L’s Lounge

Every few seconds a phone buzzed, a shout echoed, a door slammed.

Not once did Hiromi look up.

“Expand the search radius three kilometers. Check Sukuna’s old routes. He may not be involved but he still has tunnels in that district.”

‘Yes sir.”

He stood in the center of his private office, a hidden floor in one of the older Higuruma-owned towers, hidden in plain sight. His men moved around him with urgency, either tasked with dealing with their usual business or tasked with finding his bride to be.

“Warehouse district is clean,” one of his captains reported. “Ports too. No sightings.”

The rain clouds pressed down heavily over the city, unyielding pressure on the skyline as if it were serving it a warning.

Another man burst in. “we’re trawling the highways. If they transported her out of the city—’

“They didn’t”

That was one thing he sat certain on. Whoever did it would be too arrogant for subtlety and would leave a trail for the fun of it.

Arrogance. Pride. Old money and decaying hierarchy.

His mind kept circling to a single name but he refused to think about it too loudly. Zenin.

“Someone find out where Naobito does his business outside of the city. Please.”

Hiromi steadied himself against the desk, staring at the last CCTV frame of you before you vanished behind a column at the temple.

All within a frame, you were gone without panic or movement.

Just erased.

The elevator down the hall dinged as fear that Hiromi hadn’t felt since he was 18 settled right beneath his ribs.

No one spoke— this building was restricted and everyone who knew that took the stairs from the basement floor.

He turned and there he was.

Neat and composed, beige coat immaculate, expression carved from stone. But his jaw was tight and a storm swirled in his eyes.

The room tensed as Nanami approached Hiromi.

“Kento,” Hiromi acknowledged him with a barely perceptible nod. “I wasn’t aware that you were invited.”

Looking around the room, Nanami balled his hands up in his pocket. “No need for an invitation. I heard she was taken and I’m offering my services.”

Hiromi dismissed over half the room with a single gesture. Everyone lower than a senior advisor

scattered quickly without question.

Hiromi straightened. “You’re informed quicker than most. Weren’t you in the states playing lapdog for the Kamo’s?”

“That’s because I actually care about her.” his voice remained leveled.

“I care enough to tear this city apart to find her.” Hiromi’s jaw flexed, showing the smallest crack in his composure.

“Do you?” Nanami stepped closer, the fury that he had tucked so closely now slowly rolled off his shoulders. “Or is this about your families games on territory? The egregious deals your father wants to protect?”

The rain began to tumultuously come down, the heavy pour hitting the windows at an angle.’

“If it were about business, I would’ve let her die on the first night and use it as leverage. Let’s use our brain, Nanami.”

Nanami stilled.

Two different kinds of loyalty. Two different styles of patience and care sharpening into an unavoidable collision.

Exhaling, Nanami looked over at the board of maps.

“Tell me what you know.”

Very little in this life made Hiromi feel anything but numb. But Nanami was dangerous. Loyal and unwilling to bend. A once kept dog now controlled by his own personal ideals. He was a liability, his presence presented nothing but a complication. And yet…

“You’re not working with me,” Hiromi stated with a clear tone, ‘You’re assisting temporarily because we both care and want her back safely.”

“Temporary is all I need.” Nanami nodded once.

“And after?”

Their gazes met, no hesitation, no fear.

“I’m not here for you, Higuruma,” Nanami removed his eye patch, his glass with the golden pupil shined under the dingy office lighting. “I am here because she deserves to live. Whatever you and your father think you’re building, she didn’t ask for that. This is purely for her.”

Hiromi absorbed the blow. Denying or arguing even when Kento knew only half the story would do nothing.

He simply turned back to the map and traced a red mark near the shrine district. Nanami stepped beside him as he spoke up, “Whoever took her is still in the city. They knew the temple well enough to know of blindspots and lack of security.

Nanami’s brow lowered. “Inside information.”

“Yes.”

“Her own family then.”

Hiromi paused. The silence was telling.

“You’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”

“Kenjaku confirmed it wasn’t him.”

“Kento’s eyes flickered. “You went to him?”

“I was running out of options on the who.”

Wryly, Nanami dropped his voice and sucked his teeth. “You should have come to me first.”

Hiromi didn’t disagree. His silence was response enough.

“So,” Nanami leaned over the map, eyes tracing back and forth between the shrine and your families business center. “Whats next? Do we go in and accuse her own father of essentially feeding his own daughter to the wolves?”

Tapping the northern marker, Hiromi pointed to the old temple near the meat district. “Yaga. He wont be as cooperative as I want, but he is the only one who will know how we can get this done before we turn to a family I’d rather not say out loud.

“Zenin.”

both of their gazes darkened.

Preparing to move, Nanami slid his arms through the coat, “Lets move, then. Yaga tends to avoid visitors. We can try to catch him as he’s heading into the city.”

Hiromi watched him as he adjusted the collar of his coat. Really watched him. The deep scars embedded into his face. Obviously aged and healed. But they only showed the tenacity he held onto in living.

No one made Hiromi feel less than. But Nanami made him almost feel—

“You’re doing this for her.” he reminded himself. “Only for her.”

“When I bring her home,” Hiromi smiled, grabbing his cigarettes and sliding them into his breast pocket. “Our arrangement ends. You will scurry back to your highest bidder.” he held his hand out to be shaken.

Turning, Nanami walked to elevator with the same cool ferocity he always carried. “I expect nothing less from a well trained parrot, Higuruma.”

Twin blades pointed at the same target, they left the room together, one mission that would keep them cordial for the time being.

There wasn’t much in the macabre that you believed. You were about logic and reason. Things that were tangible and capable of being explained.

When Mei Mei invited you to come with her for her bimonthly reading, you couldn’t have laughed any harder. It’s all theatrical. The smells of overripe fruits mixed with some sandalwood scent that was stinging your nose. “Relax,” Mei Mei slipped off her heels at the door, going to the small bowl filled with cinnamon sticks, dollar bills, coins, and random rocks then placing her own offering in. “You act as if she’s going to curse you.”

“I’m acting like it’s a waste of time. Because it is.” Muttered, you glanced around the dimly lit parlor as you slipped your own flats off. Amber lanterns washed their light across the velvet cushions of a love seat and carved wooden tables. The walls were lined with shelves of jars, books, herbs hanging from twine, and bones from unknown animals.

“You never know what mysticism could do in your life if you allow it.” She sat on the couch, pouring hot water from the teapot into the matching cup, the gentle oolong tea scent bloomed as she poured. “It’s about what resonates. The leaves, or cards never lie.”

You folded your arms, clutching your small purse and sat beside her, scoffing lightly as you took in the dim space.

“She knows how to read people. Not cards. You’re more sensible than that, Mei.”

With a smile, Mei glanced at you, pouring you into the cup set for you, “Call it whatever you want, you still came.”

“Eh.” You corrected. “I came because I’m a good friend and you insisted.”

“Mm.”

The outline of a woman appeared in the hallway facing you. Older, not fragile. As she came into view, her dark hair was what you noticed first. It cascaded down her shoulders, thick and highlighted by strands of grey that almost shimmered in the light. Her robes were well worn and aged, the once bright floral stitching seemed to fade into the dark brown textiles they were sewn onto.

“Mei Mei.” There was warmth in her voice as she greeted her. “Pleasure to see you and a new face it seems.”

Mei stood up, smiling and reaching her hand out as the woman approached, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Maternal act. “My favorite person.”

The older woman sat in the chair across from you at the table.

“Your favorite person doesn’t seem to believe in my practice.”

Mei Mei poured the older woman’s tea. “You’ll have to forgive her if she rolls her eyes.”

“I don’t roll my eyes” you immediately countered.

“You do.”

“No, I don’t.”

The woman smiled faintly, “Belief isn’t required. Her voice softened, “Only honesty.”

You almost scoffed. Almost. And there— still you sat.

It was easier to humor rather than argue with Mei as she sat right next to you. A small, incredibly inconvenient part of you was curious.

A deck of cards were already in the woman’s hands. Worn cards, tattered at the edges. She picked up an incense and drew some symbol over them then proceeded.

“It seems spirit has things to say to favorite person. If you allow it. I’d like to start with you.”

Your eyes widened for half a second. “Sure.”

She shuffled the cards. Slowly and deliberately ensuring every card was shifted in the deck.

“Think of nothing.” She stated.

You did the exact opposite.

You thought of your father. Your mother and her tight smile. The line of suitors who’d been filling your families living room over the last few months. Your beloved grandfather who was rolling in his grave over your father’s actions.

“Cut the deck.”

You did.

She brought the deck to her chest, closing her eyes and speaking softly into the air before she reached and turned over one card, sitting it down in the middle of you.

