SAKURA - 1

Sakura never understood the concept of becoming a breeding object— the simplicity of a housewife dawning on her as her childish ingenuousness was taken away from her, the chance for an alpha to seize her and confine her in his bed— because she was an omega. The lowest of low, unlike the betas, she had use— and many discriminated her for that. She had no power, she couldn't vote, omegas were to wear a collar like a dog away from their Masters, away from the tainted leash— and back onto the damned collar that was chastity. Or, they liked to call it that. All it meant was a beckoning, a plead, come here boys. Come and get your prize, a virgin omega— an omega. Break her in— they said, let her adapt to the lifestyle of others teenagers out on the run, other teenagers inside classrooms that were filled with beta, male beta, alpha, female beta, alpha. It sounded in her ears like the foreseen wedding bells, and the clutching of her hand onto her stomach as she felt the first bleed. She was to be dominated, consumed, and imbibed all till she was a compliant and plant woman— omega— a housewife— omega— compliant. In class, they showed the perfect lady with postmodern-collar until it was taken off and she was big with her alpha's baby. Her stomach was a big fat lumpy ugly thing and Sakura never wanted that. She wanted to stay pretty forever, pretty till she didn't want to— pretty till she wilted. The woman on the screen had pink hair like Sakura, and it became a subservient trait in the family, she watched as the kids matured to be something bigger— something better. The omegas felt much better, they weren't deferential and biddable passive things, they were great mothers, they took charge of their cherub's future!

Sakura only perceived the reality, the technicalities, and not the fantasy opinion everyone had about these little omegas that were not yet to be bred. She noticed how they latched onto the last thread of hope— the backdoor, noticed how the kitchen knife was always stationed nearby, and noticed the extremely unlikely but still there, punishment against treason. It was ludicrous, the simple idea of being forced to comply like slaves from the Dark Ages, it was absurd! Yet everyone loved it, everyone wanted this life— everyone— omegas— loved this title. Sakura was a bright child— Sakura wanted to stay a bright child till she wasn't, but she still wanted to— was it so bad to decline this invitation to a better life? Was she really the only omega that wasn't built to withstand such corruption, was she the only one willing to open her eyes to other possibilities? The anxiety that fell on her after screen-time in class was enough to devour her sleep and leave her rattled and restless and utterly tired in the morning, the jumpiness, the dreadful aches in her stomach— the sign of her first cycle coming. She was scared, spooked, she was a sacrifice for the bigger famished alphas.. and she couldn't do anything about it. Medicine could not cure her, for she was frightened as she anticipated her first period to come— for the first man to come along and buy her out with a proposal and the promise of a happier life.

"It's not fair— you're already smelling like fertility Sakura!" Sakura had came home jaded till her back was at the door and she was sinking down to the lowest of lows— sinking till she noticed the oxblood-red stain between her legs, they were a reminder and a promise, they were a fulfillment and an achievement. They were a nightmare and Sakura didn't want it! She wanted it gone, gone till it would never come back, gone till her tears were dried up on her face and she was no longer a woman— gone till she became a child again and a strained pain in her stomach no longer sounded itself. Pills would help no more, she knew that— she realized it long ago, only the throbbing of someone else inside of her, ravaging her an inch of her life—till mercy was no longer a comprehensible fact. The period was the first, only a crack, someone with wanton desires would come and wedge it wide open for all to see— that she was a virgin omega and she bled. She was ready— omega— to be a housewife— omega— bear children— omega. Her skin would turn flabby till she no longer bred, till blood no longer leaked from between her legs and reached to the floor, stain it with the brand of a new omega— fresh, come get it! — It wasn't long till her Mother knocked, asking worriedly, what happened, but in reality— Sakura knew, "Had you bled yet?"

