Shizuma was a bitch.

And Miyuki hated her.

It was so easy to wallow in an emotion like hate, here on this ominous winter morning, with the snow falling cruel and silent onto the trees that surrounded Astraea. Well, perhaps hate wasn't quite right. But the strong emotion Miyuki was feeling seemed so far removed from love, so it must be hate.

Hanazono Shizuma. Traipsing around the damn school like she owned it, breaking hearts, not even bothering to take names. Miyuki wanted to throw up every time she heard the squeals of the underclassmen that always signaled Shizuma's presence. Wanted to slap every eager shiny flushed face that was upturned at Shizuma's passage. Like people waiting for a blessing from the Virgin Mary.

Some girls didn't have the luxury of picking a lover. Some girls were auctioned off to the highest bidder as a fiancé—like a pig at market.

Miyuki grit her teeth and swore softly, uncharacteristic for her, always ladylike; and crumpled the paper that was in front of her, the paper that she had been trying to read for over an hour. She remembered that sticky sweltering day last summer like it was yesterday…