The plain boy sits, rather quietly, on a bench under a tree. His notepad lay beside—abandoned, lonely. It seemed to call for its owner.

Write on me, it would have said. Write the words that you are forbidden to speak.

But the boy would not.

For Jiro was a humble person indeed.

He was of boy of words. And words he would not betray. And words he would not go back on.

The plain boy sits, rather quietly, on a bench under a tree. He waits, as a soft breeze passes, for a certain someone.

The person he was waiting for had ordered him to wait there—yes, ordered—every day.

Yes, every day.

Jiro saw no harm in that; for it was merely waiting. It was a simple task, for the Japanese boy. And so he agreed—and because he had agreed, the boy would be there always.

Rain;

Or fall—

He'd be there.

Waiting.

Snow;

Or Sun—

He'd be there.

Waiting.

He was a loyal person.

So he sat there, quietly. Just...waiting.

Much like a dog—

Waiting for its master.

_____________________________

Perhaps the boy, too, felt the joy of a returning master—just like how dogs would wag their tails in obedience.

And perhaps; in happiness.

Could they?

Could they feel it?

"Good job pet," He felt the presence of his predator behind, and turned—not too quickly—to greet him humbly.

He turned to the first page of his notepad.

It said: I was just doing my job, Master.

Like it always did.

His predator smiled—a smirk, rather, and held out his hand. "Come pet. Let's go."

Jiro nodded, gathering his belongings as quickly as possible and taking the offered hand.

"I'm calling for room service today. What would you like to have for dinner?" Jiro glanced up, meeting the gaze of his predator for a brief second before averting his eyes.

He turned to the second page of his notepad.

I like anything you choose for me, Master.

His predator nodded with a knowing smirk. "That's right, pet. You're such a good boy."

Jiro smiled. It was a nice compliment.

At least it was, to him.

"You'll sing for me after dinner, won't you pet?"

And with that, Jiro turned to the last page of his notepad—

For it only had three pages in it.

As you wish, Master.

_____________________________

[Io]

"Jiro, what's Season? Is it some sort of festival?" I asked that night, switching off the electric water kettle and pouring two mugs of hot water. "And if it is then...why do we have to play games to celebrate it?"

Jiro smiled upon hearing my question, reaching over for some scrap paper as I dipped a tea bag into each mug.

Season is the time for Predators to hunt for Prey. Other times, we are considered safe ^^

"Oh...I didn't know it was called Season," I handed him a mug of Chamomile tea after reading his neat and regular handwriting, nodding at the same time. "But if we're safe now, then I guess we just have to pass the time hidden."

Jiro's Avian landed on his finger, cocking her head to fix a strange gaze at the translucent orange liquid in my mug.

The games—he picked up a pen to begin writing once more—I'm sorry but we aren't allowed to speak of it unless authorized. The headmistress...her vulture has eyes everywhere. It watches.

My gaze lowered to the mug in my hands. Watches? Watches what?

Jiro stroked the top of his nightingale's head with a tiny smile on his lips.

Scared? ;_; He drew a teary face beside, smile fading sadly.

Should I tell him the truth?

But Jiro would worry.

I don't want to cause unnecessary trouble.

"Not really," I laughed, turning to glance at Lyra sleeping in her cage. "I'm not scared."

My roommate sipped his tea—and there was a certain beauty in the slender fingers that held the mug. It made the ordinary object seem like it was a precious antique.

"Are you?" I asked in return. "Scared."

Jiro paused to write with a knowing smile.

I used to be.

But then I learnt that not everything was as it seemed.

That despite knowing our roles in life, we could choose to treat others differently. And that's all that matters.

"Our role...as prey? Livestock?" I winced, suddenly regretting the spoken words—for the answer was not something I wanted to hear.

Prey. And the Predators as well.

Jiro smiled.

You know,

I think it is necessary that at times like this, we remember that everyone—despite how heartless they seem on the outside—has a heart that they all wish to follow.

__________________________

His Predator locked the door behind them, taking the nightingale's slender hand and showing him to the bedroom.