Her parents were beta, she was a genesis of the family— an omega. She was a prize, an accomplishment. Her Mother loved her dearly— groomed her dearly— took care of her like the child she was till she grew up to be a great woman— an omega with alpha children, here you go Mother, your grandson— would she look at her with more than burdened eyes? Sakura had tried to create a goal to be a breeding object, but she couldn't find it in herself to want that. That life of misery and corruption and ultimately; inconvenient sacrifice, forcibly slaved to the chains of the title omega and the status of a Mother. She grew to hate the word, and as a year passed by, that word resounded itself dangerously— as her heat had come close, too close. It wasn't a stranger for it to come, it was an expected demise, Sakura loved the taste of victory when it was kept in its place, but Sakura had no longer any control of it. She was at age, maybe slightly older, and it wouldn't be long till her classroom was empty or big with children. Till everyone had married and come back with an infant in their arms and a ring clinging to their finger, and they clung to it too. She wanted to graduate, she wanted to leave the sights of men flashing their eyes at her— she wanted to leave the looming alphas to their worries and cravings for omega!

And then, she was fourteen, and then— she was lined up in the classroom. She was restrained— the alphas— with a collar— title, omega— and then she was seated around alphas. She was the prettiest out of all Omegas, Sakura knew, she had emerald green eyes and the plumpest innocent features out of all, but she wasn't beautiful. She wasn't first choice— she was first age, she was fresh, she was newborn. They all wanted her, they all wanted to delight on her, she was a delicacy on the table and they held their forks high and prepared with their handkerchiefs on their necks. "Hi, Sakura— right?"

She met him, and she fell in love. Sakura never thought she could grow to create her sole fetish, the one thing that kept her separated from the real world, the fantasy of Sasuke. He was perfect, not only in looks— grades— he was everything Sakura wanted and didn't. He was an alpha, she despised all alphas, yet she yearned for Sasuke, he was so beautiful— so untouchable— a sin, he was a widow in her eyes, a baby, a devil. He was everything she wasn't allowed to— he was the fertility pills in her backpack and her tampons, he was the cure and he was an alpha. She liked him? She LOVED him! She was so miserably in love it was hard to decline his request afterward, Sasuke was so kind— why wouldn't she return the favor with a generous time— why wouldn't she help him when he was so hard, leaking, bulbous and swollen, all for her? She believed it okay— because in the end, she had made the rules herself— and she could break them at any time. If only he had loved her back— if only he hadn't been passive when he bit her and branded her, if he only he hadn't been so heartless. After all the things they've done on his bed, after he cheaply threw the condom onto the bin and told her to get dressed— after coldly pulling away from her warm embrace and her loving words for him. After he had fucked her and used her dry.

Now Sakura came to school with a turtleneck and a small collar and the mark that didn't help at all, the sensation of Sasuke's teeth damp on her nape. She was lucky, she was lucky, and then she wasn't— till all the omegas considered her lucky, till the rumors of her and Sasuke spread, till every sleuth in the corner of the hallways spoke about her, till she couldn't put on the cover of a turtleneck and the oversized collar.

Till Naruto came into her life and changed all that.

"I wouldn't hate you— I never would, Sakura. I mean, it's not like you were in your head at the time— or even if you were— that's kind of your choice, uh, I don't really get what omegas feel so I can't really speak about them, but I don't think you did anything wrong."

And Sakura broke down, crying onto the shoulder of Naruto— and why he wouldn't take her that time— Sakura figured out when he had told her of his own situation, and maybe her situation wasn't that bad.

"Doctors say I have a high tolerance to omega pheromones, but most people think I'm weak for being an alpha that doesn't want to dominate, and my condition is pretty just but in all honesty.. I just don't think.. it's okay to rape anyone regardless of their status as an omega, or a beta, even an alpha!" Sakura found it more amazing how Naruto chewed on pocky and played Mario Kart, then how he had shared similar thoughts on the forbidden topic— taboo— they said. Maybe Naruto did deserve some of her love, maybe it would be better if she wasn't so stern on him.

Maybe it would be better if Sasuke had stayed out like he did years ago, when she was just a fourteen year old girl, not a sixteen year old girl who couldn't comprehend love. Now she was stuck in this triangle.