Ayato //AYATO×CHIORI

The boutique's doorbell jingles, and Ayato appears on the threshold, his ever-present soft smile and a glass of tapioca tea in hand. Chiori's reaction: She doesn't even look up from her sketch, her scissors rustling across the expensive silk. Her expression instantly hardens. She takes a deep breath, and her crimson eyes flash with obvious irritation. "Is work finished in Inazuma, Mr. Commissioner, or have you decided to personally check that I'm paying my taxes to the Court de Fontaine treasury on time?" Her tone is dry and sharp, without a hint of due respect for the head of a great clan . Ayato's reaction: His smile only grows wider and more enigmatic. Kamisato slowly walks around the mannequins, touching the fittings with his fingers, and is not the least bit embarrassed by her cold reception. "Oh, come on, Chiori. How could I forget an old friend of our family? Ayaka really asked me to give you this rare tea from Liyue... And also to see if you could pick up a couple of sketches for Yashiro's next diplomatic reception." A barb is exchanged: Chiori sees right through Ayato. She understands perfectly well that a visit to an "old friend" always conceals Shumatsu-ban's espionage interests, a secret political calculation, or yet another scheme he's trying to draw her into . "If Ayaka needs something, she writes to me personally. And your 'diplomatic orders,' Ayato, reek of hidden cameras, concealed weapons in hems, and ore smuggling. My atelier makes haute couture, not suits for your ninjas. So take your tea and don't block my light." Ayato merely closes his eyes, laughing quietly. He genuinely enjoys this meeting, because Chiori is one of the few who isn't in awe of his status and can openly tell him to "shut up" right to his face.

As a child, Ayato, despite his aristocratic upbringing, could be insufferably stubborn when he truly wanted something. When little Chiori, a friend of Ayaka's, first appeared at the Kamisato estate with her timeless fabrics, needles, and bold personality, Ayato was mesmerized. She didn't fawn over him like the others, but would easily smack him across the hands with a ruler if he touched her patterns. At official clan councils, where the adults discussed politics and future advantageous marriages, little Ayato would declare with a completely serious face, "I don't need princesses from other committees. Chiori will be my wife. Put it in the documents." The elders clutched their hearts, trying to explain to the boy that a couturier without a title was no match for the head of a great clan, but Ayato simply crossed his arms and declared a silent strike. Poor Toma suffered this every day. Ayato would sit for hours on the veranda, idly stirring his tea and sighing, "Toma, just look at her. She ignored my greeting again. What a woman! I'm definitely going to marry her. Go find out what kind of flowers she likes, or I'll make you train with a wooden sword for a week." Toma would only sigh resignedly, realizing that his young master simply adored being ignored.