Chapter 1 - Introduction

A Lesson in Humility
 
Click. Click. Click.
An immaculately-manicured nail rhythmically raps against the surface of a wooden desk, creating a staccato beat underlying the only other sound in the room - that of corporate drivel.
“... Our factories in Paris have seen a fourteen-point-five percent increase in efficiency since the last quarter. Sales in the region have exceeded profit margins by over forty percent. We’re in negotiations with…”
Click. Click. Click.
These were things the head of a corporation needed to know about. It didn’t make them any less dull to listen to, however. It was clear; by the idle tapping and the look of utter disenchantment upon her face, that the owner of that ever-so-busy nail was mentally distant from the recitation. So distant, that the woman across from her, reading off of a clipboard and bearing a stern facade, wondered if she’d ever drag her back. 
“And… then there’s the reports from Honnouji Academy.” 
The clicking stops. The nail slowly and audibly retreats from the table - and a smile crawls across Ragyo Kiryuin's face. “You have my attention.”
Rei sighs, a look of relief momentarily breaking her otherwise stolid composure. She’d skipped through three pages of regional reports for this - but it was clear that this was higher on her boss’ list of priorities than a few sales projections and fashion shows. “There’s good news and bad news.” she begins, adjusting her sunglasses. The entire room was bathed in Ragyo’s radiance - and as much as Rei did so desire to bask in it, she recognized that she had a job to do. “That rebel is still causing problems. Hassling the student body, the reports say. If she keeps picking fights, then she may work her way into the upper echelons, and…”
Click. 
Rei’s lips purse. “And your daughter is handling the situation with discretion.”
A pregnant pause fills the room before Ragyo gives a soft sigh. “I’m sure she is. I would expect no less.” she says boredly. “Honnouji is her child. If I’ve taught her nothing else, then it’s to ensure her child is safe.” She tilts her head in the slightest; objects in her office casting wicked shadows as her radiance shifts. “And working precisely as intended. Even so…” Her eyes lock onto Rei, causing the woman to imperceptibly stiffen. “How are the students reacting?”
Rei turns a few pages on her clipboard. “Most of them view the, ah, delinquent as a challenge - one they’re eagerly taking-”
“To my daughter.”
Rei pauses. “She’s… Still the same as ever. In public opinion, that is. Even as much chaos as that delinquent is causing, she still manages to keep everyone in order. Informally, I’m sure she’ll deal with this little problem.”
Ragyo thrums. “Mmm… Hm. And I think that’s a bit of a problem.” 
“Ma’am?”
Ragyo stands up - once more, as she moves, her brilliant atmosphere moves with her. “She projects a rather… Commanding presence.” Ragyo places a hand upon her chest. “She gets it from me, I’m sure. It’s because she’s driven; it’s because she’s proud. She has every right to be, as my heir. She believes in herself so, so much, and that inspires others to believe in her.” Ragyo moves to the window of her office, looking downward. “But pride, as they say, comes before the fall. I’ve learned that. I’ve had my share of failures.” Her tone momentarily turns venomous. “But I think I’ve spoiled her. Shielded her from the education failure can provide. Perhaps she can deal with her delinquent problem. Perhaps she is worth believing in - but I think it would benefit us both if that trust is put in question.”
Ragyo claps her hands twice. “Send for the grand courtier.” she orders - and Rei immediately commits the order to paper. “I think my daughter needs a gift.”





“Lovely as always.” Satsuki says, affording herself a small smile. A woman of her position and determination seldom affords herself moments such as these - of enjoyment, of relaxation, and of vulnerability. Having a chance to enjoy her tea, however ephemeral, was where she found a mote of peace within her lifelong cold war against her mother. 
“I would hope never to disappoint, miss Kiryuin.” her butler says, taking her emptied teacup. 