A tower. It was cracked down the middle, lighting being the cause of its ruin.

You snorted “Dramatic.”

Mei shot you a look. “Shut up.”

The woman didn’t react, turning over a second card. A man blindfolded, wielding two swords across his chest, a flames on both sides of him.

Your smile faded just slightly.

The third card.

A cloaked figure leaving behind 8 golden cups and walking towards barren land.

Leaning back into the couch you shook your head out of annoyance. “Let me guess: something bad is coming, my home will be divided, I need to be careful who I trust or I’ll lose everything.”

“Mm” the woman hummed, tilting her head.

“That’s what you tell everyone, right?” You added. “Keep it vague, let us fill in the blanks so it ‘clicks’ for us? It’s an excellent business model.”

Mei Mei groaned.

The woman finally looked at you directly.

No sign of being offended or amusement. Her eyes seemed dull but very present.

“This has nothing to do with what’s coming in your life,” she spoke softly. “It’s about where you will stand when does.

You stilled.

She reached for one more card and turned it over slowly.

A figure in water, submerged, still, accepting fate as the water took over them.

You frowned. “This doesn’t even mean anything.”

“It can.”

“So I’m what, going to fall into a lake?”

“No.”

Her voice had gone cold. She looked at a skull that sat on the nearby shelf and spoke a few words in a language you didn’t know.

“You’ll be jostled. Moved to believe that nothing is happening for a mere moment. “

Your stomach tightened.

“You’ll think it means you are safe.”

There it was. You rolled your eyes. “Right. Of course.”

“But still water hides movement beneath it.”

Mei Mei went quiet, leaning in, in place of you.

Standing up, scoffing at the words. “This is exactly what I mean. Ominous metaphors, cryptic warnings. All very effective to keep your lights on.

The woman watched you, her hand sat stop the deck of cards.

Mei apologized, standing up as she grunted behind you.

As you turned away, she spoke up again.

“The house of rot that you are born from, it sits among a mountain of flesh. Flesh you have personally eaten.”

Your chest tightened. More noticeably now.

“A family that eats itself. Pride built on decay. They will not take you to keep you.”

“And by the time you are reached, you will already be someone else.”

_______

You opened your eyes. The memory snapped back into place like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

Your fingers, aching, tightened against the sheets beneath you.

The room was quieter even with the soft ripples of the water outside the window reflected faintly through out the width of the ceiling.

You swallowed. Throat dry, body aching where bruises had begun to bloom beneath your skin.

Naoya’s voice echoed in your head.

Sickeningly sweet.

You stared at the ceiling, replaying the words over and over with no more to give.

“…still water hides movement beneath it.”

You no longer felt confused since being taken.

You felt watched.

The light outside had shifted and you didn’t know how long it had been. The glow over the pond dimmed into something much grayer. The koi still moved beneath the surface, slow and unbothered with the less than unfortunate circumstances you were dealing with. Their bodies glided through the water that made them almost look glass like from a distance.

The bruise forming along your arm, the tenderness of your scalp, the quiet exhaustion that came from being watched incessantly. You moved from the seat near the window back to the edge of the bed, pressing into the ache that settled deep into your bones.

The door clicked and quietly swung open, followed by light footsteps.

“Well,” he closed the door behind him, gently toeing to the side of the bed you sat on. “You look comfortable.”

You didn’t respond.

Naoya took a few slow steps, glancing around as if to inspect the state of the room rather than looking you over. His fingers brushed the back of the chair nearest the window, dragging across the jacquard stitching then ultimately, finding the hardwood bed post.

“You should be thanking me,” he continued. “The last room was relatively unpleasant, don’t you think? I don’t usually bother with upgrading accommodations. But father did say you were a special guest, so why not, you know?”

Silence. You tucked your hands under your thighs, tightening your core as if bracing for an incoming hit.

You kept your eyes on the edge of the pond that you could see through the window, following the reflection on the ceiling anytime you felt his eyes on you for too long.

That earned you a soft laugh.

“Still ignoring me? You’re either very brave or very stupid. You better decide just how stupid you’re willing to act before too long.”

“I’m not performing for you,” you finally spoke up, voice carrying a deep exhaustion that sleep wouldn’t be able to fix.

Naoya hummed, amused by your propensity to act so above it all. “Mm,, I suppose you wouldn’t. Thats more his style, isn’t it?”

Your jaw tightened, the air in your cheeks immediately deflating, the gusto you were so close to building immediately knocked to dust.

“There it is,” softly snickering, he stepped closer, pulling the chair directly in front of you. “I knew something would make you react. Didn’t know it would be him though. Ah.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, recounting the last time you managed to feel at peace. Trying to cling to something other than the powerful scent of powdered florals and hookah smoke. You refused to meet his eyes. But you saw his shoes, the hem of his overcoat. The subtle shift as he finally sat down in front of you.

“I expected more crying from you. According to one of my men, you took your talking to like a champ.”

Exhaling slowly, your eyes finally met his ever so calm demeanor. The permanent look of content narcissism plastered on his face.

“Disappointed?”

“A little,” he admitted. “I personally don’t find it to be very fun if you don’t break at some point.”

He paused, eyes running over your neck, then arms, taking notice of the way your bruising was beginning to deepen in tone,

then, softer:

“Though, it does make me curious.”

His hand lifted, not roughly, and brushed lightly along your arm where the darkening bruises sat.

You could only flinch inwardly. Your stomach coiled tight from the cool touch of his fingertips.

“Even after realizing that no one is coming for you, you hold yourself together very well.” There was a hint of clearly faux sorrow in this voice that pissed you off enough to almost want to do something about it.

Looking into his eyes for the first time, even though it was just for a second, gave him a reason to genuinely smile.

“There she is.”

“No,” you swallowed. You don’t know that.”

“Oh, you think he’s coming?” Naoya tilted his head, holding your gaze steady despite the unease creeping up your spine.

The room seemed to grow colder with an unannounced sense of dread that you hadn’t felt this whole time. “I know he is.”

You knew. You thought you knew that Kento would be the one to be here, to have you saved and every man on the compound to be dead over 3 days ago.

You held onto hope. But it was feeling almost foolish now.

Naoya laughed to the point to where he had a tear in the corner of his eye.

“that’s the problem with men like him,” Naoya sat back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other as continued. “They make promises they cant always keep.”

“That’s the problem with men like him,” he said. “They make promises they can’t always keep.”

The more he talked, the more you folded into yourself. Every word hit your ear like an out of tune instrument.

He straightened, looking down at you, inspecting you and how body language as he twisted the proverbial knife in your chest.

“Your father, was very convincing, you know.” he added casually

Your chest tightened.

“You didn’t know how deep he was in this, did you?”

Your voice came out much quieter than you wanted. “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” he asked, almost gently. “He’s the one who made sure you walked out of that main hall alone.”

The air felt thinner.

Your thoughts moved too fast thinking back to your rehearsal— your mother’s voice almost too strict for her, the way your father had gone quiet despite needing to be heard in any other instance, the ease of it all.

“No,” you disputed, more firmly now. “He wouldn’t—”

“He already did,” Naoya cut in. “And he did it with not a singular second thought.”

Silence crashed between you.

He leaned in just slightly and his voice dropped to something intimate, conspiratorial in the way he dictated his words

“You’re not here because you were unlucky or unfortunately caught in the middle of a war,” he said. “You’re here because you were placed. You are going to start the war that has been brewing for well over two decades.”

Your hands clenched in your lap.

“Be proud of that! Most women in your position would be joyous over having blood spilled and a marriage proposal in their honor. Be proud that you are both the problem and the solution.”

You hated that he could see it affecting you. Hated it more that part of you was truly starting to believe even a part of what he said.

Naoya straightened again, satisfied with the uncertainty and mental anguish he knew he planted.

“I could have my men do a lot more to you,” he spoke casually as if discussing the weather with a friend. “You know that, right?”

Your stomach turned, but you didn’t look away from him.

“But I won’t,” he continued. “Not yet.”

A beat. Then two.

“I personally don’t like to play with my food before I eat it.”

With nothing else to say in the moment, he stood up sliding the chair back to its original

He turned toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance back at you.

“And besides,” he added lightly, “I’m curious to see if he actually tries to come for you.”

The door opened.

Then stopped.

“And when he does…” threads of impending were sewn through his voice now, “I wonder which of you will break first. Or maybe they’ll kill each other and we can get you acclimated to living amongst us… wishful thinking.”

The door shut behind him, this time not even bothering to lock it.

The door was guarded and if that door wasn’t locked, there were three others between you and the outside world that were.

The pond outside didn’t change. It remained untouched.

