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There were rumours going around school that the student council president and captain of the boxing club were sleeping together.
They were the type of people rumour mills thrive on after all: the powerful yet aloof heiress to the Kirijo fortune, and the mysterious golden gloves champion. Both interesting if not important figures within the school hierarchy, quietly doing the kind of things that set rumour mills alight. Like living in the only co-ed dorms, walking to and from school together, eating lunch together. It didn't hurt that they were both gorgeous and had some weird dynamic going on in public: Kirijo loved telling Sanada what to do, and Sanada seemed to take some kind of sick masochistic joy both in being her target and finding new ways to inspire her exasperation.
Yukari didn't care much. To her, the publicly scandalous couples were far more fun to speculate about. She didn't want to spend more time talking about Kirijo than she absolutely had to anyway. It only became relevant when she decided that she couldn't go on any longer without clearing her Father's name. The Kirijo family was behind the death of her Father, and Mitsuru Kirijo was the only one accessible enough to investigate. Maybe if she dug up some dirt on the youngest Kirijo, she could blackmail her way to gaining more information about the laboratory explosion.
She tried talking to the usual gossips - not a difficult feat when most of them were her friends. She bit down on her anger and forced herself to smile and join in on their light conversations about the would-be couple, trying not to seem overly interested. She even dared to join in on some of the conversations with Sanada's fan club, which wasn't exactly easy considering how intense they were. Experiencing their obsession was probably one of the lowest moments of her social life - it took weeks to shake off the semi-friendships she'd forced herself to build with those girls, and the paranoid misinformation gained was more of a hindrance than any help.
According to the fan group, Sanada was many things: single and immune to Kirijo's desperate advances, single but terrorised by Kirijo's desperate advances, or in a relationship with Kirijo but tragically ignorant as to how much better any one of them could treat him if he just gave them a chance.
"Did you see all those love letters falling out of Sanada-senpai's shoe locker this morning? I swear they were all the same colour as Yuki-chan's pink stationary!" One of her friends teased, much to her disgust,
UGH. Joke or not, she couldn't stand the thought of people gossiping about her that way. Jokes always turned into rumours after enough people repeated it, and being a Sanada groupie was one of the lowest rungs of the social ladder possible. The Sanada fan club either didn't notice or didn't care about her abrupt absence - she wasn't Sanada after all. Having thoroughly investigated the boxer and finding nothing more than a fondness for endless training and ramen (he seriously appeared to be that boring), Yukari reluctantly changed her target.
* * *
Kirijo. She was a lot harder to figure out, which was to be expected given her nature. She was far more discreet about her day-to-day affairs than Sanada, and her activities weren't the kind open to the wider public. While the boxing gym was open to any after-school sports clubs for fitness training (including archery), the fencing club wasn't. They trained in smaller, specialised school facilities.
The fencing events were no more accessible than their training - while boxing was open to anyone who waltzed in off the street, fencing events were more of a niche interest. People would immediately notice Yukari's presence if she started attending, including Kirijo. The student council meetings were private, which left little opportunity for observing the heiress without raising her suspicions. Anytime Kirijo spent in the library went scandal-free, strictly spent studying or completing group assignments.
Unfortunately, Kirijo didn't have a rabid following of admirers like Sanada either, making even gossip hard to come by. She had those who were fond of her, but she was so intimidating that most guys were happier to discuss her appearance than risk sounding creepy in the same way Sanada's fans did. Where Sanada was oblivious to the attention he drew and therefore avoided confronting his fans through pure ignorance, Kirijo was well aware of her social standing and completely unwavering in the face of both negative and positive attention. She didn't hesitate to cut her classmates down when they crossed the line into her personal life, and Yukari quickly got the feeling that whoever liked talking behind Kirijo's back did so in the privacy of locker rooms or behind closed doors.
For a couple that literally lived together, came to school together and called each other by their first names, there was frustratingly little information available about the two. So she conceded. They probably weren't together - or if they were, they were way too careful for anyone at school to find out.
