"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, I'd be as rich as Bruce Wayne," I quipped.
"Don't exaggerate, Mister Alex," the butler Pennyworth corrected me calmly as he entered, bringing a tray of tea, cookies, and that impossibly enticing aroma that always seemed to follow him.
"My fault," I said, raising a hand in a conciliatory gesture. "The truth is, Miss Yamashiro, I'm not basing my trust solely on the fact that you're Alfred's goddaughter. I can trust you because I know you as a person."
"You… know me?" Tatsu's brows furrowed. "No, that's impossible. I'm sure we've never met. Where—"
"That's one of his peculiarities," the elderly aristocrat interjected smoothly. "Mister Alex knows far more about his interlocutor than it might seem at first glance."
"Not exactly," I corrected. "I don't know everything about everyone — only about a select few. And you, Miss Yamashiro, happen to fall into that category."
"Oh? How curious." Her fingers tightened around the bundle in her lap, the subtle movement not lost on me. Bordeaux, too, noticed — and instantly tensed, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice.
To me, she seemed overly primed for confrontation with Katana. Normally, Sasha was calmer. Something here was throwing her off.
"I'm sorry," Tatsu said at last, "but I refuse to work for you. There's something… off about you. I have a strong feeling that being near you will drag me into even more trouble than I'm already in."
"Are you talking about the League of Shadows?" I asked casually, choosing to poke the hornet's nest.
"What?!" She straightened, eyes narrowing sharply. "Where did you—"
"I know more than I let on," I said with a sly smile. "You were a CIA agent who infiltrated the League of Assassins. Then you staged your own death to steal the Soul Stealer sword from them. But the plan didn't go quite as expected, did it? The League's already hunting you."
My words made her visibly stiffen.
"To be honest," I continued, "I'm not exactly on their Christmas card list either. They've pursued me as well — and I'm quite certain they're planning something nasty. That's why I'm suggesting we join forces. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. What do you say?"
"So instead of stepping away from the center of the target, you want me to stay right in it?"
"Hmm… in a sense, yes," I admitted with a little nod of mock approval.
"And how exactly could you help me fight such a dangerous enemy? Your talk of 'unification' is ridiculous — in the end, I'd be responsible for keeping you alive."
"True," I conceded, "but think about this — if I were as simple as you seem to think, could I have attracted the personal attention of such a powerful enemy to my 'modest' self? Think on that."
My words seemed to dig in. She sank into her own whirlpool of thoughts, her expression distant. Clearly, she was weighing all the options.
I leisurely sipped the fragrant tea and didn't hurry to break the silence.
Suddenly, the quiet was broken by the faint but unmistakable sound of boots — their echo skating across the walls of the mansion's high-ceilinged hall.
Well now… it seemed the Dark Knight himself had decided to grace us with his presence.
"Am I interrupting?" the man asked, adjusting his tie with a composure that was almost unsettling.
"Bruce Wayne," he addressed the girl clutching the katana.
The dynamic shifted instantly. Conversation branched in new directions. Somewhere between exchanges, it emerged that Alfred had originally offered Tatsu a position as Bruce's own bodyguard — an offer Wayne had rejected outright. And now I, apparently, had picked up the same cause.
One back-and-forth led to another, until we eventually looped back to the present situation.
Not wanting to pressure her decision further, Bruce and I stepped aside to speak privately.
"Are you certain you want her as your bodyguard?" he asked, glancing toward the still-pensive Asian woman.
"What's this? Planning to make her an offer yourself?"
"Alex, you understand you're surrounded by… many secrets. With your personality, it's inevitable that sooner or later she'd learn about me as well. So I need to know — can she be trusted?"
"Well, well, Bats. Have you finally decided to value my judgment? Trust me, even? Not too late for that?"
"It's never too late to trust," he said gloomily.
"Relax, Cap. She's reliable. She's not exactly on our side, but she is on Alfred's — and that's pretty much the same thing. She just needs to grow closer to us… something I intend to fix. Right now."
But before I could take a step toward her, I found myself an unwilling witness to the beginnings of a brawl between two of the deadliest women I'd ever known.
Tatsu and Sasha were nose-to-nose, trading verbal jabs that were quickly losing their filters.
Nope. Couldn't leave them alone for a minute.
I decided to step in before fists — or blades — started flying. Granted, a duel between them would be exciting to watch… but I wasn't stupid enough to encourage it here.
"Girls, girls, let's not quarrel," I said, pressing my palms together in a mock-prayer gesture. "Let's live in peace, alright?"
"No, she started it!"
Oh, wonderful. I felt like a primary school teacher breaking up a scrap in the playground.
"I don't care who started it," I cut in, adopting my best 'final authority' tone, "the important thing is I'm ending it. So, Miss Yamashiro — have you reached a decision?"
"Yes," she said, though she kept throwing Alexandra a look that could have cut glass. "I agree to become your bodyguard. But my pay must at least match that of kikimora's."
"You're not worth that much, cross-eyes," Alexandra shot back instantly.
"That's enough," I warned. "We'll sort out the salary later. And for the love of all that's holy, try not to kill each other. I'm sure you'll be best friends in the future."
"Will you stay for dinner?" Alfred interjected, as if the oppressive tension in the air didn't exist.
"I'm afraid we can't indulge in such a luxury," I said politely. "We've still got plenty to take care of today, so I think we'll take our leave."
"I'll go with you," Katana announced, lifting the bundled sword to rest across her shoulder. "I'm your bodyguard now — shouldn't I have my own room?"
"You don't deserve it, swamp ulcer," Bordeaux muttered.
"No one asked you, beanpole." The latest_epɪ_sodes are on_the 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝕟𝕖𝕥
"I don't trust you. You'll be staying in my room — where I can keep an eye on you."
"Your job is to watch the client, dear. Cruel though it sounds, I'm just your partner. So maybe you should tone down the jealousy a bit… and focus on doing your job better."
Perhaps… just perhaps… encouraging these two to work together had been a mistake.
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