threes, Quick Hands.” Kaida told Kirari matter-of-factly.

Sayaka blinked. There was not one three in the child’s whole hand.

She looked away, hoping to not give away her sister’s lie. Her very young, very impressionable sister’s lie. What was Kirari turning her sister into?

“Do you, now?” Kirari smirked, staring straight at Sayaka. Just from the way her president looked at her, Sayaka knew she’d given her sister away. Sorry, Kaida, but you’re in over your head.

“I have a full house.” Kirari told Kaida. “That means I have three cards of one rank and two cards of another rank.”

“You just told me that.” Kaida said impatiently. “And I have four of a kind.”

Kirari’s eyebrow twitched. Sayaka was familiar enough with the rules of poker to know that her sister was ‘one-upping’ Kirari.

“Well, I have a straight flush.” Kirari jibed.

Seriously, President? She’s four!

“Well I have five of a kind!” Kaida cried, throwing her cards up into the air.

“We’re not playing that type of game!” Kirari snapped back, her face brought up into a wide and wild smile, eyes glowing maniacally as if she’d just caught Kaida in a terrible trap. To Kirari, she probably had.

“Maybe that’s enough cards for today.” Sayaka whispered, picking up her sister’s spilled section of the deck.

Both Kirari and Kaida turned on Sayaka like a wolf would it’s dinner. She squeaked, dropping the cards again. For a second, she was sure she saw Kirari’s features soften, but it was probably a trick of the light.

“Maybe she is right.” She conceded, taking the deck off Sayaka. Their fingers brushed slightly, sending a jolt of electricity down Sayaka’s limb. “After all, is it not your bed time?”

“It’s not even been lunch.” Kaida pouted.

“Nap time then. Like your brother.” Kirari indicated to the sleeping Hoshi. Kaida followed her finger, and sighed. She was still very tired from being dragged around by her parents all night, whilst they prepared for their retreat.

“Fine.” She mumbled, crawling onto the bed and tucking herself in. Sayaka was at her side in an instant, making sure the child was comfortable. “I’m okay, Say.” Kaida mumbled, pushing her sister’s hands away.

“If you’re sure.”

“She’s sure.” Kirari said seriously, pulling Sayaka’s hand and in turn, her whole body, so that she was standing next to her. “You never said you had any siblings.” She said accusatorily. “I don’t believe it’s on your records, either. I would have known if it was.”

Sayaka smiled awkwardly. “It probably isn’t.” She admitted.

“Well, then.” Kirari seemed to be at a loss for what to say. “Why isn’t it?”

“Well, when I started the middle school, Kaida hadn’t been born yet.” Sayaka said, glancing over at her snoozing sister. “And I never updated the file. I suppose it never crossed my mind.”

“And you all live here? Your parents too?”

“Here? Oh! No. No, of course not.” Sayaka shook her head. “My parents are as wealthy as any other student’s at the academy. They just spend their money…” She bit her lip, struggling to explain her parents’ eccentric tastes. “Differently to how I would.”

“Illogically?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s how you’d describe it.” Sayaka nodded, grateful for an easy way to explain it. “I moved out of the family home at the start of high school, to here. My parents still pay half my rent, but they don’t drop by much. That is, until…” She faded off.

“Until they dropped off Kaida and the other one.” Kirari nodded in understanding. “I see.”

“Hoshi.” Sayaka said politely.

“Bless you?”

“No, uh, his name. It is Hoshi.”

“Ah.” Kirari nodded. “Your parents are good at choosing names. I suppose it would have been hard to top Sayaka, though.”

Sayaka felt steam whistle out of her ears.

“Who pays the other half, then?”

“Hm?” Sayaka tilted her head.

“Of your rent. Your parents pay one half.”

“Oh, me.” Sayaka said simply.

Kirari furrowed her brow in confusion. “Do you have a trust fund?”

“No, I work.” Sayaka said blankly.

“You… Work.” Kirari said it like she was experimenting with how the words tasted in her mouth. Sayaka decided that she probably was. She wasn’t embarrassed about working, per say, but she had never brought it up intentionally. It was so very… middle-class and below. “I see.”

“That’s not a problem, is it? It doesn’t affect my work on the council at all!” Sayaka said quickly, worried that she’d somehow offended the president. She tried to keep most of her personal life completely separate from her school life. Compartmentalising these things was important; it kept her afloat. Perhaps that was finally going to backfire.

“No, I suppose not.” The President conceded, looking away from Sayaka’s face, to the rest of her apartment. “So you live here alone, then. It’s… Cosy.”

“Uhm, thanks.” Sayaka mumbled, embarrassed. Obviously the apartment was nothing compared to where Kirari lived – it was hardly anything compared to her own family home – and Sayaka was ashamed. She shouldn’t be, but she was.

