Archive of Our Own

When her pen drops to the floor, she jumps anxiously at the sound. It becomes the loudest thing in the room as she feels like everyone is staring at her when she goes to pick it up.

She fixes her hair for what feels like the millionth time.

The waiter, a nice and well-intentioned young man who can't possibly be any older than 18 and thus severely lacking in social cues, continues to repeatedly ask her if she wants a refill on her cold cup of coffee . She politely declines him every time—she’s already so anxious that her foot won't stop shaking the table. She doesn't need anything else to worsen her jitters.

Botan checks her watch for the time. She's done this about every 5 minutes on the dot since sitting down. Of course, it has only been about thirty minutes since she's gotten there, but she can't help but get annoyed with herself at her own neuroticism.

She checks her phone for any messages. Maybe they called to let her know they' d be late—or better yet, maybe they just canceled all together ( however unlikely that may be).

But there was none.

She sighs… A long, heavy sigh that sinks her down into the table where she rests her head on top of her folded arms and contemplates how her life has even gotten to this point.

She was nuts for coming here today.

She shouldn't have let Koenma talk her into this. What the hell did she think she was doing? She was only an intern. A practical novice in the way of politics. She was not cut out to haggle the state of the union when the thought of people’s lives were at stake and weighed heavily upon her mind.

Coming all this way to meet one of the deadliest women of all Japan’s history was easily one of the stupidest things she's ever done . This countess was a ruthless tyrant, she was told, and Botan was the one who was so graciously tasked with the responsibility of convincing her to sign a peace treaty with two of her greatest (and not to mention most despised ) enemies.

No… Botan was certainly not sane for agreeing to come to this meeting in place of one of the higher, well-suited officials . And all for the promise of just a few measly extra days off being worked into her next contract. In fact, since taking this job—she's come to realizastion that she's been made to do a lot of things that she felt like someone with her lack of experience should not be made to do.

But, it didn't matter now. If another thirty minutes goes by with no sign of her dreaded “lunch date”, then she should have enough cause to just leave . This was the best case scenario.

She sat back up and tried to steady herself with calming breath. She inhales deeply , having her chest rising while she closes her eyes and tries to think peaceful thoughts . She slowly exhales… and releases all of the tension she was feeling in her back and shoulders as she lets it all gradually melt away…

She can do this.

It's just a talk. A simple conversation. She's had plenty of other discussions with very prominent people before. They were always very charmed by her amiable, chipper attitude, and she admits that she is graced with a very personable nature . She can certainly talk her way through this without any major hiccups.

She was very good at talking.

She checks her watch again. A habit she should really stop doing if she didn't want to turn the next thirty minutes into hours and threaten her own sanity . She decides to set a timer on her phone instead. So that way she'll know when it's time to leave without the need to habitually check.

This doesn't work, because in another 2 minutes she checks again and has to have this conversation with herself all over again.

The young woman bites the nail of her thumb and opts to pick up a book she's brought with her to help her kill the time. Swiftly flipping through the page where her bookmark is embedded, she catches her eyes on the line of the paragraph where she remembers she left off and distracts herself successfully . A few seconds in, and she's already imbued into the story. So much so, she's now gnawing on her thumb before mindlessly sipping at her coffee and completely misses the ring of the doorbell that indicates someone else has stepped into the diner.

This person is like a cat— slowly sauntering up to her table like a lion would encroach in on their prey, and their eyes lock onto the head of blue hair that is turned down and away from them.

So good is her book, that she doesn’t even register the presence of the body looming next to her. Her vibrant eyes excitedly scan the page; drinking in every word as it passes and getting her lost into the safety of the fiction that is playing out like a fantastical scene in her own head.

All the while, the other person is remaining silent… Just observing her. Watching as her pale pink lips part to let the edge of the mug past their brim as she takes a slow, thoughtful drink while her eyes widen with intrigue.

The newcomer eventually clears their throat and announces their presence; hands firmly in their pockets.

Botan startles and the book rattles in her hand as her attention snaps up. She plutters on her coffee—making horrible choking sounds as she immediately drops the book and starts slapping at her own chest.

“M-m-madam M-mukuro!” she cries, her voice even higher than normal as she’s having trouble breathing through the intense stinging in her throat.

The woman above her makes a small humming sound, and she promptly jumps up to her feet and bows deeply to show her respect.

The other woman casually lifts a brow, staring at the way she's practically staring down at her own feet as she's bent so far forward that her long ponytail is dangling over her left shoulder . Botan is sweating. She can feel the perspiration dripping down from her hairline to the middle of her forehead as her hands are bawled so tight, her neat nails are biting into her clammy palms.

