Blue Eyed Souls, Prologue

"Stop, kidnapper!"

In one of Higan Academy's many hallways, an unreasonable allegation cuts through the student's—

No, wait....

"Are we seriously doing this again?"

"Ehe~!"

Madoka stops doing that stupid X with her arms, tough act dissolving in a fit of giggles.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! You should've seen the look on your face, Momo!"

She turns her beaming smile to my so-called victim.

"Don't worry, Pafe-tan! I'm here to save you!"

Sukemori offers her a polite smile. "Good afternoon, Onguuchi-san. Thank you for your concern."

Ugh. She's encouraging this. Not on my watch.

"Don't let her think she's funny."

With a firm grip on her sleeve, I start walking again. Sukemori doesn't struggle, keeping pace with this little half-skip every couple steps.

Madoka falls into step on my other side, still grinning. "C'mon, lighten up!"

"Can't. At this rate you'll have half the school thinking I'm really kidnapping people."

She has the gall to wave me off with those painted nails of hers. "Oh, please. Like you're one to care about those sorts of rumors. Aren't you the one always whining about your street cred whenever I try to put makeup on you?"

"Hn. Whatever."

She ain't wrong. Let them think I'm a one-woman-kidnapping-ring. The opinions of shrimps too nosy to buy into rumors and too wimpy to verify them are worth less than this school's dress code.

"Sooo," Madoka draws out, leaning forward slightly to look past me and at Sukemori. "Whatcha two up to?"

"Cleanup," I provide, feeling my scowl grow. "The hideout's a disaster zone. Can't make it two steps without tripping over Fumiko's scrap metal or one of Dawn's empty soda cans."

Sukemori nods vigorously beside me. Are her eyes sparkling...?

"It's truly a monumental task. The state of disrepair you've described... the layers of dust and grime... all a testament to the harsh realities of life in a Forbidden District such as Fujiwara. I'm truly honored to be of assistance in restoring a part of such a historic community."

Heh. Historic community. That sure is a way of spinning things.

Madoka, however, is not so easily convinced. "I thought Alyona-chan and Renka-chan were handling the cleaning as part of their... community service?" she probes, her tone carefully neutral.

Right. "They were. They are," I correct myself. "And they were on decent pace."

Until someone kidnapped Alyona's mom and she went off on her own like an idiot. Cleanup... was the last thing on my mind then.

Still, by the time everything was solved, dust had gathered everywhere again, and all the work my maids put in was undone.

Now, the end of the month approaches, and so does the end to their detentions.

"I need it done faster." And I can't expect them to give it their all after that ordeal. "So I'm bringing in Sukemori here."

"You can count on me, Chikata-san," the girl beams, her voice full of a deeply suspicious conviction. "I will have the entire warehouse sorted, cataloged, and optimized for maximum efficiency before the sun sets."

I hold back a snort. "Yeah, we'll see about that." Hearing about the place is one thing, seeing it is another.

We reach a junction in the hallways where the flow of students splits, and Madoka lets out a dramatic sigh.

"This is my stop. Student council budget meetings wait for no one, not even for my bestie's cleaning adventures."

"Hey."

My voice stops her before she can skip off.

"Swing by the hideout later."

She pauses, tilting her head. "Oh? Need my legendary gyaru decoration skills too?"

"Something like that. I've got a... different task for you. Just show up."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world! Bye, Momo! Bye, Pafe-tan!" With a final, cheerful wave, she bounces away and melts into the crowd, leaving me alone with my latest... recruit? Volunteer?

Eh, as long as she's here it doesn't really matter.

Most students have already fled the premises, or fled from me, so the halls are quieter now. I take Sukemori to a classroom on the second floor, near the faculty offices. The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open without ceremony.

The scene inside is one of profound boredom. At three separate desks, Alyona, Renka, and Archie sit in detention under the weary gaze of a middle-aged teacher grading papers at his desk.

Alyona's back is ramrod straight, her expression one of icy endurance. Renka's doodling something in the margin of her textbook.

Archie... that guy is just asleep. Right in front of the teacher too. Respect.

Takatomi-sensei glances up, his expression souring further when he sees me, if that's even possible.

I don't enjoy looking at your ugly mug either, old man.

"Can I help you, Chikata?"

"Community service." I jerk a thumb towards the door. "I'm here to collect Rodionova and Cho. Their sentences continue off-campus."

He lets out a sigh he must've been holding for a while, muttering something about delinquents managing delinquents, which is perfect logic in my books.

"Fine. Get them out of my hair."

In the end, he waves me off as always.

"C'mon," I call to the two girls. "We're burning daylight."

Alyona stands, smoothing down her skirt with a flick of her wrist before carefully placing her textbook into her bag. Renka simply closes her book, her single eye crinkling slightly. Archie... continues to sleep. Massive respect.

I turn and leave. Three sets of footsteps follow.

Shame, though. It could have been four. The big oaf would've been useful to haul off the heavier stuff. But I didn't rope him into this at the start, so I won't do it now.

It's simple math. Renka subjected me to that soul-sucking, frilly-nightmare, and Alyona was the one giving the orders. Archie? He didn't piss me off on that level. And being brutally practical, they probably didn't have a maid outfit his size.

