Chapter Text
The fluorescent lights of Lecture Hall 3B hummed with a buzz that was somehow more exhausting than the lecture itself. The sound burrowed right behind Geto Suguru’s eyes, competing for space with the dull throb of a caffeine withdrawal headache and his mounting financial anxiety.
Suguru spun the cheap plastic pen he’d scavenged from the library floor over his knuckles.
If I skip groceries tonight, Suguru thought, staring blankly at the back of the student’s neck in front of him, I can put the extra thousand yen toward the electric bill. But I need the caffeine if I’m going to cram for this history midterm. Maybe I could just live off of vending machine coffee instead?
He sighed, shifting in his outrageously uncomfortable seat. Being eighteen and living independently in Tokyo was supposed to be the start of a new chapter in his life. Instead, it mostly felt like a constant negotiation between hunger, utility costs, and academic expectation.
He glanced around the amphitheater-style room.
Ninety percent of the students here were Betas, just like him. They smelled like nothing in particular, which was to be expected. Betas made up the backbone of society, destined for mid-level management jobs and civil service positions. Suguru himself anticipated living a quiet life that would never make the history books.
Down in the front row, however, two Omegas sat together.
There was an empty seat on either side of them. It was a bit of a subconscious buffer zone the Beta students provided out of polite instinct. No one told them to do it. It was a mix of reverence and caution, like they might accidentally shatter one of them if someone sneezed too loudly.
Suguru envied them only slightly, mostly for the legroom. He wouldn’t want the attention or the burden of being "precious." He liked the anonymity of the herd. All he wanted, really, was just to pass History 101 and get back to his apartment.
"...which leads us to the culmination of the Alpha Crisis in the late nineteenth century," the professor droned, his voice as dry as chalk dust. He flashed a laser pointer against the screen above the stage. It showed grainy, archival photographs of a burning city block, the date 1892 stamped in the corner. "The physiological volatility of the Alpha demographic proved incompatible with the stability of the Modern Pacifist State."
Suguru stifled a yawn, covering his mouth with his hand.
This was all ancient history.
The Filtering System as laid out in the Preservation Act was the bedrock of modern civilization. While some fringe historians liked to paint it as an act of cruelty, the general consensus was that it was actually an act of mercy. It was basic biology, after all. You couldn't keep a fox in a hen house and keep blaming the fox for eating the chickens.
The diagram up on the screen showed the enlarged amygdala typical of the Alpha variant, the biological engine of hyper-aggression. Before the Filtering System was put into place, frequent violence had been the norm, especially against vulnerable Omegas. Uncontrolled territory wars and instinct-driven assaults constantly threatened to disrupt any shred of peace.
Suguru rested his chin in his hand. It was hard to really care about a threat that had been systemically removed from society.
To most, Alphas weren't really people anyway. They were boogeymen, myths used to scare children into behaving.
“Eat your vegetables or the Alpha will get you.”
The Filtering System was basic civics. While Betas and Omegas looked identical until their secondary gender presentation in their mid-teens, Alphas were different.
They were identified at birth through standard physical markers. And if they somehow slipped through the cracks at birth, they were always caught by the mandatory screening at age three.
They were then filtered out.
The textbooks said they were sent to specialized facilities to live out their lives in peace, away from the stimuli that was known to trigger their rages. Suguru didn't really know if that was true, but he didn't care. Maybe they were actually kept on farms, or in medically induced comas in a bunker somewhere.
It didn't matter. Alphas weren’t people with rights. It was a biological error that they existed in the first place. They were creatures of violence, incapable of logic or restraint. Nothing more than a relic of a more barbaric evolutionary branch that humanity had rightfully begun to prune.
Suguru looked at the Beta girl next to him. She was aggressively highlighting her textbook in neon yellow. She would never have to know the fear of running from a predator. The world was boring, but that meant it was safe.
He checked the analog clock on the wall. The hands felt like they were moving through syrup.
He spun his pen again.
Somewhere behind his eyes, the buzzing noise got a little louder. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, despite the room being chilled.
It happened between one breath and the next.
The professor was in the middle of a sentence about the socio-economic benefits of the agrarian colonies of a hundred years ago when the buzzing behind Suguru’s eyes suddenly stopped. It was immediately replaced by a deafening ring that sounded like a flashbang going off inside his skull.
Then came the heat, like a sledgehammer to his gut. It felt like a wave of molten lava was erupting, flooding his veins with something so hot it was melting him from the inside out. Suguru gasped, the air rushing into his lungs. His hand convulsed, snapping the cheap plastic pen in half.