“You,” the other woman drawls with an almost bored and somewhat condescending type of sound to her tone, “are one of the idiots that they sent here in place of having to make one of those pompous officials publicly show their faces amongst this sea of inconsequential plebeians, I presume.”

Botan’s head snapped back up to her, gulping.

“I… uh,” she stammers for a moment, wondering whether she should be acknowledging the insult, “am one of those, yes… My name is Botan, ma'am . I'm here on behalf of Sir Koenma.”

The woman smirks, apparently finding that response humorous.

Botan really didn't know what to do with herself as the other woman continued to look down over her deppreciatively . She looked even less enthused with their surroundings; seemingly unimpressed with the modest, yet very exclusive, café that they've chosen to convene at and glanced at each of the patrons with an air of indifference . As if she could really care less for their attendance.

Which was funny, since—according to her report—she was the one who’d chosen this place.

Botan didn't want to lift up from her bowed position just yet. As standing up would put her at the same height as her, from what she could tell... And she wasn't afraid to admit that she didn't dare have the audacity to make it seem like she was even at the same level as the woman who literally made army sergeants quake in their boots . At the same time, she must look pretty stupid like this with the upper half of her body remaining parallel to the floor and her neck bent at an odd angle so she could look up at her.

And sitting first definitely wasn't an option.

It was just plain rude.

Thankfully … ( blessedly)… Mukuro took one last look at her straining posture and turned her head while pulling out the chair next to her . Dismissing her gesture.

“Sit,” she ordered, tone much more casual now, “We have a lot to discuss and very little time to discuss it in. Rather not have it wasted by having you staring at those pretty pink shoes…”

Botan sighed in relief; standing up as Mukuro was sitting down. She straightened up her posture while she looked at her watch.

“Actually,” she started, clicking at its face, “I'm free the rest of the day. So we have as long as you'd li—“

“I mean I,” the other woman swiftly cut in, glancing up at her. Botan stopped mid-syllable as she continued, “I don't have a lot of time to be wasting here. So, if you would please—sit down.”

The young intern gulped, nodding her head profusely as she fumbled for her chair.

She plopped into it rather ungracefully . Bottom hitting the seat with a ‘plop’ and causing the wooden legs to screech against the vinyl floors. The sound was grating, even to her own ears, but Mukuro seemed unphased as she continued to stare at her while she clumsily rummaged through her briefcase for her papers.

“Ah…” she gasped, the air in her lungs even too scared to be expressed as she seemed to be choking on her own words, “I… uh… h-here. I s… suppose you've already read the c-contract that Mr. Koenma has sent to you…?”

Mukuro's eyes flicked down to the packet of documents that was laid out in front of her. A small snort escaped her before she immediately pushed them away with the tips of two gloved fingers.

“No,” she replied blandly , “I was hoping you could read them to me, word-for-word, so I really got the gist…”

Botan’s eyes widen as she looked at the document. There was 70 pages at least… They would be here for well over an hour if she had to go through every single one.

“Uhm… Well… Okay,” she started, shoulders slumping in defeat as she resigned herself to her fate. She picked back up the packet as she flipped to the next page and readied herself to begin the first paragraph of the very lengthy settlement, “I apologize . I'm not a terribly fast orator. So, please bare with me…”

Mukuro snorted again, louder this time, and garnered Botan’s attention before she could start.

“I'm obviously joking,” she quipped with a little bit of a laugh. She waved her hand towards the packet as she continued, “Of course, I've read it. Every part of it. And quite frankly , I find your boss’s writing to be monotone and lacking in any variety of imagination or prose. Quite boring, really … But I read it. Every single word.”

Botan’s mouth parted into an ‘o’ as she processed this. Quickly closing the packet, she laughed anxiously .

“Ah, yes. That he is,” she admitted, a very small blush dusting her cheeks as she sat the papers down.

Mukuro’s head tipped to the side, observing her. Her stare lost some of its ferocity for a brief moment as she looked over her sheepish appearance.

“So, you agree?” she responded, watching her diligently.

This caused Botan to blink, startled by the question.

“Eh?”

She looked up to find Mukuro raising her thin brow again. The single syllable response was rather abrasive, she admits, and she quickly tries to back track.

“Ah… Well, I mean… He is rather conventional. He spends more time studying over laws and constitutions than he does learning creative persuasion . But he's very capable! I promise!”

She ends the statement with a timid laugh, sounding like she wasn't too sure of that herself. Mukuro spares her from having to explain any more as she flags down the waiter who was trying to briskly walk past their table and asks for a beverage.