His room was splendidly furnished—till the point whereby one wouldn't quite call it a dormitory room. Instead of the simple, one-room layout with two single beds that Jiro was very much used to; his Predator's room seemed like an apartment itself.

"Sit pet, you don't have to stand," The tall frame laughed, gesturing to the bed.

Strange.

Even though there were chairs in the living room—why sit on the bed?

Jiro nodded with a quiet smile; but as usual, he would sit—instead—on the carpeted floor.

He was the pet, after all.

"I'm going to call for room service in a moment. You wait here for me, 'kay pet?" His Predator instructed, and upon noticing the silent disposition, remembered—

"You can talk now, pet."

Jiro's eyes followed his master's hand, which came to rest on top of his head. It was a comfortable warmth. And there was happiness and satisfaction that seeped from his touch.

"Thank you, Master."

His voice was beautiful.

Nothing like anyone could imagine.

"I'll call for Japanese tonight. You like that, right?"

"Yes. Yes I do, Master," Jiro replied, heart fluttering like the wings of a caged bird.

But caged birds could be happy—

And Jiro was happy indeed.

His Predator could tell from his voice.

_______________________________

[Io]

"Really?" I whispered. "You think so?"

My roommate nodded, seeming to have recalled a pleasant memory as a gentle smile surfaced. Yes I do. Predators have hearts.

And I do think that all hearts are...

He paused, thinking.

Quite fragile.

I noticed that my mug was empty. I was drinking? I hadn't noticed.

Why hadn't I noticed?

"You trust them?" I asked, biting my lip nervously and noticing that it was slightly cracked.

Some of them, yes. Jiro got out of his bed carefully, presenting me the piece of scrap paper that looked beautiful under his handwriting. My Predator is quite kind, as compared to the many others.

I frowned anxiously, sincerely concerned.

For who would call the person who forbid them to speak 'kind'?

"A-Are you sure?" I asked, eyes following my roommates back as he padded over to his book bag in search for something. "I mean, he told you not to speak...that's...that's kind?"

Jiro rummaged in his bag for a brief moment, pulling out yet another snack. He held it up with an adorable grin that reminded me of the emoticons he loved to draw.

It was a box of Japanese sweets.

I squinted, unable to read the characters printed on the appealing box.

It's Mochi. ^0^/ I don't know how my Predator got it, but I think he ordered it from the express mail that Predators have access to. Please try it! It's delicious.

—He wrote, handing me the note and the box of sweets. An expression of concealed, bubbling excitement that could only be seen in his eyes.

"Wait, really? But, it's for you!" I refused politely, "You should eat it...since your Predator got to the trouble of getting it for you."

"Mm, mm." Jiro shook his head with a hum of disagreement.

He gazed at me with expectant eyes.

Why?

Perhaps he wanted to prove that Predators could be nice after all.

Was that it?

______________________________

"You'll sing for me, won't you, pet?" His Predator asked moments after the pair had finished their dinner in comfortable silence.

"Yes, of course Master," Jiro smiled with a bow of his head.

The wings of his heart beat in flight—for there was honor and excitement.

"What would you like to hear?"

The tall frame laughed.

"The usual."

Jiro let slip a small giggle that could barely be heard. "Yes Master."

"But aren't you bored of that already?"

His Predator raised an amused brow, quiet.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion, pet."

The nightingale lowered his head immediately.

His hands clasped together.

"I'm sorry Master," He apologized softly, "I was impolite."

His Predator nodded in acknowledgement.

"You know," He began, "That I can do anything I was with you, right?"

Jiro shrank in his seat.

"Yes," He whispered.

"—That because you are my Prey, I can do anything I want with you, right?"

"Prey are livestock."

"You know that—am I right, pet?"

"Y-Yes," His soft voice shivered—like a fragile blossom in the night breeze.

"Your life is in my hands, pet,"

Just like how a dog's life is dependent on its owner.

"But..." The Predator turned to his one and only chosen Prey. "But what, my pet? You know the answer."

Jiro glanced up for a brief second, and still keeping his head lowered, he continued. "But you chose to treat me well, Master. You did not kill me."

"So you know what they do, if you disobey?"

"Yes."