In a strange twist of fate, one night Yukari awoke to a strange, sickly green air. Something that seemed like it came straight from a B-grade horror movie, with upright coffins and smeared blood to boot. It seemed like her luck had changed, although she wasn't sure if it was for better or worse even when she tallied it up.
Unlucky: her chances of dying a horrible death had increased exponentially. Lucky: She had the opportunity to join Kirijo's suspicious extracurricular club, dorm residency included! But then Unlucky again- it came with the weird stipulation that she learn to shoot herself in the head, and the even weirder sight of both Sanada and Kirijo doing so casually on a regular basis.
That was probably weirder than if she had walked in on them fucking, and infinitely less useful. One was useful blackmail and the other was too unbelievable to be used against Kirijo. But what other choice did she have? If she was going to clear her Father's name, this was her best opportunity. And when she stopped to think about it, catching two of her schoolmates in bed was probably less relevant to the school exploding 10 years ago than a secret hidden hour where suicidal tendencies were celebrated with ghostly apparitions and magic spells.
* * *
She accepted Kirijo's offer. The relationship with her Mother had already deteriorated to that of tense roommates anyway, she was probably even a little happy knowing she could drink and invite her 'friends' around without having to explain her daughters judgemental gaze anymore. And Yukari didn't have to live with the antithesis to her goal of investigating her Father's death any longer. Moving into her enemies home was ironically a better choice for her.
By her third night in the dorms, it felt like an age since she'd entertained the rumours that her senpai were sleeping together. She was more focused on day-to-day issues like decorating her new room, figuring out the showers and building up the nerve to shoot herself in the face, which had a funny way of making her feel nauseous. She didn't know if she was allowed on the roof at night, but fresh air and strong wind had always made her feel better in the past, so she walked through the corridor of the top floor quietly, hoping to find a recognisable access door to the roof.
What she found instead was the last thing she expected to see. Just inside the dimly lit control room stood immediate, frenzied confirmation of her classmates rumours. It figured it had to happen during a weird inter-dimensional hour where electronics didn't work, rendering the discovery useless from an extortion point of view. It summed up just how bizarre her luck was.
The couple struck a contradictory pose to the power dynamic she'd always seen them portray in public - Kirijo lay compromised and breathless beneath the boxer's form, her blouse abandoned halfway across the room along with Sanada's leather gloves. The emerald glow of the console highlighted the criss-crossing scar tissue stretched taut over his palms like melted plastic. If his scars felt as strange as they looked, Kirijo wasn't showing it as they patiently explored her pale exposed skin. The gentleness in his touch spoke to some kind of intimacy she hadn't expected between the two.
It was no wonder they hadn't heard the stairs creak on her way up- they were in their own little world up here, with the heiress trapped between the command console and Akihiko's weight, her lips red from enduring a series of indulgently long, aching kisses. The rosy wet puckered texture of her nipples suggested similar treatment in the moments beforehand, made all the more evident as Akihiko temporarily leaned back to remove his shirt.
Were anyone to ask her beforehand, Yukari would have vehemently denied having any interest in watching a couple have sex, let alone her worst enemy. Yet now that the opportunity had struck, she hesitated and remained frozen in the darkened hallway, gnawing her lower lip like her conscience at the back of her mind.
She was probably more likely to be caught running away than if she stayed...right? Her eyes were hopelessly drawn to the rippling muscles dancing across Sanada's sculpted torso, a display of hard unyielding muscle synchronised in perfect coordination. Goosebumps broke out along the boxers skin where it met with Kirijo's, including where her hand guided his cock out of his open zipper.
Even if she wasn't particularly interested in Sanada, she was still curious about almost everything related to sex. She hadn't even seen that part of a guy before. And neither of them were unpleasant to look at, so against her better judgement, she stayed put. Just for a little while, she thought. She would leave when they were both distracted.