Satsuki stands, preparing to depart. Her weapon awaits for her by the doorway, fastening the sheathe to her hip. Her hand brushes against the fabric of her skirt as she does, and her brow furrows. To any outside observer, she was wearing her uniform - same as ever. The look was identical; the fit was as well… But there was some unplaceable, nigh-imperceptible difference in it. The fabric was of the same texture as far as she knew - but there was an impending sense of wrongness when she donned it this morning. At the heart of this was the mystery of its origin. What appeared to be another set of clothes like most others in her wardrobe was presented as… A gift. A gift from who else but her mother.
Satsuki’s lips curl. Maybe she was overthinking it, she considers - as little as she trusted her mother, she wouldn’t put it past her to attempt to sabotage her somehow. Of course - Ragyo wouldn’t be above distracting her with something suspicious but benign in order to sabotage her either. Dealing with Ragyo while also avoiding suspicion often put her in these damnable conundrums. At least it kept her wits sharp, she thinks.
“You’ve received no further word in regards to this uniform?” she calls, hardly turning her head back to her butler. 
“I’m afraid not.” he admits. “Just warm wishes for your current endeavors. I’m sure your mother understands that you have little concerns for recreational fashion, and afforded you something more… Practical.” He gives a soft thrum. “But I’m sure you understand your mother more than I.”
Satsuki wordlessly exits the room. She had a full day ahead of her - and if her dwelling on this gift was its intent, then she wouldn’t give her mother the satisfaction of her distraction. Managing Honnouji was taxing, to say the least - and with rogue elements like Ryuko and her round-headed no-star flunkie being thrown into the mix, she couldn’t afford to relax her grip even for a second.


After a brisk march down a series of halls, Satsuki throws open a door - inviting in the brilliant light of the early morning sun. Wind rushes past her, rustling her hair as she steps out onto the balcony of Honnouji Academy, prepared to make her morning address. Far below, a crowd of students had gathered. Where once she might have hoped they’d be doing so in preparation for her address, now she knows better. A gap has formed in the crowd, at the center of which is a familiar mass of red and black; busy piledriving a one-star into the mud. 
Satsuki leers at the sight - if the frustration of this enigmatic new uniform wasn’t enough, then starting her day with more of Ryuko’s shenanigans didn’t put her in the best mood. She removes her sword from her hip, and with force, brings the sheathe down onto the ground with a booming clap - one that makes the crowd below visibly shift and turn their attention upward.
Satsuki had prepared an address ahead of time, as always - but stepping out to this sight quickly forced her to abandon her prior work. “Time and again, I’m treated to the same sight.” she begins, a stern look hardening onto her face. “A violation to the order and pride of this academy. And, despite my mandates, all of you have failed to curtail it. If you prefer to live in chaos, then you can do it outside of these walls - out there with the rest of the pigs in human clothing.” The brilliant sun beats down warmly on Satsuki’s back and shoulders as she berates the students - but moreover, her uniform had begun to feel warm all over. 
“All of you who have lost your uniforms deserved it. If action isn’t taken soon, then many more will be lost - and you’ll be dispelled of the illusion of your humanity. If you act like animals, you’ll be-” 
Suddenly, Satsuki’s uniform constricts. It begins at the shoulders, then follows along her back and waist. It happens so suddenly it catches her off-guard, giving her pause - a noticeable change from the norm. Satsuki’s brow twitches as she tries to regain her composure. “Treated as one.” she says. The material continues to constrict - pulling inward and pushing downward. Tight as it was around her body, she has to fight not to make its sudden movements start to show - arching her back, pulling her limbs; like a puppet. 
Her train of thought broken, Satsuki steps back from the edge of the balcony. “So… I’ll be issuing two-star uniforms to… Anyone who can prove themsel-” Her voice rises into a yelp as she feels her underwear follow suit in its constriction; keeping tight against her crotch. The tightness and the shifting of the fabric almost give the quality of stroking, causing her knees to buckle. Sweat trickles down her brow as she struggles to maintain some semblance of dignity while the academy’s eyes are upon her. Her grip tightens around her sword as she slams the sheathe against the ground again. “Dismissed!” she barks, her heels clicking as she makes an expedient retreat.