There was silence that pierced the air—so loud it rang in the ears of the nightingale.

His Avian sat in his cage...silent than ever.

It could not sing.

His Predator's Avian?

The Snowy Owl perched on a branch of a tree outside the Predator's dorms.

It watched.

"But I won't do that, pet."

Those words stopped the tears that threatened to blur the small frame's vision.

"I won't kill you."

"Because I can't imagine a day...without your voice."

And we might say—

That in darkness, we yearn for light;

And in silence,

We yearn for sound.

_____________________________

How is it? Jiro asked, pointing to the half-finished piece of Japanese dessert that was mildly sweet and very chewy.

"It's really soft! I...I feel bad for having the entire box," I smiled, slightly embarrassed. "Why don't you have one too?"

Jiro nodded with an excited grin; thumb and index picking up the oval-shaped Mochi, and bringing it closer to his lips to nibble on the chewy layer.

Predators

He wrote, face glowing subtly with a hint of happiness. Aren't all bad.

Even if they are allowed to do anything to their prey;

They can choose not to.

I found myself thinking—despite the smile that I forced to reassure my roommate—

They can,

But will they?

____________________________

[Io]

Pipa and I found ourselves burdened—with a rather difficult choice indeed—as we stood in front of the notice board at the Prey's dormitories.

There, pinned to the board and filled with illegible scribbles of names that shrunk to such a unnoticeable size—was the sign-up list for Club Activities.

"No way. It's barely after lunch...it can't be filled already," Pipa gulped, gazing at the rare blanks that scattered across unpopular clubs such as 'Chemistry', 'Cultural Club', and even 'Librarians'.

"The Choir's full," I noticed instantly, checking the one club that Pipa was interested in. The blanks were filled to the point where extra boxes were drawn just to fit the names in. Was that even allowed?

Pipa looked slightly crestfallen, but she smiled all the same.

"Well! Looks like we'll have to go for something else. Let's see..." My friend scanned the list for the remaining clubs left, filtering out those that were out of the question.

'The Sorority''?

What kind of club is that?

My Avian laughed pleasantly, landing on top of the notice board with a flutter of her wings.

Not for plain ones like us, I'd assume.

"Equality Advocators seem interesting," Pipa grinned, finger moving across the paper to check the availability. "Oh."

She paused.

"It's barely filled...? Strange...it sounded interesting," She turned to me. "I-I guess it'd be weird if we join too, huh? I mean...there must be a reason why no one's interested in it." She laughed nervously.

I bit my lip, giving the rest of the clubs' availabilities a quick glance-through.

"There's another one that's barely filled...wait, it's not even filled at all—"

Astronomy.

Again, there was confusion and a frustrating pain.

Isn't Callaghan in charge of that club? Lyra asked, perching on my shoulder. You'd think others would accept his quirky behaviour.

I don't think Callaghan's the problem here, Lyra...

I stole a glance at my friend beside, noting her distressed eyes that darted around in desperate search for a suitable Club Activity that had at least two available slots for us both.

"Pipa?"

She didn't respond.

"Um, Pipa," I tapped her shoulder—and she almost jumped.

"Oh! I'm so sorry...that was silly of me, spacing out at such a time," She laughed sheepishly, smiling to conceal the anxiety brewing deep within. "Gosh. It seems like most of the clubs are either filled...or just...empty."

"Guess we ran out of luck," I commented lightly, "The Chemistry Club would have to do—"

"O-Oh! But...but I'm really no good with chemicals at all," Pipa laughed anxiously. "Um, I guess being a Librarian isn't all that bad..."

I was about to agree; selecting one of the pens in a pouch attached to the notice board to write our names in the almost-empty row, when—

"Librarians? Seriously?"

Pipa and I jumped, heads whipping around towards the source of the haughty voice.

There stood Gretchen Klein, her carefully drawn brows arched in amusement. Her sudden, silent presence wasn't unwelcomed...just—unexpected.

"Oh! You're from our class aren't you?" Pipa noticed quickly, smile returning as though it had never faded. "I love your hair. Your eyes are really pretty too!"

Eyes? I blinked.