Ugh... what a mental image. Never going there again.

Out in the hallway, I face the three of them. I figure they all know each other already, so I go straight to the point.

"Sukemori," I say, gesturing at the other two. "Alyona and Renka have been handling the cleanup so far. They're the reason there's a path through the rubble."

Then, I turn to the other two.

"Sukemori's joining the effort from now on."

Alyona glares at me, blue eyes flashing with instant, prickly pride.

"Excuse me?"

Here we go.

"Are Renka and I not enough? Must you assemble a whole crew to witness our humiliation?"

... The hell? This is what she's upset about? More manpower? A breather?!

Beside the brat, Renka's lips quirk into a faint smile. "My, my, Momofuu-ki. Such an insatiable beast. Is our sweat and toil not enough to sate you?"

And what the hell is that even supposed to mean?

"You were at a good pace," I force myself to repeat, swallowing a few choice words. Be nice, Momofuku. Be nice. Her mother was kidnapped not long ago. "But I need it done faster. Your detention's almost up, which means our little deal is almost up. I want my hideout clean before then."

Alyona scoffs, crossing her arms. "We would have been finished already if you weren't constantly hovering over me, criticizing my every move! That bokken of yours is a menace!"

"[Tsuzumi Masamune] is a weapon of the righteous! A-And what I did is called tough love!"

"You mean corporal punishment. Don't try to dress it up."

Oh, that is just rich coming from her. "Well it was working, wasn't it? You got way less clumsy after a good spank."

If she had a little more time to improve, I might've started praising her instea...

Wait.

I lean closer to the blond, my voice lowering. "Hey, shouldn't you be happy? An extra pair of hands means you get out of this sooner."

Unless...

"Are you actually starting to like it?"

Her face floods with color. A brilliant, satisfying, tell-tale crimson.

"D-Don't be absurd!" she sputters, composure shattering.

It all makes sense now. I should have seen it earlier. When you compare it to sitting in a classroom doing nothing for hours, or picking trash while every student in Higan can see you, serving as my private maid is such a better deal.

No wonder she's so adamant about it. In my attempt to hand her a worse punishment than Higan's, I was actually throwing her a softball!

Should I hand her back to detention to teach her a lesson?

"I am only doing this out of pity! The sheer, unadulterated filth you and your gang call a hideout is a violation of basic human rights! It would be a moral failure on my part to let you continue living in that... that pigsty!"

I should. I really should. Sukemori and I could totally handle the rest ourselves. Hell, I could do it all alone if I wanted to.

"And by saying it's still a pigsty, you're admitting to your subpar cleaning skills. But don't worry, I get it now. If this is how you want to wind down after a tough battle, I'll be a very magnanimous master today."

Yeah... I don't need or want her as my maid or anything like that. Really, I'm the one doing her a favor here.

"You...!"

"Please, Rodionova-san," Sukemori interjects before Alyona can explode again, offering a small bow. "I have no intention of usurping your or Cho-san's positions. You have seniority in this endeavor, and I am sure your foundational work has been invaluable."

That seems to suck the air right out of her sails. She snaps her mouth shut and looks away, cheeks still flushed.

"Hmph!"

Renka, who had been watching this like it's her favorite comedy show, gives Sukemori a nod. "A most reasonable and welcome offer. We look forward to working with you, Sukemori-san."

Alright. "Now that we've got the introductions and the whining out of the way, let's move."

As always, the transition from Higan's polished stone paths to Fujiwara's cracked asphalt is sharp and stark. The air changes when we cross into my turf. It's grittier, sure, but it's home. Unlike the teachers glaring at me or the students cowering away, the few people out on the street brighten up when they see me.

"Momofuu-ki! Back already?"

"Looking sharp, Boss!"

"Good afternoon, Momo-chan!"

I acknowledge all their greetings as best as I can. It ends up as a series of curt nods and short grunts, but they don't mind.

They know me.

"Momofuu-ki!"

So does whoever's tugging at my skirt. A kid, can't be older than six, his face streaked with dirt and panic.

"You gotta help! Bontan got stuck on the big tree in the park and he won't come down!" he wails, pointing a trembling finger down a side street.

"Show me," I grunt, and his face immediately lights up.

He scrambles ahead. I follow him, and so does my cleanup crew.

We arrive at what could charitably be called a park. A patch of bald, struggling grass amongst the dirt, a pair of rusted swings, and one tall, spindly tree that's holding on out of sheer spite. Sure enough, perched on a high branch is a chubby black cat, mewling pitifully.

Bontan. Hate that cat. He's too fat for a forbidden district animal. I suspect he's been stealing food from his brothers and sisters.

"Alright, here's the plan," I announce, cracking my knuckles. "Imma go up there and spook that glutton. Whoever's closest catches him when he jumps."

"Are you insane?" Of course, the little princess balks at my efficiency. "A frightened animal will claw our faces to ribbons! We require proper equipment, a net, or—"

I swarm up the tree trunk and haul myself up the lowest branch. Bontan puffs up to twice his size and hisses at me, the little shit.

Get down, fatass!