“Don't worry,” she quickly replies, turning her attention to the waiter now, “I'm not interested in hearing about Enma Jr’s false competencies. Lord knows, he doesn't have any leg to stand on when it comes to actual authority. So, I don't care.”

With that, she ends that discussion right then and there before she tells the waiter to bring her a black coffee.

Blue eyelashes bat over pink irises as Botan fidgets a little in her seat. True… Koenma may only be the son of a diplomat, and in all actuality—Mukuro was right. In the age of evolving democracy, merely being the protège of a successful leader didn't actually make you one yourself . But she's spent many long months working closely with the son of the Prime Minister, and she knew better than anyone that he was more capable than what people liked to give him credit for.

But she kept her mouth shut… The reason being that she was very sure that making her argument with Mukuro wasn't going to win her over or persuade her to sign a disadvantageous treaty any more than she already didn't want to.

However , she can certainly see where the woman's earned her respect from. If one didn't know better, they would've thought they were speaking to someone of political prominence rather than a rebellious faction leader, and it was easy for her to command one’s attention with very little persuasion.

She talked with purpose, but didn't feel the need to raise her voice. She influenced respect from her subject, but didn't give off a sense boastfulness. Of course, it may be her physical appearance… This is the first time Botan has ever seen her up close and without obstruction. She can't help but notice that an entire half of her body is completely covered—from a shroud over the left side of her face to the glove on her one hand and the long trench coat, full fitted suit, and high-heeled boots covering nearly every other inch of her skin. The one eye she could see was very intriguing. A subtle violet tint that was fringed by her auburn bangs. It captivated you once it locked on. Because she could see so little, Botan found herself pulled in once she got her focus to see if she could read any of her expression.

But so far, Mukuro seemed to be very subtle… Even almost bland and unemotional in her words. Her speech rarely ever changed pitch and her body language never really implicated her thoughts . She was just very clinical. Exact and brutally honest with her words, she left no ambiguity to her intentions.

Botan released a small breath through her nose. Being persuasive was going to be just as hard as she'd imagined it would be.

“You seem to be unsettled. Is something the matter?” Mukuro asked off-handedly.

Botan jumped again, startled by the question.

“P… Pardon?”

“Hmm. Quite jumpy, aren't we?” she noted with a sly smirk, leaning her arm on the table, “Are you nervous?”

The keenness in her voice made it seem like she already knew the answer, but Botan quickly shook her head despite.

“Ah! No, no! It’s just … Well… There's a lot of discussion circulating around, and it's just that…”

Mokuro interrupted her with a scoff; rolling her eyes as she turned her attention away.

“Yes, no doubt,” she replied derisively, “I just love to hear what patriarchal men with bruised egos like to gossip about me. Like they're catty little school girls at the lunch tables. And what do they say? That I'm narcissistic? I'm a brute? I'm the big Bitch of the West with too much bravado? I have an audacity to spit in those sniveling dog’s faces and step on their pretty polished boots with my blood-soaked shoes?”

Botan grimaced. She’s obviously hit a sore spot.

“Mm… Something like that,” she answered honestly, figuring there was no use in trying to downplay the rumors; even a little.

The other woman scoffed a second time, this time softer, as she leveled her gaze away.

“Don't believe everything that you hear, girl,” she said, a sense of hidden censure behind her tone as she rubbed the underside of her chin, “Those men you work for… they don't like to lose. And they certainly don't like a woman showing them up. That's why you must be here right now…”

Botan became staggered by that. She straightened up, squaring her shoulders.

“Actually, no,” she said matter-of-factly . Mukuro looked at her with intrigue, “I'm here because Koenma thought I was the best in his department to negotiate with you. I know I may not look it, but I'm very successful in my position. I've conversed with a lot of important diplomats from this and other nations, and I'm not so new at this—as you may like to believe .”

Mukuro’s face took on a certain slack, as if she was taken aback by her forwardness, and Botan was almost ready to swallow her own tongue and melt into the floor…

What did she think she was doing? Talking to her like that?

“Really?” Mukuro said with a high level of interest, even seeming pleased by this, “Well… That's certainly a first, isn't it? I'm quite surprised to hear that, actually… I've never seen a woman—especially one your age—whose ever been placed in such a prominent position. Congratulations, kid.”

A light dust of pink spread across Botan’s cheeks, feeling a flutter in her stomach.

“W… well. Thank you,” she replied numbly, a bit dumbfounded.

And then Mukuro did the one thing Botan was never expecting her to do—she smiled at her.

“Don't thank me,” she chuckled, “I'm only giving you due credit. As anyone should do. There's no need to thank someone for noticing your worth.”

