Work Text:
“She isn't much more than a teenager. What are we expecting her to really do for us?”
Kirumi straightens her posture as she sits outside the Headmaster's office. Hope's Peak Academy is a very large school—it's the best of the best in the country, widely renowned even overseas. A few times and again, she's briefly considered the possibility of being selected to attend the school herself, to truly be named for the services that she carries out for others. She's always been very proud of her own work, of the responsibilities that countless people have rested in her hands.
In the end, however, she knows that as long as there are people in this world, there is always someone to serve. Someone who requires her services. Kirumi's success is guaranteed because she will always dilligently complete the work that is assigned to her.
Case in point: this meeting.
Kizakura Koichi's laugh spills out of the office, through the cracked door that it appears to have been neglected. Privacy is of the essence in a building such as this, though Kirumi would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little nosy. It's not so much eavesdropping as it is simply previewing what's to come.
“Seriously, Jin? You run a school of the best of the best teenagers in the world.” There's the sound of something metal hitting a surface. “Maybe I'm not the best teacher, but you can trust my eye for talent. Look at the file.”
“Please don't drink in my office,” Headmaster Kirigiri replies, presumably flipping through the documents in this file Kizakura has prepared. “It's not that I doubt Tojo, but the Kuzuryus aren't going to appreciate another child overseeing our meeting.”
“It's just how transactions ought to go,” Kizakura says, more laid back. “If this goes well, we can keep an eye on her and scout her next year when she's old enough.”
“If this goes well?” the Headmaster parrots, almost incredulous. “We cannot afford to mess this up! Kuzuryu Kouji is not a man to play risky with—”
“You're worrying too much, Jin.” The chair squeaks against the floor as he stands, shoes tapping on the ground as he walks out of the room. “It's just a meeting. He'll be impressed that we honor him enough to take precaution, don'tcha think so?”
Headmaster Kirigiri doesn't get the opportunity to respond. Kizakura swings the doors open, poking his head out and looking around.
(Kirumi quickly realizes that he's inebriated—the way he sort of stumbles as his eyes lock onto her and all.)
“Tojo Kirumi!”
She stands and bows her head. “Good morning, Mr. Kizakura.”
Kirumi has a simple task: oversee the meeting between the Kuzuryus, Headmaster Kirigiri, and Kizakura.
The Kuzuryu Clan has strong ties to Hope's Peak Academy. It's tradition at this rate for every heir to the head to be enrolled as the Ultimate Yakuza, given the clan's notoriety in all crime-related fields. Of course, these ties aren't on public display per se, but it's not necessarily a well-kept secret. A school of this caliber gets away with plenty of things, Kirumi realizes, though it's not her place to make any commentary upon it.
Alongside the Kuzuryus, a member of the Pekoyama Clan has always been scouted as the Ultimate Swordsman for generations.
“We thought that we wouldn't have an Ultimate Swordsman ever again, after the entire bloodline was wiped,” explains Headmaster Kirigiri, accepting the cup of tea that Kirumi has already brewed ten minutes into their meeting. “But we found out last month that only one Pekoyama remains, and she's been raised in the Kuzuryus’ care.”
There's something mildly disturbing about that. Kirumi is her parents’ only daughter; she only knows her father through the headlines of political news and her mother’s family lives outside of the country. If something were to occur to her mother, she'd be the only Tojo left to build a legacy.
“I see,” is her only comment, nodding as she takes in the information. “So this scout meeting is regarding Pekoyama-san too, I take it?”
“Yup,” chimes in Kizakura, taking another swig from his metal flask. “Kill two birds with one stone. Easy enough.” He waves his hand as Kirumi approaches him with the tea kettle. “Nah, I'm good.”
She stills, briefly considering her words. It's important she remembers her place as a maid with a duty, but she's aware that her services are so often requested for her expertise and advice, as well.
So, she sends a pointed gaze at Kizakura, setting a teacup on the table in front of him. “It's unwise for you to be under the influence during an important meeting like this,” she says, pouring some tea for him. “You may do as your heart wishes off the clock, but you should know to not jepoardize affiliations with the yakuza.”