But now. Now you could see it. You could see the subtle movement beneath the surface. The blissful swimming that caused ripples to slowly surface.

And for the first time, doubt crept in alongside the fear.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was coming. But about what would be left of everything when he did.

The older woman’s rang in your mind. cold, muddled dread seeping into the very thoughts that were keeping you from falling apart now rearing as your very wits end.

‘Born from a house of rot, im not better than any of them.”

NANAMI

There was discipline to violence.

This was something most men didn’t understand. Brutality was often took for effectiveness— essentially noise for control.

Real violence required restraint. It was meant to accomplish something and be an endpoint. Precision, timing. Close curtains.

Nanami moved through the Zenin compound light on his feet, becoming a breathing shadow. With the outer perimeter already being handled thanks to Yuji taking the task on himself, he moved the two guards bodies into a small closet near the main entrance before going deeper into the lions den.

Pulse steady, expression neutral, he loosened the collar on his shirt as the sound of low humming tools came from the west wing.

This wasn’t anger that he felt coursing through him. Anger made men sloppy and that was something he hadn’t been since he was 19 and taking his first life. The single objective of finding you is what took root under the calm. It sharpened every sense, it narrowed every thought that slithered through his mind.

Find you.

Bring you back alive.

Ensure you know that you way out of all of this was just a matter of you saying you were out.

Everything else was secondary.

Old design made the mental map he had easier to discern where he could find at least Naoya. He’d be nestled deeper in to avoid being touched during these types of attacks. Leave all the actual bloodshed to anyone under him so his opponent was too tired to do anything,

typical brat behavior.

Naobito would be a bit harder to predict. He may have been a drunk, but he was an active one. Always needing to know what was happening, who was moving, why he had more to do than his lazy son.

Nanami exhaled slowly, stepping into the corridor lined with dark wood and a paper screen depicting a pond surrounded by cranes, filled with golden fish swimming around. His reflection flickered faintly in the polished surface, watching for any movement that wasn’t his own.

He though of you in the boutique trying on dresses, fingers brushing against the blush fabric, voicing your opinions on how he was being too judgmental for someone who did the same dirty work she despised.

“You keep me around because you can pretend I don’t snap peoples necks during brunch.”

“No, Kento. I keep you around because you make me forget this is our reality.”

You weren’t made for this world. Yet you survived in it.

A guard turned the corner and Nanami moved before he could even speak. He unsheathed his knife from his thigh holster with efficient ease and in One clean motion left a gash directly across his neck. The body dropped, small droplets of blood trickling as his lifeless body slumped and Nanami stepped over him unceremoniously.

Static from the walkie talkie on the mans waist caught his attention.

“We’ve got movement in the south wing. Check on the girl. Move Naoya, now.”

Breath. Engage when necessary. Stay focused.

He was close.

🗡️

YOU

A shift so small you would’ve dismissed it if you had not have been here for this long. When your mind invents its own demise from the lack of engagement. The silence began to press in on itself until it was beginning to feel alive.

This wasn’t silence though. Not regular silence, at least.

You had learned the rhythm of this place as an act of preservation. Footsteps would pass then fade. Heavier steps were security, light padded steps were Naoya. Naobito’s was followed with a thud from his stick. Door closed with purposes as voice never quite reached you so you could easily identify them if they changed shoes all of a sudden to trick you.

You managed a half laugh at that. They aren’t that guileful, right?

Sitting up slowly, your body protesting in sharp reminders of how you chose not to fight back to save yourself in the long run.

Your hand drifted unconsciously to your arm, pressing into the soreness to ground yourself in the moment.

The silence was different from even an hour ago. The absence of timely sounds. You looked out the window, all the same.

Listen.

You walked across the room with light traction.

Listen.

There. The wrong sound. It was distant but incorrect in how it should sound around this time of day.

Your pulse quickened, each beat louder than the last in your ear, filling the space where the house’s usual noise should have been. You stood right behind the door, bracing yourself as the sounds grew nearer.

There was something happening. Your gaze moved to the window. The pond remained unchanged as the koi moved beneath the surface in slow, lazy arcs, untouched by whatever had shifted beyond your walls.

Still water.

You swallowed harshly, pressing your eat to the door immediately.

Don’t do that, don’t start.

A vibration carried through the floor, your feet seemed to try and grip the wooden floors as you pulled back. Something solid hit the floor with enough weight for you to feel it down the hall.

This was real. This wasn’t your imagination playing a game of pretend. There was movement.

“Help!” you beat on the door with an open hand, trying to overcompensate for hoarseness in your throat. “Please! Someone help! I’m in here, im the—”

No.

You stopped yourself midway realizing you were holding onto too much hope. Hope right now was dangerous and it made you careless.

But it had to have been him. Your body knew, it betrayed you the moment the door clicked open half an inch causing you to move back hastily.

If this is him—

You stepped toward the door before you could stop yourself. Then another.

🗡️

Hiromi

All he knows is the first man may have mouthed the words no. Then he begged within an inch of his life before Hiromi pressed the muffled gun into his chest and stepped over him.

He registered the shape of them. The movements of his mouth, the shift in tone, the instinctive plea that came when men realized just how later they were in misjudging a single moment that ultimately ended their life.

The meaning hadn’t reached him. It couldn’t because he had no room for it mentally.

Blood hit the floor in a single splat. He stepped through it without allowing it to break his stride. The moment of taking another life didn’t have the chance to settle in while he moved through the corridor with little consideration of the cameras he knew were following his every move.

If this was anger, this would made things much easier. In Hiromi’s eyes, anger justified things. It made the violence feel less reactive, human. Necessary in a way that could be explained once the dust settled and things needed to be cleared.

This was intention that shouldn’t be taken as anything else. Every movement he made had been decided before his body carried it out. The moment he knew you were gone, he assured himself that blood was going to be shed. This wasn’t a reaction, but an execution that had long felt within.

Footsteps came from a corridor from his left and Hiromi adjusted his trajectory without hesitation. The who emerged from the dark hall didn’t have time to register what happened. Just a flicker of confusion before Hiromi closed the distance between them, directing his momentum to drive him into the wall with enough force to silence him completely before driving his knife right into his side.

The impact reverberated through Hiromi’s arm just enough for him to realize he was slashed by a small blade his now victim was holding onto. He wiped his own knife against his arm and moved on, wasting no time of trying to register what just happened.

The compound revealed parts of itself to him piece by piece. He had it mapped out but the subtle tightening of security made it feel almost unfamiliar in his mind. He began to map it instinctively, reconstructing it in real time while dissecting the heavier presence that was to come the deeper he moved inward.

More so a realization, it was accepted that they were not hiding you. This was holding you. Hiding implied fear of discovery.

This was like the monarchy and their crown jewels. Holding them with confidence, with an arrogance you could only have after taking something that was never yours to begin with.

No one in there right mind would go this far into taking the crown jewels and the Zenins thought the same about you. Coming this far for something invaluable. A very unfortunate miscalculation on their part.

The scent of iron settled into the air after another body dropped to the floor as a memory of you strained his mental capacity while he slid through a door way.

Unimpressed and guarded, sitting right next to him, unwilling to give him anything he hadn’t earned. How you held yourself when your mother finally stopped talking to you once Hiromi gathered her attention.

How you said his name. No warmth of kindness in it. But spoken honestly.

You’re still alive.

He was sure of this. Not hoping, certain. It was a requirement for you to be alive.

A tall, sturdier looking guard stood in the middle of the hall, hand already on his weapon as Hiromi turned the corner. He closed the distance but was hit immediately the handle of the gun, forcing him to stumble back a pace.

His blood warmed. “I don’t fight, I just kill. Don’t let that Higuruma savior complex get you killed.”

Hiromi couldn’t hear much, his ear was ringing as blood dripped from his temple. But he was stable enough to take a single step forward, dodging the incoming gun hit, and making his fist connect with a sharp crack that echoed down the hallway.

Bone gave way under force and the man dropped instantly, folding in on himself while silently screaming from a now dislocated and potentially shattered jaw.

He watched him writhe in pain for half a second before exhaling, letting the silence follow.

The door was just a few paces away and his heart stopped moving when he heard a quiet plea from a tone that could stop his thoughts from moving.

A single, immovable point of focus.

You’re on the other side.

________________________________

The door slowly crept open as a gun barrel lead in first. You didn’t move as he finally came into view and the gun immediately went down to his side the moment Hiromi’s eyes landed on you.

For a moment, your memory refused to place him. You hadn’t ever seen him like this and you didn’t expect that you ever would.