And that was something that set a spark deep in the piths of the young woman's gut.

She couldn't explain it, but…. Having Mukuro, of all people, paying her a compliment seemed like the greatest thing of her life. A very surreal moment.

She sat speechless for a second, recovering from shock. When Mukuro continued to sit there and smile at her, she had a sense that she was meant to be saying something.

“Ah, well,” she started abashedly, trying to get back to the task at hand and bring attention away from her flushed cheeks, “I… To get back on topic, I... really think it's best to go over some of the key details of the agreement. We really wanted to stress how important it was to come to terms with this treaty. Japan has been in a state of turmoil for... quite some time. As I'm sure you know. Men, women, children… Entire families have lost their lives for the sake of this war, and I think we can all agree—even at some small level—that it’s high time for this senseless violence to stop . The people of Japan… They deserve peace. A time of rest. We’re not ignorant of the sacrifices you'd be making in order to make this treaty work, but… We are hoping that you would be compassionate enough to put your signature on the dotted line despite that .”

Mukuro seemed to be carefully attentive to what she was saying. Even though her half-covered face didn't show it, her one eye was intently fixed on her. She silently nodded along every so often while Botan gave her small speech.

When she finished, the older woman picked up the small mug the waiter had brought her while she’d been listening and took a thoughtful sip while she appeared to be peering out the adjacent window.

“Y’know, you are very good at giving emotion to your words. It’s quite heartening,” she commended with a considerate tone. Botan slightly bowed, accepting the compliment, but she was left a bit surprised by her next question, "But do you know why we started this war?”

Botan blinked at her in confusion as Mukuro crossed her legs and sat up straighter; waiting for her answer.

“Well… It started with the divisions of the districts. There was a lot of public outcry when Minister Enma’s predecessor sanctioned the bill to have Japan split up into four parts . The North, South, East, and West districts. It was in response to the internal conflicts that were already happening within the country . They thought that by giving each district its own autonomy, they would be able to finally bring a sense of unity—“

“No,” Mukuro said outright in a flat tone, stopping her mid-sentence, “That's not the reason. Though, that is what the globally recognized parliament of this province would like to have you believe .”

Botan snapped her mouth shut as Mukuro sat her mug on the marble tabletop with an audible ‘clink’; taking that as her cue to just listen.

She folded her hands together as she continued,

“They used it as a means to funnel most of the money back into the Northern district. Which just so happens to be the place where the parliament sits... And is the most affluentual out of all the districts already. They gave the reason that it was to cover the cost of the overhead of running such a ‘large’ nation. Meanwhile, they cut the funding to the benefit programs and literally took the food away from the mouths of starving children . All for the sake of ‘unity’. In reality, Japan was experiencing its highest known point of peace since its insurrection . Sure, you had your one-off territorial brawls, old habits are hard to change, but the fact is—we didn't need this so-called ‘Reunification of by Division’.

They wanted to implement a total dictorial government. That's why this civil unrest was incited. Again. After so many years of us fighting back against that very same thing. We started picking up the pieces of our fallen country after the last Great War, and when we noticed neighboring counties helping each other out of the pure goodness of their hearts—we thought that maybe , for once, we would finally have a sense of comradery with each other . But that was ripped from us when the new, self-appointed Prime Minister thought it was best to keep the lines in place that divided us and give the excuse that it was ‘for our own benefit’ . A country that is divided is a country that is weak and easily controlled. And instead of the different, less fortunate divisions standing together to fight back against these new legislations—they started quarreling with each other over the scraps that would be leftover after the North District bled us all dry . Like the stupid , ignorant children that they are.

The truth is… Botan? Was it? Well, Miss Botan , the truth is—I don't give a flying rat’s ass about the state of my enemies’ counties, and I have even less care in me for the will of those rats up in the parliament or how badly they want this treaty to go through . Let’s be honest, the only reason they want this to take place is because they've run through all of the money that they had hogged up in their holes and are now running on purely fumes . They've come crawling back to us—like a whimpering, kicked dog would to their abusive master—after we let a lot of lead loose on the Capital Building and they're crying about how they want ‘change’ and ‘reunification’ to make the world better place for our future generations . Ha! What hypocrites. They were the selfish bastards who started this whole thing. What nerve they have.”

Botan sat silently while Mukuro’s chair creaked; due to her leaning back and taking another long sip of her coffee. Her pink eyes became downcasted, staring at the small specs of sugar crystals leftover on her spoon as she ruminated over these words heavily.