A single glare has him yowling and launching himself into the air, and at my three helpers.

Alyona flinches back, arms protecting her face.

Renka takes a measured step to the side.

Sukemori though... she acts. From some hidden pocket of her impeccably clean uniform, she pulls out a small, folded towel, and fluidly steps into the cat's trajectory, catching and bundling the furball before its claws can find anything.

Smooth.

I land with a dull crunch on the dirt. Sukemori is already cooing to the gluttonous beast, offering him one of those lickable treats. The frantic wriggling stops, replaced by soft purring as she presents Bontan to the boy.

"Here you go. He was very brave."

The kid beams, clutching his cat. "Thank you, Momofuu-ki! Thank you, Nee-san!" And then he's off, running home.

"... why," Alyona begins, "are you carrying cat treats?"

"Because they don't take up space and are useful if you find a wild animal."

They all turn to me.

What? The logic is sound.

"Good thinking," I nod at Sukemori. "Prepared. I like that."

She straightens up, and the look on her face is almost glowing.

Alyona glares flatly at me.

"Only you ever have to worry about wild animals. The rest of us live in a slightly more civilized world."

"You're standing in the middle of a forbidden zone, dumbass. Like it or not, you're part of my world for now."

Renka chimes in with that infuriatingly serene smile. "It does make one wonder... if this is your reality, Momofuu-ki... are you, too, carrying treats in your pockets? Just in case?"

"..."

"..."

Shit. I took too long to answer. The other two are staring now.

"... None of your damn business," I tell all of them, shoving my hands in my pockets and nudging the crinkled bag of dried fish bits in case they notice.

The ensuing silence is louder than any accusation.

They know.

"Let's go!"

I stomp back toward the hideout, scratching at my neck, but it's too late. My skin was already red beforehand.

We barely make it ten steps before another voice calls out.

"Momo-chan! Thank goodness!"

Hanekawa from the market hurries towards me, clutching a faded dress shirt with a nasty tear down the sleeve.

"Please, could you take this to your grandmother? I need it mended by tonight—it's for my son's job interview tomorrow morning," she pleads, thrusting the shirt towards me.

I reach for it, but my hand meets another on the way. Sukemori.

"May I?" she asks, and doesn't elaborate. Hanekawa is still staring at me, waiting for an answer, so I just nod and take a step back, letting Sukemori take the stage.

She examines the tear, then rummages through her bottomless bag. A second later, she's holding a... needle and a spool of thread that somehow matches the shirt's fabric.

How in the—

The needle flashes in the afternoon light. Sukemori's hands become a blur, stitching a line so neat and tight it could pass off as machine-made. In less than a minute, she's done, handing the perfectly repaired shirt to Hanekawa.

"Th-thank you! Oh, thank you so much!" the woman stammers, bowing repeatedly before scurrying off.

I stare at the seamstress, who's smiling at the direction Hanekawa went. Granny isn't home and I didn't want to take a clean shirt to the dirty place we're going, so this was a good surprise.

"Are you in an Arts and Crafts club or something?"

The question slips off before I can help it. She turns to me and shakes her head.

"Oh, no," she waves me off, tucking her sewing kit away. "It's merely a hobby I picked up long ago."

There's no way it's been years since she used these skills.

"Are you being fake humble or real humble?"

She blinks at my question, and honestly, it was kind of a dumb one. "Nevermind, don't answer that... good job."

I pat her on the shoulder and move on.

However, the rest of our walk becomes a bizarre parade of problem-solving. It seems the whole ward decided today was the day to have their minor crises.

First, Hosomatsu from the general store flags me down, annoyed by a stuck, rusted window store. While I'm sizing the thing up for a good kick, Sukemori produces a small can of lubricating oil from her school bag and has it sliding smoothly in seconds.

A few minutes later, Takatomi runs up, panicking about his last-minute middle school science project. Sukemori, without missing a beat, pulls out a roll of high-quality poster board, a set of fine-line markers, and a tube of strong adhesive. She fixes his mock schematic and even leaves him a little graphic explaining it.

Then comes Furuida-san and her crybaby toddler, this time whining about how he dropped his favorite action figure down a storm drain. With her ever-present smile, Sukemori assembles a makeshift retrieval tool using a collapsible rod, magnet, and a spool of string, fishing the toy out in under thirty seconds.

I can only try to hold my jaw in place when it's all over. I dragged her here today because she lent me a pen once, and everyone is always talking about how helpful she is, but it turns out she's the most useful person in Kageoka. How did this girl even come to be? I know she's rich like Alyona, but these types get tutoring to learn the piano or painting on a canvas, not carry lubricating oil in their bags!

Before I can ask, the hulking, grey shape of my hideout comes into view. The heavy door answers with its usual groan as I shove it open, and I'm greeted with the familiar scent of dust, oil, and teen spirit.

"You two know the drill," I tell my senior helpers, gesturing to where the cleaning supplies are kept. The two shuffle off, with Alyona shooting me an angry look.

I ignore her and turn to Sukemori, sweeping a hand to encompass the chaos. Piles of scrap metal and wooden crates form miniature mountain ranges, and the less said about Fumiko's workbench, the better.

