Work Text:
Even as far back as kindergarten, your daughter was bright and diligent beyond her years. She committed herself fully to her education. She always came home with spelling sheets and quizzes adorned in golden plastic stars. She had an enthusiasm for knowledge and learning that most children and even most adults lacked.
As a parent, as a mother, of course you wanted to nurture that enthusiasm of hers. So you enrolled her in extra-curricular activities and weekend learning programs. You even had her signed up for violin lessons. You encouraged her to be the smart little cookie you knew she was.
You would drop her off at her school on Sundays and you would always say the same thing to her as she waddled out of the car with her bag full of books and a violin case in her off-hand.
“Make mom proud today, ok?”
She would give you a nod, determination evident on her little face, before walking through the school gates.
You could always see her stuffed rabbit safely fastened to her bag.
During both school hours and off hours, Sayaka was a model child. She was polite and Immaculate, keeping her notes organised and her room spotless. Time that she didn’t spend studying or practicing the violin was spent reading books that were a few years above her reading age. By the age of ten, she was bringing home trophies and and medals.
Her studious nature came with some downsides, however. Firstly, she developed a habit of overworking herself. More than once, you would wake up in the middle of the night to get a drink or use the bathroom, and you would pass Sayaka’s room to find her asleep at her desk.
You lightly scolded her for it, telling her to take breaks when she’s feeling tired. The trouble was, Sayaka’s dedication to her studies came from genuine interest, and when she was invested in something, nothing outside registered.
Including her own well-being, unfortunately.
Since then, you had to periodically check in and force her to take breaks, which she did with great reluctance.
Secondly, the rest of the children her age all viewed her with scorn. According to Sayaka, they all found her ‘boring’ and ‘a teacher’s pet’. Sayaka, in turn, viewed them as lesser beings, not even worth the time of day.
The only exception seemed to be an otherwise asocial girl with short hair and a hair band that she would occasionally bring home for study practice.
This girl was the sole exception, however.
The rest of the student body seemed content to ignore, ostracise or outright pick on your daughter, culminating in the kidnapping of Sayaka’s plush rabbit.
As it turned out, some rotten little bogart of a child had snatched it from her bag during recess.
You pulled up in front of the school to find your daughter despondently holding the decapitated body of her beloved toy rabbit.
The next morning you were in the principal’s office with your still distraught daughter and the violated corpse of what Sayaka would privately refer to as ‘Mr. Bunbun’.
The principal merely shrugged and coldly told your ten year old daughter that she shouldn’t have brought the plushie with her to begin with. ‘Actions have consequences.’ He has said. You were sorely tempted to loudly chew him out for that, but you didn’t want to upset your daughter anymore than she already was. So, you called him a disgrace and left with your daughter in tow, all the while oblivious to how much Sayaka would take the principal’s words to heart.
A few days later, one of Sayaka’s classmates got suspended over notes containing death threats that were found in his locker.
When you asked her about it, she simply replied with ‘he deserved it’.
There were no further incidents since.
On her thirteenth birthday, you received an envelope in the mail.
You had to double check the address once you had opened it.
A scholarship to one of the most prestigious high schools in all of Japan.
Hyakkaou academy.
Hyakkaou was a place for the children of wealthy CEOs and trust fund kids, of which Sayaka was neither. You worked hard to provide for your only daughter but you weren’t that rich. You were an office secretary, for crying out loud.
Needless to say, you seized on that opportunity. What parent wouldn’t?
That September, you drove your daughter to Hyakkaou Academy. During the whole car ride, she looked apprehensive, like you were liable to turn around and say ‘just kidding’ at any moment. You could see the bags beneath her eyes. She obviously couldn’t sleep. You could tell if it was because of anticipation or dread until you pulled into the private grounds.
It was anticipation.
You both got out of the car and retrieved her bags. Clothes. Utilities. The long since repaired Mr. Bunbun. You didn’t know how to sew, but you learned.
As she gathered her stuff, you pulled a bag you had hidden in the car’s front compartment.
Inside was a brand-new smartphone. For years, Sayaka never asked for much outside of books or the occasional manga, so you figured that you would splurge a bit on something special.
It wasn’t entirely an altruistic gift. From now on, you wouldn’t be able to see her, outside of holidays and summer breaks. At least now, you could check in on her on the daily. Make sure she was taking care of herself and not working too hard.
You present your parting gift to your daughter and you both hold back tears as give her one last hug for the road.
You had no idea what kind of wolves’ nest you were leaving your daughter in, or what effect it would have on her until it was much too late.
Three years later, during the winter holidays, you found a taser in her luggage bag.