"Geto?" the girl next to him whispered, but her voice sounded like it was underwater.
Suguru tried to answer, tried to say anything at all, but his tongue felt too large for his mouth. He shoved his chair back, the metal legs screeching against the floor. The sound made him want to vomit.
As soon as he put weight on his legs, his knees buckled. He crashed sideways, his shoulder slamming into another desk, sending a notebook clattering to the floor.
"Whoa, hey!" someone shouted.
The air in the lecture hall got heavy, thickening into something that felt suffocating.
The Beta girl didn't reach out to help. She flinched violently, pressing herself back against her seat, her hand flying to cover her nose and mouth. She looked pale.
"Ugh," someone behind him gagged. "What is that smell?"
Suguru was on his knees now, clutching the edge of the desk, his knuckles white. The pain was blinding, radiating from his lower abdomen outward, tearing through his muscles.
It’s a stroke, his panic-stricken brain supplied. Or an aneurysm. I’m only eighteen and I’m dying on the floor of History 101.
He tried to breathe, but the air tasted cloyingly sweet, like flowers left out too long.
"Help," he wheezed, but it came out as a broken, wet whine that didn't sound like his voice at all.
"Call an ambulance!" the professor shouted from the podium, his laser pointer dancing erratically on the screen. "Someone get the medic!"
Suguru’s vision swam. The edges of the world turned gray, then black. The floor felt incredibly cold against his burning cheek as he began to slump.
The last thing he heard before the darkness took him was the frantic rhythm of his own heart, beating so fast it felt like a bird trying to batter its way out of a cage.
The return to consciousness wasn't gentle.
Suguru blinked, his eyelids feeling heavy, weighted down by the lingering drag of sedation. The first thing he noticed was the silence. The low hum of the lecture hall was gone. In its place was only the rhythmic hiss of an air filtration system and the steady beeping of a heart monitor.
He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it was moving through sludge. This wasn’t the campus clinic. The clinic had beige curtains and way too many posters about seasonal flu shots.
This room was blinding white. And the walls...
Suguru squinted, his vision slowly coming into focus against the harsh lights overhead. The walls weren't drywall. They were upholstered in some sort of white, quilted material.
Padded walls, his mind supplied sluggishly. Why am I in a room with padded walls?
Suguru looked down. He was stripped of his jeans and hoodie, dressed instead in a thin hospital gown that offered no warmth. His left arm was tethered to an IV stand, a clear tube pumping an equally clear fluid into his vein. He felt a shivering cold that sat deep in his bones, a stark contrast to the molten fire that had consumed him in the lecture hall.
A hiss cut through the silence as a heavy door with no handle on the inside slid open.
A figure stepped in. It was a doctor, clearly, clad in a pristine white lab coat, but his face was hidden behind a respirator mask, the kind used for handling biohazards or chemical spills. His plastic visor reflected the room's lights, hiding his eyes. Behind the doctor, Suguru caught a glimpse of the corridor. There were two security guards, their hands resting loosely on the grips of sidearms.
And just as quickly as it had opened, the door slid shut.
"Geto-sama," the doctor said. His voice was soft and surprisingly gentle, filtered through the mask with a tinny edge. "You are awake. That is... good. Your vitals are stabilizing faster than we anticipated."
Suguru licked his lips, his mouth tasting like cotton.
"Where am I?" his voice rasped. It sounded weak and unfamiliar to his own ears. "This isn't the campus hospital."
"No," the doctor said, clasping his hands in front of him. "You were transferred to the Central Genetic Monitoring Facility immediately after your collapse. Given the... intensity of your event, it was a matter of public safety."
Public safety. The words hung in the filtered air like smoke.
Suguru closed his eyes for a second, forcing himself to think back. He remembered the heat. The way the Beta girl had looked at him, like she was about to be sick.
He let out a shaky breath, feeling the pull of the IV in his arm. He wasn't stupid. He knew enough about biology to put the pieces together.
"I presented," Suguru said, opening his eyes. He forced himself to sound calm, because maybe if he sounded calm, he’d actually feel it. "I’m an Omega. That’s what happened, isn't it?"
The doctor didn't answer immediately. He picked up a tablet from the end of the bed, swiping through data with a gloved finger. "Your presentation was severe. Delayed onset in late adolescence often results in a more violent biological shift."
"Right. Okay." Suguru pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring the sway of vertigo that threatened to tip the room sideways. "It’s not normally this late, I know, but not impossible. My grandmother was a late bloomer, I think."
