The first light of morning seeped weakly through the dorm window, dust motes floating lazily in the beams like tiny, indifferent spectators. Rika lay curled on her bed, the blankets twisted around her like armor, trying to shield herself from the world or maybe from herself. Her body ached, but it wasn't just the soreness from yesterday's grueling stage performance; it was deeper, a burn that started in her chest and radiated outward, wrapping her in guilt, anxiety, and shame.
Kana hadn't spoken to her. Not a single word. Not a glance that wasn't cautious, averted, wary. The memory of last night's hallway confrontation twisted in her stomach, curling into a tight knot. She could still feel Kana's glare, her trembling fists, the hurt that flashed across her face before she'd masked it with a bitter smile.
Rika pressed her palms to her face, trying to breathe through the panic. Stop her before you lose yourself completely. The words repeated like a mantra, stabbing through her defenses. And she hadn't stopped her. She hadn't done anything except freeze and let it happen.
A knock on the dorm door startled her, making her heart jump into her throat. She flinched, brushing strands of damp hair from her eyes, half-expecting Daika to be standing there, smug as ever, ready to push her further.
"Rika?" Kana's voice was soft this time, cautious, uncertain.
Rika's throat closed. "Y-yeah?"
Kana perched on the edge of the opposite bed, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt nervously. Her eyes were wide but not accusatory, just… concerned. "I… I don't know what to say."
"Then don't," Rika muttered, voice rough, fragile. "I'm… I'm a mess."
Kana flinched slightly at the bluntness. "You don't get it. You don't know what you've been letting happen."
Rika's chest constricted. "I know exactly what's happening. I just… I don't know how to stop it."
Kana exhaled, slow, deliberate. "You can stop it. You just have to. Or she'll keep taking pieces of you, little by little. And if you let her… there won't be anything left of you to save."
The words stung, sharper than Daika's teeth ever could. Rika swallowed hard. "I… I want to. I really do. But every time… every time she's near… I can't…"
Kana reached out and placed a tentative hand on Rika's wrist. Her touch was warm, grounding, steady. "Then we'll figure it out together. You're not alone in this."
A flicker of hope ignited in Rika's chest. It was fragile, like a flame threatened by wind, but it was there. And for the first time that morning, she dared to imagine maybe, just maybe, she could survive this.
But that tiny thread of hope didn't erase Daika. The memory of her smirk, the heat of her body, the predatory pull, lingered like smoke in the room. Every breath carried the scent, sharp and intoxicating, a reminder that the Alpha didn't give up easily.
Kana's voice drew her back. "And the stage tomorrow? You'll face her again. Are you ready?"
Rika hesitated, fingers curling into her blankets. "I… I don't know."
"You'll have to be," Kana said firmly. "But you're not the same Omega she faced last time. You've fought back. You've started clawing for yourself. That counts for something."
Rika nodded slowly, taking a shaky breath. Clutching the blankets like a lifeline, she forced herself upright. Maybe she could fight. Maybe she had a chance. But it wouldn't be easy. Not with Daika breathing down her neck, not with the stage looming, not with her own body betraying her every step of the way.
Outside, the faint hum of the city stirred the air. Somewhere, other trainees laughed, moved, prepared for another day. They had no idea the storm brewing in this dorm, the battle between Alpha and Omega, between control and resistance, between Rika's body and her mind.
The training room smelled of sweat, polished wood, and the faint chemical tang of cleaning spray. The mirrors reflected a dozen young trainees moving in sharp, practiced unison, but Rika felt like she was floating in a fog, disconnected from the rhythm everyone else seemed to inhabit naturally.
Her muscles remembered the moves, her body could hit every mark with precision but her mind wavered, haunted by Daika's smirk, her closeness, and Kana's bitter, disappointed eyes. Every glance in the mirror was a reminder of last night, a reflection of both her desire and her guilt.
"Hanazawa, focus!" The trainer's sharp voice sliced through the haze, dragging her back into reality. "Eyes on the center, body tight! Don't let sloppy feet ruin the formation."
Rika's pulse jumped. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to straighten, to align with the team. She could do this. She had done this before. But it wasn't the choreography that scared her, it was Daika. The way the Alpha's presence had wrapped around her like a second skin, sinking into her senses so completely she could still feel it even now, hours later.
A shadow fell across her shoulder.
Rika's breath hitched before she even realized who it was.
"Morning, kitten," Daika murmured, voice low, sultry, teasing. The nickname sent a shiver crawling down Rika's spine despite her efforts to steel herself. The Alpha leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sweeping over the group before landing fully on Rika.
