Fic: Wolf in a Flock of Sheep - Kannazuki no Miko
Title: Wolf in a Flock of Sheep
Author: hyena_gal
Fandom: Kannazuki no Miko
Summary: Chikane has her very own fangirls at school.
Rating: PG-13. Heavy on the angst, though.
Disclaimer: I'm a devotee. Not an owner.
Author's Notes: Because those three girls just seemed *too* obsessed with their 'Miya-sama' for their own good. Angry!Frustrated!Manga!Chikane in the animeverse... hmmm. *taps chin thoughtfully*.
*
Before Himeko, there was... discomfort. Sums it up well.
The suffocating loneliness, the passing of too long days, unbearably expectant eyes everywhere, and the constant following of classmates, unneeded disciples. Oblivious sheep.
Not that the latter changed. Still there. Just kindly ignored even more since meeting the other shy girl, the sun in her life, her heart.
(Izumi-san, and the two others...)
Most dedicated adherents. A fact which never ceased to puzzle Chikane; she'd never been alone with them for *more* than eight seconds, and what possible impression could she have left on them in that short expanse of time to start the avalanche?
Doesn't know.
She's aware that the girls have been a constant, and a constant aspect of every school day for a long time now. From the first time she walked inside Ototachibana Academy, and earned herself an extra shadow. Were on to her scent. Spares a small thought for the nature of coyotes, pack animals.
/Funny. Even as she desperately tried, Chikane simply *couldn't* see herself as prey./
Guesses she should feel weary. Upset. Something.
And she did notice: could recognise them among the mass of hundred of other students by their sheer persistency. Near, crowding and parasitic, grasping the air and breathing it before she could. Slight inclining of the head, and she would *always* catch a hint of their watching faces from the corner of her eye.
/After all, they were the innocent ones, for all their small-minded pettiness./
It wasn't like they were the only ones; someone trying to get close, failing, trying -- routine and etiquette, after all. But not used to the continuing chase, not tiring. Not that, because they were breaking the pattern by doing so, and that...
That deserved another nonchalant glance, right?
An ever-present, ever-following three-headed being behind her back, footsteps delivered, taken up, scavenger-like, movement in the background, trailing her endlessly.
Rumor had it the trio had always seemed to take their idolatry of her to a somewhat...unnecessary *intense* level. Not that she listened to gossip; the busy busy buzzing of teenage talk, most rumours about her in any case, and she just got easily tired of the monotone noise, always droning, always there.
Nameless classmates told her about it. Made it sound like a warning: for her to watch out, avoid them? Chikane had grinned inside and almost burst out with an inappropriate laugh. Had she been any less well-raised...
*Why?*
Never got an answer, though. And all she could do then was make conclusions of her own.
Remembered --- after a won tennis match, and she had walked into the girls' locker room. Started to undress -- and all of a sudden, they had been there, piped their congratulations. She'd thanked them graciously as it was expected of her, continued to pull clothes off...and they had continued to stay.
Stayed some more. And, really, just *stood* there.
Naked, body wet with perspiration; turned towards them, and she could have sworn she saw something like an electric *jolt* go through them at the unhindered sight. Downcast eyes, the smallest blush on Izumi's cheeks when she took a step forward, and cautiously offered a pink towel. Soft in her hand. Chikane thanked her quietly before heading for the shower.
Just one of many situations.
/What did they *see* when looking at her?/
Numerous times where she had wanted so very much to crawl inside their make-up applied heads, settle behind their eyes, and see the same thing as them: what it was they felt so damn drawn to, what made them follow her around like they did.
Blind stupid adoration -- didn't they realise how *dangerous* it was? Why didn't they sense her pale formal mask, worn around all of them? Weren't they afraid to find out what was *behind* it? Kept on anyways, stubbornly, and maybe --
(it was the money? That her status could be infectious? Perhaps the)
power, passed down through generations to her, enough of it to make her sick with its weight --- every student of Ototachibana Academy, every single morning, grovelling mentally before her in long rows, more than often, and she couldn't help but wonder what they would do if she simply refused to.
play. along. anymore.
//Can't, don't want to, make it *stop*//, and she'd been jaded for so long, why shouldn't she take advantage of them, ruin their prettiness in all possible thinkable manners? Enough times where every single person from school had offered his or her throat at some point, their heads for her to touch, caress, crush.
Many, many -- picturing how it could unfold was just a way of killing time.
(Killing.)
*M-Miya-sama?*
(Slobbering lap dogs, eager for their mistress' stroke. Reaching out, catching a girly wrist harder than gently, the fine bone beneath. Immaterial who it belonged to. Looking, and letting them be the focus of a lewd practised glare.)
*Ssh...No one has to know*
(Blue cold eyes. Empty classroom. The waiting obnoxious submissive behaviour in them, like clinging sweat. Taken aback? Because they had thought of her as an asexual creature all along; too perfect to succumb to dirty human needs, slightly different needs -- afraid of her, and much too much respect to even *use* the d-word.)
*Won't you do this for me?*
(And then it could happen in different ways: all three girls on their knees, servicing her in turns. Or, only one between her thighs, while the other two kissed awkwardly, disrobed, were calmly ordered to touch each other all over.)
The pointlessness of it. Hollow and meaningless.
And it wouldn't be about sex or lust or adolescent experimentation. Far from it.
Only about humiliation. Domination. Subjugation. Showing the massive lack of regard she had for them. Punishment, because they unquestioningly *let* her have control.
Make them wear their steel collars out in the open, for everyone to see...
Chikane wouldn't seriously want to do it, touch any of them in that fashion; not in a million years. The thought alone is enough to *make* he want to snort unladylike:
It *didn't* function as an erotic fantasy, as something to excite her. Only the opposite. Queasy stomach, and she wanted to castigate Izumi and Misaki and Kyoko for their desire for *her*, hated everything she supposedly stood for, and she chose the image in her mind only because she understood sex could be used to misuse, that it could be about cruelty, *not* love...
Only made her bitter, and the following feeling of pure solitude would wash over her like lapping stinking seawater.
Why should she necessarily be *good*?
/What they all think, believe, can't have it any other way, this way/
It's simply a darkly coloured still picture with rips in it now, residing in the deepest, most frustrated part of her brain, the part which daily tells her to lash out, to let *go*, and she's certain that if she ever gave in ---
Only later...
A blonde girl, with so much warmth and so much light it was enough to dull the sharp edges of blackness inside her head, allowing the Lunar Miko to sleep dreamlessly in the silence of her thoughts, if only she was near her, rested next to her.
Made her /feel/ better, more calm. The darkness had been shackled temporarily, and it was a blessing. It really was.
Chikane looks at Himeko beside her in their shared garden, the sunshine. The Solar Miko smiles at her and her heart feels close to dying.
She knows now.
And she honestly *is* sorry.
End.