in response to anon who asked for org!girls


The Suzuki zaibatsu has been a household name for long enough that people tend to forget that money this old didn't just come from nowhere.

Masumi doesn't blame them. It's hard, after all, to look at the name attached to the Bell Tree Tower's soaring heights and imagine that it could reach down just as deep into murky waters.

(But of course she knows better. Only unofficially, of course, since she'd gotten her codename not that long ago and shouldn't yet know any of this, but – well. Masumi is just as good a recon agent as she is a hitman, but luckily for them she's also just as fiercely loyal to the Organisation above all.)

Not that there's anything vague in the least about any of it: not the covertly transmitted assignments she receives on the regular, not the supply caches (of both the weaponry and wardrobe varieties) all over Tokyo, certainly not the forceful dismantling of the Karasuma and Ooka families and their fortunes – even if they'd been nominally left standing like so many empty shells.

No, the only thing suspect is how well it'd all been covered up even as it happened. Clearly Suzuki the youngest – Sonoko, she'd gathered from her regular mission partner who'd immediately flushed red and made her swear not to tell anyone right before she'd headed off to execute the hit – had inherited her PR mojo from those before her. It isn't the type of thing Masumi herself has any patience for but she appreciates the value of a good cover.

Much easier to get a bead on your target when you're firmly on high society's top list of socialites to invite, after all. Even if it admittedly is said partner who usually slips into those dresses and roles, leaving Masumi to appreciate from afar, preferably through a good rifle scope and optional CCTV.

And appreciate she definitely does (well, save the few times she'd donned a tux and joined in when they needed a close-up rather than distance work). Because damn does Mouri Ran ever know how to dress up and do it well when she puts her mind to it, even if her makeup case comes equipped a secret compartment of blades and poisons.

As if Masumi hadn't personally witnessed her render two men senseless via near-invisible strikes and still look drop-dead (ha) gorgeous after.

"I keep telling her not to buy me a new outfit every time," Mouri says, muffled into her hands, when their R&D expert delivers a deep emerald gown that shines iridescent under the lights of the hotel they're using for this mission.

It contrasts nicely with the blush creeping mortified above the neckline of the bluish-grey sweater she's now wearing. Mouri tends towards comfortable clothes in neutral tones when they're off-duty or on less ostentatious missions, but Masumi's seen enough to know that she doesn't mind anywhere near as much as her protests might suggest, and more importantly she trust Suzuki's taste implicitly, even if dark green would never look good on anyone else.

(It's equal odds whether this piece is a custom one or simply a yet-unreleased next season item. Too bad that being secret precluded holding a runway event, really.)

Miyano huffs and thrusts the garment bag in their direction with a rustle of fabric. "Just hurry up and take this already. I haven't got all day, someone actually needs to design all that wonderfully infallible equipment you all keep trying to break."

Masumi moves forward to grab the bag, tossing it carelessly onto one of the beds (to a near-tangible surge of dismay). "Infallible, huh," she says slowly, and doesn't point out the less-than-random patterns of failure she's started to notice, always when there would've been fatal consequences to their targets otherwise – enjoys the way Miyano stiffens up, unnoticeably but completely, as she saunters by her out the half-ajar door.

…and, well. Maybe she isn't so loyal to the Organisation, after all.


you thought sera would be bourbon. surprise she's actually vermouth

also what was i gonna do with literally canon org!shiho? in one word: KIR