In all actuality, Mukuro was… right. She wasn't ignorant of the past transgressions her nation’s parliament had put upon their people. Their textbooks may have said one thing, but… Their grandparents and much of the older generations were privy about the truth, and unless you had no wise elders to speak to—it was almost impossible to not know about the truth of the actual events that took place all those years ago.

Botan's shoulders lifted in a weary sigh, knowing that what she was about to ask her next may not at all be fair, but…

“While… That is true, it's not… It’s not just the Prime Minister or the members of the parliament who want this. I know that's the easiest to believe, however… Much of the general populace wants this, too,” Botan stated, bringing her heavy stare back up to Mukuro’s face and taking a pleading tone with her, “Myself included. Look around you. This is your district, Mukuro. And I know that even you can see how tired their faces are… There have been so many protests and demonstrations and even riots asking for peace. If… the state of your people is what you're truly concerned for, then… Signing this treaty is what will be most beneficial for them. We can argue about what really happened all day, but… There comes a point where the arguing needs to stop and we have to concede that we all need each other in order to live happy and prosperous lives. Please, Mukuro. I know it seems undignified to beg, but I've seen so many of my loved ones perish for this nonsense and we all wish that it would just stop. Maybe you could be the reason why your district stands high and proud above the others. Or maybe, just maybe… You could be the reason why all of Japan will stand strong as one, united country. Together once again. Never needing to worry about factions or who has their fair shares anymore…”

Mukuro stared at her for a long while as she silently pushed the paper closer to her, never letting their eyes disconnect.

There was a moment, a very brief moment, where Mukuro also put her hand on the packet as it had gotten too close and was about to fall off the edge. And in that moment, the very brief moment, their fingers brushed against one another’s. Even though her hands were gloved , Botan could feel the warmth from her skin, and she quietly gasped… Eyes flitting down to where they touched but not even moving her hand away. As if she was entranced by it.

Mukuro's brow ticked up, mouth slightly hanging open as her one finger traveled up the length of the young woman's pointer experimentally.

“And… What if I don't want to?” she asked slyly while Botan seemed to be enraptured by the small carress.

Botan shook herself from her trance, gaping up at the other woman.

“What…?” she let out breathlessly, forgetting their entire conversation for a moment.

Mukuro’s smirk widened, letting the tips of their fingers rest together.

“To bring peace to my people… Who says that my reason for war isn't at all superficial?” she reiterated, one eye now narrowing. Her other hand went up to her face and Botan held her breath as she started to hold back the hem of her mask, about to reveal what was underneath . Mukuro’s voice dropped into a low, throaty whisper as she took on a deep tone, “Did you know what those wretches have done to me? Have you seen the permanent mess that they've caused?”

Botan’s eyes widened as the soft, white material enshrouding half of her face was pulled away…

Only to reveal a swath of burgundy, crippled skin. The shroud that covered her face hid the garrish, blisterimg scars underneath. Scars that led all the way down to the hem of her neck line and up even farther than the edge of her hair. A pearly, white eye with an unnatural, fixed black pupil stared back at her from underneath.

Botan didn't realize it when she pulled her hand away.

“They… did this to you?” she asked incredulously, her eyes quickly darting from left to right as she took in her sight.

Mukuro looked down at where her hand had been, and her lips formed a subtle, despondent smile….

She let the mask fall back over her face as she took her hand off the table too, and let it rest on her lap.

“Yes,” she answered, voice much softer now, “After a counter-attack I led on the other divisions went successfully … They cornered me in an abandoned factory . Left me without any other soldiers or a way to defend myself. Once they were sure I was trapped —they covered me in gasoline and lit the entire building on fire. I… barely escaped with my life. Or my whole body for that matter.”

The soft chuckle that escaped from Mukuro’s lips seemed so out of place from the events she was describing. Botan couldn't imagine the unbidden horror she must of felt when she was…

“I guess they were hoping that it would kill me,” she continued loftily, smiling at the other side of the room as she drank her coffee, “But in reality, all it gave me was a disfigured appearance and a fuel to see those uncouth bastards burn at the stake… Really , it's funny how that works . They wanted to instill fear in me, but fear is my only enemy. So, I let the fear turn into anger and I unleash my unbridled hatred for them in the form of thousands of men who stormed over their sovereignty . Then I watched the fear settle into their eyes instead…”

Her stare locked back onto her face as she took a long sip from her mug; letting her good hand sit back on the table and carefully thrummed her fingers while she waited for her response .

Botan looked away and scanned the contents of her cup for a long moment. Taking it back into her hands as well as she slowly lifted it up to her lips and took a heavy swallow. She breathed out when she was done —perfect teeth biting her bottom lip as she worried over something silently.

