Chapter Text
Yumeko Kawamoto had finally fallen.
All it took to secure such a lovely and handsome victory was a simple game of Skirmish, with an enticing reward of 100 grand. That amount was a little decoy, a bait meant for Yumeko to bite.
And it had worked, wonderfully so.
One crucial detail about orchestrating the demise of someone so annoyingly unpredictable as Yumeko Kawamoto, was to utilize every available weakness to the advantage of the mastermind. Observing the less stable leg of the table and pushing it with a firm shove when the time was right, or exploiting the pieces that were usually neglected in a game of chess. That was exactly what Kira had done. Selfishness and loyalty are traits that do not align, and in this case, it was the perfect feeble piece of Yumeko’s board.
The dark-haired girl’s insatiable, selfish appetite for gambling regardless of the imposing risks or delicious rewards, and Ryan’s pitiful canine loyalty to an obsessed owner who paid his affections no requited mind.
And god, how satisfying it was to slip that House Pet necklace around Yumeko’s pretty neck, adjusting it so the gleam of the party’s light would catch the tag’s plastic film, a manicured nail delicately tracing the curve of Yumeko’s chin in mock comfort; it was all fulfilling.
Matter of fact, it was beyond gratifying; Kira couldn’t stop smiling.
And her glee didn’t subside, seeing Yumeko’s defeated gaze at last. She had finally chained the wild hound with a noose and a thick collar.
A shame that that hound wasn’t hers to play around with. Ryan had that title, and it bothered her to a certain extent. She wasn’t too fond of having him handle her hardest-worked painting; her artwork deserved discipline and punishment, not patience and soft commands.
Every good masterpiece has to have some form of unappealing detail, she supposes.
But despite it, she remained joyous, so much so that she willingly walked past the table of fruity mocktails and to the small bar, telling the bartender-or really, Rex-to serve a cold glass of scotch old-fashioned.
Everyone had stared at her, but Kira simply smiled, cruel and imposing. “The tides tonight are in my favor.”
Her glacier eyes met Yumeko’s rich ones from across the room, and she could see the burning frustration and discontent in her eyes.
“I’m merely celebrating it.”
The glass in her hands is cool, and she raises it slightly, “Cheers, everyone.”
Suki resumed the music, and the mass of students returned to their enjoyments, cheering amidst the crowd louder now due to Kira’s unusual blessing. They sing along to the songs they knew best, and dance to the ones they felt the beat rattle in their bones. Suki changed the songs to all kinds of genres, some more provocative than others, but Kira only basked in the glow of her accomplishments, feeling like a true queen of the board.
Her second glass is strong, just pure neat rum, a drink that Suki himself poured for his mother cuntress. He praises her intelligence and tactics, and then, on her third glass, Chad himself interrupts to serve her a shot of vodka. She raised her eyebrow at him in a humorless manner, but took it anyway.
Her blood is coarse in her body by now, pumping slow and hot and reddening the tips of her ears. She had fair tolerance, and right now, she felt nothing more but strange ease and comfort. Her council buddies had left for the dance floor, and she was now alone in soothing relaxation.
“Drinking, president?”
That soft-pitched voice immediately sparks the fire of displeasure in Kira’s body, but she turns with a bright smile full of mockery, resisting the need to wince from the burst of sharp colors.
“Kawamoto.”
Yumeko stands before her now, hands clasped behind her back and a slight curve of a smile present, her eyes flicker between Kira’s gaze and the glass of golden scotch in her silk-covered hand, and without removing her look from the glass, she says in a warm- toned voice, “It’s quite unjust to do such things in front of an audience, considering your position in the council.”
Kira scoffs in actual amusement, the nerve of this girl. “It’s one glass.”
“One? Or one too many?”
That makes the spark of irritation turn into a flame, and with the smile still intact, Kira glares at Yumeko with clear, murderous warning. “There must be something better for you to waste your time with.”
“Perhaps.” Yumeko murmurs, tilting her head slightly to the side, her smile growing a bit unnerving, “But I am very intrigued to see how this…”
Yumeko gestures at the scotch, and Kira follows her gaze with distasteful fury.
“Pastime of yours ends up in your favor.”
Kira glares at the woman, hard and threatening. The smirk on her blue lips is fully gone now, and her jaw flexes. Her gaze falls to the house pet tag on the girl’s chest, disliking the fact that it doesn’t bring any form of renewed joy. “You forget yourself.”
Yumeko shrugs and turns her gaze towards the crowd of people, some dance to the sensual rhythm of a scandalous song. Kira also follows suit for a brief moment, drinking her scotch in a hurried gulp, turning around to ask for another glass, squinting slightly to avoid the heavy strain in her uncoordinated eyes.
“You know…”
Kira turns partially, eyeing Yumeko without a word, wondering with strong suspicion what this girl is planning. The dark-haired bitch should be crying in the corner in a pitiful display of defeat, not smiling ear to ear beside Kira like she didn’t bear the collar of a house pet above her breasts.