(Headmaster Kirigiri clears his throat in a certain manner that says, “I told you so.”—though he says nothing aloud.)
Kizakura returns the gaze she sends him, raising one eyebrow quizzically. She stands firm, unfazed by the man attempting to intimidate her in turn.
Then, his lips curl into an easy smile. “Quite mutli-talented, aren't you?”
Kirumi will not be swayed by flattery. “A maid's work is very versatile in skills.”
“So I can see.” Kizakura closes the flask and stores it inside of his suit jacket. “Wasn't expecting you to be charismatic, but now I've got no doubt you won't let us down.”
“You didn't have that faith before?” asks Kirigiri, his eyes widening from behind his desk. Neither of them pay him any mind.
She's surprised it was so easy to convince him, but doesn’t let it show. “I never take on a task I cannot complete.”
Kuzuryu Kouji takes a seat at the head of the table. Alongside him, three others seemingly around Tojo's age follow and take seats at his sides. A boy that's the spitting image of him, presumably Fuyuhiko; a girl with her hair in braids and a sword sheathe mounted around her back, likely the aforementioned Pekoyama Peko; and another girl who looks like Fuyuhiko but also not quite, who crosses her arms and sits across from the other two.
“Who is this?” Kuzuryu looks pointedly at Kirumi.
It's only natural for the leader of the biggest clan in Japan to be wary of strangers. His gaze is as pointed as a blade, and Kirumi hadn't quite braced herself enough. She stiffens at how broad the man's shoulders are, how he walks with a commanding presence and how despite looking so out of place in Headmaster Kirigiri's office, he still appears to own the place.
Perhaps, in a sense, he does—a benefit of having the Kuzuryus as an affiliate means that a large portion of funding under the table comes from them. From Kuzuryu himself.
Headmaster Kirigiri, sitting at the other end of the table, nervously glances at Kizakura, then back at Kuzuryu. “That’s—”
“I am Tojo Kirumi,” she answers, collecting her emotions so she sounds as level-headed as she needs to be in this situation. “I am only overseeing this meeting for safety purposes.”
The girl sat by Kuzuryu’s side scoffs. “Safety? You don’t even look like you could last in a fight!”
Kirumi stands from her seat, tilting her head to the side. “Please do not underestimate my ability. Mr. Kizakura has an eye for those with unique capabilities.”
Headmaster Kirigiri clears his throat sharply. “Tojo, there’s no need to threaten our company,” he warns, shooting a concerned gaze her way.
Kuzuryu’s eyes narrow. “I assure you, nobody is threatened by her.” He props his chin up on steepled hands, and Kirumi continues to maintain eye contact with the man. “Pekoyama, stand down.”
It’s then that Kirumi realizes Pekoyama has already prepared herself to get involved, should she need to; she freezes in place, her red eyes trained on Kirumi, but slowly releases her hold on her sheathed sword. Wordlessly, she sits down again.
“How old are you?” Kuzuryu asks.
“I turn fourteen this year,” answers Kirumi.
A flicker of surprise crosses his features, his eyebrows raising ever-so-slightly. He nods, then tilts his head towards the girl next to him as a means of gesture. “My Natsumi is turning fourteen soon, too.”
(Natsumi glances up at her father quizzically, then at Kirumi.)
“The daughter of the Kuzuryu Clan is surely not so weak herself,” Kirumi comments, smoothing out the folds in her mother’s dress. “Despite being the same age, I wouldn’t be so foolish to believe I am stronger than her in a physical encounter—but I am not helpless.”
Natsumi looks over at her father again. “Papa, are you seriously going to let—”
Kuzuryu raises a hand, which silences her. “Intriguing. Why do you stand?”
“I am only going to offer you tea.” With one hand, Kirumi gestures to the tea kettle left on Headmaster Kirigiri’s desk. “It is a maid’s courtesy.”
