Chapter Text
Naoya was no secret feminist, do not get him wrong. He still believed that there was an initiate weakness to the feminine form, they can be strong, but they will always carry a weakness to them. And to him there was no changing that idea.
Growing up in the Zen’in Clan there was no ability to have another idea, all the women in his life being meek and subservient. And the only person to ever try and stand up like a barking dog was his younger cousin, Maki.
But what worth was that when the imp didn’t even have Cursed Energy? Her bark rendered useless as she was de-fanged in their society.
It is what it is.
One who cannot fully protect themselves is weak.
Weak will be culled, the strong will be successful.
But Naoya was also weak, he was a defective product with a fancy label. He knows the Zen’in clan only put up with him at all due to his inheritance of his father’s projection technique. If not for that he would of been culled, his unnaturalness tainting the blood pool already.
He has head of the whispers behind his back, pointing out his looks that he gained from his mother. The way he took care of himself, nails maintained, no roots showing, his piercings and eyeliner. He heard the name-calling they barely hid in their whispers.
No, if he didn’t have this technique of his he would’ve met a secret demise he’s sure of. His uncle would of seen it through. The power hungry man yearned for his demise and it wouldn’t shock him if the man dearly hoped that one of his missions would take him out.
Sighing Naoya straightened out the black Kimono top he was wearing, smoothing out the folds as they tuck into the creme hakama pants.
He had places to be, people to see.
He would not let the Clan rule his thoughts today, not when he has more important things to think about.
“Chika-chan!” Naoya called out as he crossed the shogi doors leading to the main entrance, brown eyes searching for the said servant he was calling upon.
Watching the other Zen’in milling around, walking around his as if there was a giant barrier surrounding him. As always down to the bare bones of the Clan he was not liked. He doesn’t care-he’s not paid to be liked after all.
Ego-ism and power keeps one alive in a den of putridity.
“Naoya-sama? You summoned me?” The tenor voice of the servant rang out, breaking his thought process, turning his gaze to the woman he tilted his head slightly. Taking in the small increase of breath the other was taking alluding to the fact she had ran in the traditional attire she was wearing.
Hearing a slight jingle his eyes snapped to the keys she had tucked into her hand, mostly hidden by her long kimono sleeve. Nodding he raised his eyes back to the crown of her head as she had her head bowed down in the subservient fashion Zen’in pride themselves on with their servants.
“Yes, I have business in the city to take care of. Let’s go.” He responded curtly, scratching halfheartedly at his nape as the she rose from the bowed position, a well tuned scenario between the two of them.
Chika was the one servant he dealt with for his.... city business. The girl knew to keep her mouth shut and eyes averted. Money lining her pocket as she did so, money that she could save and gain freedom with eventually. So she indeed kept a blind eye to his actions within the city when she chaperones.
The traditional shoes making soft clacking noises as they exited the main building, “Should we stop at Maccha House? They have a tiramisu.” Naoya fiddled with one of the cuffs in his ear as he debated where to stop for sweets. “Or should it be Warabi Mochi?”
Chika let the keys jingle once in answer, allowing anyone to overhear to just assume he was speaking to himself. It was a fine tuned dance that they two knew well; survival was a well learnt skill in the Zen’in. Safety was assured to noone.
Sliding into the back of the car he pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly as Chika started up the car. Leaning forward, placing his left hand on the shoulder of the car seat, he inputted the address to the cafe he wanted to get the tiramisu from in the touchscreen GPS set into the middle of the mantle.
“After the stop at the cafe, just go straight to the apartment.” He stated, watching her nod beside him before he fell back into the backseat. Ignoring the belt he kicked his shoes off and turned sideways, tucking his legs up onto the seat knees bent.
Propping his phone against his thighs he leaned his head against the backseat as he halfheartedly scrolled. His social media accounts were all anonymous thankfully, so he didn’t have to worry about his Clan finding them. It was useful for tracking trends as well as the normal side of politics, his father might need spoon fed his information, but Naoya will not.
Forming his own opinions on topics and not having his ‘elders’ skew shit was optimal after all.
“I was notified that she expressed interest in having a pet cat.” Chika stated, no inflection in her tone as she relayed the news. Giving no room to show her opinion towards the results of the question.