“I… have my own selfish reason too, y’know,” she finally confessed, keeping her eyes down at the table. Mukuro sat forward with interest, waiting to hear her confession. Botan’s fine brows furrowed together as the worry on her face crinkled the skin under her eyes, “They're… my friends. They're fighting in this war as well, and I just can't… I just can't watch them risk their lives for this anymore… I…! There's no reason they should have to be put in harm’s way. They're all… so young and promising. If there's only one reason I want this war to end—it’s so I don't have to keep worrying if they'll come back to me alive!”

Her face slightly tipped towards Mukuro when she heard her snort, but still kept her eyes away. Expression pained.

Mukuro sat back again, twirling the cup in her hands as she let out a prolonged hum.

“Ah, yes. I think I know them,” she announced, catching Botan off-guard, “Their Koenma’s all star team, aren't they? I think I've seen you hanging around them before, come to think of it… Let’s see, there's the loudmouth brat—that's Yusuke Urameshi . The Devil’s spawn, if I recall. Then there’s the fumbling one— just as obnoxious as Yusuke but not nearly as graceful. Kazuma Kuwabara, wasn’t it?”

Botan’s eyes widened as she started to guess their names correctly; wondering how she had known.

Mukuro’s smile widened as she saw the look on her face, and went on, “Then there’s the short one. A wonderfully gifted swordsman, if I may note. That's Hiei. The Bastard Child. Then…. Ohhhh, what is that redhead's name? He’s too quiet, but he's obviously the brains of the group. Something Minamino or something…?”

“Kurama,” Botan cut in, correcting her with a quiet air, “He likes to be called Kurama. But… yes. You are correct. Those are my friends. And I would die for them. They're the only true family I've ever known. But I would very much prefer not to, if at all possible. That's why this treaty is so important to me—and to others. We all have loved ones at stake here.”

Mukuro softly scoffed as she set down her cup picked up the packet to hold it in her hand.

“I bet you don't even realize that some of them are double agents,” she supplied casually, looking over the print, “One of them works for me, actually.”

Botan’s expression went slack… Jaw hanging open as she tried to formulate a thought.

“Wha…? But… who—”

“It doesn't matter,” Mukuro quickly noted, setting the packet back down as she looked back at her. A small waver of something upsetting in her gaze as she said, “It’s very obvious that we all want this war to end, correct? As such, it seems they have turned their back on me… So the ‘who’ and the ‘why’ are null and void . It’s apparent which side they're actually on. No need to worry, pretty.”

Mukuro seemed… unhappy. Like she felt a deep sense of betrayal at this notion. Botan couldn't help but continue to wonder who her informant was, but seeing the quiet waver in her eye… She had this sense to put it aside and face what was directly in front of her instead.

She looked at the hand quietly resting on the table… Remembering the feel of its touch even though it had been brief. And this suddenly reminded her that this person that she was sitting with—this woman that was said to be of all baleful hate and morose—was actually a human being, too. And she paid just as heavy a price for this war as any of them did.

Just as victim of needless crime.

Botan decided to do a very brave thing then. A thing that many in her position wouldn't even dare to do. But she felt that it was right. And, if the young intern was nothing else—she was an extreme advocate of empathy.

Botan took the liberty of putting her hand back over the table. Stretching it all the way across until it settled over Mukuro’s… The older woman seemed to jump slightly as she picked it up, brought it over to her lap, and set it down on the top of her thigh while she held it tenderly in both of hers; silently moving her thumbs across the back of it as she scooted closer to Mukuro and leaned toward her as she talked in a quieter tone.

“I know we've all lost something,” she said, “But because we've lost so much, that's the perfect reason to start something new . There's hope to be had in new beginnings, Mukuro. I wish you would see that. War will only foster spite and death and diseases of the mind. But peace… Peace can bring about love… And harmony. And… sisterhood. I want you—more than anyone, I think—to know what that peace feels like. Now that I've met you and seen the woman that you are… I believe that you deserve that most of all. And I’ll spend my entire night sitting with you here until I can convince you of that yourself. But… I'm not leaving until you agree with me. Because I don't want you wasting away for the price of nothing. You’ll only end up weighing on my conscience like all the others… And I just don't want that anymore.”

Mukuro’s violet eye scanned hers repeatedly—taken aback by both the close contact and the deep sincerity in her words . Something shook deep within her bowels… An unfamiliar feeling of anticipation that had her leaning closer to her lunch companion and hoping that she would say more . Just so she could prolong this contact for a bit longer…

For a brief second, Mukuro’s stare flitted down and she realized that their faces were only inches apart. A complete surprise as it was very rare for anybody who’s seen her actual appearance to want to get this close to her.