His frame was lit by the sunlight pouring in from the windows within the room, silhouette cut out sharply against it. His white button up had uneven splotches, fabric clinging to where it was soaked through, his sleeves were rolled, deep red embedded into the fine hems. His hands—

Your breath caught.

Fresh, blood, some dried flecks near his wrist.

Real.

It painted his knuckles, traced the lines and cuticles of his fingers, ran into his palms to fill the lines right in the middle.

His gaze found you instantly.

And everything seemed to fall away.

Neither of you moved as you took him in slowly.

The sharpness of his breathing rippled through his chest. The tension in his shoulders was held too tight. His eyes shifted over your frame, searching you for damage. For proof.

Alive, but hurt.

You realized distantly that neither of you had spoken.

Your voice felt familiar when it came.

“… You’re late, Higuruma.”

It was dry and weak and not at all what you meant to say. But it was the only thing that came out.

“I apologize. There were a few factors that made it difficult, but,” a quiet flicker of a smile surfaced in his face.

“I came.” it was never a question of if, but when.

You swallowed as your throat tightened. Taking a step toward him, you could really see him. The reality of all that he’d done settled in.

The blood. The disturbed silence. The absence of resistance. The fact that you could both stand here and just exist without a bullet or hand taking you down.

This was a path carved. Just for you.

Your gaze dropped, just briefly, to his hands, then back up to his face to see his usually tired eyes wide and aware of everything that had been done to you.

“I—’ your voice faltered then steadied as best as it could. “You didn’t have to-”

“I did.”

If you needed him to to do more, he would ask how far even after going too far. If you needed him to stop, he’d apologize for doing too much all the same.

There was a faint tremor in his hand that he hadn’t noticed but you did. A large gash in the side of his hand that had slowly bled but not enough to cause concern.

The feeling of fighting whatever you called yourself fighting in regards to him no longer felt relevant.

“Hiromi,” your voice fell softer as you stepped just a little closer.

His name felt different, he noticed. You noticed in his shoulders shifting, barely.

“We don’t have much time before outside enforcement arrives. Can you walk or do you need my assistance?”

You lifted your hand to his face examining the cut at his temple. The light gray hairs were saturated with blood, no longer visible as your thumb gentled pressed on the outside of abrasion before you heard footsteps walking hastily in your direction causing you to freeze.

He didn’t budge.

“Kento.” relief pushed his name out before you could stop it.

Nanami appeared in the doorway just behind Hiromi. A little cleaner but just as intense, His eyes moved over you quickly, cataloging every visible mark that he could.

“You’re injured.”

You shook your head slightly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. Are you feeling any pain?” he stepped forward as Hiromi became invisible the moment he stepped to the side.

This is where something shifted for the both of you.

Nanami’s presence didn’t carry the same end all be all weight that had just appeared with Hiromi.

He didn’t look like he carved his way through over a dozen men to reach you.

He looked safe and familiar. A constant when nothing had felt steady the entirety of your capture. Your body made the decision before your mind could catch up.

You moved past Hiromi without a second thought and Nanami took you with no hesitation accepting your hug before finally letting his hands frame your face while he examined the scar across your collarbone.

Hiromi watched as you quietly let him look over you. Choosing a direction, a clear one in his mind, as your conversation flowed effortlessly.

Finally, with you standing beside him, Nanami looked over to Hiromi and settled his hand at the center of your back as he asked “Are we getting out of here the same way we came in?”

There was now an understanding that was always there but just needed to be rearranging for Hiromi to get it completely.

You needed space. Not protection. Not proximity.

Not him. Not yet.

“The side door is cleared,” Hiromi stepped past you both, holding his hand out to almost usher you both out. “Security should be on the other side of the compound so we will go out that way.”

Not finding the gumption to even look at Hiromi now, you instead looked at Kento and leaned into his side.

“Go ahead, I’m right behind the both of you.”

Hiromi straightened, the last remnants of softened existence now disappearing back beneath the surface as Kento led you out into the hallway guiding you swiftly but carefully through the corridor.

There was never an actual chance of trying to get to know you. Nanami had you in a way that only familiarity and unspoken servitude could have you.

He was vexed. Damned to watch you actively choose anyone but him. And Hiromi was fine with this now.

He could make peace with what was never meant to be in the first place.

Night had settled fully by the time the house quieted past midnight.

Staff moved carefully, doors closing softer, the air even seemed to hesitate before it settled. The events of the day lingered lowly to the ground as the day came to an end.

Hiromi ensured you had everything and everyone you needed to heal from what he knew was a traumatic experience for you but disappeared into his office the moment he saw you were getting back acclimated.

Now, he sat in his office, door half open, lights low enough to not make his migraine any worse.

The blood was gone, skin cleaned and markings covered by either bandage or clothing. clothes were still business appropriate but instead of a suit jacket, his sage colored cardigan now held him together.

A stack of documents sat in front of him and he hadn’t turned a page in over two hours.

There was nothing outwardly wrong to any eyes that could’ve seen him. And yet the only thing that replayed was the image that gave him nothing but clarity.

You walked past him, with certainty and in instinct. To someone else. He hadn’t misread it, not even over-analyzed it. There was no hesitation in your movement once you chose.

He let out a slow breath as his hand ran down his face, causing the heavy sleep in his eyes to temporarily fade away, anything to ground himself in something tangible.

It would be easier if he could be angry about this. Anger could be expressed and resolved, eventually exhausted so he could lay it to rest as it needed to be. This type of realization did not demand any action from him, only necessary adjustments to further protect a part of him that surfaced just for you.

He had simply miscalculated in you. The area he allowed to exist in between what this marriage was meant to be from the very beginning and what it could have become with proper care and time. too much space for something undefined to grow between you.

Hiromi was entertaining something absolutely unnecessary. In doing that he had offered you a choice you hadn’t even asked for.

“That require mutual movement, Higuruma.” when all else failed, speak aloud to yourself.

He reached for the file in front of him, opening it without looking down and scanned the handwritten contents while biting the end of his pen.

The numbers and timelines were the only thing he knew to behave predictably. And hie needed something to make sense to him just for a moment.

You hesitated outside his office longer than you intended.

You’d changed, showered, tended to what you didn’t allow the house staff to, and yet the day clung to you in ways water couldn’t wash away.

The ache was hidden, the bruises remained.

And so did the memory of him standing in that doorway. Of what he had done to reach you in your most vulnerable state.

Your hand lifted before you second guessed it, knuckles brushing lightly against the heavy door. You watched the small glint of light peeking from the cracked door for his shadow.

After a few moments of slow revisions,

‘Come in.”

The already ajar door opened slowly and you stepped inside.

He registered your presence but continued to write steadily then finally sitting the pen down gently.

Hiromi immediately, with calm acknowledgment, lifted his gaze to you and held it

“Are you settling into the night well enough.”

The usual flicker you’d usually notice in his eyes was no longer there. No searching you or the soft space that existed between you. Just attention to the now. The little warmth you’d noticed and didn’t care much for then, was now gone.

“Yes. Mei Mei left a few moments ago and I was going to make tea before bed.”

You hesitated slightly then stepped into the room completely.

“Lovely. Is there something you need?” Polite. Perfectly so.

The distance that wasn’t this clearly defined before threw you off momentarily.

“I wanted to thank you,” your voice trailed off as your eyes left his and landed on the pen holder sitting at the corner of his desk.

Hiromi didn’t interrupt.

“Thank you for earlier. For the efforts in coming to get me.”

He inclined his head slightly.

“You’re welcome.”

That was all. No elaboration or even a half effort smile to soften the moment.

Just acknowledgment.

He picked the pen back up and went to look back at the documents in front of him.

You took another step forward, testing something, or the lack thereof.

“I know it wasn’t easy,” you paused, choosing your words carefully. “What you had to do.”

Hiromi kept the pen in his hand, looking back up at you momentarily. “it was necessary.”

Nothing. Not even a hint of complication.

Your fingers curled slightly at your side. “I didn’t mean—” exhaling softly, you moved to stand right in front of his desk. “I just really appreciate it, is all.”

“Mention nothing of it, I understand.”

There it was. The space allowed to exist for more. The version of him that always met you halfway.

An almost empathetic smile showed itself before he went back to making small marking on this paper in front of him before he continued “And I wont misinterpret it.”

Your breath caught. “If this is about Kento, I didn’t—”

Hiromi clicked the pen and sat it down, closing the file simultaneously before he stood. “There is no need to explain.” he stated gently.

The air seemed to have left the room as he pushed the chair in, standing behind it to leave enough room between you both to make this as nonthreatening as possible, but to stand as equals.

“You responded in a way that felt appropriate to you in that moment. You had been through a traumatic event that I know will take awhile to come to terms with.” the calm in his tone was unfortunately doing more harm than good. “There is nothing inherently wrong with that.”