“Don’t look like that.” Kirari said after a moment, and she was wearing her usual, potent smirk.

“Like what?”

“Don’t look like I’ve humiliated you.” She took a step into Sayaka’s personal space, her hand finding it’s way onto Sayaka’s jaw. “I haven’t done so yet.”

Sayaka felt heat descend from her cheeks to the back of her neck, prickling. She forced herself to look away, furtherly embarrassed. Kirari had to leave. This was too much for Sayaka. It was upsetting the perfect balance she’d created in her own life, and she didn’t like it at all, not even if it had The President stood so very close to her.

“So, you’re Sayaka’s girlfriend then?” A voice spoke up from behind the pair of them. Sayaka jumped back in shock.

Kaida was sat up on the bed, staring at the pair blankly. She tilted her head. “That’s how girlfriend and girlfriend touch each other.”

“N-No. She’s not my….” The word got lost in Sayaka’s throat; it was too embarrassing to say. Why couldn’t Kaida have just gone to sleep? Why did her life have to be one terrible event after another? She’d simply wanted that Friday to go the same as all the other Fridays.

“She’s my secretary.” Kirari said simply, moving to Sayaka and placing a strong hand around her waist, pulling her in close. “And I can touch her like this if I feel like it.”

“You can? Oh, okay.” Kaida shrugged, clambering out of bed. “I don’t like naps.”

To Sayaka’s surprise, Kirari followed the girl to where the mini fridge was. Sayaka would have moved too, but she was still recovering from her president touching her. The smaller child opened the fridge, immediately rummaging through the various packets and containers, tossing many of them out onto the floor.

“You don’t?”

“Nu-uh. Night time is for sleeping. Sun time is for playing.”

“Sun time.” Kirari nodded, as if Kaida was speaking wise and never-been-heard before words. “Sure, that makes sense.”

“Kaida, what are you looking for?” Sayaka asked, after making sure Hoshi was still asleep.

“Lunch.”

“She’s looking for lunch, Sayaka.” Kirari shot back with an evil smile.

Sayaka furrowed her eyebrows. The President clearly wasn’t there to help her. Why was The President there? Didn’t she have classes?

“Lunch, Sayaka.” Kaida repeated. “I’m hungry. Lunch.”

Sayaka looked around the apartment desperately. She really wasn’t equipped to feed two children and a president; hell, she was hardly equipped to feed herself most days.

“Why don’t we go somewhere for lunch?” Kirari asked with a smile. Sayaka must have been out of it, because she had no clue whether it was genuine or not, and she always knew. “This is a big city. There are places to eat.”

“Ice cream!” Kaida yelled at once. “Say! Quick Hands said we could get ice cream.”

Sayaka raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what she said.”

“’Tis.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Sayaka said sternly. “You shouldn’t lie.”

“Quick Hands said lying was a life kill.”

“A life kill?”

“I said a life skill.” Kirari corrected, amusement plain on her features as she watched the sisters interact.

“Yeah!” Kaida said, stamping her foot on the ground. “A life skill!”

“Lying is bad.” Sayaka said sternly, trying her best to ignore Kirari. The President merely shrugged, the usual obnoxious smirk written on her face. Sayaka tried to ignore the butterflies that just looking at the president could give her, because it seriously wasn’t the time.

“But, Kaida makes a valid argument. I think we should get ice cream.” Kirari added nonchalantly, and the little girl jumped up in delight, her arms wrapping around Kirari’s neck. The President clearly wasn’t ready for the embrace, because for a split-second, Sayaka almost thought she was going to stumble; she didn’t, of course, since she was Kirari Momobami, but it almost looked like she would.

“See! Say, see!”

Sayaka let out a long sigh.

“Cheer up, Sayaka.” Kirari said. She seemed far too pleased about the situation, if Sayaka was being honest. The secretary had barely even processed that Kirari was there, never mind that she was actively interacting with the infants Sayaka had painstakingly kept hidden.

Sayaka sighed again, picking up the sleeping Hoshi and bringing him to her chest. The child let out a yawn, snuggling closer to her torso. She supposed it was good that at least one of her siblings was somewhat docile, but it worried her that he was sleeping so much now – hopefully it wouldn’t mean he’d be awake later.

“Come on then.” She said tiredly, and Kaida let out a cry of delight, running over to Sayaka and clutching her hand to her chest.

“Yes!” She squealed.

*

Kirari slowly got to her feet, a strange feeling bubbling in her chest as she looked at Sayaka with her siblings. They made their way to the door as a four, and Kirari held it open for all of them as they walked out onto the balcony.

“Oh, President, are you sure it’s okay to be around here in your uniform?” Sayaka said, noticing Kirari’s attire.

The President looked down at her school uniform, before bringing her attention to Sayaka’s casual attire. “I suppose it should be fine for just one outing.”

