When it rained, they played chess. They would sit in the third-storey library with cups of tea as droplets of water lashed against the many-paned window. Her mother would lean back, her eyes half-closed as she lazily considered the game while Satsuki would furiously bite her knuckle, her free hand hovering over the white and green marble board.

Sometimes they would talk of philosophy, and her mind would race and pound, feeling like it was swelling in her skull, as she considered all at once her next move, the construction of her argument, and the consequences should she lose the game.

When she was younger, she would try to protect every piece as if her life depended on it. Every pawn, every rook, every knight was a friend to her, and she almost couldn't bear it when they were swept aside to rest on the table beside the board. Satsuki smiled a little at the memory. Her heart had been so soft then.

She had learned, though, and quickly. There were consequences to losing a game with Kiryuin Ragyo. Often after a game she would look over at the board from where she was pinned down against the window seat and consider her king, firmly in checkmate. As a distraction from the hands that hungrily stroked her every line, she would repeat the game in the reverse in her mind, clutching desperately to the idea that there was some move she could have made that would have saved her. The rules to their little game were ironclad - if she wanted to leave the library untouched, she had to win.

So she had learned the art of sacrifice, of allowing a piece to be surrendered for the sake of the game. Her technique improved, and she remembered with great clarity a day when, in the third hour of the game, her mother had casually asked,

"Do you think Machiavelli is right in saying that the end justifies the mean?"

"Yes," was all that she had said, though her heart held onto the hope that it wasn't unqualifiedly true, for even as the monosyllabic answer drifted from her mouth, her mind was intent on taking back a rook she had given up.

She had thrown it under the bus, but still had every intention of getting it back. Her pawn was two spaces from the back of the board, ready to be traded for what she had given over. That day she had learned that although sacrifice was necessary, she still got to choose what she wanted to sacrifice.

She thought about that day as she stepped out of the building, relieved that the most demeaning lingerie shoot she had ever done was over. Keeping her face locked into neutral in front of the frantic paparazzi, she scanned the crowd for the short blue hair and high collar of her correspondent. She allowed herself to be briefly surprised when she saw Matoi's defiant scowl among the press. She shook her head.

I don't have time for this. Where are you, Inumuta?

She only had a few seconds to slip away, but their meeting was of the utmost importance. Panic started to rise in her chest before she saw him - he was walking towards their meeting place. Relieved, she went to push through the confused crowd when her arm was caught.

"You still owe me, Satsuki." Nui hissed into her ear, all sugary sweetness gone. "You still need to do something to make my arm feel better." Satsuki winced internally. Today's shoot had protected her from Nui's wrath, for there was nowhere for a bruise to hide under the skimpy underwear she had been modeling mere minutes ago.

Her next shoot, however, was for winter wear.

Panic exploded in her throat and Satsuki almost whined, not because of whatever ridiculous atrocity her sister had planned, but because her man was getting further and further away and she had no way to get to him. She turned her head to see her mother come towards them - once she arrived her fate would be set in stone.

Someone had to be thrown under the bus. In less than a few seconds her plan was solidified, the picture unraveled and rewoven in one fluid motion of thought. Regret twinged in her mind, but she reminded herself that the piece she had chosen to sacrifice would be reclaimed in a few moves. She raised an arm to point.

"Isn't that Matoi Ryuko?"

Nui's head swiveled as her pupils instantly dilated. Satsuki smoothly disentangled her arm and disappeared into the crowd, her belly churning.

As she walked, scribbling a hasty note on a printed card, she couldn't help but think that, although she had reclaimed many pieces in the countless matches she had played, she had never once won a game.

xxx

Ryuko stared at them, her hands in her pockets, not sure exactly what she was doing. She had caught wind of Kiki's (Satsuki's, she corrected herself) shoot and, despite the fact that Jakuzare had already assigned a different reporter, had scooted quickly downtown, intent on her own private mystery.

She had forgotten everything - her notebook, recorder, even her press badge - so she resigned herself to stand by, a little ashamed of herself, and watch.

I'll get you, Kiryuin Satsuki, her thoughts rumbled in determination as she watched Nui take the model by the arm and whisper in her ear. Satsuki tilted her head away as her eyes awoke and burned for the briefest of moments. The photographers gasped and checked their digital screens to see if they had caught it. They groaned dejectedly in unison.

Matoi's brow furrowed as she watched Satsuki raise an arm and point to her. She brushed her wild hair from her face and felt her cheeks grow cold as Nui's gaze turned to her. A close-lipped smile spread wildly over the blonde's face. Then Nui was gone, out of her line of sight, as Kiki pushed through the crowd and disappeared into a gaggle of semi-interested plebeians.

Ryuko went to follow the silky black head that was sweeping away, grinning as she added to her list of the disadvantages of being tall she used to console herself about her mediocre height.

Number twenty-six: Nowhere to Hide. Her brain told her excitedly that that would be a great title for a action/thriller screenplay, but the amused thought was quickly dissipated as she felt the nape of her neck grabbed by tiny, powerful fingers.

Nui was in her face, tugging at her clothes, dragging her through the crowd with an amazing swiftness and subtlety, somehow managing to convey a sense of complete ordinariness to the surrounding throng even as Ryuko struggled.

"Hey, sweet thing," Harime purred, never letting go of Ryuko's neck and belt loop. "You had to leave so early the other day. I had some things to show you."

"What do you want!?" Ryuko all but screeched, so surprised by the turn of events that she could barely register the world around her. She knew Nui was creepy (and possibly incestuous), but as she was dragged into an alleyway far from any trace of humanity, the pure evil that was Harime Nui hit her full force.