“Ragyo.” Satsuki rasps. She stumbles her way through the halls leading back to her room - the clothes upon her continue to shift, now more violently than ever. A sudden pull sends her careening toward one of the walls, having to brace herself on it as she continues to march forward. A sharp push downward sends her into a hunch, followed by a reverberating pop. Satsuki feels that her earlier paranoia was justified - this was some sort of trap. She should’ve known better than to wear it - or would that have made her mother suspicious? Dealing with her was always an exercise in frustration… Now, she thinks, more than ever.
She hobbles along, keeping a tight grip on her sword. Her grip has shifted from above the hilt to below - and still it’s able to scrape the ground as she pushes on. The fabric of her uniform jerks again, this time feeling like a kick to her back, sending her to her knees. It feels like it’s putting pressure on her entire body - like she’s in an industrial press. Moreover, she can feel something running through it; through her as the pressure persists and intensifies. Life fibers, she thinks - it has to be. Life fibers held untold amounts of power; she knew that, her mother knew that - and while uniforms created under her own directive were more often tools to benefit those that wore them… Satsuki wouldn’t put it past her mother to make something that wrested control over the wearer. ‘Clothing that wears you’ was always something the twisted bitch was enamored with.
Of course, if its goal was to control her, it wasn’t doing a good job. Satsuki shakily steadies herself using the sheathe of her blade, teetering on her heels. When the uniform moves, she resolves, it’s random - uncontrolled in and of itself - and if that was the case, it wasn’t trying to control her. The stolid student council president wipes some sweat from her brow and closes her eyes, trying to compose herself - but another sharp kick from the uniform forces her down, her hands sliding down the sheathe.
When she stands back up, she opens her eyes - and finds her hands roughly halfway down the middle of her sword. “Huh?” she murmurs, even her voice quaking a little. She finds herself at eye-level with the butt of her blade - earning a look of utter shock from her. She looks down at herself and finds her uniform tight as ever; perfectly adhering to her frame - but her frame, beneath the uniform, is what’s changed. Satsuki finds the ground considerably closer than before; and the ceiling ever-more distant. The tightness - the feelings of constriction and compression… It was all because it was compacting her. Shrinking her. 
“What the hell…?” she murmurs - for the first time in her life, dumbfounded. Even if she was considerably shorter, it didn’t seem like she was losing mass. Most - if not all - of it was being shifted around; from vertical to horizontal. Another jarring press on Satsuki’s shoulders forces her point of view down an inch further, and forces the blooming curvature of her stomach outward proportionately. Satsuki knew better than to struggle to remove the uniform or try to stop it - and she imagined there was some sort of countermeasure against such tampering. There’s a sick feeling in Satsuki’s expanding gut as she now waddles forward, using her sword now more as a walking stick to keep her steady. 
“I’ve got to get back to my room.” Satsuki resolves, her head swimming, and her surroundings moving past at a positively glacial pace; her ever-dwindling height imposing a steep penalty on her speed. “I can survey the damage. I can work around this. I can get the sewing club to-”
A swift constriction around her back forces her forward - tipping her on her heels and sending her careening to the ground. Her protruding stomach hits first; giving her something of a cushion to the blow. Her sword falls forward, skittering across the ground and sliding, in part, out of its sheath. For a moment or two, Satsuki lies on the ground, her face twisted in an expression of frustration and grief. With a heavy, harsh sigh, she picks herself up and stumbles over to her sword, sliding it back into its sheath with a soft click. The constriction was lessening - she could tell - but it wasn’t over yet. By now, her weapon stood over her head by a good few inches; all she could do was pray that it wouldn’t totally dwarf her by the time she arrived in her room.


Satsuki’s door slammed shut as soon as she was past the threshold. She’d done well to avoid prying eyes - both of the few students with access to the highest echelon of the academy and her butler. As much as she trusted him - this was a situation she didn’t believe his valued counsel would help in. By now the only tightness she felt in her uniform was… To be expected, she supposed. The unsettling shifting had finally come to an end - but distrustful as she was of the garment, she wholly anticipated to resume at any moment now. 