Sayaka nodded, turning her attention back to Kaida who was sporadically dragging her older sister to the direction of the elevator. For a second, Kirari was a small bit jealous that someone else was attaining all of Sayaka’s attention; which was silly, she knew, because Sayaka hardly seemed pleased about it at all. When Kirari called upon her, she was eager to please. This situation was different  because she had no choice, so Kirari had no reason to be bothered.

“The ice cream parlour isn’t far.”

“And it’s open, right?” Kaida piped up, tugging at her sister’s sleeve. “Mama always takes us places that are closed on accident.”

“By accident.” Sayaka corrected. “And yes, it’s open.”

“You’re sure?”

Sayaka glanced awkwardly at Kirari, her eyes wide with something Kirari didn’t comprehend. “Y-yeah. I’m sure, President.”

The president arched her brow. What an odd reaction to the question. Sayaka walked, Hoshi pressed to her chest, in relative silence as she listened to her younger sister. Kirari chipped in occasionally, to egg the sweet child on, enjoying the way it clearly bothered Sayaka, as the four of them strolled down the street.

“Ah! Igarashi-San!” A plain-looking man from outside a small ice cream parlour waved at the four of them. “And these must be those siblings you told me about.”

The four of them approached. Kirari wondered exactly what the relationship between Sayaka and this man was. He seemed friendly; they’d obviously met before. Perhaps they were simply neighbours.

She bowed to him politely, and introduced Kirari as her upperclassman. For some reason, that peeved Kirari – she was her upperclassman, sure, but she was also so much more than that. Certainly not her girlfriend, and perhaps introducing her as Sayaka’s President would have been strange, but…

Kirari shook her thoughts away.

“It’s lovely to meet you.” She said, turning her attention to the store. “Shall we, Sayaka?”

“You’re not working today, are you?” He asked. “I already had your shift covered.”

The realisation that this was where Sayaka worked dawned on Kirari all too fast.

“I see.” She said under her breath. Sayaka shot her an apologetic look, although she really had nothing to be sorry for. If truth be told, this was a nice place for Sayaka to work. When Sayaka had brought up the subject, Kirari feared she worked as a bartender, or perhaps a hostess. This was easily the preferable choice.

“No, I’m not working. This one,” She tapped the back of Kaida’s head, “Just wanted ice cream.”

Kaida giggled, trying to push out of Sayaka’s grip and into the store. The man smiled and held the door open for them. Kirari didn’t smile back.

“That’s my boss.” Sayaka told her, under her breath. “He treats me very fairly.”

“Tell me if he doesn’t at once.” Kirari replied. “And I will have him dealt with.”

“Oh, uh…” Sayaka’s eyes trail away from Kirari’s face (regrettably), and towards the board. “Kaida, what would you like?”

“Choc-lutt.” Kaida announced proudly. “I want choc-lutt.”

“She’s very articulate, isn’t she.” Kirari whispered with a hint of sarcastic glee, and Sayaka shot her another flustered look. She was beginning to like that look on her secretary – it was somewhere in between indignance and embarrassment.

“I’ll have two chocolate cones.” She said to the cashier. “Thanks, Haiji-san. What about you, President?”

Kirari shrugged. “I’ll have chocolate too.”

“Make it three.” Sayaka said with a small smile. The man nodded, and soon they were walking back the way they came, to Sayaka’s small and comfortable apartment. Kirari had decided it suited Sayaka; not everyone could live in a mansion, but not everyone could live on their own, either. She didn’t have such strength herself – being a twin, meant being a twin – but Sayaka had no such ties. She’d left her family to focus on her studies, to focus on her President, and Kirari couldn’t pretend she wasn’t flattered and enamoured by the decision.

If only she’d known the extent of Sayaka’s complete devotion before… She must start work on the tower, and soon.

 “You must think I’m a terrible secretary, hiding all this from you.” Sayaka said quietly. Her words caught Kirari’s attention.

“Is that what you think of me?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “That I would think you terrible?”

“Well…” Sayaka sighed. “I feel as though I deceived you. You should be angry with me.”

“You were my secretary. You have a life outside of me.” Kirari forced a small chuckle. Truthfully, she didn’t feel deceived – she felt foolish. What did she really know about Sayaka? She hadn’t even known she was a sister, that she had a job outside of being a secretary. She knew nothing, of the only girl she claimed to care for that wasn’t her twin sister.

“I do. I should still have told you.” Sayaka conceded, as they reached the elevator. Kaida had taken Sayaka’s ice cream, and was already almost finished with both hers and her sister’s, half a cone in each hand. Kirari hadn’t touched hers. She threw it in the bin before getting on the elevator.

The metal box pinged when it reached the top.