"Well, this is it. The plan is to have one living area for each major member, plus a central meeting space for everyone. But I'm having trouble managing the space for it all," I admit, scuffing my shoe against the floor to get rid of a weight that I swear wasn't there before. What the hell did I step on? It better not be gum.

Sukemori nods at my explanation, looking... way less disgusted than expected.

Her eyes scan the warehouse, taking in high ceilings, the metal catwalks ringing the second level, and the vast, yet cluttered floor. Nodding to herself, she pulls out a notepad and pencil, because of course she does.

"The solution is vertical and zonal organization," she starts, pencil flying across the page. "Place the large meeting table here, at the very center."

A rectangle is drawn in the middle of the page, followed by four others.

"Then, we position four individual living areas in each corner of the main floor. That leaves ample walking space. Finally," her pencil taps the catwalks, "We utilize the second level. We can arrange two more private living spaces up there."

Six living areas and a meeting space. That... that's enough for everyone! Hell, there will still be one space left over.

Why didn't I think of using the catwalks too? It was so obviously perfect. This girl's a friggin' genius!

"Yeah... yeah, this can work."

Who the hell am I putting up there, though? Fumiko's junk will never fit up these narrow stairs, and Madoka... well, she's the life of the party. I can't relegate her to a perch or she might get some weird ideas like hanging off the ceiling and pretending she's a disco ball.

"Dawn and I will take the spots up top," I decide, Sukemori's sketch burning into my head. "Now let's get this started..."

I trail off as two figures emerge from the corner. Alyona and Renka, each holding a bucket and a rag.

And they're in full regalia.

I never get tired of this. Alyona's is all black and white frills, the skirt dangerously short, the apron tied in a prim little bow at her back. It clashes so perfectly with that princess-like attitude she has. Renka's is much the same, but unlike Alyona, she doesn't try to fight against the subservient image, wearing it quietly and effectively.

Alyona notices my smirk and pointedly looks away, while Renka smiles back, unbothered.

Sukemori, who had been studying her blueprint, blinks. She looks at them, then at me, then back at them.

"My apologies, Chikata-san," she says with a polite bow. "If you will excuse me for one moment."

... I completely forgot to tell her about this, didn't I. Before I can explain, she hurries off behind a tall stack of wooden crates.

"See" Alyona hisses, her voice a low whisper beside me. "You've weirded out the poor girl with your... your proclivities!"

But wait, I'm not the only guilty one here!

"I didn't even tell you to put those on today!" I snap back, my face hot. "When I said you know the drill I meant you know where the supplies are! You two did this all on your own!"

Her scowl deepens, and her mouth opens for a retort, but it will be forever lost, because at that moment, Sukemori steps out from behind the crates.

In a maid uniform.

It's completely different from the others. It's more modest, less ostentatiously frilly, yet undeniably, categorically a maid's outfit. Complete with a pristine white apron. She's even got a little white headdress perched perfectly in her hair.

She's... immaculate. It's like she stepped out of a high-end catalog for domestic service.

"Where...?"

"How did you...?"

"Your bag...!"

Under our fractured questions, Sukemori looks down at her outfit, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle.

"I folded it neatly."

THAT DOESN'T EXPLAIN ANYTHING!

Renka turns a single, wide eye towards me. "My sincerest apologies, Momofuu-ki."

Why am I the one being pitied here?!

"It seems our battle has irrevocably damaged your tastes."

"I didn't know!" I tell her, smacking her hand off my shoulder. "Do you think I went through potential helpers asking if they had a maid outfit at hand?!"

Sukemori nods, confirming my story. As she damn well should! "It is true. I seldom wear this uniform when assisting others at Higan. However, upon seeing my seniors, I felt it was only proper to match the established dress code."

Senior... maids... dress... code...

The room is spinning. My brain is short-circuiting. I pinch the bridge of my nose, defeating the incoming headache. You've handled yourself in the [Idea World]. You will not succumb to this madness. This is your life now.

"Alright, enough standing around!" I roar, shoving down the weird flutter in my chest. "Alyona, start scrubbing the southeast corner. Renka, same on northeast. Sukemori, you're with me on clearing the central area for the table. Move!"

I throw myself into blissfully mind-numbing menial work, hauling crates and shifting scrap metal to clear the spaces we mapped out. However, my eyes keep drifting back to Sukemori. Partly to make sure the newbie isn't messing up. And partly because I'm still trying to process the uniform.

But the longer I watch, the more I can't take my eyes away.

It's a performance. Her movements are so fluid and unhurried, yet she covers ground at an alarming pace. Where Alyona would fuss over a single spot for minutes, she glides along in a single, efficient pass that leaves everything gleaming. She organizes the chaos with intuition bordering on magic. Her hands never fumble. Her body never wastes a single motion. Through it all, there's a quiet aura, a subtle sense of pride I couldn't feel beforehand from her. And the way the dark fabric of her dress swishes with her movements, the way the light catches the white lace... it's... it's...!

I used to think the maid thing was just a good punishment game.

Watching Sukemori, I see the truth. It's about... dedication. Perfection. Skill. Beauty.