Botan didn't seem to mind it, though, as she scooted even closer—stopping when they're thighs pressed together and their body heat seem to mingle in the same air. So close that one might think they were being intimate…

“Please,” she reiterated, squeezing Mukuro’s hand as she let it continue to rest over her leg, “I want you to say that you'll consider this. That you'll be considerate of your own need to heal internally. Please.”

Mukuro’s eye flitted back up. Seeing the desperation in her gaze, she couldn't help but quietly nod in response. Causing Botan to positively beam at her.

The young woman let the smile overcome her face as she looked down at their hands, saying tenderly, "Good. That's very good. I'm glad."

Mukuro relinquished to her positive nature and smiled; assuring her. The small reciprocation changed something in Botan’s demeanor and suddenly her smile subsided and she looked down at their hands once more . As if she was just realizing that they were sharing physical contact. And instead of immediately taking her hand away, like Mukuro half-expected, the young woman placed her hand fully on the top of her thigh.... Tracing her over long fingers with her own.

"Your... hands seem so warm," she said faintly, feeling the strong palm pressing on her leg.

When Mukuro made a small noise of disbelief, Botan must've realized she was doing something peculiar, because she immediately dropped her hand and looked away; embarrassed. The older woman overcame her intial shock when she saw her nervously bite her lip, becoming intrigued by the sight.

A grin formed across Mukuro’s lips as she gently squeezed her fingers around her thigh.

“If I didn't know any better,” she started, a crafty tone coming to her voice, “I would dare to say that I think you were flirting with me, Miss Botan . Am I reading these signals incorrectly?”

Botan’s face went lax, realizing that she was indeed much closer than necessary and didn't seem to feel uncomfortable about that at all. Her leg against Mukuro’s hand shook and she took in a sharp breath as she felt it scoot up by another inch.

“If so, than tell me now. Because I’d hate to think that I'm making a mistake. I don't want that weighing on my conscience either,” Mukuro murmured, looking at her intentionally.

Botan slowly shook her head, feeling a shiver down her spine as she heard Mukuro’s voice dip into a low husky whisper; exhilarated by that sound.

“I… have to admit that I'm in awe of you,” she finally admitted, soft soprano shaky and uneven, “I never thought I’d ever be in your presence like this, and… I find myself fascinated by you. Who you are and what you stand for. This country hasn’t seen many great women leaders and to think that I'm sitting here just casually having coffee with one is—a mind-blowing experience. You’re a great inspiration. To many of us. I find myself wanting to stay and get to know you more. Is that… bad?”

Mukuro chuckled and sat back, breaking their close contact. Botan appeared to deflate when she moved away, thinking she was rejecting her, but she noticed that she still left her thigh pressed to hers; giving her warmth in that one intimate moment while she sipped on her cooled coffee.

“No,” she answered, looking back at her. Botan realized she could smell the lingering scent of a soft, bright cologne as she went on, unconsciously breathing it in as she listened intently , “But it isn't very wise, I must admit . Do you think your boss would approve of such a recreation? Rendezvousing with someone like me after office hours. Imagine what a stir that would cause at the water cooler… Hm?”

“Koenma doesn't get to dictate my life outside of the time I'm contractually obligated to work,” she replied confidently , “And quite honestly , it’s none of his business who I choose to keep myself company with . If he has a problem with it—he's welcome to fire me. Something I'm very sure he's unwilling to do as I'm certain we both know that the entire department would crumble without me. So his opinions are of no importance.”

This seemed to amuse Mukuro, who smiled at her appreciatively above the rim of her cup.

“Good girl,” she said, giving a quiet purr to the phrase, “I like women who show some semblance of a backbone.”

Botan felt excitement jolt through her body… Feeling a warmth spread across her belly the more she kept Mukuro’s stare on her .

She could feel her palms becoming sweaty—not from nervousness but a whole different reason this time.

Her eyes fell back to the packet on the table. Not wanting to get too excited too soon as, even though she felt as if she had won something, she didn't exactly accomplish what she had set out to do.

Mukuro followed her line of sight, attention falling back on the unsigned treaty as well.

“Oh, don't worry,” she casually mentioned, flipping open the first page with her thin finger, “I was planning on signing this all along. The truth is, me and your boss have already come to terms with the agreement, and I’ve made my own, non-negotiable amendments. This meeting was merely a formality. I'm supposing he never told you this, did he?”