She hadn't considered that they were actually going to go all the way until then. Maybe dry humping, or a few of Akihiko's thick scarred fingers pumping into Kirijo. At most, Kirijo teasing his cock with both hands, coaxing him to unload himself across the surprisingly muscled plane of her stomach...maybe between her lips, if she could picture Kirijo allowing such a thing. Instead she watched a dumb, lopsided smile overcome Akihiko's features as the heiress guided him inside, her hips supported by his hand on the small of her back.
Later- years later, she would guiltily think back to the initial sight of his cock emerging after that first thrust, engorged and coated in a slick, wet sheen. That should have been her cue to leave, not settle in. And yet she did. That probably said something about her.
“Akihiko...” the heiress sighed in a way Yukari had never heard before, her voice warm and rich with emotion. The heiress’ hips lifted off the table as Akihiko slowly sheathed himself inside of her again, and although it was only met with a soft gasp from the woman, it spoke volumes. She had never heard the empress sound anything less than commanding, unless it was apathetic.
“Mitsuru...” he started, shifting his weight until the leverage allowed him to press deeper, until the heiress’ was trapped snugly between his weight and the table again. “Is this what you want?”
His voice remained calm and cautiously eager, as if he was being given a gift he was afraid to receive. Although difficult to see, she momentarily heard the sound of soft, slow kissing between the couple again, paired with an undoubtedly approving noise from the trapped redhead before he began rocking into her rhythmically, his unhurried pace matched by the steady sway of her breasts.
A deep flush stained her cheeks as Yukari ignored whatever her body was telling her. If anything she had expected Kirijo to be demanding and detached about any kind of intimate affair, and yet here she was beneath the boxer she spent so much time admonishing, willingly vulnerable, with a long trembling leg draped over his shoulder.
Even Sanada...it’s not like she put it beyond any guy to pass up sex, especially a teenage guy, but...for a guy on top, it still seemed like he was venerating the woman beneath him, gazing upon her form in adoration.
“A-ak—i...” She broke away from the union of their lips, cold puffs of air mingling between them in the brief interlude. His lips took on a blue tinged hue as they found hers again quickly, every part of him seeking and taking what he could of her.
The symmetry of their forms melded together in a combination of contrasting features, matching up like a messy jigsaw of perfection. His strength held firm where she allowed hers to relent, his thighs and arms taut with tension where hers shook and faltered, her control melting into supplication where his adoration grew unrelenting.
Eventually it came to an end as opposed to her expectations as it all began. It wasn't fast, frantic fucking, loud shouting or nails scraping Sanada's back in the throes of passion. Instead their perfectly timed rhythm became ever-so-slightly mismatched as Kirijo unravelled beneath her unfaltering partner. Her cries smothered by his lips, her shaking met by slower, deeper strokes until the Empress finally arched against him – once, twice, three times.
Sanada still didn't stop despite what sounded like desperate sounds for him to do so, training his intense gaze on Kirijo's form until she finally fell limp, her form bouncing without resistance. In one moment, the visible tension in his muscles pulled tight and finally released, marked only by a slow, deep exhale emptying from the boxers lungs.
There was no simultaneous explosion of ecstasy or shouting like porn had taught her, just...whatever that was. One joining the other. It looked enjoyable, just...imperfect.
Afterward, Sanada returned to his usual gentle devotion, easing Kirijo's legs down slowly. If she hadn't been sure before, it was obvious now that they hadn't bothered with protection. It would have made for the perfect ending to her blackmail video. If there was one.
"Is that towel still in here?" Sanada muttered, his eyes glued to Kirijo's. She lazily waved a hand in the opposite direction to Yukari's hiding place, apparently too breathless to bother with words.
While they cleaned up, she used the opportunity to finally commence her escape. The sound of their conversation (ironically, about how this had become too risky) provided more than enough cover for Yukari to creep back down the stairs unnoticed.
Reluctantly, she spent the rest of the night in bed, questioning whether what she had witnessed had been gross or stunning. Maybe it could be both. Either way, she'd have to avoid that side of the control room from now on. And probably buy her own towels.