Wednesday – 8:11 PM
Eight Days until the UA Sports Festival
"…despite significant investments into lifestyle support, Detnerat's stocks haven't rebounded from their decision to branch into hero support, undoubtedly due to our market shares and non-compete agreements with the five largest retail chains in the country."
The man, middle-aged and slightly balding, head resembling an eagle's and suit perfectly tailored, pointed towards the holographic charts above the mahogany table, "If we increase our own investments ten percent by the end of the third fiscal quarter, plus a relatively modest discount for our customers, in all likelihood, Detnerat will be forced to cut their losses."
"Make it eight percent."
At the end of the table, maroon eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly, drawing the retail manager's attention, "We can afford the cost. Yotsubashi, however, cannot. Yet he's far too prideful to cut his losses," every man and woman in the room listened intently, "He'll continue to invest in foolish endeavor underneath the assumption more money will be sufficient to force his way into the regional markets, let alone international," a hint of indignation accompanied modest amusement, "Still, I want a detailed analysis of such an investment's effects on our budget by next week. If ten percent works, we'll go with that."
"Of course, Madam Kiryuin."
The chief financial officer genuflected at her magnanimity before sitting back down.
Yet she cared little about such formalities.
"Now, if there's nothing left to discuss," Ragyo Kiryuin swept the room for any further arguments before allowing the holographic charts to flicker out of existence. While every person seated around the table wore nothing but the finest clothing, all produced by Revocs at no expense, she went above and beyond. A suit of the purest white, matching blazer, waistcoat and undershirt. An ensemble unmatched by anyone in the world, "I believe we're done."
The division supervisors were the first to leave.
The chief operating and financial officers, as well as the vice president, left together, discussing something with the four regional managers from the Costume Development Division sent by the High-Order Tailor in lieu of her attendance.
Soon enough, the last member of the board respectfully filed out of the room, leaving her alone with nothing but her thoughts for company.
A reprieve after a meeting that stretched more than an hour after its anticipated ending.
Out of the corner of her eye, a dark-skinned woman materialized from the shadows, darkness dripping off her body like water.
"Yes, Hououmaru?"
Her personal assistant offered an antiquated flip phone, "Madam, you have a call."
No name.
No number.
Nothing to suggest there was someone calling her.
"It's been a while," and yet her lips curled into a predatory grin as she raised the disposable phone to her ear, "I suppose this means something has…oh? Is that right?" the multicolored radiance illuminating her silver hair dimmed, if only momentarily, as irritation touched her voice, "Yes, my informants said as much, although I found the prospect quite unbelievable."
As the individual on the other end of the line spoke, their location encrypted by both technology and Quirk, Ragyo sauntered towards the double-paned windows overlooking Corusco Ward, Tokyo. Each snap-clack of her heels echoed sharply as she listened, sighing exasperatingly only when it was clear they'd finished talking.
"Why she chose such an évidente moniker is quite baffling."
Smoothing out a crease on her suit, she stared beyond her pale reflection at the skyline, "I suppose she simply couldn't help but introduce herself."
A short pause.
"Hm? Yes, I've already ordered her to clean up her mess, unless that's a problem."
Another pause.
"No, I suppose it's not," a titter caressed Ragyo's heart, pulling her expression into something resembling amusement, "If you were truly concerned, you'd handle the matter yourself."
She plucked a strand of hair off her sleeve.
"I see…that is quite the development," moving the phone to her other ear, she rubbed two fingers together, "Are you certain of this? You've been wrong before."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Threats won't work on me," the slight hardened of her voice gave away nothing, "You, of all people, should know better than that. Or has old age finally caught up to you?"
A long burst of silence.
"I hardly think so," surprise quickly surrendered to normalcy, "Well, at the very least, your understudy accomplished something useful during his excursion."
A minute-long pause.
"If only that were the case," a breathless sigh, "As I've repeatedly explained, designing equipment for such a…unique…Quirk has been anything but easy, even for someone of Nui's talents. She's made some process, but with her workload…" trailing off, Ragyo tapped a manicured finger against the cheap phone, "And exactly whose fault was that? You were the one who encouraged such petulance. It's not my fault his precious little toy's been taken away."
Silence.
"As always, you must have the last word," a wistful, almost melancholic, sigh escaped gently parted lips, "Very well, I'll contact you as soon as it's finished."
Ragyo snapped the phone closed before crushing the useless device into innumerable shards of plastic and metal between her manicured fingers.