You weren’t intending to snoop through her stuff, your original plan was to conceal an envelope with some spending money into her belongings. When you opened the bag, the taser was there, unconcealed.
You weren’t a weapons expert by any means, but it was clearly a taser. A monstrous looking thing, too.
You refused to believe at first, that it was a real taser. Gingerly, you grab it by the handle, and while holding it far away from yourself, you press the button.
A spark of electricity erupts from the top and you let out a squeak, dropping the thing onto the floor.
It was real. Your daughter had a real-life, honest-to-goodness taser in her bag.
“Mother, what are you doing?”
You turn to see Sayaka, standing stiff as a board.
You pick up the taser carefully. You present it to her.
“Sayaka, what are you doing with a taser in your bag?” You ask. You’re trying so hard to keep your composure, but it’s difficult.
Especially since Sayaka refuses to meet your gaze.
“Sayaka. Answer me.” You say, louder, harsher than intended. She flinches.
“I.. I can’t tell you.”
“Why the hell not? Sayaka, this isn’t a toy. What were you doing with this thing? And why can’t you tell me?”
She refuses to speak. She shuts her eyes and grits her teeth, as if trying to wish you away.
You’re at a loss as to what to do. You don’t want to think that your daughter might have been using this on other people, maybe even other students, but why else would she have it?
One possible explanation floats to the surface of your mind and it brings you to tears.
“Sayaka... have the boys at school... have they...?” You can’t say it. Saying it might make it real. More real than you can tolerate.
“...No.“ You can’t tell how truthful she is being. You want to believe her, for reasons selfish and not.
But you can’t take that chance. She had that for a reason. And if Hyakkaou is a school where Sayaka sees fit to carry a taser, then that’s not a safe environment for her.
Even if nothing happened, you unthinkingly had a hand in putting her in a place where it could have.
Well, no longer.
“Sayaka, I can’t let you go back there. Not if you have to carry one of these around. We can transfer you to the local high school instead.”
Sayaka splutters. “You can’t-“
“I can and will. It’s not safe. I don’t want you to put yourself in any more danger. I’m getting you out of that place-“
“No. I mean you literally can’t. I’m not going to let you.“
You flinch. She’s speaking so calmly now, with a dissonance that makes a shiver go down your spine. You subconsciously tighten your grip on the taser.
“I really should have packed that thing better. The president is sure to scold me if she finds out. But fortunately for the both of us, that’s not going to happen.” She pulls the side of her skirt up to reveal a holster with another taser on it.
“Apologies in advance, mother. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”
She unholsters the stun gun and pounces on you and before you realise what you’re doing, you activate the taser.
Sayaka screams as hundreds of bolts of electricity course through her body before crumpling into a twitching heap on the ground. The stun gun she was holding collides to the floor next to her.
Your hands shake and you feel sick to your stomach.
You just shocked your one and only daughter.
You throw the blasted thing to the side and drop to the ground. You press an ear against her chest.
She’s still breathing, thank god.
You pick her off the floor and place her on the bed. Once you were sure she was going to be okay, you allowed yourself to take in what just happened.
Sayaka lunged at you like a rabid hyena, ready to shock you. And she well would have, had you not gotten lucky, if you can even call it that.
What has become of your daughter? Had Hyakkaou warped her that much? The mere thought was upsetting.
This was wrong. This was so very wrong. The two of you should be downstairs making cakes right now. Sayaka shouldn’t be unconscious at your own hands. There shouldn’t be two fucking weapons on the floor. You shouldn’t be hovering over her with guilt in your chest and tears welling in your eyes, knowing there’s something very wrong with her, but you don’t know what.
As you sit on the floor, with only Sayaka’s slow breathing for ambience, you contemplate on what to do next.
The most obvious thing would be to call the police. Your daughter has lost her mind and once she wakes up, who is to say that she won’t attempt to assault you again? It’s the rational thing to do.
But you can’t bring yourself to even get off the ground. You don’t want your daughter to be arrested. No parent wants that. Whatever she’s been through at Hyakkaou to make her like this, prison won’t help matters any.
You hear a faint buzzing.
It’s coming from Sayaka.
Her phone is ringing.
No, a phone is ringing. You spot the smartphone you gave her all those years ago, resting on her dresser.
You lean over and notice the origin of the buzzing is coming from her breast pocket. Concealed inside is a shoddy little mobile from the nineties.
A burner phone.
You answer the phone, making sure it was on loudspeaker.
Whoever was on the other end did not speak. Not at first.