Silence settles among the group. Pekoyama and Fuyuhiko also turn to stare at Kuzuryu, as if waiting for him to react before they decide how they feel themselves. It’s an interesting sight, surely; three potential students of Hope’s Peak Academy, three future elites, all turning to the same man for guidance. Truly, just the right man to be the heir of the Kuzuryu Clan.
“Prepare it in front of me,” commands Kuzuryu, leaning back in his seat. “For precaution’s sake.”
The very idea of poisoning one of Hope’s Peak Academy’s main sources of income is something beyond ludicrous. To disrupt the grand operation that this school has to offer is something against Kirumi’s moral code; to cross Hope’s Peak Academy and the largest operating clan in Japan would nearly disrupt the nation as they see it today. Many things have to happen underground to keep the peace on the surface.
But to soothe Kuzuryu, she complies. “Understood.”
As she passes Kizakura and Kirigiri to fetch the kettle, she spots the both of them exchange glances. Earlier, Kizakura had sounded so unconcerned and confident—now, his expression closer resembles the Headmaster’s. He swallows dryly, shifting his gaze towards Kuzuryu again.
“So, about your children’s enrollment,” he starts, carrying on with the meeting. “Per tradition, Fuyuhiko will receive his acceptance letter as the Ultimate Yakuza.”
Fuyuhiko nods as he hears his own name, though he’s quiet in the presence of his father. He leans forward in his seat, resting his arms on the table, seemingly paying closer attention now.
“Don’t undermine my boy’s efforts,” says Kuzuryu. “I wouldn’t push for this meeting if I didn’t have faith that Fuyuhiko can live up to his title. He’ll be a fine heir to the Clan, the day it’s his turn to step up.”
Kirumi carries the electric stove to the center of the table, carefully balancing the kettle and the tea ingredients on top of it. She unravels the electric cord with a practiced swiftness, staying out of the conversation as the discussion carries onward.
“I don’t doubt it,” says Kizakura with his signature easy grin.
(Out of the corner of her eye, Fuyuhiko swallows dryly, his expression tightening. He says nothing.)
“And as for Pekoyama,” Kirigiri adds on. “Following her father’s footsteps, she’ll be titled the Ultimate Swordsman.”
Pekoyama stiffens at that, her red eyes glancing towards Kuzuryu.
“Swordswoman,” he corrects on her behalf.
“Swordswoman,” Kirigiri repeats, scribbling something in his notes. “Very sorry.”
“A common mistake,” Kuzuryu replies, sounding mostly unbothered. “But Pekoyama is rather sensitive about that. Let it not be forgotten that she is not a man.”
As Kirumi plugs in the electric stove, she moves the plate of tea ingredients onto the table’s surface and sets the blue kettle in the center of the one of the burners. She clicks it on. She doesn't miss the way Fuyuhiko glances at Pekoyama following the clarification, and the way one of he drops one of his hands under the table to reach out towards her.
“What about me?” Natsumi shifts to the edge of her seat.
Kizakura taps his knuckles on the table, his other hand tugging at his collar. “Uh… Kuzuryu Natsumi, right?”
“That's right,” she insists.
Kirumi prepares the tea swiftly. She collects a healthy scoop of the dried chamomile flowers and opens the kettle lid to toss them in, then begins to set out the teacups. She begins to make her way around the table, starting with the Kuzuryus’ side.
(Pekoyama carefully moves her hand away from Fuyuhiko's, not tearing her gaze away from the ongoing conversation. Fuyuhiko, on the other hand, watches Kirumi as she passes by. She does not make eye contact with him.)
“Well, Miss Natsumi, I can't say I know.” Kizakura awkwardly glances back at Kirigiri, who only nods in encouragement. “I can't say I have any eye on your achievements yet, but that can always change in the next year.”