“Thats not—”

“I understand,” he cut you off, no harshness detected.

His gaze held yours, steady and clear.

“I also understand that I allowed certain.. ambiguities to exist between us that were never part of the original agreement.”

“There isn’t, I’ve come to realize that.”

“Hiromi, thats not at all what I’m trying to do..” you started quietly.

“I know. That’s precisely the issue.”

Your opened your mouth to speak but he stopped you, holding his hand up to pause you, he continued.

Silence filled the moment before he went to stand to the desk side closest to the window, wanting to ensure he didn’t invade your space.

“You’ve navigated this arrangement in your own way which is what I hoped for. Because I believed there was value in understanding where that might lead.”

He held your gaze with conviction.

“This marriage, it was never meant to be an emotional one,” the unwavering calm in his tone made your throat tighten. “It serves a purpose. A function within a moving machine, and I believe it would be in both of our best interest to return to that understanding moving forward.”

The words were not intended to be or sound cruel. They were reasonable in action which made it worse.

“you wont be restricted. Your autonomy remains intact in all you do. Your associations, your personal choices, they will not be interfered with.”

You would’ve preferred if he just rejected you rather than this justified withdrawal.

This was complete retraction from anything involving you.

“I wont place you in positions where you feel obligated or bullied into responding to something you didn’t ask for.”

Your breath hitched, fingers fully curled and nails digging into your skin.

“And I wont mistake proximity for willingness.”

“Kento and I are not in some relationship where this conversation is warranted.”

“Nothing outside of what is required for appearances and obligation will ever be asked of you.” ignoring your statement, he noted formally to lay out the his thoughts. “And I won’t offer anything beyond the same.”

That quiet persistence. The careful attention he’d given to you without question. The line he had walked so deliberately. You searched for it without meaning to.

It had all been there before and now it was gone.

He didn’t react to his name like he had before.

“I am not asking for space or for some Human Resources bullshit in this relationship. Kento is my friend and you.. laying out some bogus rules because I chose him in a moment of pure anxiety—” you blurted out without thinking.

you shut up immediately.

“Hiromi…”

If you said it, he clearly saw it. And it wasn’t the first time but it was certainly the most definitive in his mind.

“If that’s what you want.” you unhurriedly accepted whatever this was that he laid out. Though it didn’t feel like it had ever been your choice to begin with.

“its what the arrangement requires.”

Gently. Firmly.

That was the end of it.

Hiromi then stepped back, returning to his desk, reclaiming the space and concluding the conversation before you had the chance to make anything more of it.

“You should get some rest,” he slipped back into the leather chair reaching for his pen and flipping open the file, “Tomorrow will be demanding with meetings in regards to recent events and how you want to move forward with those were apart of it.”

You stood there for a moment longer, a tear at your waterline annoyingly threatening to run down your cheek as you finally brought yourself to turn away and leave.

“Rest well.”

Hiromi didn’t look up as the door closed. But the moment it did, he hand stilled with a deep, albeit shaky breath of relief.

The hall was bright with lantern light, the scent of incense heavy in the air.  Rows of tatami mats stretched beneath lacquered tables, each one set with polished sake cups and delicate trays of food that no one has touched yet.

This wasn’t a celebration. It was a performance.

Zen’in heads and elders lined the front of the room like judges, their stern gazes sweeping over the invited guests. Some were outsiders of money, others of name or talent. But were all brought in under the guise of “strengthening ties.” The truth is clearer than the polished wood underfoot: this is matchmaking. Alliance-building. A chance for the Zen’in family to weigh and measure the worth of anyone bold enough to step into their den.

Naoya, of course, thrived in it.

He sat angled just enough toward the center, his robes pristine, his hair neatly brushed and combed to its usual controlled disheveled look. His smirk hadn’t slipped once all evening, every word that fell from his mouth was sharp enough to cut and calculated enough to land every time. Women brought by other families laughed politely at his quips, their eyes darting toward the elders for approval.

The sound of their obviously fake high pitch giggles could’ve scared a group of cats. 

It’s exactly the reaction he expected. Exactly the type of reaction he fed on in these settings.

As he took a sip of his gimlet, his eyes scanned over the room. The sounds of the women nearby were practically muffled as his sights caught you. 

You weren’t leaning forward. Not engaged. Not watching him with polite, eager interest like the rest of the room. You sat with a poise that didn’t seem to bend, attention fixed on your drink rather than the games of posturing around you.

A flicker of irritation replaced the smirk on his face for a heartbeat. He narrowed his eyes, drumming his fingers once against his cup before standing with a casual grace that ensured half the room turned to watch him.

As he made his way over, he couldn’t stand that you weren’t already looking. He picked up his pace to hopefully startle you with is approach.

“You look out of place,” he spoke with almost a sense of heightened smoothness with a dismissive tone he was known for, letting his shadow fall over you as he stopped right at your side. “These gatherings are usually wasted on people who don’t understand their value.”

For most, it would be the opening blow that forced a polite smile or nervous giggle.

But when you finally glanced at him, your gaze was cool and unhurried.

He felt a faint, unfamiliar spark of being… dismissed.

Naoya leaned slightly toward you, voice low enough to sound intimate, yet remained loud enough with the intention of wanting his words to be caught by nearby guests.

“You know,” the silver ball you’d caught a glimpse of earlier clicked against his bottom teeth. “Most people would kill for this type of intimate conversation I’m having with you. The women around you are seething.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile played at your lips. “You must know how disappointing this is for you then.” your voice remained measured and low.

A ripple of whispers spreads across the room. Some guests exchanged glances; the rest were shocked and barely hiding the horror on their faces. Your father completely unperturbed by the small scene that was unfolding. Naoya’s smirk twitched.

Crack one.

“You’ve got a mouth on you.” he muttered.

“Sit.”

Naoya’s face snapped. “Excuse me?”

Tilting your head up, you brought your water glass to your lips and sipped before replying.

“If you are going to force me to talk to you, you are going to sit down.”

Naoya leaned closer, nostrils flaring for just half a second, practically forgetting just where he was. With a tight lipped smile, he gracefully sat in the chair right next to you before leaning in, leaving no personal space.

“Do you always speak that way to people? Or am I just catching you in one of your female moods.”

The lantern light hanging above caught your eyes.

“I speak this way when its necessary. Right now? It’s necessary that you stop assuming your charms will work on everyone.”

The corners of his mouth spasmed, but his eyes sharpened, searching yours for a crack that was at least bigger than the one he had.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blush. Didn’t go shy.

“Mm. You’re bold.” his voice was tighter now. “Its fucking irritating.”

“I prefer accurate.” the coolness of your tone made his eye twitch. “Bold doesn’t always mean right.. you of all people should know that.”

Your attention went back to your water glass.

For the first time ever in his life, Naoya felt the twinge of unease he’d never experienced before. Someone who isn’t impressed by his mere existence and isn’t afraid to push back..

In public.

_______

The air was cool and the cicadas faintly droned on beyond the Zen’in estate walls. Your heels clicked against the stone steps as you waited for the car to be pulled around for you.

There was an unfortunate charm to the way the Zen’in compound was nothing but traditional architecture and private. Wasted beauty in your eyes.

You dug through your bag for a quick moment before hearing light steps approaching you.

“You’ve got some nerve,” Naoya drawled out as he approached you, tilting his chin and stopping only a pace away to take up any personal space you did have. “Talking to me that way. Trying to humiliate me. I could’ve struck you and no one would’ve batted an eye. Do you know who I am?”

The gum you grabbed from the bottom of your bag was now sitting in your jaw. “Unfortunately yes. That’s the problem. But hitting me? Were you having a tantrum?”

His smirk froze, then flickered. “You really aren’t anything but a bitch, huh. Just thinking you’re so fucking clever.”

“No,” you corrected him smoothly, eyes still on the driveway in front of you, the berry mint gum acting as a slight place holder for your irritation. “I think you’re a predictable man. You can’t do anything but spew recycled bullshit and remind people of how important you think you are.” You finally glanced at him—deliberately slow, like you decided on indulging him with attention he didn’t deserve. “Which makes you really boring, Naoya.”

Naoya’s jaw tightened, his smiled thinned out with a venomous touch.

“Careful. Men in my position do-”

“Men in your position don’t what? Don’t know how to shut the fuck up? Don’t know how to do anything but convince yourself that you’re superior?” Your voice was dripping in condescension. “It’s exhausting watching you try so hard. Give it a rest.”