She steps further into her room - for as familiar and, dare she say, safe of a place as it was for her, her considerably lower vantage rendered everything distant at best - inaccessible at worst. Looking behind her, she sees a rack for her sword - resting above a dresser that towers above her. She steps up to it, holding her blade in both hands and stepping as close to her dresser as she can manage - her stomach brushing up against the drawers - and standing on the tips of her heels to try and reach - but despite her struggles, she can hardly make it over the dresser itself; let alone to the rack. 
Returning it to its proper place was the first part of her ritual when she returned to her room - and already this change was preventing even the simplest of tasks. Beyond the unfamiliar vantage point, it now felt like Ragyo had invaded her life in a sense she never had before. Satsuki felt her hand in all of this - in every inconvenience stemming from it. Unwilling to haphazardly throw it onto her dresser, she leans it against the threshold of her door. She leans down to take off her boots - and for a moment, she feels anxious. The height of her heels afforded her a few inches more; that, too, she had to part with. She closes her eyes and furrows her brow as she slips them off, leaving them by the door as well. When she opens her eyes, everything looks… Much the same. Her prior loss of height was so drastic, she thinks - maybe losing the height of her heels was just a comparative drop in the bucket.
Her feet fall softly on the carpet - more softly than before. She can tell, through her stockings, that her feet had gotten proportionally… Thicker - and that was an overarching designation for these changes. Proportional… But thick. The first step to getting past this… Damning conundrum, she figured, was to survey the damage. She came to stare down her mirror like an enemy - like she’d stare down her mother if she was in the same room - but her expression relaxes as her warped figure comes into view. 
Satsuki’s booby-trapped uniform didn’t fit perfectly on her new frame. Her much broader waistline combined with her gut hiked her skirt up further than before, exposing more of the meaty flesh between it and her boots when she wore them - and on the note of the latter, they too hugged her chunky thighs much too tightly, creating a dimple in her flesh where it came to overflow over the fabric. With her boots removed, however, all she could see were her legs - soft and laden with fat. Her hand delicately runs across one of them - making her brow furrow. This softness was one, she imagined, most would expect of a spoiled corporate heiress; especially to a fortune like Ragyo’s. It just made her disdain it more.
With every motion of her hands, she could tell that her sleeves didn’t fit her as finely as they used to - they were loose around her arms which, mercifully, hadn’t particularly grown any thicker. Satsuki didn’t know if that was a positive or negative - as it gave her a distinctly bottom-heavy silhouette. She raises her hands to her scarf, unfastening it as she works to remove her uniform. If she were at her proper height, she’d be able to effortlessly lay it out on her bed nearby - but now she has to waddle over to the bed and heft her clothes up onto the well-stacked mattress. As she does, she can’t help but notice that she’s working up a sweat - whatever happened to her took a severe toll on her stamina, she figures - either that, or everything just requires considerably more exertion. 
As eager as she was to get out of the cursed uniform, Satsuki bitterly realizes that it’s only a matter of time before she has to put it back on again. Even surrounded by wardrobes of her own clothes, and even if the gifted uniform didn’t fit her well in the first place - it was still the closest match to her new measurements. Her face briefly goes red as she holds up her underwear - recalling the decidedly… Intimate sensation of its changes. At the very least, she resolves, those fit her perfectly. As she lays them out, she presents herself once more to the mirror - leaving herself at its mercy.
Stripping herself of her clothes was akin to opening up the floodgates for all the unflattering pudge upon her form to flow forth and sag downward. Gone was the chiseled perfection of her body - one that she was aware, if not interested, attracted its fair share of attention from those near and far. Most women would consider themselves blessed to find their figure augmented with wider hips and bigger breasts - or at least consider it a silver lining; but Satsuki saw it as nothing but a curse. Her breasts were larger, but much less firm, resting upon her gut, which in turn hung formessly over her crotch. Its broadness and protruding nature made it hard for Satsuki to survey much of her lower half without help from the mirror. One hand ran under the fold of flab and hefted it up - a queasy look ran across her face as she felt the doughy softness of her new form.
