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Peko Pekoyama has always been a tool.
It does not matter that this is a different universe than the one you know.
No matter the universe, Peko Pekoyama is always a tool.
(Or, at least, she always believes she is.)
It certainly isn’t different in this one.
No matter that she is no longer a guardswoman for Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, the Ultimate Yakuza. No matter that in this universe, Peko is, herself, the Ultimate Yakuza. No matter that she, alone, will claim leadership over the Pekoyama clan. Until her parents die, she is their child, their heir, their tool. And as such, duty will still ensnare her until they die. Likely it will continue to do so beyond that, since her duty then would be to ensure the success of her clan.
It isn’t about what she wants. It will never be about what she wants.
Her life belongs to her clan.
That is all.
As such, her future spouse, whomever they may be, will also be arranged for her. Likely an heir to another clan, to broker peace – or greater allyship – between them. It isn’t her choice.
The problem is that the heirs to the clans closest to them, the ones most likely to reward them for intermarriage, are all female.
Peko spends most of her childhood learning the ways of the Pekoyama clan from her mother, and when she is not doing that, her father takes her to the clans friendliest with them to intermingle. She goes from one playground to another, meeting with the heirs of the Ikusaba and Kuzuryu clans, and maintaining good relationships with them. At least, that’s what duty says she’s doing. Her father always says she should spend time with her friends.
“You’re kind of boring, ain’t you?” Kuzuryu Natsumi, the heir of the Kuzuryu clan, sticks her finger into Peko’s She twists it, digging it in, until it leaves a red mark like the red in Natsumi’s cheeks, although it’ll fade eventually. “Don’t really say much.”
“She doesn’t need to say much,” Ikusaba Mukuro, the displaced heir of the Ikusaba clan, murmurs. She tosses a baseball back and forth between her hands
Natsumi sticks her hands on her hips. “Easy for you to say! You don’t say much neither!”
“Don’t say much either.” Ikusaba Ryoko, the true heir of the Ikusaba clan, corrects Natsumi without lifting her gaze from her book. She turns the page slow, pauses for consideration, then turns back to just long enough to catch something again. Then she sets the book to one side and sighs.
Mukuro turns just enough to glance at the book and then back to Ryoko, who gives her a nod.
Natsumi looks from one to the other, her eyes narrowing. “What’s goin’ on? You ain’t finished your book, and you—”
“I already know what’s going to happen,” Ryoko says with an air of boredom, “so the only point in reading it is to analyze how the author writes. Or for enjoyment of his style, maybe.” She leaves her hand on the book. “I don’t like his writing, so unless Mama tells me to finish it, I won’t.”
“Then why’d you bring it—”
Peko doesn’t exactly tune them out, but she doesn’t join in on their conversation. Ryoko isn’t ignoring her, exactly; that girl knows everything that’s happening at all times, so there’s no way she’s forgotten about Peko; she’s just leaving her alone in what might be her own form of friendship. Mukuro isn’t either, but she’s easier to read; every now and again, she glances over to Peko with a quiet nod that Peko returns; neither of them particularly need words to communicate, which is much more comfortable. Natsumi would continue picking at Peko if she focused in on her, but right now, she’s too honed in on Ryoko, who won’t fall to her pestering the same way that Peko won’t; she’s not a bully necessarily, but she does tend to poke at people to find anything vulnerable rather than learn about it on her own.
And then there’s—
A tiny hand subtly grasps Ryoko’s book, and when it does, Ryoko releases it. The book slips beneath the wooden planks of the Ikusaba clan’s playplace. Peko smiles – or something close to it – and the expression disappears as she drops beneath to join the other member of their crew.
Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko notices her landing, but remains focused on the book. “It’s real hard,” he says to himself as he sits cross-legged in the gravel and flips to the first page. He squints at the spindly script. “No, it’s easy today.” He glares up at Ryoko, where she sits on the planks above him, and hisses, “D’ya do this on purpose? I ain’t dumb!”
A soft hum filters through the planks. It could be a response to what’s happening above (and is at least a little muffled), or it could be a response to Fuyuhiko. There’s no way of knowing.
The knuckle tapping on one of the planks, however, is very clearly for him.
Fuyuhiko’s eyes narrow. “I don’t know Morse code!”
“I do.” Peko kneels next to him, her hands held gentle in her lap. She listens for a few seconds. “I-thought-it-would-be—“ The knocking pauses, then picks back up, rapid pace. “Oh-hey-Pekopeko-chan! This-is-a-private-conversation-so—” She stops saying it aloud, then nods. “Of course, Ikusaba-san,” she says, just loud enough for Ryoko to hear it. “I won’t interfere.”
Thank-you!
“W-wait!” Fuyuhiko says, maybe a little too loud. “I don’t know what you—!” He growls as Ryoko starts her knocking again. “I don’t understand what you—!” Then he gives up, kicks at the gravel, and abruptly sits back down, crossing his arms. “It’s just a stupid love story. I don’t want this shit!”
Oh?
“May I see?” Peko reaches out a hand, and a frustrated Fuyuhiko slaps it down. The rough binding hurts as it hits the center of her palm, but not any worse than some of the training she’s done with her mother. She skims the back of the book for a quick summary. Something to do with two people pretending to date each other to make other people jealous, or something like that. It seems like a sound idea. How else would you make yourself more desirable? Taking yourself off the market, making yourself forbidden or a worthy conquest….
Peko hands the book back to Fuyuhiko, and she considers.
It takes a few years for the idea to percolate.
A few years of a marriage that still hasn’t been arranged, a few years of overhearing her future prospects and what the heads of their clans have to say – what the heads of their clans want to make the marriage worthwhile and beneficial.
A few years of gathering the courage to bring her own idea to her parents, an idea born of a book she hadn’t even read a few years ago.
A few years before finally, finally approaching her mother and saying, “Might I propose an idea?”
It isn’t an engagement, per say.
It’s just rumors, just something set for other families to hear and discuss – that the Pekoyama heir is currently being courted by the Kuzuryus, and not even by an heir but by a lower son instead. It’s enough to turn head, it’s enough to get them talking, it’s enough to think that the Pekoyamas are so disgusted by their proposals that they’re seeking something elsewhere – or that the Kuzuryus must have something very big that they are offering the Pekoyamas for such a courtship to even go through.
But it isn’t an engagement.
Peko doesn’t apologize to Fuyuhiko. What would be the point? He understands the inner mechanisms of a clan on their level. As much as he can, anyway, seeing as he isn’t his clan’s heir. But he must know just from the way his sister is treated. He must get it, on some level.
For his part, Fuyuhiko seems almost excited about the prospect. Maybe…maybe he doesn’t—
Peko doesn’t know what was discussed with the Kuzuryus. She doesn’t know what filtered down to Fuyuhiko.
It isn’t her duty to say anything.
So she doesn’t.