Her first solo mission.

The first time her superiors have trusted Mukuro to kill someone entirely on her own, with no backup.  Normally, it takes members of Fenrir years to get to this point – at least, from what she’s heard from the other operatives – but she’s gotten to this point within a matter of months.  Nearly a year, but not quite.  It sets her apart from the others in a way that she both likes and does not like; she joined Fenrir to be among a group of equals, of people like her, but she’s climbing the ranks so quickly that it causes envy and awe and disgust, which makes her…well, not exactly an equal.  It was already strange when they allowed her to join their ranks as young as she was, and now….

Now, she has no choice but to continue to prove herself.  If she makes a mistake, a single misstep, then those opposed to her will just pull out their I told you sos, the ones they’ve been waiting to use since she joined, before they even met her.  She can’t just be good; she has to be perfect.

Fortunately, the Ikusaba family is built for this kind of pressure.

Unfortunately, someone else got her kill.

“Who are you?” Mukuro asks, blunt, as she levels her gun at a girl who looks about her age but seems to be dressed like a maid who walked off the set of a Tim Burton movie.  A more chatty operative might ask what agency this girl is from; it’s not like there aren’t other mercenary companies, and it’s not like some of their targets aren’t wanted by multiple people, and it’s not like people don’t, on occasion, hire multiple mercenaries to make the same hit just to make sure it goes through.

But Mukuro couldn’t care less about any of that.  She only cares that this girl, whoever she is, got here first.  Before her.

The girl clasps her hands in front of her calm as anything, like she isn’t staring down the barrel of a gun.  “Did I do something wrong?”

Like most people wouldn’t consider murder to be something wrong.

(Mukuro doesn’t, but that’s not the point.)

“You killed my mark.”  Mukuro nudges the body in front of her with the toe of her boot.  He doesn’t even let out a moan.  If he did, she could shoot him, and then it would technically still count.  But no.  She’s gotten here so far behind this other girl that he’s not even throwing out a death rattle.

“I see.”  The girl tilts her head to one side, and she brushes ashen blonde hair out of her left eye.  “Unfortunately, I do not believe I can bring him back only for you to kill him again.  That is beyond my capabilities.”

Mukuro’s eyes narrow.  “No shit.”

The girl sighs.  “I suppose killing someone else would not suffice.”

“No.”

“My sincerest apologies, then.”  The girl doesn’t smile, just stands there, cool as anything.  “I do not suppose you could lower your weapon.  As you can see,” she says, holding out her empty hands, “I’m no threat to you.”

Mukuro looks around the room, noting not just the body of her mark but the many, many other corpses surrounding them.  That’s not even counting the bodies she ran across on the way here.  She raises a brow.

A smile graces the girl’s lips.  “You do not believe me.”  She steps forward, causing Mukuro’s finger to shift on the trigger of her gun, and then stops.  “I was sent here to fulfill a request from my master.  Your death is not part of that request, so you are at no risk.”

“Who are you?” Mukuro repeats instead, blue eyes meeting the jade green ones.  (She’s even taller than her, and Mukuro’s not short.  Something about this girl just puts her off.)

“Kirumi Tojo,” the girl says, “and you’re Mukuro Ikusaba, aren’t you?  I met your parents once.  Your mother was very proud of you.”

Your father less so, Mukuro is sure the girl is thinking, but at least she doesn’t say it.  She slowly lowers her gun.  “What did they want with you?”

Kirumi’s smile softens – a true look of pity.  “Your father sought a maid for your mother, one more, shall we say, adequate than those he normally came across.  I was highly recommended.”  Her gaze shifts.  “However, something about me must have bothered him, as I was never in his employ.”

Mukuro scoffs.  “Sounds about right.  Oto-sama doesn’t trust anyone with Oka-sama, no matter how highly recommended they might be.”  Even if they’re family.  She considers that for a moment.  Maybe especially if they’re family.  Then she nods to Kirumi.  “What exactly did your master want you to do?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell you, only that his request is now fulfilled.”  Kirumi meets her eyes again, considering.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m merely making a decision.”  Kirumi holds her hands out again.  “Not about killing you, as we’ve already established, so please don’t aim that weapon at me again.”

Mukuro’s eyes narrow.  Then she turns away from the maid – a test of sorts.  “I’m leaving.  There’s nothing here for me to—”  As she speaks, she feels the maid rush at her, and her lips curve upwards.  She turns and deflects a knife with her own.  Then her gaze drops to the knife before returning to meet Kirumi’s gaze, one brow raising.

Kirumi steps back, flips the knife in the air, and hides it within her clothes once more.  “Only a test.”

“Mmhm.”  Mukuro turns away from her once more.  “Don’t try that again.”

“I would never,” Kirumi says, voice soft and composed.  “However, if I might make a suggestion.”

Mukuro’s teeth grit together, and she glances over her shoulder.  It would be easy to spit out a lot of things in this moment.  So easy.  But there’s no point to that.  She can hear whatever suggestion this girl has to make, and then she can leave, and that will be the end of it.

Kirumi glances over Mukuro.  “Would you allow me to join your service?  I believe that my particular assets could be quite useful for you.”

“I don’t need a maid.”

“No, most people don’t.”

“I can’t pay you.”

“Most people can’t.  Let me take care of that end of things.”

Mukuro stares at Kirumi for a moment, appraising her in a different manner.  “I think not.”  She can’t take a maid back with her to Fenrir.  That wouldn’t go over well.  Even if the maid was capable of this sort of bloodbath.  They’d start wondering if her kills were truly her own, and she can’t have that.

Kirumi nods in acceptance.  Then she pulls a card out from a pocket in her apron and holds it out to Mukuro.  “If you change your mind.”

“I won’t.”

But Mukuro takes the card anyway.  She holds it between her fingertips as she leaves, presses it against a spot of bare skin just to feel how sharp it is.  It wouldn’t take much effort to cause a papercut with this.  Or something more dangerous.

Hm.

Not that it matters.

Hopefully, she’ll never see that girl again.  She certainly isn’t planning on calling her.