In the mirror and in her own eyes, it was like she was surveying the body of a stranger. She was utterly alien from the neck down - and with life fibers at the core of her torment, she was wholly unsure how to work her way out of it. It wasn’t as if this change, however radical, freed her of her responsibilities - both to her academy and to her personal war effort. All it did was just make everything exponentially harder - even fixing this would be a net loss of resources, time, and Satsuki’s own patience. She wipes some sweat from her brow. “I’ll have to deliver my new dimensions to the sewing club.” she resolves - but pauses. 
Revealing this information to anyone - anyone - was dangerous. Everybody saw her stumble her way through this morning’s address, to find out that she’s ended up like… This could give off a sense of… Vulnerability. Satsuki huffs - she couldn’t have that happen; especially not with Ryuko raising hell with the one-stars. 
Even so - relaying this kind of information was important. She needed a new uniform; one that she was sure wasn’t sabotaged. In addition, the sewing club knew the most about life fibers within the school; if anyone can unravel this problem, it’d be them. But…
Satsuki moved back over to her bed. But, but, but - that’s all she’d been dealing with today. So many possibilities of damage in the short term and long term - it was mentally exhausting for her to keep up with. She leans against the side of her bed shutting her eyes and enjoying the feeling of the soft comforter against her back and chubby rear. She didn’t have time to waste milling about and dealing with buts. What she needed was some sense of security - a test subject to see how the student body could-... Would react. They had to know sometime - she couldn’t very well hide in her room for all eternity.
Satsuki opens her eyes. She knows just who to use for this little endeavor. Somebody she could, above all others, confide in - and trust to keep things discreet. Satsuki trots briskly toward her door, reaching downward to pull the door handle open…
And she hits the door, stumbling back and falling flat on her ass. Muscle memory was a bitch.
Tentatively, she reaches up to pull the door open. “Soroi?” she calls - to an affirmative “Yes, lady Kiryuin?”
Rubbing a dull ache on her head, Satsuki demands “Send for Nonon. She and I need to speak.”


Two sharp raps ring out through Satsuki’s dorm, followed by a none-too-enthused call. “Oooi, Satsuki. You needed to see me?” Nonon calls shrilly. Despite her attitude, it’s rare she’d miss an opportunity to get together with Satsuki - opportunities such as this having become a rarity of late. She stands in the entryway - while Satsuki remains in her room. She’d taken the liberty of redressing - nudity wasn’t a particular point of shame for the student council president, least of all in Nonon’s company, but these were… Different circumstances. She leans against the wall near her doorway, feeling uncharacteristically timid. The feeling of shame was unfamiliar to her, to say the least - and it took a lot of confidence in Nonon to hope she wouldn’t react poorly. 
Satsuki can hear a brief exchange between her butler and her friend - and she can hear footsteps grow louder. For the first time in her life, Satsuki’s first instinct is to flee - to prolong her ashamed reveal for a while longer, and it takes herculean effort to stifle it. 
“And here we are. Do let yourself in.” Satsuki’s butler says kindly, taking his leave.
There’s a pause on the other side of the door, followed by a harsh sigh. “What’s the matter? Too busy to come out and greet me?” Nonon groans - mostly joking. She swings the door open, stepping in with her gaze high, scanning across the room - Satsuki grimaces at the sight. Wordlessly, she makes her presence known, shutting the door behind Nonon. The pink-haired girl yelps and whips around - and her surprise doesn’t end when she sees Satsuki standing behind her. 
Satsuki crosses her arms in front of her; feeling her softer breasts shift as she presses her arms against them. With a stern look on her face, Satsuki begins. “I believe I’ve been the subject of an attack.” Trying to retain as much of her typical confidence as she can, she opens her mouth to speak again, only to be cut off.
“Oh.” Nonon begins, holding her hands over her mouth.
“My.” Her eyes narrow and focus on the diminutive student council president.
“God.” She leans down, unwittingly looming over her friend - her pronounced hat even casting a shadow over her.