... oh, no.

Is Renka right? Is my head actually broken? Can I be fixed?

... Is that Alyona messing up again?!

"Stop!" I'm across the room in three long strides, horror fueling my veins. She stops sweeping at Fumiko's workbench, gathering all the components into a single plastic bag.

"Don't mix this crap together!" I snatch the bag from her, making her flinch. "This pile is Fumiko's, that one's for Dawn's projects. It'll be a nightmare to sort out later!"

Her face screws up in frustration. "You didn't tell me that! How was I supposed to know?"

"I didn't order you to start cleaning here yet!"

"I already finished the area you did assign me!" she fires back, jabbing a finger towards the now-gleaming concrete she'd been working on. "I moved on! You would have noticed if you hadn't been ogling Sukemori for the past hour!"

"T-The hell are you talking about?! I was just making sure she could handle herself!"

Ah, why am I even arguing about this?!

"Forget it, c'mere."

"H-Hey! Unhand me, you brute...!"

I grab the protesting girl by the wrist and drag her away from the technological minefield.

For the remainder of the cleanup, I try to keep my focus on Alyona. Sure, I bark orders at Renka and Sukemori when I need to, but my main mission is to supervise the princess and make sure she doesn't mess it up and blame it on me.

But now, thanks to my stupid epiphany, I can't unsee the truth.

Even when she's clumsy, there's a... seriousness to it. She frowns in concentration as she tries to heave a piece of sheet metal, her brow furrowed. She huffs in frustration when a tire rolls away from her, but she always goes after it, her frilly skirt swishing with the motion.

She's trying. She's actually trying to do this menial work properly, even though she's clearly unused to every second of it. The dedication of a maid is there, buried under a mountain of entitlement and bad attitude. It's... it's...

Cute—

Oh, hell no. This is a crisis. This is an unprecedented crisis—

"Must you hover over me?" The source of the crisis whines, bringing me back to this unfair reality.

"I don't need babysitting, you know!"

I start looking and she complains, I stop looking and she complains, how can one girl be so annoying!

"Could've fooled me!" I shoot back, the familiar bickering replaces any worries about my psyche.

Finally, after an eternity of herding cats—one incredibly efficient cat, one sinisterly competent cat, and one utterly useless, infuriating, good-for-nothing-except-looking-cute cat—

The work is done.

I stand back, hands on my hips, and survey the first floor.

At the very center of the vast space sits a large, round wooden table, scavenged and cleaned to a respectable sheen. This is our new meeting ground, a place for the Fujiwara Senki to gather.

In the corner by the main entrance, Fumiko's workbench stands as a proper garage area, her tools and components sorted into neat containers instead of chaotic piles. Directly opposite, in the farthest corner, Sukemori constructed an improvised bar counter from sturdy wooden crates. A mini-fridge hums quietly beside it, surrounded by a collection of mismatched beanbag chairs and the one ratty couch we managed to salvage. This is unmistakably Madoka's domain, a place for others to wind down after a tense reunion or blood-pumping fistfight.

One of the remaining corners is spartan, containing only a single, neatly rolled futon. When he gets here, he can add his own stuff to it.

The fourth and final corner is left purposefully empty, a blank canvas for... who's next to come.

I take a slow lap around the place for comparison's sake. I check every cleared-out nook, every newly organized crate, every sign of order when there was only chaos days, no, hours ago. Even the air itself is lighter now, less stale and suffocating.

My circuit ends at the meeting table, where Alyona and Renka sag on their chairs, their frilly outfits looking decidedly less crisp after hours of labor.

I walk over and put a hand on each of their shoulders. They both startle, looking up at me.

"You two," I say, my voice gruffer than I intended. "Not bad. Seriously. This place doesn't look like a dump anymore, and you didn't break anything important while you were at it."

Renka's lips quirk slightly. "Thank you. It is... satisfying to see the fruits of one's labor."

Alyona, predictably, tilts her chin up, a haughty sniff doing little to hide the faint flush of pleasure on her cheeks. "Hmph. Not bad...? you're the one who did the least here, you know."

I roll my eyes and move on, my focus shifting to the last maid. Sukemori stands a few feet away, not a hair out of place, not a speck of dust in her uniform.

"You. Great job, too. I knew I could count on you."

I stop before her and point behind her, at the unoccupied corner of the hideout. "See that? It's got your name on it."

As she whips her head back to me, I now point directly at her.

"I want you. In the Fujiwara Senki. Full-time."

"Huh? I-I'm flattered, Chikata-san, but... why me? I'm not exactly the greatest street-fighter..."

"Who gives a damn about that?"

Half of my main members don't even fight, either.

"You're too useful for your own damn good," I tell her, crossing my arms. "Sooner or later, everyone at Higan is gonna be pulling you in a thousand directions for your little hobbies. They'll use you up. I'm doing you a favor. Under my wing, you're protected."

From her seat, Alyona lets out a dry, snide laugh. "Don't listen to her, Sukemori. She just wants to hoard you for herself."

"It's not hoarding if it's for her own good!" I snap back before turning to Sukemori again.

"I... I don't mind being of use to others," she says.