Nui threw her against the back wall, leaving Ryuko dazed. By the time, however, that Nui's mouth was on her neck and her hands in her shirt, Ryuko's instincts kicked in. She crouched, centering herself, as she delivered a brutal uppercut to the small blonde's jaw. Ryuko grinned in satisfaction at the crack of bone on bone, but it quickly faded as she realized that Nui barely seemed to feel it.

"You're so cool, Ryuko." Nui murmured, eyes half-lidded as she wiped her mouth, "You look so bad-ass right now." Ryuko kept throwing punches, blows that had dispatched full-sized men in the past, but Harime either dodged them with incredible speed or took them with a giggle.

Ryuko started to panic in a unique mix of fury and disbelief as her fists threw out faster, but more sloppily. Nui grew bored with her game and slipped under Ryuko's guard, grabbing her by the jacket and smashing her repeatedly into the wall behind them.

The world flickered and threw out sparks as Ryuko's head smashed into the brick. Gasping, she slumped into a loose but still guarded heap as Nui let her go. Dazed she looked up as Nui leaned over her, chuckling as her hands reached out.

Oh my God, Ryuko thought, I'm going to be raped. By a skeezy blond chick. I'm not even in prison! She curled in on herself and bared her teeth, reacting more than feeling like a cornered wild animal.

"Harime Nui," a deep voice boomed, "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Nui turned, her eye twitching, before her face softened into a relaxed smile.

"Kiki. There you are."

Satsuki stood in the entrance of the alley, soft light from the lamppost glowing from behind her, her face set in an expression reminiscent of an Easter Island Head. She had her purse open and was haphazardly yanking out its contents onto the street, pausing only to slide her cash and credit card into a pocket hidden inside her coat.

"Don't you think this could give you some undesirable publicity?" Satsuki rumbled as she walked towards Nui, throwing the purse onto the ground. Nui hummed, twirling her finger through a curl, not apologetic in the least.

"Sometime, when you see something you want, you just have to have it! Isn't that right, Koko?"

Of all things, Ryuko was disgusted by the nickname. So much so that she clenched her fists again, intent on beating the rapey freak into a pulp. Satsuki beat her to the punch. Literally. Her fist lashed out towards her sister's face. Nui easily avoided the blow, but failed to notice Satsuki's other hand grabbing a fistful of her blond pigtails. Using the momentum of the strike, Satsuki stabilized as best she could in heels and threw Harime to the wet ground.

"You fall for that every time, Harime." Satsuki grunted out, her core tight. Nui lashed out and grabbed the wrist that was still tangled in her hair, pulling Satsuki to the ground with her.

"Who cares?" she screeched, her eyes rolling, "I still win!" In less than a second, Nui's impossible strength had her sister pinned. The blonde cackled crazily as she beat her fists into Satsuki's face and ribs. "I've been waiting too long for this, you subservient little bitch!"

Ryuko jumped without hesitation into the fray, locking one arm around a slender neck and using her other to try to stop the blows that kept falling on Satsuki.

Satsuki coughed, her wind gone, but between blows she managed to make significant eye contact with Ryuko.

"Scream," she mouthed.

Ryuko blinked but did as directed, throwing back her head and letting out a howl that cracked into a high harmonic at the end. It reverberated against the walls of the alley before being released into the world outside. In a few moments, shouts were heard and frantic voices called out to the girls. Ryuko called back and feet pounded just yards away. Nui growled and delivered a final blow before standing up and promptly punching herself in the face, the force of it sending her back into a wall. The brick crumbled. She added her voice to Ryuko's.

"Help," she screeched, "We've been attacked!"

Rage boiled up in Ryuko as she recognized the ploy. Too many people crushed into the alleyway, concerned and helpful but utterly suffocating. She turned to Satsuki, who was struggling to sit up, but no signs of rebellion showed on her face. With a gasp, Ryuko realized why Satsuki had disemboweled her purse before launching her failed attack. She had foreseen the deception and was playing into it.

Ryuko shook her head in utter disbelief and snapped her mouth shut. If Nui and Satsuki both attested to imaginary muggers, any story she divulged otherwise would look like the stressed ravings of a traumatized girl.

The cops had arrived, shoving bystanders aside and barking out orders before taking the three girls and gently leading them to the waiting ambulance to be looked over. Satsuki, blood running into her eye, brushed up against Ryuko and slid something into her pocket. A faint rainbow-colored glow appeared in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Kiryuin Ragyo stride through the crowd that seemed to melt before her powerful charisma. Her hand was over her mouth and her eyebrows were knit together, but her dark red eyes still gleamed with perpetual mirth.

Brooking no argument, Ragyo took both of her daughters into her arms, waving aside the police officers and frantic paramedics. Satsuki held a hand over her face and winced as her mother kissed the top of her head, but overall she looked relieved, as if she had regained something she had lost.

Ryuko looked away and shoved back the poor man who was trying to attend to her bleeding head, her reaction to the events of the last few minutes manifesting itself as anger. Furiously, she dug into her pocket, pulling out the card Satsuki had placed there.

Number Four, it read, before it listed an address. She flipped the card over and squinted as she struggled to read the tiny scrawl on the back. Stay at this address for a few days, it read, then go stay with a family member for a week or two. I will contact you. For the love of God, don't go to work!

Ryuko grit her teeth, committing the address to memory before tearing it to shreds and dropping the pieces into a puddle. She shook her head at the officers who tried to take a statement from her, feigning shock. From across the street, she could just make out Nui rambling in a very convincing shaken-and-terrified voice about four huge burly muggers. Ryuko could barely keep from screaming in rage, her body trembling. An officer tried to restrain her as she stomped down the street.

"Where are you going?" he demanded, face unsure.

"I'm fucking going home!" She bellowed, shaking off the hand and stalked away, her own hand pressed to the back of her head.

xxx

Fear not, we will hear more about Satsuki soon!

~Bad Mitt