Kirumi knows that it's highly unlikely. Hope's Peak Academy is the type of school that keeps careful track of their future potential Ultimates; those with the capability have eyes on them from a very young age. If Kirumi had to guess, Pekoyama and Fuyuhiko have likely been on the talent radar since before they could walk, given their families’ history. If Natsumi hadn't joined them by now…
“It's no matter,” says her father, placing a hand on top of Natsumi's as if to reassure her, all without looking at her directly. “Regardless, she will be attending Hope's Peak Academy. This year, regular teenagers will be able to begin attending the school, yes?”
“Yes,” Headmaster Kirigiri confirms. “To raise further funding for some of the other projects Hope's Peak Academy is working on behind the scenes. It's a hefty tuition, but one that is worth it.”
“Of course. I expect nothing less of Hope's Peak Academy, so long as the primary funding goes towards the Main Course.” Kuzuryu reaches his hand to rest on Natsumi's shoulder. “Nonethess, my Natsumi will be attending the Reserve Course herself, should she not be scouted by next year.”
(“I will be scouted,” Natsumi mutters, glancing to the side. Her father gingerly pats her shoulder.)
The kettle has broken out into a boil by the time Kirumi has circled back around, and she carefully grasps the handle as she turn off the stove. Despite Kuzuryu having largely paid attention to the conversation with the two school officials, he doesn't cast any doubt upon her as she circles around the table again, carefully pouring the chamomile tea into each cup. The smell of it begins to waft through the air more intensely, providing this somewhat soothing effect. Kirumi hadn't quite realized she'd been so tense this whole time, but she begins to relax somewhat as she inhales the steam from the tea. As she pours a final cup for Headmaster Kirigiri, she finds herself more at ease.
“If anyone wants seconds, please let me know,” Kirumi says finally, setting the kettle back on the electric stove. “I also have sugar and honey for anyone's disposal.”
Fuyuhiko motions her over. “I'll take some of both,” he says, though he keeps his head lowered as if it were an embarrassing thing.
Pekoyama stares at him for a moment before chiming in, “I'll have some honey, myself.”
Following the two's requests, Kirumi delivers a bottle of honey and a small bowl of sugar, placing it between them to be administered as they please. She glances upward, across the table, to find Natsumi staring her down, green eyes mirroring the scales of snakes that she's seen only on old scrolls displayed in temples.
“I'll have sugar,” she says, glancing briefly at the other two, then back at Kirumi. “What do you do?”
“Me?” she replies, uncertain of what to make of her question.
“Yeah, you.” All the other eyes at the table flicker towards Kirumi, the spotlight falling unto her. “Mr. Kizakura said he handpicked you for today's meeting, right? But you're my age. What do you get out of this?”
Headmaster Kirigiri taps the table with one finger, signalling Kizakura to jump in. Fuyuhiko holds onto the sugar bowl with one hand, gripping a stirrer with the other. “Natsumi,” he whisper-yells, like it's a warning.
(Kuzuryu doesn't necessarily do anything about this. He watches the exchange unfold carefully. Natsumi has his eyes, Kirumi notices; he watches her with that very same gaze, though there's more curiosity embedded in his. As for his daughter, there's a strange disdain in her features.)
“Tojo's services are of importance. She gets paid fairly for her time today,” Kizakura explains, stirring his tea a little loudly as if that would shake the attention off Kirumi. “If she does well today, we'll take it into consideration to potentially scout her come next year.”
“So, she's not confirmed to be enrolled, either?” Natsumi asks, glaring at Kizakura.
He manages a more serious gaze in return as he replies, “It'd be unfair to solidify any student's enrollment in advance. It's protocol.”
(Headmaster Kirigiri anxiously clicks his pen. Kirumi senses something wrong with that sentiment, but it's not her place to say.)
“Pray tell, if she were to be scouted,” pushes Natsumi. “What would her title even be? Ultimate… Meeting Overseer? Tea Maker?” She lifts her cup of tea for emphasis.
This is the first time that Kirumi has heard of any of this. She wasn't aware that today's meeting would be playing a role in future as well—though it only makes sense that she wasn't told in advance. The purpose is to watch over her natural talent; how her skill manifests when she doesn't know she's being monitored specifically. As a maid, she's often subjected to cameras in her clients’ homes that watch her as she works, to ensure she keeps to her duty and no less and no more. Under Kizakura and Kirigiri's rule for the day, she figures this camera is none other than their watchful gazes themselves.
