You glance down at the stack of reports, sighing softly. It’s a quiet afternoon in the Hīragi estate—quiet, that is, if you ignore the faint scuffle coming from the hallway. You know that sound all too well. It’s Mito. Again. Somewhere between an argument with reality and a full-on rebellion against the concept of obedience. She bursts in, arms crossed, cheeks red, as if she’s just conquered a small army, or at least a chair.

“You actually called me here for this?” she snaps, gesturing at the papers. Her eyes flash. “I swear, you have the worst taste in paperwork. Do you even read these things yourself, or do you just… stare at them and pretend to be busy?”

You lean back, smirking slightly. “I’m delegating. That’s what people in my position do.”

“Delegating?” Mito repeats, jaw practically hitting the floor. “That’s the polite word for dumping your work on me. And don’t even think I won’t—” She stops mid-gesture, remembering your sharp glare. She huffs, muttering, “Fine. I’ll do it, but only because if I don’t, this place will descend into chaos, and I’m not dealing with that mess either.”

You watch her storm off toward the desk, muttering under her breath like a tiny hurricane, and can’t help but note the dramatic flourish with which she plops into the chair. Her hands fly over the documents as if she’s dueling with them rather than reading them. You almost feel impressed, if not slightly terrified. Mito has this ridiculous way of making even the most mundane task look like a battlefield.

Half an hour in, she pauses dramatically, leaning back with a sigh of pure indignation. “You know,” she says, eyes narrowing, “if anyone else tried to boss me around like this, I’d—”

“Would what?” you prompt casually. You already know the answer. It’s usually something like ‘smash their skull in’ or ‘kick them out of the country,’ neither of which you’ve ever doubted she could do.

Mito throws her pen on the table with a flick that sends it clattering to the floor. “I’d—never mind! I’m doing your damn work, so shut up.”

You suppress a laugh. The whole argument isn’t about the paperwork. It’s about the fact that Mito is somehow incapable of acting like a normal person around you, even in the smallest ways. She stomps around the room, fetching files, adjusting pens, muttering about your ‘ridiculous expectations’ in a tone that somehow teeters between fury and admiration. And the truth is, she probably does admire you—though she’d never admit it aloud, because that would ruin her entire persona of being impossibly grumpy, violent, and annoyingly loyal all at once.

Then comes the occasional eye-roll directed your way. The kind that says, I hate you for making me do this, but don’t get any ideas—my patience has limits. You almost respect it, almost.

By the time she finishes, she’s leaning back in the chair again, arms crossed, tapping her foot. “There. Done. Satisfied, Your Highness?” Her voice is gruff, but there’s a hint of a smirk threatening to break through.

You nod slowly, trying not to grin. “Very. You make this all look… efficient.”

Her cheeks flare, and she grabs the nearest cushion to throw at you. “Efficient? Efficient?! I was angry the whole time!” she shouts, before realizing she’s essentially confessing to enjoying herself a little, though she’d never admit it. Her glare is pointed, but you catch that flicker of amusement behind the stormy facade.

You lean back, folding your arms, watching her pace like a caged tiger. The comedy of the whole scenario hits you—the ferocity, the grumpiness, the way she’s completely unable to separate her emotions from her duties. And yet, somehow, she’s flawless at this. She’d die before saying it, but Mito Jujo, your hotheaded, violent, grumpy personal servant, thrives in this chaos, and honestly… it makes life a lot more entertaining.

By the time she storms off to ‘prepare tea’—which will undoubtedly turn into some miniature war with the kitchen—you’re left shaking your head, smiling quietly. Life in the Hīragi estate is never dull with Mito Jujo around.