He was already categorizing the things that this would change, breaking it down into a to-do list. Suguru was good at this. He solved problems. This was just a hurdle, nothing more than a snag in his carefully planned life.
"So," Suguru continued, the words tumbling out faster now. "I assume the IV is hydration and fever reducers? I need to know when I can be discharged. I have a History midterm on Thursday, and my professor doesn't give make-up exams unless you're actually dead."
The doctor looked up from the tablet. The over-the-top PPE hid his expression, but the tilt of his head suggested some sort of sadness.
"I'll need a prescription for suppressants," Suguru continued on, desperate to fill the silence. "And scent blockers. The maximum strength ones, clearly, if I passed out like that. I’ll have to go down to the ward office to change my census status from Beta to Omega. Lots of forms, new ID cards… My rent might go up because of the zoning laws, but I can manage it. I can pick up extra shifts tutoring to cover the difference."
He looked at the doctor, expecting a nod, or at the very least a script pad. He expected a lecture on safe heat management and a brochure about Omega health.
"Geto-sama," the doctor said softly.
"I know I caused a scene," Suguru added quickly, his heart rate beginning to climb on the monitor. "I apologize for the disruption. If there’s a cleaning fee for the lecture hall, just bill me. Can you unhook me now? I really need to call my landlord before the office closes. If I don't update my status within 24 hours, I could be fined."
"Geto-sama, please."
The doctor raised his gloved hand in a placating gesture.
"You need to slow down," he said, his voice dripping with pitying kindness. "You are worrying about problems that no longer exist."
Suguru froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. "What’s that supposed to mean? I know the laws. I have rights."
"You do," the doctor agreed, lowering the tablet to his side. "But you are not going to the census bureau, Suguru. And you are certainly not going back to your apartment."
“What?” The word escaped Suguru’s lips, breathy and weightless.
The doctor didn't repeat himself. Instead, he tapped the screen of the tablet again, enlarging a specific bit of data, and held it out for Suguru to see.
It was a genetic sequencing chart, that much he recognized. Suguru had taken an intro biology course, but that didn’t mean he actually could decipher what was on the screen.
"Do you see this variance in the twenty-third chromosome pair?" the doctor asked, pointing to the red cluster.
"I’m a history major," Suguru snapped, pushing the tablet away with his free hand. "No, I don't know what that means. It means I’m an Omega."
"You don't understand, Geto-sama," the doctor said, withdrawing the tablet but keeping it visible. "If you were a standard Omega, you would be waking up in a general ward. But we found some additional markers."
Suguru stared at the mask, searching for the eyes behind the reflection. "Markers?"
The doctor sighed with a patience that made Suguru want to scream. "Let me explain the architecture of our society in terms you will understand. Think of it like a pyramid."
He held up one gloved finger. "At the bottom, you have the Betas like myself. They are genetically stable and numerous, making up the vast majority of the population. That is what you thought you were."
A second finger went up. "Above them are Omegas. They are cherished, protected to a degree, and integrated into society. Many live normal lives and marry whom they please within reason."
"That’s me," Suguru insisted, his voice rising and beginning to crack with desperation. He tried to sit up straighter, to project confidence despite the flimsy hospital gown. "I’m just a student. I have a life."
"Not quite," the doctor said softly. A third finger didn't go up. Instead, the doctor turned his hand over, palm open. "Above them is the apex. The Crown Jewel of Omegas, the Special Grades."
The title hung in the air.
"It’s a genetic rarity occurring only a handful of times each generation," the doctor continued, his voice taking on a reverent, almost fanatical quality that made Suguru’s skin crawl. "Perfect genetic symmetry, with a biological constitution capable of withstanding... significant stress. You possess a genetic value that exceeds the GDP of some small nations, Geto-sama."
Suguru felt bile rise in his throat. The praise sounded more like an auctioneer describing a prize stallion.
"I don't care about my genetic value," Suguru spat, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white. "I want to go home. As a citizen of Japan, I’m guaranteed freedom of movement and residence. You can't just hold me here."
The doctor lowered the tablet. He stood still, looking down at Suguru with that horrible gentleness.
"Geto-sama," he said. "You cannot go back to your student housing. It isn't safe or... appropriate."
"It’s my apartment!" Suguru yelled, his rising fear finally cracking his composure. He yanked at the IV line, the tape pulling at his skin. "My name is on the lease! I paid the deposit!"
"Your lease has been terminated," the doctor said simply.
Suguru didn’t like the silence that followed.