An incredulous, sharp laugh fell from his lips as his eyes flashed hot. His hand gripped the sleeve of your robe. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

“Oh, I do.” You took a step closer. You could hear his teeth grinding as you leaned in. “I just wanted to keep talking to a man who mistakes his family name for a personality.”

The sound of tires crunching over gravel cut through the charged air. Naoya pulled back, nostrils flared, and waited for the car to stop at the base of the steps before he took a step back.

You stepped past him without waiting for dismissal, making sure to brush against him as you smiled.

“Goodnight Naoya,” you politely murmured, sweet as saccharine and mocking in equal measure. “I hope you end your night bending someone over whose impressed by you. Truly.”

Without a backward glance, you descended down the steps and slipped into the car. Naoya stayed frozen, hands now fisted in his pockets, face tighter with a smile a was no longer hiding his fury.

There was no audience to see the way he handled you. Know elder to validate his restraint. What there was, was you. You saw him being flawed.

And that was 100 times worse.

____

The cushions against Naoya’s back were the only comfort he currently had, his haori was tossed carelessly over the arm of the sofa. He was mentally uncomfortable.

The woman straddling his lap sighed, then giggled as she began pressing her lips to his neck, hands clinging to him like she was afraid to lose her already uncertain position.

Normally, this was easy for him. Thoughtless. A way to remind himself of what he was owed for all the hard work he did.

Tonight, the sound of her laugh grated his last nerve. Perfume was too sweet even though he told her to wear it. Every word she whispered was desperate, an empty echo of rehearsed lust.

He was half hard, his head somewhere else entirely replaying your words over and over.

“Men in your position don’t know how to shut the fuck up. It’s exhausting watching you try so hard.”

His jaw tightened. The woman gasped from the almost death grip his had on her waist as she halted her slow grind against his cock. He snarled when her lips pressed against his ear, eager. Cloying.

“Naoya-sama,”

“Shut up.” he snapped.

The woman stiffened. He didn’t care. Naoya pushed her off his lap so abruptly she nearly stumbled onto the floor before catching herself. Eyes wide with shock, she watched him stand up, and grab his robe from the couch.

Adjusting his robe with quick, irritating movements, he spoke without looking down.

“Get out.”

“W- what?”

“Out.” his voice raised. Sharp enough to slice. “You’re done. Leave.”

She scurried around the floor, grabbing her discarded clothing and shoes without another word. The door clicked shut and the silence that followed was suffocating.

Naoya paced across the room, exhaling through his teeth as he tried to brainstorm what he needed to do next. What he could do next.

“What the fuck Naoya.” the sound of his own voice was damn near grating. “What the fuck.”

The way you hadn’t even blinked when he hovered over you. The way you dismissed him as if he was a nuisance you could write off.

That mocking smile. Your voice. Mild and sweet enough to piss him off.

It should’ve enraged him enough to forget you entirely. Instead, it sharpened his focus to find you. To humble you.

He made it to the low table and grabbed his phone, fingers moving with an impatient quickness. Scrolling until he found the number that would solve all of this for him.

“Yes?” The low, gravelly voice picked up in two rings. He didn’t waste time with greetings.

“I want everything you can find on that woman you saw me with tonight.” it was an order, not an ask. “Now. Family ties. Business ventures, allies, enemies. Send it before sunrise.” His voice clipped.

The reflection he was staring at in the mirror was not him. He was restless, unfulfilled. Expressionless.

That smug little curl of your lip. The way your voice dripped venom so sweet it sounded like honey. The way you’d stared down at him with the kind of condescension only reserved for something lower than dirt.

He hated it. He loathed it.

It was about winning, not having you. Reminding himself that no one, especially a woman, could walk away making Naoya feeling small and not deal with the consequences.

This was the start of a hunt. One he could feel burning deep in his chest. Naoya needed to hunt you to stop thinking about you. And whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew a weakness when he saw it.

_____

The boardroom was all glass and shadow, the city’s skyline bled through the windows like a silent audience.

You didn’t bother sitting at the head of the table. It was too obvious. Instead, you opted to lounge three seats down, legs crossed, sipping tea as though this wasn’t a meeting meant to break a man’s career.

Your father was adamant that you use the prowess he knew you had to ensure these meetings went as they needed to. And while he wasn’t wrong, you had your sights set on a day in the city prepping for your garden party.

But alas.

Across from you, a mid-tier clan associate who was graying at the temples, sweat already darkening the collar of his shirt, tried to keep his voice steady.

“With all due respect, your family’s terms are… excessive. My people can’t—”

You cut him off with a laugh so soft it was cruel.

“Excessive? Excessive would be demanding blood instead of money. What I’m offering is charity, and frankly, you should be kissing my fathers hand for it.”

He flushed, bristling. “Charity? You’re asking for double the yield we agreed to last quarter. No one in their right mind would call that charity.”

Your smile didn’t shift, but you pushed your glasses up so they sat perfectly on your nose.

“No one in their right mind would have the audacity to walk into this room and tell me what I should or shouldn’t call my own terms. You think because you’ve survived this long, you’re clever? You’re not clever. You’re tolerated. Do you understand the distinction?”

The man swallowed, voice catching. “I’ve given your family loyalty for years. My people,”

“Your people are mine the moment I decide they are. Don’t romanticize it. You think your loyalty matters? You snaked my father in 2014 when you attempted to push him out of a small time real estate buyout. For fucking chump change.”

He cleared his throat, clearly surprised that you knew of his mistake from yesteryear.

“Ask around. Everyone’s loyal until they’re afraid. And you,” You leaned forward, tone dropping into something silkier, hungrier. “You reek of fear.”

Silence. The man’s fists tightened on the table.

“Here’s the reality. You sign my terms before tonight, or you’ll be explaining to your children why their house is on the market tomorrow morning. And if you’re lucky, all you’ll lose is property. If not… well.” A shrug, light as air. “The morgue takes walk-ins.”

The man finally broke eye contact, staring down at the polished wood table. His voice was a whisper. “You’re insane.”

You sat back, smiling like a cat stretching in the sun.

“Insane? Well now you’re just flirting. Sign the paper.”

The pen was in his hand a moment later. Not because he wanted to. But because you made it impossible not to.

___

The office had gone quiet after the clash. You decided to linger around to finish your notes before heading back home. By the time the last subordinate retreated, your father was already at the doorway.

“You’ve made yourself quite the subject,” he stepped inside, voice carrying the chastisement and pride he often walked the line of. “The circles are buzzing. Last night at he Zen’in circus, you and Naoya—” he gave a humorless, short laugh, “-- apparently you stole the show.”

You leaned back, unbothered but mostly not actively listening as you continued to type. “Stole or ruined?”

“Depends on who you ask. The other women think you embarrassed yourself, ruined your chances. Called you reckless even.”

That made you smile. You clicked two more keys before looking up at your father. “Let them. If their idea of positioning themselves is smiling and wearing gourmand perfume for a cunt of a man like Naoya, then they should be thanking me for clearing the competition. They can be chosen like cattle. I’d rather die.”

The older man sat down across from you., exhaling through his nose. The small huff betrayed his amusement before it faded into something slightly heavier. “You know that Naobito doesn’t see it that way.”

You paused, arching your eyebrow.

“He was entertained,” you father admitted, watching you closely. “Outright told me and few other Klan heads he hadn’t ever seen anyone make Naoya shut up but also chase after them. In all his years.. he called it ‘spunk’. Said he would really like for you to return for a private dinner he wants to have.”

An exasperated, low laugh spilled from your lips. “So he enjoyed watching me carve his heir open with witnesses and now he wants to reward me like a dog who performed a trick.”

“I knew bringing you to those meetings as a child would bite me in the ass.” he laughed heartily and you shook your head, quietly joining him.

“He’s testing you, phoenix.” He started, more of a warning than a request. “The Zen’in’s don’t extend invitations like this ever, If Naobito wants to look at you twice, its not because of your charm and spunk. It because he sees a weapon that could end wars before they start. You’d better decide quickly if you’ll let him use it or if you’ll use him first.”

Gaze glittering with something only your father knew as calculating, you tilted your head. “Why not both?”

For a beat, the silence settled between you, only to be broken by your fathers quiet, weary chuckle. He stood, rounding the table and giving the crown of your head a gentle kiss. “Diablo’s spawn through and through,” he muttered with a note of pride. “Have your dinner. But don’t burn the table down before the first course.

“No promises.”

______

The line clicked after the third ring.

There was no greeting on Naoya’s end. It was clear he was expecting someone else to be calling his phone at this hour. Hoping for more pitiful scraps they could gather about you after failing that morning to provide anything.

“Naoya,” you purred, stretching his name into something dangerous to say. A toy and weapon for you. “You’re a difficult man to reach. Not for lack of trying, of course.”