“Here we are.” Sayaka said with a cheerful smile, guiding Kaida forward. Hoshi was still asleep, and Kirari wondered how he felt, pressed up against the warmth of Sayaka’s chest.

Quickly, she pushed that thought away.

Upon entering the apartment for the second time, it didn’t feel half so quaint. Perhaps it was that the children were with her this time.

“How long do you have the children for?” Kirari asked, as Kaida clambered onto the bed and began to bounce up and down. Impatiently, Sayaka picked the child up and placed her back on the floor, using a napkin to wipe off the excess chocolate from the girl’s face.

“Till Sunday morning, probably.” Sayaka sighed. “At least, I hope so.”

“Hm.”

“This is the only day of school I’ll miss!” Sayaka assured her, but Kirari waved her off.

“That wasn’t what I was worried about.” She said. Hoshi began to move on Sayaka’s chest, and quickly she placed him down on the desk. Kirari watched with bated interest as Sayaka changed him – it was something she’d never seen before. “I was more worried that you didn’t have the means to care for them. Where do they sleep?”

“Well, the bed.” Sayaka said, depositing Hoshi’s waste in the bin. Kirari wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“So, where do you sleep?” She asked. There was no sofa in the apartment.

“I was up late doing paperwork.” Sayaka said, and for the first time, Kirari noticed the purple smudges under her secretary’s eyes. Had she been working too hard?

“Oh.”

Sayaka placed Hoshi on the bed, and the boy sat up, slamming his hands down on the sheets and giggling. His eyes were a little lighter than both his sisters’, but he had the same purple hair. His cheeks were full and blushed, and his nose was small and pinched, just like Kirari’s secretary’s was.

“He’s cute.” Kirari muttered.

“What was that?”

“Oh, nothing at all.” She said dismissively. “Sayaka, you must be tired. I insist that you lay down.”

“I’m fine, really.” Sayaka said, rushing over to where Kaida was attempting to draw on the wall with a red crayon. It was somewhat amusing – there was already excess crayon from a previous attempt, it seemed, though Kirari couldn’t make out what it was meant to depict.

“I’m insisting, Sayaka.” Kirari said more sternly.

The secretary paused, her pinkened face turning to her president. She visibly gulped. “I really should look after them.”

Kirari rose an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected this much pushback. There usually wasn’t any.

“They will be fine, I assure you.”

“Well…” Sayaka looked around anxiously, as if she were looking for a reason not to lay down. “If you insist…”

“I do.”

Sayaka made her way over to the bed slowly, her body brushing against Kirari and sending a shiver down the older girl’s spine. She slumped into the bed, on top of the covers, and pressed her back against the wall.

Stubbornly, her eyes remained open.

“Sayaka.” Kirari warned.

She let out a soft sigh, and reluctantly closed her eyes. For a second, Kirari allowed herself to appreciate the soft features of her secretary’s face; the prettiness of her lips, the smallness of her nose, the delicacy in her cheekbones.

“Sister nap!” Kaida said with delight, climbing onto the bed and placing herself next to her sister. Hoshi, who was still on the desk, held his arms out in order to be picked up. Kirari tilted her head at him curiously. His arms seemed only more demanding. Reluctantly, she picked him up, and brought him into her hold.

“Yak!” He cried.

“Yak?” Kirari mumbled. Did he mean Sayaka?

Well, if he was referring to his sister, then who was she to refuse a baby?

She lowered them both into the bed, secretly excited about the turn of events, but unluckily, Sayaka was already asleep. A part of her had wanted to see Sayaka blush, but alas, the girl must have been too exhausted. This worried Kirari, but only a little. Maybe she’d have to start doing some of her own paperwork – or better yet, making sure Ikishima and the others were doing theirs, instead of Sayaka.

“In a bit, then.” Kirari mused, still clad in her school uniform. That would have to change.

She approached Sayaka’s wardrobe and opened it with a small pull. It was weak at the frame, and even creaked (though not loud enough to disturb anyone). She eyed the clothes precariously. A lot of it was probably too small for her, and much of it was school uniform as well. Kirari kept two sets, but she did have access to a drycleaner who lived in her manor, so it was understandable that she’d only need to. Sayaka, on the other hand, had five sets. Perhaps she did the laundry at the weekend?

That was obscene to Kirari; she would not think of it.

Eventually, she selected a pale pink t-shirt, that fit like a crop top. On it, were the words ‘hot girl shit’. Kirari pondered what they meant. She’d have to ask Sayaka when she awoke. On her bottom half, she found a pair of joggers that were a little short, but fit better than any of the other pairs. They smelled like flowers on a wet day – like Sayaka, and so, she was content.

Plus, the look Sayaka would give her, when she woke up to Kirari in her clothes, would be entirely priceless.

ART BY  drawanderlust on twitter!