"So you won't mind being useful to the gang, right? Sides, I'm not gonna stop you from helping other people. It's what we're all about. But I'll make damn sure no one takes advantage of how nice you are."

Sukemori looks between me and Alyona, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

"Well... if you put it that way... it can't be helped, can it?"

Clutching at her apron, she bows her head slightly.

"Then, please treat me well, Boss."

Success!

"Helloooo~!"

The sound of the warehouse door sliding open cuts through the moment.

"I come bearing rewards for the hardworking cleaning crew!"

Madoka strolls in, pulling a small cart loaded with fuzzy, cold beverages. Behind her is Dawn, holding a plastic bag bulging with more of her gizmos. The former parks her cart in between us.

"Drinks on me! You've all earned it!"

A collective sigh of relief goes through the room. I reach for the grape soda, my favorite.

Another hand, pale and delicate, has the same idea.

We both freeze, our eyes and fingers meeting.

I recognize the tiredness in her blue eyes, and with a grunt, I grab the can.

"Here." I shove it into Alyona's hand. "Don't say I never give you anything."

Her fingers close around the cold metal, her expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. She doesn't thank me, just gives a short, sharp nod before turning away.

I grab a cola for myself, popping the tab and taking a long, cold sip. The warehouse is clean, my gang is growing, and I did promise grandma I would go easier on the sugar, so there.

"Perfect timing, you two." I gesture with my can toward Sukemori. "Sukemori here just joined up."

Madoka's face lights up. "Really? Welcome to the crew, Pafe-tan!" she bounces over to the girl, and now I have to make my introductions lightning-fast before she drags her off.

"Sukemori, this is Madoka. She's our eyes and ears at Higan and handles... well, people stuff. And this is Dawn. She's our infiltration specialist. Gets in and out of anywhere, real ninja-like."

Dawn tugs at my uniform sleeve. I lean closer, and she brings her lips close to my ear, her voice a near-whisper.

"Boss. Why is she wearing a maid outfit?"

Her eyes are locked onto Sukemori.

"She did it to fit in," I answer, which is technically true.

Another tug. "Do I have to wear one?"

Dawn. In a maid outfit. A simple, dark one, similar to Renka's, but on her... with that quiet, serious expression—

"... No. Not at all, why?"

She doesn't reply, merely bending down to grab her own soda.

While Madoka happily chats with our newest recruit, Alyona and Renka approach me. Alyona has that look on her face, a carefully constructed mask of indifference telling me she's about to try and weasel out of something.

"I suppose, now that you have your own personal live-in maid, our services will no longer be required?"

See?

"Oi, don't get ahead of yourself. I'm not letting you two off that easily."

I push Dawn towards Renka. "You Show Dawn to her spot on the second floor. She's taking one of the catwalk areas."

Renka gives a graceful nod. "Of course. This way, Belladonna-san." The two of them head for the metal stairs, leaving me alone with Alyona, with her slumped shoulders, her messy twintails, her sweaty brow, her rumpled outfit. Compared to that first day on the job, she looks a whole lot better.

She notices my stare and scowls. "What is it now?"

"You're sturdier," I comment, the words leaving my mouth before I can stop them. "You adapted. Not bad for a princess."

Her defensive posture falters. "I was trained from childhood to succeed my father," she says, her voice regaining some of its usual hauteur. "A little physical labor was never going to break me."

"But it couldn't have been the same as this," I point out.

Training to succeed a Bratva boss... I still can't accept it. Part of me knew she was a transfer student, that she'd leave when her studies finished... but now, knowing she doesn't want this future... that part of me dies bit by bit. Every day we get closer to finishing these three years at Higan, my resolve only grows.

I've made my offer at her mansion. And I meant it. When the time comes, her father will have to take her from my cold, dead hands.

"... no."

She breaks the silence with an admission so soft I almost miss it.

"It wasn't. In some ways, this is... better. Here, at least, I can see the result. A clean floor. A sorted shelf. Back home... it was an endless trail of violence. I rarely ever saw the people my father... dealt with, afterward. There was no end in sight."

Her blue eyes meet mine with a rare, unguarded curiosity.

"Have you ever felt something similar? Being stuck in your role?"

"No." The answer is immediate. "I live here. I see the results every day. The shop that stays open, the kid who gets his cat back, the old lady who gets her shirt mended."

Over half of these were from Sukemori's actions, but she's part of the gang now, so there.

"Your dad's an idiot," I tell her. "Everyone needs to be reminded of who they fight for once in a while."

A strange smile touches her lips. "You misunderstand. I did not fight my opposition. I crushed them."

And how'd it go when you had to fight instead of crush?

The taunt is right there on my tongue, but I bite it back. I don't know why, but it doesn't feel right.

"Does it change what I'm saying? Actually, if you're crushing people, all the more reason to have a reminder why you do it."

She huffs. "Right you are, I suppose. But I cannot take a stroll outside to see the fruits of my labor as you do. The moment I let my guard down, even in another country, you saw what happened. It was much worse in the motherland."

"Yeah, I saw what happened. You handled it. You, Renka, Archie, the council—"

"And you."

