set the world on fire (Mawaru Penguindrum)

Chapter 1

Momoka Oginome heaved a sigh, rubbing her temples as beads of sweat dribbled down her brow and drenched her bubblegum pink hair. The dank lamp light barely illuminated the document grasped between her shaking hands, forcing her to squint in order to make out the spidery, pixelated-

"Goddammit!" she swore, fumbling for a cigarette. Exhaling as the wisps of smoke curled from underneath her chin, she chewed morosely on it and tilted her head towards the ceiling, her arms hanging limp from her sides.

"What's that I smell?" A slender-fingered hand inched across the paneled wood of her office door.

"Blood and tears," Momoka said viciously, removing the cigarette from her mouth and blowing a petulant smoke ring.

"Well, someone's in a bad mood," the voice cooed as its owner elegantly swooped through the door, sporting a fluffy feather boa and at least five sets of fake eyelashes. "Good evening, Momoka-sama."

"Good god, Yuri." She rolled her eyes at her girlfriend, who glided over to her desk with a sly curl of her lips. Her jumbled brain, eager to latch on any topic not having to do with the pile of paperwork piled haphazardly on top of her cluttered desk, wondered how the woman could move so damn gracefully in those monstrosities of hers.

"Practice, my dear, practice makes perfect," Yuri drawled, as if reading her mind, climbing onto her desk and hiking up her pink skirt to expose to the creamy skin of her thighs. She kicked off her stilettos, which landed on the carpet with a thunk, and plopped her feet in Momoka's lap, wiggling her freshly pedicured toes around the black satin of her dress pants.

Blood. Blood red. Her eyes didn't leave the morbid coloring of her toenails.

"Oh, please," Yuri whined, cupping Momoka's face between her hands. "I prettied myself up for you and all you can look at are my toes? Seriously, though- they're nowhere near my finest assets. As a matter of fact-"

"Your toes are splendid," Momoka cut her off, peering around the woman's hips to snatch up another document. "If you'll excuse-"

"Hello?"Yuri demanded. "Geez, Momoka-sama. I thought you'd pay at least a little attention to me. All the guys say I have this amazing sex appeal, but I can't even seduce my girlfriend? And besides, if you keep up with that disgusting habit, the smoke alarm's bound to go off soon." She plucked the cigarette out of Momoka's hands, flicking it into the nearest wastebasket.

"Sorry, but would you mind turning it off for a bit?" Momoka said absentmindedly, opening a manila envelope and peering into its contents. "I'd give in, but seriously, I've got a crapload of work to do. Not to mention I promised my parents that I'd have dinner with them tonight."

"Ugh, you're always so busy," Yuri complained, sliding into her lap and wrapping her arms around Momoka's shoulders. "What is it now?"

"Kanba Takakura." The name slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Almost stopping herself, Momoka gave a minimal shrug of her shoulders. She'd signed a confidentiality agreement with her providers, but what the hell. Hadn't she broken enough rules already? "Only sixteen, and already being groomed to become the next leader of KIGA."

"He seems like a pimp," Yuri remarked, leaning over to tug a small photograph out of the envelope. It was square-shaped, the image grainy and blurry, just barely capturing the likeness of boy with scarlet hair slipping out of the back of a warehouse. "So, this is your evidence?

"Yeah. One of my contacts sat on a roof for an entire night just for this," Momoka sighed. "Anyways, he's dangerous, whether we like it or not. His parents blew up that train sixteen years ago, remember? They're nothing more than annoyingly clever barbarians, for all that self-righteous crap they spew. And that's not the end of it. Turns out he's the biological son of the Natsume clan, obediently forked over to KIGA as a consolation prize. Their own son, a pawn for their silly negotiations."