Naoya groaned, rolling his eyes slightly, once again rolling his fingers along the hoop in his ear. Of course she wanted a pet. “I’ll debate it in between the next visit. Just get to the damn cafe.” Naoya grunted before the car fell back into its stiff silence.
Tapping onto the camera app he turned the camera to face him to use it as a mirror, using his thumb he scratched off the slightly smudged line that came off from his eyeliner. Must’ve happened when he yawned too hard earlier, tsk. Damn Chika for not letting him know of the unruly sight.
His appearance must be perfect.
It was the only thing he could fully control of himself after all.
જ⁀➴
Armed with box containing the matcha tiramisu, which he didn’t leave the car for as he made Chika fend for herself against the tourist crowd, he stalked up the apartment stairs. It wasn’t the highest grade apartment, but it was still safe and luxurious even in its simplicity.
It had a passcode only gate with security even.
So while it wasn’t a high rise with the best view, it was safe.
And that’s what mattered most.
Inputting the passcode into the door he slowly turned the doorknob pushing it open, Chika sitting in the parking lot, most likely scrolling on her phone. Letting his breathing settle he peeked around the door to see if the figure he was waiting on was in sight, seeing nothing he fully pushed the door open.
“Fu~Mi~Ko~~ where are you~” Naoya called out, cooing out the syllables to the name. Brown eyes scouring the kitchenette and living room, seeing if she was hiding away.
“I brought a treat~ but I guess I’ll have to eat it myself. How sad.” He continued as he walked into the hall, placing the box on the table beforehand. Trailing his hand on the wall he peeked into the doors as he passed them before landing on the last one.
Quieting he heard the small soft giggles behind the closed doors. Grinning he softened his voice. “Oh no~ I can’t find you Fumi~ Whatever will I do? Should I leave?”
Naoya watched with bright eyes as the door was quickly opened, a small body darting out and colliding into him with a childish scream. “NOOO OTON!!!! Oton has to stay!” the pipsquek shouted, hands fully creasing the hakama pants as she gripped onto them tightly.
Chuckling he dragged his fingers through her wavy hair, the blonde hair catching slightly as he hit a tangle. Big brown eyes stare up at him as she puffed out her cheeks in mock offense. “Oton finally came back, you can’t leave yet!” She demanded, a sock clad foot stomping slightly while staring up at him.
“Fine fine~ did your babysitter just leave?” Naoya asked as he guided her to the kitchen, pulling the seat out from the table for her to scrabble up onto. He really wishes he could be with her full-time but she was weak and painted a giant target on both his and her own back if the Zen’in knew.
“Yea, I don’t like her though. Why can’t I just stay with you.” Fumiko pouted, lips pursing as she leaned on the table watching him unbox the child safe tiramisu.
Naoya sighed, shoulders dropping as he plated a portion for her, gently sliding it in front of her as he grabbed one of the smaller forks that would fit her hand better. Trailing his gaze on his child as he sat down on one of the other chairs, she was doomed to fail in the Zen’in clan. And so they must never know of her until he’s secured in power.
Fumiko Zen’in was a five year old girl, shoulder length wavy pale blonde hair with big brown eyes. She was a bastard, the product of a one night stand he had with a tourist, he didn’t even know of her until after she was born. He’s honestly shocked the woman even contacted him instead of dropping her off in an American orphanage, but he’s glad she didn’t. While Fumiko was doomed in his Clan as a half-bred female bastard, she was his and only his.
His clan had no hold over her and never would, and if they ever found out and threatened her well... it might just burn down to the ground.
“Oton’s family is mean Fumi-chan, I really wish I could.... Maybe I could see if one of my cousins could watch you? Would you like that? Seeing either of your Itoko-tachi?” Naoya hummed, scooping up a bit of the matcha tiramisu. The taste of it is better than the normal variant honestly.
“Hmmm, I never met them though.... what if they don’t like me?” She mumbled around her fork, big doe eyes flicking away, avoiding his gaze.
Naoya chuckled, reaching over to ruffle the girl’s hair. “Who wouldn’t like you other than stuffy old men? If they don’t like you then they have bad taste.”
Mai would be closer... but distance would be safer for Fumiko... downside he would have to talk to Satoru-kun and make sure he keeps his mouth shut around the Zen’in Clan members....
Ah the woes of being a girl dad.... why could Fumiko make it easier and at least been a boy, he wouldn’t have to hide her away then.