She was wet-haired again, sleeves rolled up, sweatpants clinging to her hips, every inch of her radiating dominance.
Rika's knees almost buckled. She forced herself upright. "I… I'm fine," she said, voice tighter than she intended.
Daika's smirk widened. "You look… frazzled. Rough night?" Her eyes glimmered with amusement and hunger. "Or maybe you're just excited to see me."
Rika's face burned. Shut up. Don't react. Just move.
Daika's gaze lingered longer than necessary, tracing the curve of her neck, the arch of her back as she stretched into her first steps of the warm-up. Every breath she took carried that faint sweetness, the lingering scent of Rika herself.
The trainer clapped sharply. "Everyone, formation! Music up!"
The bass hit, low and rolling, vibrating through Rika's chest. She moved her feet, her arms, her body perfectly in time but her head kept snapping toward Daika, who had sauntered to the back of the room, arms lazily behind her head, watching every micro-movement with predator-like precision.
Rika felt exposed, every step on the polished floor a reminder of the invisible tether between them, pulling, tugging, demanding acknowledgment she didn't want to give.
Focus.
She forced her eyes on the mirror, on her reflection, on the lines of the choreography. One, two, three.....spin, drop, glide.
Each movement precise, rehearsed, drilled into her muscles.
But when she glanced sideways, Daika's shadow in the corner of the mirror made her stomach flip, her chest tighten, her scent spike.
"Keep it together, Hanazawa," she muttered under her breath, gripping her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms.
The trainer barked corrections, snapping Rika out of her fugue. "Hips! Feet! Energy, Hanazawa! You're letting someone else control your body, aren't you?"
Rika froze mid-turn. Her heart jumped. That comment might as well have been Daika's voice echoing in her mind. Control… control… control…
Then Daika stepped closer, quietly, just behind her shoulder. "Looks like someone's a little tense today," she murmured, her warm breath brushing Rika's ear. "Want me to help… loosen you up?"
Rika stiffened. Her blockers were already at her side, her hands itching to spray, to mask the flood of pheromones her body threatened to betray. But Daika didn't touch her, not yet. The proximity alone was enough.
"You can't… just…" Rika breathed out, voice cracking.
"Can't what?" Daika purred. "Resist me? Control yourself? Oh, kitten… I like the struggle. Makes it more… satisfying."
Rika's face burned red, heat spilling through her core, betrayal of her own body magnified by the room full of eyes, mirrored, reflected, observing. And yet she forced herself to turn, to face the mirror, to keep moving. Spin, glide, step. Don't lose rhythm.
The music transitioned into the duo section, the part she and Daika had crushed during the last battle. Every muscle in her body screamed at the memory, the closeness, the teasing, the unrelenting pressure.
Daika mirrored the moves from the back of the room, perfectly timed, just a foot away, her gaze fixed on Rika. Every brush of air between them made Rika's pulse spike violently, her scent climbing in waves, betraying her focus.
The trainer's voice cut sharp. "Hanazawa! Eyes forward! Energy! This is practice, not daydreaming!"
Rika forced a nod, forced the fire into her steps. One spin. Two. Step. Grind. Her chest heaved as the choreography demanded precision, each beat pulling her body taut like a drawn bow.
Daika's whisper slid into her ear, soft and deliberate. "Careful… you're trembling again. Looks adorable, though."
Rika clenched her jaw so hard she could taste blood. Stop. Focus. Don't let her see. Don't let anyone see.
The music crescendoed, fast, wild, demanding the last ounce of energy from every trainee. Rika's arms snapped into position, chest popped, legs kicked, every motion perfect on the outside, chaos on the inside.
By the final note, she collapsed forward into a low pose, panting, her body drenched in sweat. Her legs shook, her pulse rattling against her ribs. The mirrors reflected not just her form, but Daika's smirk, gleaming and victorious, as if she had already won.
"Not bad," Daika murmured, stepping closer now, invading personal space just enough to make Rika shiver. "But… you could be better."
Rika swallowed, throat tight. "I… I'll do better," she muttered, voice rough.
Daika's eyes softened, just slightly, almost tender but it didn't reach her smirk. "Good. Keep that promise, kitten. I like seeing you try."
Rika wanted to turn, to escape the teasing dominance, the suffocating presence, but she didn't. She couldn't. Not yet. The stage was coming, the performance was near, and she had to survive it—body, mind, and soul.