“The Ultimate Maid,” Kizakura answers, a smile crossing his face again.
Natsumi's face contorts into an emotion that Kirumi can't make out very well. Before she can say anything else, however, her father chimes in.
“Only the Ultimate Maid?” he wonders aloud, taking a sip of his tea. “See, the thing is, I'm familiar with Tojo's father. Fantastic politician he is. He listens well when I request him to… let's say, take care of things.” Kuzuryu looks at Kirumi, a grin crossing his features as well. “Tojo Kirumi takes after him well.”
Something about that stirs something inside Kirumi, as if Kuzuryu had taken his stirrer and swirled the acid in her stomach. She didn't grow up with her father; allegedly, he'd left her mother when she was pregnant, and denied having any relations with her to the public. They were never married. No matter what her mother did, she couldn't touch him in the public's eye.
Her father is a corrupt man. Kuzuryu Kouji is proof of that.
“I have no interest in politics myself,” Kirumi says, slowly returning to her seat beside Headmaster Kirigiri. “My mother is a maid herself. I simply take after her work. It's all I know, and it is a duty I take to everyday. I am honored to continue her work so she can rest at home.”
Headmaster Kirigiri is scribbling notes again. She tries not to pay him any mind. Today's meeting should not have been about her, and yet, Kirigiri and Kizakura seem to be taking more notes on her performance than the Kuzuryus sat across the table.
If the man at the other end of the table minds, he doesn't show it. His eyes are still on Kirumi. “Is that right?” he asks. “Was your mother also known for her maid work? I knew I recognized your surname.”
Kirumi stiffens again. “I am different from my mother in many ways,” she insists, keeping her voice level. She looks away from Natsumi, who is burning holes into her in search for some kind of opening. “I have my boundaries for requests I won't take on. I am not a desperate woman.”
Silence settles among the group. Finally, Fuyuhiko gently pushes the bowl of sugar towards Natsumi. She does not take it.
Headmaster Kirigiri clicks his pen one final time, then stands from his chair abruptly. There's a sharp clearing of his throat, followed by the adjustment of his paperwork as he straightens it. “If there's nothing else to discuss,” he says, forcing a tight smile at Kuzuryu, “then I suppose this meeting is over. How was your tea? I had the recipe prepared from my late wife.”
His attempt to sway the discussion now isn't very effective. Regardless, Kuzuryu finishes his tea and adjusts his tie as he stands. “It's very good. You serve the same tea every year, Jin.”
Kirigiri's smile draws thin.
“I'm not sure what your Ultimate Maid has added to it,” he continues, “but it's well-made. Should she get scouted, I'll be keeping a close eye on her.”
The other three follow suit with Kuzuryu standing up; Pekoyama finishes her tea and neatly balances the stirrer on top, Fuyuhiko leaves his half-finished, and Natsumi completely leaves hers untouched. She's the first to start towards the door. Fuyuhiko looks at his father, who nods in his direction, and follows after her—then, Pekoyama follows.
Kuzuryu waits until the doors swing shut to add one last note. “I apologize for my daughter's prying. She's very eager to follow in her brother's footsteps, you see.”
There isn't another word said as the man looks over at Kirumi one more time, then exits the room after his children. The three that remain in the room stay silent until the door swings shut, and Kuzuryu's footsteps disappear into the hallway.
“You don't need to worry about him,” Headmaster Kirigiri says, in his vague attempt to be comforting. His uncertainty ruins any impact that his words could have.
Another beat of silence passes. Then, Kizakura slams his palms onto the table, rattling the teacups as he stands and stretches. “Well, that went well!”
On the surface, it did.
But Kirumi has a sneaking suspicion that there is more in store for her in the coming year.
As a maid, she will have to bear any duty bestowed upon her.
As the Ultimate Maid, she will insist upon that duty.