"And me," I nod. "So, go ahead and take all the strolls you want. I... I'm here to help. If danger's coming whether you stick to your role or not, you might as well not be miserable while you handle it."

That gets a laugh out of her. One I've never heard before. Usually she makes a grating, smug sound, but this is... softer.

"Hah... cavalier as always. Still, I do like the sound of that."

She lifts her soda can. "To not being miserable."

What a terrible toast.

"Kanpai."

I clink my cola against her grape soda, and together, we drink. The silence between us is almost pleasant.

"We're even."

I ruin it a few seconds later.

I should tell her. That she doesn't have to set foot here again unless she wants to. That she has already gone through enough shit. That she can try to live a normal life with her mom, and I'll protect her even if she wants nothing to do with me.

"But the second floor isn't done. I expect you and Renka to see this through. Not because I'm making you. Out of principle. You started the job, you finish it."

I'm not that eloquent, though.

Alyona's eyebrow arches.

"And what, pray tell, is in it for us, besides the satisfaction of adhering to your barbaric code?"

"Tch." Yeah, of course it can't be this simple. "Fine."

I raise a finger.

"I'll owe you one. A single favor."

Her blue eyes light up with immediate, mischievous potential, the gears in her head turning as she undoubtedly imagines something humiliating. Before she can speak it into existence, I add, "But I'm not playing dress-up with you."

She pouts, but it quickly turns into that smirk. "My, my. So quick to dish out humiliation, yet so reluctant to receive it. How hypocritical."

"Am I really dishing out anything at this point? You love the uniform. That's why you keep putting the damn thing on."

"Utter nonsense," she huffs. "But the favor... I will accept it."

I raise my soda can. She hesitates for a second, then toasts with me again.

"Deal," we say together.

"Momo~!"

The moment is broken as Madoka throws her arms around my neck from behind.

"This is so perfect! My very own little corner! I'm going to bring the cutest fairy lights and some floral prints tomorrow! You're the best!"

I grunt, extracting myself from her grip. "Yeah, yeah, I'm the greatest. But... do me a favor. Next time you see that idiot Shujinko, tell him to get his butt over here. He needs to bring his stuff."

Alyona, who had been watching the exchange with mild interest, frowns. "Why would the Student Council President need to bring his 'stuff' here?"

"His apartment burned down. Hasn't found a new one yet," I explain. And I couldn't very well offer him a landfill as a replacement.

Madoka tilts her head, her expression one of pure confusion. "Huh? But Momo, Shu-kun's already got a place."

Crack.

"... Elaborate," I ask, soda coating my fingers as the aluminum creaks in my hand.

"Oh, it was a whole thing with the council. But my family has, like, a ton of spare rooms too, so I offered, and that was that..."

Her chatter trails off as she finally notices the very real danger near her. However, instead of backing away, she gives me a grin that would be suicidal on anyone but her.

"Awwww, Momo! Don't tell me you did all this... for Shu-kun?"

"IT WAS FOR THE GANG! The place was a disaster! We needed to get organized! We just happened to end up with a spare room!"

I turn, ready to fling my ruined, dripping drink at the nearest trash bin—

But Sukemori is there, and I halt before she gets caught in my attack.

Big mistake. She plucks off the can from my hand and—

"H-Hey, stop that!"

With a small handkerchief, she delicately wipes the sticky cola from my fingers.

"Y-You don't have to! I can do that myself!" My traitorous voice stutters as I try to pull my hand back, but her grip is surprisingly firm.

"It is no trouble, Boss," she's not even looking up at me. "Please, allow me."

And then it's over.

I stand there, utterly defeated, my hand wiped by a maid in a warehouse I cleaned for someone who doesn't need it, while a Russian mob princess and a gyaru watch the entire spectacle. This must be Shujinko's fault somehow. His background radiation is turning my life into a circus.

The clang of footsteps on the metal stairs announces Renka and Dawn's return. Dawn looks... placid, as usual, but there's a slight softness around her eyes.

"Well?" I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets so no one may reach them. "The spot up there work for you?"

"Adequate. High ground. Good sightlines. Thank you, Boss."

At that moment, the roar of an engine cuts through the quiet, and Fumiko rolls her motorcycle right into the hideout, killing the engine with a final sputter.

"Yo."

Receiving a chorus of greetings, she swings her leg off the bike, pulling off her helmet and letting out a low, appreciative whistle as her eyes scan the transformed space.

"Whoa. You guys actually did it. It doesn't look like a tornado hit a junkyard anymore."

Her gaze sweeps the room, landing on Sukemori, who is still standing attentively by my side in her full maid regalia.

Fumiko's grin falters. She looks from Sukemori, to me, to Alyona and Renka, and then back to me.

"Momo... we need to talk. This is a problem. You have to stop."

You think I don't know that?!

"I am afraid it is too late," Renka, that weasel, immediately piles on. "Momofuu-ki has already added her to the roster. The collection is complete."

Madoka drapes herself over my shoulders again, pouting. "Mou... it's not fair! It took me years to get you on Team Gyaru!"

Every word is a blade stabbing into my pride. They know it. They all see it. I'm a lost cause.