"What?" Suguru whispered for the second time, the fight draining out of him for just a second before surging back as anger. "You can't do that. That’s illegal eviction."
"As of two hours ago, when your genetic status was confirmed, your legal status was updated," the doctor explained, as if any words would change the situation Suguru now found himself in. "You’ve officially been reclassified as a Protected Asset of the State. Persons of your classification are not permitted to reside in unsecured housing. Your landlord has been notified, and a retrieval team is currently packing your personal effects to be moved to secure storage."
"You... you’re touching my things?" Suguru felt violated. He thought of his room, empty save for his unmade bed and the stack of manga on the nightstand. It was humble, but it was his. "Who gave you permission?"
"We don't need permission to secure state property, Geto-sama."
"I am not property!" Suguru screamed. He finally just ripped the IV needle out of his arm. Blood welled up, bright red against his skin, dripping down onto the white sheets. He swung his legs out of bed, adrenaline overriding the sudden sense of vertigo. "I am a student! I’m walking out of here, and if you try to stop me, I will sue this entire hospital into the ground!"
He stood up and the room spun.
The doctor didn't flinch. He just took a step back, looking at the blood now dripping onto the floor.
"You were a student," the doctor corrected, his voice devoid of malice, which made it infinitely worse. "Now, you’re the future. You don't belong to yourself anymore, Geto-sama. You are too important to the preservation of the species."
Suguru took a step forward, his fists clenched, ready to fight, ready to shove past the doctor.
But the two guards who’d been standing in the hallway stepped into the room, blocking the doorway behind them. They didn't raise their weapons, but they didn't have to. Suguru knew wouldn’t even stand a chance against their bulk.
Suguru looked at the guards, then back at the doctor. He looked at the blood on the floor.
"You took my home," he whispered, his voice trembling. "You took my life."
"You won the genetic lottery," the doctor said, and for the first time, he almost sounded confused by Suguru's distress. "Why would you want to be a struggling student, Geto-sama? You’ve been chosen. You won’t ever have to worry about rent again."
They didn't let him walk to the exit.
"Policy, I'm afraid," the doctor said as an apology, gesturing to the wheelchair that had been brought in by an orderly. "We can't risk you fainting, after all."
So, Suguru sat.
He felt ridiculous and small, clad in a fresh set of clothes the medical staff had provided, because his own were "unsuitable for someone of his position." He now wore soft, gray sweats that looked like designer lounge wear but felt more like a prison uniform.
The procession down the hallway was grotesque in its pageantry. Suguru was in the center, pushed by the orderly, flanked by no less than four armed guards. He discovered that they were private military contractors. They wore the insignia of the Department of Genetic Preservation on their shoulders.
As they pushed him through the automatic doors and into the humid Tokyo air, Suguru instinctively shielded his eyes. A black armored SUV waited at the curb, its engine idling with a low hum.
The orderly helped him into the back seat. The leather was supple and smelled ridiculously expensive. The door then slammed shut, sealing out the noise of the city. Suguru immediately slid across the seat to the window. It was heavily tinted, turning the bright afternoon sun into a melancholy twilight.
The car pulled away, merging smoothly into traffic. Suguru pressed his hand against the cold glass, watching the world slide by.
He could immediately see a group of students crossing the street near a station. They were laughing, carrying backpacks slung over one shoulder. Suguru recognized the university colors on a hoodie.
They were probably on their way to campus, to the library to study for midterms.
Yesterday, that was his biggest problem, too.
Now, seeing them through the darkened glass, it felt like they belonged to a different species. Suguru looked at his own reflection in the glass. His face was the same, but his eyes looked haunted.
He no longer felt like a human being who took exams and complained about rent. He was a commodity, a natural resource that had been discovered and was now being transported to a vault to be locked up tight.
The SUV turned, heading away from the university district and toward the towering city skyline. The towers where the famous ruling families lived glittered in the distance.
Suguru had spent his whole life fearing Alphas. He had imagined them being dragged away in chains, muzzled monsters sent to dark facilities because they were too dangerous to exist in polite society. Like everyone else, he’d always been glad they were gone.
But as the armored car passed through a security checkpoint in the inner city, he couldn’t help but think about how he was being sent away, too.
The Alphas were exiled to cages of iron because they were too violent. He was being exiled to a cage of gold because he was too valuable.
But the result was exactly the same. The world of choices, of freedom was gone.
Suguru watched the city of his childhood fade into the distance, and for the first time in his life, he felt a strange kinship with the monsters he’d been taught to hate.