“You’re so cute!” Nonon’s hands fly from her mouth, revealing a positively elated grin. “I mean, I’m used to bein’ the tiny one, but I gotta say, you’re positively adorable!” Starry-eyed and enamored, Nonon gets down on her knees in front of Satsuki, whose face is awash in confusion.
“I-I’m not- no, it’s not cute. This isn’t normal, Nonon. Something is terribly- Gah!” Despite her protests, Nonon wraps her hands under Satsuki’s arms, lifting her up and off the ground. “Put me down- h-hey, stop it!” Satsuki’s bare feet kick feebly at the air as she tries to squirm out of her friend’s grip. All her griping does is evoke a joyous squeal from Nonon, who eventually complies - but clearly on her terms more than the class president’s.
Satsuki pants as she’s let back down, the exertion of her struggle clear. Nonon grins impishly, tilting her head. “So this is what you wanted to talk about, huh?” she asks.
Satsuki hobbles over to her bedside, supporting herself against it. “Yes.” she huffs, winded. “And if you ever pick me up like that again, I swear-”
Before she can finish, Nonon picks her up again - but this time deposits her on her actual bed; which up to this point had been a struggle to mount. Sitting beside her, Nonon continues to leer snidely. “Sorry. Looks like you were havin’ a little trouble.”
Her petite hands balling into fists, Satsuki prepares to confront Nonon about the indignity… But… She’s right. She has been having trouble. Even if the help was condescending… It was appreciated. Her face burning red, Satsuki turns away. “How very… Keen of you to notice.” she says. “First thing’s first - I would appreciate your… Discretion on the matter.” 
Nonon tilts her head. “Nobody knows about this, huh?” Nonon pauses, then rephrases her question. “I’m the only one that knows about this?” she deduces.
Satsuki nods. “And in the interest of keeping this from… Compromising anything…”
“You want me to keep a lid on it.”
Satsuki nods again. She yelps as she feels Nonon’s hand upon her head, mussing up her immaculate hime cut. 
“Anythin’ for you. Oh man, this is so adorable.”
Inching away - and smoothing out her hair, Satsuki points to a piece of paper on a nearby stool. “I’m sure you’ve decided that this… Has complicated my wardrobe situation. I’m going to need a new order of clothes from the sewing department, and this…” She tugs at her scarf. “I need tended to for the purpose of deconstructive analysis. Satsuki bounces a little as Nonon hops off of her bed, leaning down to pick up the list. Satsuki’s cheeks burn a brighter shade of red as another quirk of her diminished vantage becomes clear - she can see clear through to her friend’s underwear. By the time Nonon looks back at her, Satsuki’s gaze is situated elsewhere.
“Measurements, huh? What do I tell ‘em - they’re for a doll or somethin’?” Nonon gives a bemused sigh. “My very own Satsuki doll.”
By now, Satsuki is fuming. “Whatever seems fitting.” she barks. 
Nonon walks around the bed, leaning down to pat Satsuki’s head again. “Now - I’ve got a lotta questions about this, but I’m just gonna let ‘em slide for now - but you’ve got an IOU on some answers, okay?” She folds up the paper and holds it between two fingers. “‘Cuz for now, I’ve got a doll to play dressup with.”
Satsuki nods, looking down. As Nonon reaches the threshold of her door, Satsuki cries out. “Wait!” 
Nonon whips around, tilting her head.
Peering over the edge of the bed, Satsuki kicks her thick legs a little. “I… Need help getting down.”



It’d been a week since folks last saw Satsuki. The students were getting bolder, and the elite four was getting a little antsy - but considerably more heavy-handed in cracking down on any infringements to the rules. It was harsher for them, but for Ryuko? It was paradise. One and two-stars were stepping up and she was throwing down, cutting her way through their ranks like a hot knife through butter. By now, she was feeling unstoppable - like a shark in a school of fish. And like a shark; she could smell blood in the water - she knew weakness when she saw it, and when the prissy class prez relaxed her iron fist, Ryuko knew that it was time to strike.