There’s silence for a beat too long, and you could picture his jaw tightening to the point of aching.

“What do you want?” he snapped. “How did you get this number?”

A soft chuckle slipped from your throat. “Oh nothing, really. Just wanted to be a good girl and save you the trouble of sending your dogs sniffing around for me. You’re sloppy when you’re desperate. It’s cute in a pathetic bitch kind of way.”

“You think you’re funny?” his voice dropped.

“No,” you replied quickly and smoothly. “I’m just correct. And I thought it would be best to hear the news from me firsthand.” You paused, savoring the moment, savoring the way you knew he was hanging onto every word you spoke despite himself. “Naobito extended me an invitation. A private dinner for just the family as your prospective wife. Isn’t that sweet? He said he liked my ‘spunk’”.

You let the word drip with derision.

“I suppose I’ll have to mind my manners this time.” your voice lilted and Naoya slid down in his chair. “Who knows? Maybe by the time winter solstice rolls around, I’ll be sitting pretty in the family estate, your blushing bride. Wouldn’t that be just tasty?”

“Oh don’t flatter yourself,” Naoya ground his words out like he hurt to speak. “You wont be at any table that matters and I’d make sure of that.”

“Oh Naoya,” you sighed almost pitying, ‘Your father disagrees. But! Don’t you worry. I’d make sure to have your favorite cock whore sitting close by. We cant have you grumpy, lover.”

There was a sharp inhale on his end and you let out a gentle moan of approval, twisting the knife a little deeper.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Naoya. I’ll see you soon.”

You hung up before he could respond, the dial tone being your sound of triumph as you gained yet another notch in your belt.

Naoya stared at his phone long after the line went dead. Your voice still lingered in his head, the sharp lilt of mockery ringing in his ears the way strong alcohol lingered on the tongue. Burning and impossible to forget.

You’d taunted him. Audacious enough to call first, bolder to twist the knife with your quip on being his own fathers favorite choice.

“Blushing bride..” his jaw ticked, fingers idly tapping at his desk while his glass of whiskey tempted him.

“Fuckin’ witch of a woman—“ he hissed through his teeth.

It was laughable. He was letting a woman crawl under his skin like this. Not even a full 24 hour ago he had just finished putting a woman out of his house because he could barely get hard, no release or his fill. And now here he was, pulse pounding with irritation that dipped too close to to a burning desire to have the taste of you on his tongue.

A heat low in his stomach that no amount of whiskey would drown grew in his groin. The image of your smug expression flickered behind his eyes, the sound of your condescending little tone replaying until his teeth ground together. His hand drifted toward his belt, trailing down to his growing bulge before he gave himself a squeeze.

Saying his name as if you owned it. Saying it with all the temerity of someone who had him pegged.

“Naoya…”

His foreskin moved in motion as he stroked himself through his trousers, shakily breathing with no idea how he’d gotten himself to this point.

“Her fuck ass attitude.. god,” With a low, guttural groan, palmed his aching, rigid cock through his pants before yanking it out, freeing his erection and watching how it jutted out obscenely. The head was swollen and purple, leaking onto his silk boxers. He squeezed hard, relishing the sharp pang of pleasure-pain that shot through him. "Fuck..." he hissed under his breath, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

His free hand traveled under his shirt and to his nipple, pinching and tugging, greedy for more. The dual sensations sent jolts of electricity zinging through his nervous system.

Close. He was so close his mouth watered. He needed to come.

“Pathetic bitch kind of way.”

“Please.. fucking please..” he panted harshly, his strokes becoming frantic and erratic as his thighs bumped into the desk. His balls drew up tight, cock pulsing and throbbing in his grip until he let go, watching his cock throb as he came hands free. Writhing, cursing your name with all he could as thick ropes splattered onto his stomach and chest.

“Shit.. shit.” he sat there gasping as the aftershock of his climax coursed through him. He felt no satisfaction, no relief. Only a deep, abiding loathing for you and himself. And the fact that he came too quickly.

With a grimace of disgust, he sat up, unbuckling his pants then pulling his shirt off before heading toward the bathroom, unable to look himself in the mirror until he washed away his weakness.

______

The dining hall was transformed from its previous evening of parties to a traditional dinner setting for a family of 8.

Zen’in’s sat in tiers of importance, Naobito at the head, his laughter loud and boisterous as sake was poured into his cup. Conversation hummed across the long table, clear hushed commentary about the “outsider” who was seated amongst them. You didn’t need to hear the words to know they were about you.

Naobito welcomed you warmly at the entrance. His hand surprisingly firm on your shoulder. “You’ve got fire,” he’d told you with a grin. “The others, they cower too easily when met with resistance or an improper word. But you gave Naoya a run for his money and that is more than enough for me.”

You settled at the table next to Naobito’s great niece and accepted sake with a polite nod as you let the hum of conversation drift about. You observed, remained your usual self.

Every move you made was being measured and you knew how to come out on top.

A few moments passed before the sliding door rattled open, the bleach blonde menace had arrived.

Late as if on purpose. He confidently strode in with a practiced confident lilt as he gaze cut sharp the moment it landed on you.

“About time you joined us, boy.” Naobito barked.

A forced smiled pulled at Naoya’s lips. He bowed shallowly, then sat next to you, shoulder brushing your as he settled onto the cushion.

Instead of acknowledging him, you let the silence hang while your eyes remained on the dark brown fabric of Maki’s garment.

Once you knew the silence was gnawing at him, you spoke. “How generous of you to join us. I was beginning to think punctuality wasn’t really valued in the Zen’in clan.”

Your words earned a sharp, almost childlike snort from Naobito. “Ha! She’s got you there! Wouldn’t be able to piss on time if his john wasn’t attached to him!”

Naoya’s jaw flexed, his hand tightening subtly around the delicate stem of his wine glass. He muttered, low, “Careful with your tongue.”

“It’s a sharp one, isn’t it.” you replied softly, tilting your head just slightly toward him. “Wouldn’t want to waste it on silence.”

Everyone at the table chuckled. The more he scowled, the more entertained everyone was by the shadow you caste on his ego with every word mumbled.

He set his cup down to hard, the moment stretching taut until his composure completely snapped. The glass clinking against the wood stopped everyone mid laugh.

“Excuse me.” his bow was shallow and insulting, and he didn’t wait for any acknowledgment before he walked off down the hall and disappeared behind a door.

“Forgive me,” you said, tone dipped in false concern. “I should check on him. It wouldn’t do for the young master to be so unsettled.”

Naobito barked a laugh. “Go on, girl. See if you can tame him.”

You excused yourself as the tables laughter picked back up. You left to the sound of their amusement but quickened your pace the moment you weren’t in their sights. You weren’t chasing him out of kindness.

You wanted to ensure you caused more cracks in his armor.

__

Naoya paced outside on the terrace before leaning against the wooden beam. His head was pounding, aw clenched so tight he was surprised that his teeth hadn’t cracked. He tilted his head back to relieve some of the pressure at the crown of his skull right as he heard you approach, but he didn’t turn.

“You looked as if you needed a reprieve,’ the kindness in your voice was practically triggering for him at this point. “Are you okay?”

“Humiliating me must be fun for you, isn’t it.” Every syllable in was clipped, like it was being torn off before it could burn him.

The silence stretched just long enough before you decided to answer. “You humiliate yourself, Naoya.” you closed the gap between you, crunching across the gravel as you came closer. “I just sharpen the edges of the blade so everyone can see the damage.”

He finally turned to face you and for a brief second, his eyes betrayed him. Something raw, deep, evoked itself. Need.

The words landed and he saw green. In a flash, his hand shot out to wrap tight around your throat, pinning you back against one of the wooden posts. His grip was firm but trembling—not from weakness, but from how badly he wanted control. His breath hit your cheek, ragged.

“You really think Naobito favors you? That he sees anything other than a convenient tool?” his grip tightened. “You’ll learn soon enough that the old mans admiration is fickle.”

The feeling of uneven ground left from beneath your feet as he picked you up.

“Say it. Say that shit again.” he snarled, spit glistening at the corner of his mouth. Eyes blown with fury.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you gathered your defiance and hawked it into his face. A large spit wad landed on his mouth.

The way his eyes widened was reminiscent of a deer in headlights. You drove your knee hard between his legs. He doubled forward with a strangled, pain ridden sound, hand full falling away from you throat as he collapsed onto the gravel.

“A bitch who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

Pain was written across his face. The lantern lights caught his contorted expression when he looked up at you.

His pride was fractured, raw and in its broken presence, something startling flickered.