"Please do not tease Boss in such a manner."

Sukemori...? You're defending me?

"There is nothing untoward about appreciating the dedication and skill of a professional maid. Her intentions in recruiting me were purely based on my utility and character."

Yeah... she also gets it! It's about Utility. Dedication. Protection. Honor. Not whatever else they're implying!

"Yeah! What she said!"

With her vote of confidence staunching my internal bleeding, I straighten my back, shrug Madoka off, and clap my hands together.

"Quit yapping and get over the table. I've got an important mission to brief."

As the others start to gather, Alyona approaches me, her expression neutral. "I assume our business is concluded for the day. Shall Renka and I take our leave?"

"You can leave if you want. Or you can stay and help. It's about a [Bleeding Zone] that popped near the market."

She stiffens. "Then I shall stay. I made a promise to the principal to assist the council with such matters. It would reflect poorly on my record if I were to refuse a call now."

Always with the excuses, this girl. Does she have to sound like she's reading from a contract?

I lean in close, getting right in her nonchalant mask with a low growl meant only for her.

"Oi. I'm no snitch. If you want to help, then out with it. Don't hide behind Shujinko or Okomoto-kocho."

She makes a frustrated noise in the back of her throat and spins on her heel, refusing to face me or answer me. But instead of marching toward the exit, she stalks over to the meeting table and sinks her ass into a chair with enough force to make it creak.

I take the seat right next to her out of spite. Renka drops on her other side, deeply amused.

Now, for the most pressing matter.

"Sukemori," I start, turning to her. "Before we start, I need to know. Are you willing to fight in a [Bleeding Zone]? And don't bother denying you're [Awakened]. I noticed you staring at the ceiling a few times today, and it wasn't cobwebs."

My other self hovers over my shoulder, giving the maid a lazy, two fingered salute.

Sukemori bows her head slightly.

"Apologies. I was not attempting to keep it a secret. I was simply unaware of the proper etiquette for disclosing such things." She clasps her hands in front of her apron. "I am willing to assist in any of your endeavors, Boss. However, I am better suited to providing support over firepower."

Madoka beams, leaning over the table. "That's perfect! You can hang back with me and Dawn-chan! We're the ultimate support team!"

With that settled, I lean forward, planting my elbows on the table.

"The mission is a persistent [Bleeding Zone] in this ward, near the old market. Dawn and I cleared it out days ago, but the damn thing won't close. Which means we missed one enemy. We've been back a few times, but we can't find the thing, and more small-fry keep spawning, making us do the same damn job over and over."

My fist slams on the wood with a satisfying bang.

"I'm sick of it! So we're doing this with overwhelming force. Even if we can't find the hidden bastard, Madoka and [Kukurihime] can perform a ritual to forcibly close the zone from the inside. Our job is to protect her while she does."

I lean back. "Any questions?"

"That is not a plan." And guess who's there to annoy me? "That is a vague intention to wander around and provide a guard detail. We require a proper battle strategy."

A groan escapes me. "There's no need for anything fancy! Thanks to Dawn and I, the only things left in there are weaklings!"

"Yet the one enemy that has consistently eluded you possesses unknown capabilities," Renka points out. "It is prudent to be prepared."

They're not wrong, and that's the worst part. If someone in my Ward suffers because I was too dumb to make a proper plan...

"Argh, fine. Sukemori, paper."

From her apron, the maid produces a small notepad and pen. I snatch them and start sketching out a rough layout of my neighborhood.

"Alright, listen up. We'll all travel to the center of the zone first."

I make a large circle.

"Then we split. On the west side: me, Sukemori, Rodionova, Renka. East side: Fumiko, Dawn, and Madoka.

I split the circle down the middle.

"We'll sweep our halves, communicating via pager and phone as we go. Simple, clean, and we cover the whole area."

As I finish breaking it down, my eyes instinctively lock with Alyona's.

"What? Are you expecting praise for devising something so elementary?"

She's not poking any holes, so this is the closest I'll get to her stamp of approval.

"Whatever. You three, grab whatever gear you need from your areas. Alyona, Renka, go get ready. We move out in five."

The two former Census Club members move off toward the crate where their uniforms are stashed.

I make my own preparations. The familiar, balanced weight of [Tsuzumi Masamune] rests in my right hand, and the unnervingly warm, blessed wood of [Kagutsuchi Masamune] in my left.

Minutes later, we're all gathered by the warehouse entrance armed and ready. Fumiko has her pistols strapped to her belt. Dawn has her usual array of lockpicks and gadgets. Madoka... well, she has a winning smile. Alyona and Renka are back in their Higan uniforms, looking relieved. Last but not least, Sukemori...

She's still in her maid uniform.

"You... you know you don't have to keep wearing that, right? We're going into a fight."

Sukemori only smiles. "I don't mind staying like this. It is my working uniform, after all."

"That's... fine," I mutter, a strange sense of acceptance washing over me. With a final, resounding slam of the warehouse door, I ready my weapons and lead this bizarrely assembled squad through the streets.

Edit

Pub: 10 Nov 2025 19:05 UTC

Edit: 02 Dec 2025 13:31 UTC

Views: 158