Ryuko’s sneakers leave dirty marks on the immaculate surface of Honnouji’s central tower as she blazes a trail all the way up to the top, propelling herself up and over the balcony and crashing down hard, propelling herself through the door into the highest halls of the school. A handful of two-stars bar her way, and in one fluid motion she slices her way through their uniforms, leaving a trail of shamed students in her wake. She batters down another pair of double-doors and finds them skittering across a grand entrance way; into a room that looks more in-place in a mansion than it does a school.
In the middle of the room stands Nonon, her arms crossed and legs planted firmly on the ground. “Aren’t you a little early?” she challenges snidely. 
Ryuko huffs, rubbing her shoulder and stretching, getting ready for a fight. “Aren’t you a little short?” she snipes back. 
Nonon furrows her brow, stepping forward. “I don’t know what kinda game you’re runnin’, punk, but I’m gonna blast you to-oo-aaaaaaah…” Ryuko plants her hand firmly down on Nonon’s hat, using it as an impromptu joystick to steer the band major away from her. 
“I’ll tangle with you later. I’m here for the boss lady today.” she says confidently. 
Nonon opens her mouth to protest further, but a confident voice rings out through the hall. “Let her through.” On the other end of the hall is the entrance to a simple room with a chair and table; the former with its back to Ryuko, and the sheath of a sword clearly visible from beneath it. 
Ryuko cracks her knuckles, smirking. “Hope you’re ready - I’ve been waitin’ to take the fight to you for a long time.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” Satsuki declares. She hops off of the chair, her boots clicking against the tile of the floor. Boldly, she rounds the chair, sword in hand. She places one hand on the handle and parts it from its sheath - attempting to do so in a swift motion, but failing; having to tug the rest of the sheathe off of the blade with her other hand. She aims the blade toward Ryuko, arching her back and teetering a little; clearly thrown off-balance. “Come at me if you da-”
Satsuki isn’t finished speaking before Ryuko belts out laughing - Senketsu hastily joining her. Behind her, Nonon is hiding her face, trying to inch away. “Are you kiddin’ me!?” Ryuko calls through deep breaths and raucous laughter. “You- you looked a helluva lot more impressive from the courtyard! Were ya just overcompensatin’ or what?” she taunts, hunching over, her face going red. 
That isn’t to say it matches the furious blush on Satsuki’s face. She lowers her sword until it clinks against the tile below. “Will you-” she begins. “Will you take this seriously?”
Ryuko and Senketsu stop laughing for just a moment. “No!” they jeer, before resuming. 
Satsuki, disarmed, begins to slide the sheath back over her blade. After a few moments more of booming laughter, Ryuko seems to have gotten it all - or most - out of her system. Picking herself off the floor, she snidely grins at Satsuki. “Okay - okay, looks like I wasted tha trip up here.” she begins. “And I thought ya were some big, tough…”
“I am!” Satsuki asserts. “This is an aberration. Soon to be rectified, I’m sure.”
Ryuko rolls her eyes. “Yeah, get back to me on that. Tell ya what - you pass one a’ those ‘you must be this tall to ride’ things, and then we’ll talk.” Satsuki hardly manages to keep herself from growling at the remark. As Ryuko passes through the wide-open doorway, she pats the framing. “Sorry about the door.” 
When she leaves, there’s silence in the room - but Ryuko’s laughter echoes in Satsuki’s ears. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes, positively fuming. “Nonon?” she calls. “Tell me the sewing club has made some sort of advancement.” 
All the band major can do is shrug. “They’re firin’ on all cylinders - nothin’ yet.” she admits. “Don’t, uh, take it personally. She’s a bitch - we all knew that, right?” 
Satsuki huffs - her mood clearly not improved. 
“Hey, I know what’ll cheer ya up.” she begins, trying to sound upbeat. “I got the sewing club to make some doll-sized band uniforms! How about you try one on, huh?”
Satsuki groans - if she didn’t hate Ragyo enough already; this was going to be what would bury her. 
As soon as she gets back to normal size.