They're green, silly. Ugh, you don't really pay much attention to the details, do you? I could almost hear Lyra roll her eyes as she hopped impatiently onto my arm after getting a closer look at our classmate.

Well, i-it's not as if I can politely stare at someone's pupils to decipher their eye color.

Is that not what humans do anyway?

I don't know...?

"Thank you," Gretchen laughed hotly at Pipa's compliment. "That's what everyone says anyway. After all, there must be some sort of reason why I'm in the Sorority."

"Oh! That's one of the clubs...you've been accepted? Th-that's fast," Pipa noticed, blinking in confusion but smiling so as to not offend Gretchen.

"Recruited, actually," The girl with turquoise highlights in her dark hair corrected with pride in her voice. "I'm one of the Exotics, so I guess it didn't come much as a surprise."

Gretchen shrugged.

Pipa and I exchanged glances. We didn't really know what to say.

"Ah. I see. So...um," Pipa searched rapidly for any topic for conversation—Gretchen didn't seem to be moving off any time soon—that our classmate would gladly participate in. "So...what do you guys do on Club days? The Sorority."

"Oh nothing much," Gretchen glanced at her perfectly manicured fingers, admiring them at a distance. "Do our nails; share a little gossip; set fashion trends in school; decide how we should coordinate our clothes in the next week. Stuff like that."

"Ah, I see," Pipa nodded in understanding. "That uh...sounds very insightful."

I coughed.

I swear, it wasn't deliberate! I-It's my throat; it had an itch.

Gretchen raised a cautious brow.

Pipa nudged me in the ribs.

"Oh, um yeah!" I nodded quickly. "Totally. Um...very insightful. Invigorating. Intelligent. Uh, insignifi—I mean...n-nevermind."

Thankfully, our classmate seemed more interested in her nails than what I was saying; because she glanced up suddenly with a frown.

"Don't you think this color's too...vain?"

She held up her hand, presenting her nails for our opinion. They were a shade of teal—with some sort of glittery coating that made her nails sparkle.

"Well, I think it's a suitable color for you actually. It brings out your eyes," Pipa complimented promptly, and I simply nodded away. After all, Pipa probably knew about colors better than I did.

Gretchen was seriously considering her statement. "You think so?" She asked, surprisingly impressed. "You're kinda right. I mean, my eyes are a special color."

The girl paused all of a sudden.

Her gaze shifted slowly from her nails to rest on Pipa, eyes curious.

"Hey. You're that...canary girl, aren't you?"

You just realized?

I almost sighed.

"O-Oh. Um, yes...?" Pipa laughed, sounding slightly worried. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"No dear, of course not," Gretchen replied sweetly—as if she was a different person. "How can anything be wrong with such a beautiful Avian? I love canaries. Pretty little things, they are. They sing quite well, too. I love your wings. I mean, everyone did, really."

Pipa's Avian, Sylvey, fluttered onto her shoulder—chirping once.

"R-Really?" She sounded surprised, but quite relieved that it wasn't something bad. "Thank you, I guess."

"Hey, you know what?" Gretchen took Pipa's hands without warning, smiling brightly. "You should join the Sorority! Oh, they'd love you there. I could give a recommendation. They can't possibly refuse a recommendation from me."

Wait, wait—what?

Isn't this going a little...fast?

"Huh?" My friend glanced down at the hands that held hers, confusion in her eyes as she looked up once again. "Well um...the Sorority? Well I don't think that's a place for me," She laughed small.

"Oh no! You're wrong dear, we'd love to have you," Gretchen shook her head dramatically. "And I'm sure you'll enjoy your time with us too! I'd like you to know that keeping ourselves pretty and beautiful are the most important steps to becoming a fully-fledged Winged."

"..."

Pipa didn't get her.

And neither did I, in all honestly.

"Well, I'll take that as a yes! Silence means consent," Gretchen grinned, clapping her hands excitedly. "Now let me just inform Miss President—"

"H-Hold on, Gretchen, I didn't...I didn't a..."

Pipa's sentence fell short.

She bit her lip in distress.

Pipa was not one to disagree.

She never knew how to.

"Um, Gretchen—how about you give Pipa some time to consider this offer?" I suggested gently.