Botan’s pink eyes were like saucers, blinking once like an owl. She looked from the packet back up at her. Watching a thoroughly amused expression come over her face.

“A… formality?” she repeated softly , trying to process this. Mukuro slightly nodded and Botan suddenly became very angry. Slamming her hands on the table as she exclaimed, “No , he didn't! That jerk! He never said anything about that!”

Mukuro chuckled again, taking out a pen from her breast pocket.

“I figured that when you started going on with that moving speech about your friends and making the right decisions for the good of the Japanese people. You are quite a moving speaker, Miss Botan,” she said mischievously , leaning over to scratch her signature on the first line of the very bottom of the second page. She continued signing while flipping through the pages as Botan sat in her chair looking particularly peeved. She continued, “My guess is he was playing some type of practical joke on you. Everyone knows that man has the humility of a toddler. Probably is sitting at his opulent desk as we speak and having a good laugh about it right now. Sorry you had to hear it from me, love…”

Botan continued silently fuming as Mukuro finished with her task and grabbed a nearby napkin, using her pen to scribble something down on it .

“Ooh! That man! I’m gonna wrap my hands around his privileged little neck next time I see him! The nerve he has making me come here and look like a complete idio—” she started then stopped when she noticed Mukuro hand her back the packet.

“Here,” she said, clicking her pen and putting it back in her coat, “As much as I’d love to sit here and listen to more about how your plans to murder the Chief of Police, which is wholly deserved by the way, I really do have somewhere else I have to be . Mind if I take a rain check?”

Botan’s entire mood seemed to change when it appeared that she was glowering at her. Mukuro face scrunched up in confusion.

“What?” she asked, noticing that Botan’s foul mood was now directed at her, “Don’t look at me as if I had anything to do with it. Your boss is the one who should be under your line of fire.”

“And you didn't think to stop me as I was making a fool of myself?” Botan countered bitterly , crossing her arms over her chest, “You were just completely content in letting me sit there and blabber on about nothing consequential while you had a silent laugh. Is that right?”

Mukuro’s expression softened, putting her hand back on her thigh which Botan surprisingly didn't push away.

“Well… What can I say? I think you're very cute, and quite honestly—I didn't mind sitting in your company for a bit,” she admitted with a smile, “Besides, I meant what I said. I like you, and I'm quite interested in sitting in your company for a bit longer if you'll have me… Come join me tonight for a drink and we can talk some more then, yes?”

Botan blinked at her as she scooted a paper napkin across the table to her. She picked it up and looked dumbfounded when she noticed there was an address and a phone number scrawled over it . Mukuro stood as she looked it over.

“Tonight?” she repeated, bewildered as she looked up at her, “You want me to come over tonight? Isn't that a little soon?”

“Why not?” Mukuro countered, sticking her hands in her pockets, “You said that you were more than willing to stay with me all day if you had to, didn't you ? Well, since you're free, I thought I’d take you up on that offer. Come to my place tonight. We can shoot the shit there, if you want. Or don't. I'm not going to force you to. Just know that I’ll be pleasantly surprised if you do show. I haven't had company over in quite some time…”

Botan could only manage to nod up at her, bemused by the invitation. She forgot her manners as she remained sat in her seat and stared down at the napkin in her hand.

Mukuro threw a few bills on the table that would cover their drinks and added a generous tip for the waiter. She turned back to Botan before she left; grinning down at her as she hovered over her chair.

“Thank you for meeting with me today,” she expressed, words seeming genuine, “It was much less painful than I expected . Most likely because it was you. So, thank you. For taking the time to listen and spend your time with me.”

Botan raised her head—noticing that Mukuro was gazing down at her with a soft gaze. The butterflies came back as that look made her feel particularly important. Never having seen it directed at her before.

“You’re welcome,” was all she could manage to reply, and watched as Mukuro turned from her and walked towards the door.

“Farewell, Botan. It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can do this again sometime,” she said behind her as she raised one hand and waived it lazily over her head.

Botan watched her until she left. Leaving out the door with a quiet jingle; barely disturbing the people around her. She appeared to be met by an entourage outside of the building that huddled around her and escorted her to a black sedan which she got into and then drove off; never looking back .

The young woman sat in her wake. Feeling the buzz in her fingertips from such a surreal experience. It was hard to believe that she had just been in the presence of someone who was considered to be one of the greatest women of her time… Much less had a heartfelt conversation with her.

She looked back down at the napkin grasped between her fingertips. Wondering what to do.

Had she… really just flirted with Mukuro? Of all people?

“Strange,” she said to no one in particular as she stared out the window and watched the pedestrians pass by; letting the feeling of wonder wash over her.