“This isn’t Sayaka. May I ask to whom I am speaking with?” She asks. A distinctively female voice.
That’s what you should be asking, though you guess from the young voice speaking to you, it must be someone in that academy, probably a fellow student. Good. Maybe she can be of some help.
“This is Ms. Igarashi.”
“I see. Sayaka’s mother. May I ask how you got hold of this device?” She talks so politely, in a detached sort of way. It’s almost clinical.
You don’t appreciate it one bit.
“Who are you?”
She giggles. It sounds disingenuous. Fake. Like a prerecorded line on a doll.
“I asked you a question first.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. You owe her nothing in the way of an explanation, and you want to say as much. But she knows something. She has to. She’s calling Sayaka on a burner phone, that’s not something anyone innocent would do.
“Sayaka left it in the kitchen and I answered it.” You say. It’s technically the truth.
“That’s very unlike my Sayaka, to leave something this important around for her mother to find. Where is she now, hmm? Alright, I hope?”
Still the same airy, polite tone of voice, lilting and soft spoken. You shouldn’t be finding it as off-putting as you do. You shouldn’t be as shaken as you are.
You look at Sayaka’s unconscious form and you have to hold back tears. “She’s asleep.”
“It’s seven.” She scoffs.
“She... decided to sleep early. Now, who are you? What do you want with Sayaka?”
You hear a deep sigh.
“My name is Kirari Momobami, head of Hyakkaou Academy’s student council and I would like to speak to my secretary. Is that good enough for you?”
President. This bitch is the president.
“You’re the one who gave Sayaka the taser, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Kirari says. She doesn’t even have the decency to sound ashamed or guilty.
“Why? Is Hyakkaou that dangerous?”
Kirari lets out an airy chuckle. “Of course it is. What were you expecting, sending your daughter to the wealthiest school in all of Asia? Hyakkaou is brimming with cut-throats and powerful, ruthless people.” She spoke so matter-of-factly about how corrupt it was. She spoke of life plans and house pets and life-or-death gambles with all such casualness, like she was discussing the weather.
It was already enough to turn your stomach, to hear her discuss such atrocities so lightly, like she wasn’t discussing human lives.
But what she said next really hit you in the gut.
“Of course, I don’t wish to paint the false impression that Sayaka doesn’t belong here. She’s not my secretary for nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think you already know. Your daughter is no mere fish in the aquarium, I wouldn’t even say she’s a shark. No, it’s thanks to her that everything runs as smoothly as it does. You should be proud to have a daughter that can swim with the sharks without fear.”
“You’re nuts.” You say, because it’s all you can say in the face of being told that your daughter played such a pivotal role in such an atrocious system. You look down to Sayaka, still passed out on the bed.
“I get that a lot. Though, I am curious. What are you going to do to Sayaka, now that you know just how involved she is? Are you going to disown her? Call the police?”
“Of course not!” You shout. And you mean it. She’s done some truly horrible things, unrepentantly at that. But she’s still your daughter.
But you know better, now. She’s not the innocent girl she was when you dropped her off at the academy. Maybe she never was.
“How magnanimous of you. Of course, I fail to see what’s so terrible about any of this. This is the nature of the world, isn’t it? The strong eat the weak, and my Sayaka isn’t a weakling.”
That’s the second time she’s said that, you notice. ‘My Sayaka’. You’re puzzled by it as you are annoyed by it. Does she think she owns her? Is that it?
“What do you mean by ‘your Sayaka’?”
“There are many like her, but this one is mine.”
“You can’t just... own a person!”
“Didn’t we just get through talking about how that is not the case?” She purrs.
You are dealing with an absolute sociopath. A sociopath who treats social Darwinism as a way of life and people as toys to be wound up for her amusement.
Kirari continues. “Of course, I don’t mean to imply that sort of ownership. Sayaka isn’t some lowly house pet.”
Her rhetoric is getting confusing. She claims to own your daughter, yet not exactly. What, is it a step up from ownership? Indentured servitude?
It’s beginning to make a sick form of sense as to why Sayaka became the way she did. Being around this young woman for that length of time would drive anybody off the deep end.
As it was, you were already contracting a migraine.
“Look, does my daughter owe you money? What will it take for you to let her out of your weird Darwin cult?” You ask while putting the phone on the nightstand to rub your temples.
She tuts. “Sayaka doesn’t owe me anything. She’s free to leave me at any time, if that is what she desires. Although the mere thought is frankly upsetting.“
You’re beginning to get a clearer picture of what’s going on and you’re not sure you like it.
“And why is that?”
Unbeknownst to you, Sayaka stirs.