Our classmate turned to me with blank eyes—as if only just noticing my presence.

"What's there to consider?" She sounded genuinely puzzled, despite the smile in her voice. "It's the Sorority. Everyone wants to be in it."

"Yes, Gretchen. Of course it's amazing," Pipa agreed immediately. "But you're a beautiful peacock, Gretchen. I'm...I'm just a canary."

"Ah, but peacocks cannot fly you see," Gretchen held up a finger in response.

"We're just...for show."

There was a momentary silence that reflected a helpless heart. But it disappeared along with the forced smile.

"Oh but of course, we're better than the kiwis. Those poor things. Brown, spiky...and...flightless things. As always, it's better to be beautiful. Which I am, thankfully," She laughed, glancing up towards the empty skies.

"Thankfully."

"I mean...who knows? It might be the reason why my Predator would keep me alive. If I do get hunted, of course. Which is highly likely."

Gretchen smiled at no one in particular. "It's always good to be beautiful."

"And I'm sure the Sorority can give you that status you'd like."

__________________________

The peacock was a talkative girl.

The canary and sparrow were sociable ones indeed—but perhaps they really didn't know what to say when it came to ones like her.

They were prey.

But still, they weren't the same.

___________________________

"I wonder what happens if our names don't appear on the list," Pipa fidgeted nervously, pulling out her file to check the timetable.

"If we don't sign up for any, I guess it could mean that we don't belong to any clubs. Or..." I paused, thoughtful. "They'd put us into a random one?"

The canary shook her head with a sigh. "I'm beat. My brains can't seem to register decisions all that well," She laughed.

"Oh, and it's a free period now. We've got until...Flight Mechanics. Which is before dinner."

That's a lot of spare time, I thought listlessly. There really wasn't much to do.

"Io?"

"Hm?"

"I think I'm glad to have met you."

"Really?" I laughed.

"Yeah! You know, if I'd made friends with that girl just now, Gretchen—I-I don't mean anything, she's really nice! And cool. But...I guess I don't really understand her."

"I understand."

"And then, Nash doesn't seem to like me at all," Pipa laughed once again. "But that's okay. He...isn't a bad person."

"He isn't," I agreed with a smile.

I was about to say something more; perhaps eager to help Pipa retain the smile on her face.

It didn't seem to come as easy as it did before.

But then I stopped.

There was something approaching.

"Oh—what is that?"

"It's coming."

We were backing away.

"Let's run—"

We turned on our heels, taking off in the opposite direction of the approaching thing.

It was big.

Its wings were black as void.

I turned—just to check the distance between us and the Predator's Avian.

It's closer?

I could feel my heart race—beating heavily.

"Pipa, we've got to go faster—"

"I'm already running as fast as I can!"

I grabbed her arm, pulling her along as I broke into a dead sprint for the Prey's dorms.

I turned—

I could see its eyes.

It was nothing more, or less than beads of clean horror.

"Why do you keep looking back?!" Pipa was breathing heavily, and she couldn't stop coughing.

It was a dead sprint—but it wasn't fast enough.

Why?

Why do I keep looking back—

I'm curious.

I'm so, so curious;

But curiosity will kill.

Now's not the time to be a sparrow, dear, Lyra warned promptly, speeding ahead. I'd not have survived if it hadn't be for my instincts as a prey.

Instincts? To what?

To run.

It was Pipa's turn to look behind; and the moment she did, her arm slipped out of my grasp.

"Oh God. That's a vulture. It's the bearded vulture."

She was panting—breathing as though she couldn't take another step further.

What was this? A chase?

"Pipa! We need to, ha, hurry, the dorms are just ahead," My legs felt heavier than lead; lungs crumbling from the lack of air. "Please."

Nothing can fly with weight on its wings.

"But it's the headmistress' Avian. She...she can't possibly—"

The girl tripped.

She fell.

I could hear the sound of fear—the beat of its wings.

The vulture was near—

Darkness was here.

__________________________

A/N: Jiro is a common name for dogs in Japan.

Image above is a canary :)

Also, I will see you next week ^^

-Cuppiecake.