Your fingers brushed at the spot on your throat where his hand had been. Naoya’s shoulders folded inward as you stood over him and as his defiance cracked, it revealed something he would’ve rather died than admit existed and a lump grew in his throat.

“So that’s what you’re hiding.” the fracture crack that would have him break from the inside. “There you are.” the gentleness in your voice was a disease.

His body coiled but his eyes betrayed him. They wouldn’t leave yours.

You’d uncovered the one thing Naoya Zen’in feared more than humiliation: how much he wanted to kneel.

__

Naoya stayed crouched for far longer than he intended, He felt his chest heaving, breathing unevenly, his shoulders tense and sunken in like an animal thats been cornered by a predator. He wiped the spit that sat on his cheek away, refusing to look back up at you.

“No one.. Not a soul gets to treat me like this,” he rasped, brittled with faux arrogance. “You’ll regret that.”

His words weren’t agreeing with his body: the way his knuckles pressed into the ground, the way his breath had a slight but obvious tremor. You studied him, tilting your head as if you were at a museum and he was the newest piece put on display.

The sight of him folding in on himself stoked something sharp and electrifying deep in your chest.

You crouched low, close enough to where he had no choice but to meet your gaze. “Then stand up.” sweet as apples, you poked the bear. “Stand up and prove it.”

His mouth opened but nothing came out, but the command hit him deep. He hesitated as his jaw tightened before pushing himself into an upright position. The lingering ache from your knee made him stagger for half a second.

Reaching out, you smoothed out the wrinkles near his collar before grabbing his earlobe and pinching it between your fingers until he had no choice but to bend ever so slightly toward you. “You’re going to walk back inside with me,” you spoke with a gentle chastisement that only a mother would usually have. “Head high, mouth shut. Because if you cant manage that, I swear to God, I’ll make sure that entire table knows what I’ve just seen in you. I can promise you that, Naoya.”

The promise landed as a threat and that was all you needed. His nostrils flared but his heart began to thump from the hum of voices just on the other side of the estate door. His eyes darted back and forth for a few moments.

“You think you can control me? Take hold of my chain and lead me?” trying to hold onto the now shapeless defiance that he was losing.

“I don’t think,” you countered, grinding your knee into his inner thigh before releasing his ear. “I know. And you’re going to behave.”

The adrenaline he felt coursing through him was conflicting. His pride was grasping onto the edge of his character. But he straightened his shoulders, smoothed the hair at his nape and forced his usual mask back in its place.

It felt phony, imperfect now with its cracks and thinness. But it was enough to pass for the rest of dinner.

When you turned and began to walk toward the doors, you didn’t bother to check and see if he followed.

His footsteps came, a half beat behind yours.

___

The air inside the Zen’in dining hall felt a touch heavier after stepping back in from the garden. The hefty silverware clanked against glass, the laughter of distant cousins, Naobito’s booming voice wrapping the entire room in an optimistic energy. It was all pressed down in a silken weight of tradition and expectation.

Naoya slid back into his seat right after you sat down, shoulders squared, jaw tight, as if he hadn’t just been on the verge of unraveling outside. His brother and cousins wasted no time in ribbing at his tantrum before he fired back across the table, throwing out a biting remark that earned a round of stifled laughs.

He was performing, desperate to reassert the pride he knew to be decreasing as he spoke. Beneath it all, his eyes kept flicking toward you, subtle and searching, Checking your face for approval, for signs of disapproval, for anything to let him know you were thinking of him.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a tell. You held your glass lazily, lips curved in a faint, knowing smile talking to everyone around him. Every second you stayed unreadable was a second added to the time bomb of his mental state.

It wasn’t until Naobito shifted the conversation, eyes glittering with mischief, that the table turned to you both.

“So,” the clearly drunken head drawled, swirling his wine, “perhaps there is merit in this pairing after all. A woman who isn’t cowed by Naoya. Quite the rare breed. Tell me, how does the idea of such a match sit with the two of you?”

Naoya’s laughter was sharp, dismissive, but a little too loud. “Father, don’t get ahead of yourself. A single night’s dinner doesn’t mean we are bound for a happy marriage.”

Then, his hand slid under the table. His fingers found your thigh, hesitant at first, then kneading them firmly into the fabric of your clothes. A silent plea masked as control. He was still acting, he was still the brash heir, brushing off his father’s talk with ease. But beneath his words and palm was another story entirely. Quiet surrender.

The weight of it wasn’t possession. It was reliance. A silent gesture that said: Lead me. Keep me steady. Don’t let me lose face.

“Naoya and I discussed our potential union while we took reprieve outside. While I do feel we are equally yolked, I’d like time to assess just how necessary our potential union would be.” You turned to give a congenial, warm smile before you continued. “With my father part of the conversation, of course. He would appreciate your tendency to take the more.. traditional path in your matchmaking.”

You didn’t look over at him. Didn’t need to. You continued your talks with everyone around him, swirling your glass, letting Naoya’s hand burn against your thigh while Naobito smirked into his cup, unaware that he was planning his own sons long term submission to you.

And Naoya sat there, posture impeccable, lips pulled into a smirk that only barely masked the raw tension in his touch—offering you, in secret, what he’d never allow anyone else to see.

(3 months later)

The chambers were quiet and it was just barely morning. The night air swirled around your shared room causing the light curtains to dance in sync as you sat in your most comfortable silks.

Naoya sat kneeling on the tatami floor, posture perfect, eyes fixed on like a statue. The controlled rise and fall of his breath was forcing him into stillness. For a man who has lived his entire life clawing for control, the sight would be nearly unrecognizable to an outsider.

“You’re certain?” you’d been awake for all of 10 minutes before Naoya decided to ask. Your voice, still brushed with sleep, cut through the silence.

The bones in his jaw flexed, rolling before he parted his lips. It wasn’t a resistance, but an anchoring to keep him still. His hand rested on his thighs, palms open, waiting. “I don’t want to take it back,” the sincerity in his tone made him close his eyes for a moment. “This is how I earn your care.. your salvation. I will kneel.”

You stood, the cold from the concrete waking you fully as you circled him slowly. Deliberately pacing to make your presence feel all consuming. “You’re asking me to take from you. To break you down and build you over and over until I am pleased with something better. The last three months were child splay compared to what comes next. You understand what that means?”

Naoya swallowed, gaze flickering to your feet before he forced it back to his palms. “It means that I am not living for myself. That I represent you. That I trust you..” The admission had nearly stuck in his throat. “Even when I hate how it feels. Especially then.”

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips and you leaned down, tilting his chin up with the lightest touch he would’ve thought it was an angel if couldn’t see it was you. “You’ll still be Naoya Zen’in to the outside world. But here?” your words lingered as you took a step back and sat in your chair. “You are merely a man who is mine. A project, a servant. My partner on my terms. You will bend, and in bending, you will finally become a productive member of society.”

A new sense of pride showed itself in the way his mouth twitched. He nodded once, continuing his eye contact with you.

“Hold your left arm out, please.”

Naoya, with no hesitation, did as you asked of him. He watched as you delicately picked up a wooden box from beside him and placed it in your lap.

The candles around you burned low. The setting was as it should’ve been in this moment. A quiet ceremony for no one else’s eyes. Just you and him.

When you spoke, your words now became etched in stone.

“The world will know us in one way. Through name, title. Through the contract that will bind our families tomorrow. But tonight, they do not choose for us, we choose each other.”

Naoya’s chin lifted as you spoke to him. The fire that filled his chest was not from anger or self pleasure. It was you.

“A shadow wedding.” he smiled. Reverent. Almost grave.

The corner of your mouth curved. “The only one that matters.” You opened the box, turning it so he could see the beaded bracelet etched with with intricate designs into the wood. “They will give us rings and contracts. But this vow, we made ourselves.”

You drew the bracelet from the box and let it rest in your palm, the lone rock crystal surrounded by wooden and green agate beads caught the flickering lighting in the room. “this is not for display; it will not be paraded before the clan nor worn for their approval. This is ours. When you wear it, you carry my claim.”

His breath caught, subtle but there. Slowly, he lifted his wrist to your lap, desperate to be bound to you.

“Thank you.”

You slid the bracelet over his hand and tightened the string. The beads settled against his skin with a cooling touch. “When you feel the weight, you will remember: you are mine. Not as a wife they gave you. But as the woman you are fortunate enough to have chosen and have until you take your last breath.”

Without breaking your gaze, he lowered his head and kissed the back of your hand where it rested on his wrist. “I am where I’m suppose to be. Thank you.”

You leaned over, kissing the crown of his head as he found his sanctuary in your lap.

Your vow sealed in the most guarded way he had ever shown.

“Welcome to your new life.”

…..