“Sayaka has a most wonderful mind, did you know that? So analytical, so sharp. I cherish her insight. It’s so completely alien from my own. But it’s beautiful. The only worthwhile thing in this damned aquarium of mine. Without her, I might as well burn Hyakkaou to the ground for all it’s worth.”
The double meaning behind her words are clear as day. On one end, it’s a confession, adorned in waxed poetic and presented in a heart shaped box.
On the other end, it was a threat, a warning, to you, to anybody that may be listening, that Sayaka wasn’t a weak point or an Achilles heel.
She was the dam holding back the flood.
You’re caught staring at both sides, like you’re staring down Janus.
While you’re caught of guard by her candid yet unhinged confession, you feel the bed you’ve been sitting on shift.
“President...”
Sayaka is awake. She pays you no mind, staring at the phone intently.
“My, Sayaka, have you heard all that?”
“President, do you really mean all that?”
“Of course I do, and please, we’re off school grounds. Call me Kirari.”
“Presi- Kirari... I’m... I don’t want to ever leave your side. I want to accompany you to hell and back. If you’ll have me, that is.”
You’ve never seen Kirari before, you don’t know what she looks like, but you can tell she’s smiling by the tone of her voice.
“I’ll hold you that, Sa-ya-ka.”
You clear your throat. Thankfully. Your presence is remembered.
“Ah, apologies. I got swept up in the moment. I will take my leave now. But Ms Igarashi?“
“Yes?”
“It would be fruitless if you tried to tell anyone, but please keep all of tonight’s revelations to yourself, lest you wish Sayaka had subdued you with the stun gun.”
What? How did she-
“Good evening to the both of you. I shall see you very soon, Sayaka. Take care, darling.”
And with that, she hung up.
Leaving you alone with Sayaka, who was wiping the sweat off her brow.
You don’t know what to say. A lot needs to be said, sure, but you don’t know where to start.
At least you can piece together Sayaka’s reasoning for trying to zap you. It would be bad enough if Kirari knew that you knew about the goings on at the academy, or at least that’s what Sayaka had thought.
But if you were to separate the two, you would have both upset Sayaka and earned the wrath of a girl with more screws loose than a cheap carnival ride.
And that Kirari woman was unnerving enough. You didn’t want to see what she would be like if she had truly lost her temper. It would likely involve a staged car crash at best.
At worst, your would wash up along a bank, brutalised beyond recognition.
You shudder.
You can’t even begin to understand what Sayaka sees in that girl. Why she had done so much, gone so far for her. What made her want to ‘stay by her side’ as she put it?
You know the answer, loathe as you are to admit it.
Love.
Your little Sayaka is in love with a tyrant.
And in return, she was the only thing Kirari treated with any form of softness. The only person that you know of at least.
Just soft enough to spare her mom from becoming just a photo on the side of a milk carton.
Provided you don’t squeal, that is.
So from that point, you pretend nothing has happened, because what else can you really do?
It’s easy to pretend that nothing is amiss. There are no differences for the most part, aside from having to change the channel when the news covers stories on young people going missing.
You don’t want to think about the possibility that your daughter had any hand on it.
You have a much easier time with not thinking about it when Sayaka doesn’t visit with that terrible girl in tow, something that has become common.
She’s nothing but polite, refined and eloquent. Her hair is kept up in noose like braids and she always wears that cyan lipstick.
Lipstick you had the infinite displeasure of spotting on Sayaka’s shirt collar. Probably intentional on Kirari’s part. Nope. You don’t want to think about it.
She knows that, so she makes a show of invading Sayaka’s personal space whenever she can. You’d be more annoyed if Sayaka didn’t react so dramatically. You had to admit, watching her get so strung up was amusing.
You don’t know if it was out of wanting you to see your daughter’s reaction, or her wanting to watch you react that made her so what she did a scant few years down the line.
You were cooking while they chatted to each other. All was relatively quiet until out of the corner of your eye, you see Kirari produce something very familiar from her pocket.
“Kirari, Where did you get that?”
You turn to see the well loved Mr Bunbun on the table. You were suprised Sayaka still had him.
Sayaka grabs him from the table, probably to sequester him in her own pocket when she stops. She gives him an experimental squeeze and her brown tightens.
“There’s something hard inside him.”
“Perhaps he ate something strange.” Kirari says.
You turn back to your cooking for all of five seconds, only to jump when Sayaka makes a highpitched squeal. You nearly drop the frying pan when you see why.
In her hands, freshly freed from Mr. Bunbun’s stuffing based intestines, was a small box.
Containing a silver diamond ring.