“I wouldn’t trust the bartenders here.”
The comment simmers in the air for a while; it doesn’t initially register in Kira’s mind, but when it does, her heart begins to pick up an erratic pace.
“What are you implying?”
Yumeko again shrugs, too innocently, too undisturbed. It pisses Kira off beyond the basic levels of vexation. Not once in her life had she been so exasperated by a person.
“Too many people who want to see you below their heels for once.” The other whispers, barely audible over the music, but Kira catches it all too well, and she casts her gaze down to the scotch in her hands, her grip tightening around the frame. She doesn’t like that answer. Especially because she notices the way Yumeko eyes the new glass in Kira’s hands with a malicious glint in her eye.
“Yumeko.” Kira questions, tone sharp and fatal. “What do you mean.”
It’s not a question, and it is laced with demanding urgency that causes Yumeko to giggle before she asks kindly, “A dance first? I’m a little bored, Kira-san.”
“I don’t dance.” Kira snaps immediately, “Not with snakes or house pets, both of which define you.” With a step forward, Kira gazes down at Yumeko, body posed in commanding threat. Yumeko doesn’t even bat an eye, just works the bottom of her lip with her teeth. “Now tell me, what do you mean.”
“Ouch.” Yumeko frowns, grabbing Kira’s third glass of scotch and fifth, maybe sixth drink of the night, and pulling it away from the woman’s hands. “At least, be a little courteous with your rejections. I’m starting to think that alcohol makes you bitter rather than…blissful.”
“Kawamoto.”
“You keep doing that,” The dark-haired girl murmurs with a gentle roll of her eyes, “This surname addressing, am I also allowed to call you Timurov? Or-“
“Shut up. God, is there ever a time when you don’t talk?” Kira snaps, glancing at the scotch in Yumeko’s hands, not caring if the girl even answers her questions now. The other only hums in mock thought, but doesn’t give the glass back.
“Give that to me.”
“You forgot what I warned you of already? My, how ignorant.” Yumeko says the last word like a prickling taunt, meant to make the flame of disapproval rise into a wildfire of ire. She reinforces the sentiment with a lazy gesture at the glass, shaking it slightly with a smooth flick of her wrist. The ice clinks against the glass’s walls.
Kira glares, “No one will dare do what you’re suggesting. Not to me or anyone else in the council.”
“Ah. So you do understand.”
Again with that taunting tone.
“Give it to me.”
Yumeko smiles amusingly, and like a switch flickering in her mind, her eyes widen slightly in sudden mischief. “What’s the appeal with scotch anyway?”
“Give-“
But before Kira can do anything more, Yumeko slowly raises the glass towards her mouth, resting her red lips against the blue print of Kira’s lipstick. She doesn’t remove her dark gaze from Kira as she does this stunt, and the student president swallows bitterly, her blood making her face burn in anger.
How dare she-
She watches carefully as Yumeko takes a sip, slow and sickenly enticing, with a minor twitch of her eyebrow from the unpleasantly bitter taste of the drink. And when the shorter woman finishes, she finally gives the glass back, the brim now red with blue undertones.
Kira’s fingers don’t grasp it very well, but it’s enough for it not to slip past and fall.
“No wonder you’re so bitter.” Yumeko snarks, “Next time, try a lemon drop, those might sweeten your night.”
But she suddenly leans in, a hand grabbing Kira’s shoulder while her lips brush against the earlobe of the other’s left ear.
“However, there are other, more satisfactory ways to sweeten your nights, Kira. Do weigh your options accordingly. You’re the student council’s president, after all. It’s what you do.”
And with that, Yumeko smiles sweetly and walks away, towards Ryan, who had been eyeing her carefully since she had braved to approach her. Kira allows a scowl to form, staring at the red lipstick stain on her glass, taunting and bold, almost daring her to submit to this unspoken game of superiority.
With a scoff, she drinks, and when she pulls away, she is acutely aware that her lips have a tinge of crimson color to them, if Suki’s distant gesture of question towards them isn’t enough implication. But the red stain was now replaced with blue once again, and that is more than enough of a winning point.
And then-
“Ms. President.”
Kira looks at Rex, fuming out of bitter rage from Yumeko’s prior antics. “What?”
He isn’t appalled by her harsh behavior, but he is still fretfully anxious. “Your main attraction wants you to have this.”
He pushes a highball glass towards her, like a jester offering a form of peace offering to their monarch. Registering the drink, Kira takes into account the blend of orange and yellow hues, the orange wedge and the maraschino cherry serving as garnishes, the sugar rim.
And the more she studies the volatile cocktail, the more her blood boils underneath her skin.
“What’s the name of this drink?”
Rex flinches from the imposing command and beyond nervous at the hard leer that Kira is giving the glass, as if she wants it to explode just with the strength of her stare.
“Sex on the beach.”
Kira’s knuckles turn white from the strong grip around the empty- now purple brimmed glass of her scotch.