Chapter Text
In terms of fashion, twelve layers of fine silk for a single kimono was the pinnacle of Inazuman wealth. Layers of expensive cloth rested in your closet and often waited for your chambermaids to smoothen onto your skin. It was heavy, perhaps not in literal weight, but rather in the meaning that they carried. You reserved such constriction only for matters of great consequence, like a political cause or an unfortunate occurrence.
When the messenger returned holding a letter that smelled like the damp air of Chinjiu Forest, your family was ecstatic. Nearly everyone in the Kanjou Commission deluded themselves into thinking that the crimes were pardoned by the Shogun herself. The only fissure in their daydream was you.
A single letter should have been easy to be discreet with. Twelve layers — surely, thin parchment would be well-hidden in at least one. Yet, you hadn’t anticipated the Yashiro Commission to send two identical letters. Your eye twitched when you found out. No doubt that annoying head of theirs had been the one to instigate such a clever move. He knew you too well.
When you risked a glance out the window, you saw that the entire faction had been put to work to make Ritou shine for your visitor. All for you. Bad sign. It reminded you how much this union meant for your family. You couldn’t bear to break their hearts — not that you had the choice either way.
When you turned the corner, you ran into Chisato. When she realized it was you passing, long kimono sleeves flowing behind you, she tensed up. A sliver of your composure crumbled and your brows began to laden with a frown.
You wanted to be angry at her. You never told the family how Chisato betrayed them by helping the Traveler escape Ritou. And for what? A love letter delivery for some commoner in the city? Her actions had a price and you were the unjust payment. Had she just kept her trap shut, you wouldn’t be in this position right now, getting married off to a stranger. But you had seen how her eyes glimmered when she talked about her lover, and it was a happiness as true as your word to keep her honor.
Better her than you.
“F/N,” she said. Conflict splayed across her face, and after a moment's hesitation, she fumbled for something in her bag and held it out. “Take my fan, will you? I think you might need it. It's a tradition for you to hold one.”
In her hands was a fine shensu that was embroidered with beads in the shape of a flower. You were reluctant to receive it. Shensus were a thing of old memories, when you were young and naive for reasons you didn’t want to talk about. Nevertheless, you indulged your cousin and took it from her hands to hold it above your heart.
Chisato held her hands to her chest and bowed her head, quietly sighing in relief that you weren’t rejecting her. “You’re a blessing,” she said. “I–I wish you the best of luck when you meet your husband.”
You knew she was being sincere, and she was trying to make this up to you, but her words seemed as flowery as her embroidered fan. You thanked her courteously and excused yourself.
When your parents told you that you’d be wedded off to some man, you had no complaints, the obedient child that you were. You’d always known that your marriage would be this way. It was practically what you were raised for, as you were second in line to Chisato and therefore had no real value unless she stepped down. But that had never happened, because you pretended not to know how the Traveler pulled off his Ritou escape plan.
It was either marriage or disgracing your only cousin to usurp her seat in the family. Somehow the marriage part seemed much more viable. If trading yourself meant restoring honor to them, then it was a small price to pay.
Your mother approached and wrung your hand in hers. “My one and only F/N,” she whispered. “My dearest child. I’m so happy for you. This match will be perfect.”
“Undoubtedly, you are a saving grace,” your father said. “This union between the Kanjou and Yashiro Commissions will prove prosperous.”
A watery smile was all you could offer them. Prosperity and perfection in a union to a man you didn’t even know seemed like fantasy. The past few months have been hell for the Kanjou Commission. After your uncle, Hiiragi Shinsuke, had been discovered to be colluding with Fatui, the Shogunate went to shambles. He awaited punishment from the Shogun and now your entire family image was on the line.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, and over the blood rushing in your ears, it took you several seconds to realize it was your soon-to-be fiancé. You were so on edge you felt as though you could hardly breathe. What will your fiancé think of you for having such apprehensive thoughts? Will he think less of you or will he find you to be only human?
You had no idea who he was, what he was like, or what his name was. As usual, you were kept in the dark.
Your mother nudged you. “It’s time.”
You took a deep breath, forced a smile, and nodded.
“That’s my darling,” she said before air-kissing you on the cheek. “You’ll meet him today, and every arrangement shall follow. All shall be well.”
A washi partition divided the room into two, and the man who would change your life forever was waiting in the other room. Your parents took place on either side of the partition. You were glad that first meetings were done behind a screen, because the time you’d have to compose yourself put you at an advantage. You’d hate for your finacé to recoil in disgust if he knew how much your hands were beginning to sweat. A part of you was terrified, but another part of you was keen on meeting whoever it was.
Your father’s voice boomed, grounding you back to reality.
“You may enter.”
The doors slid open and quiet footsteps entered the room. Your mother and father bowed deeply. You imagined that your fiancé was doing the same.
“You’ve grown very much, my boy,” your father said approvingly when they rose. “Last time I saw you, you were but a scrawny little thing holding a sword.”
Your fiancé chuckled. His tone was low and buttery smooth. Meanwhile, you were taken aback. Your parents had known your fiancé since he was a child? Why hadn’t you ever met him?
A vague part of you began to wonder if he was who they intended to marry you off to, but you shook the thought from your mind. There were twelve marriageable noblemen in Inazuma, and only one of them could be destined to take your hand in marriage.
Your mother smiled. “Oh, how proud the Yashiro Commission must be of you. Tell me, dear, how is your sister? The last I saw of her was in the festival on Amakane Island. We didn’t see you.”
You were taken aback. You had been there when Chisato dragged you and your mother to the festival. You’d bought a mask and hung your wishes. You tried to recall who else of prominence was there, and all you could think of was the Traveler and the Shirasagi Himegimi.
Sister?
“Yes, Ayaka has been growing out of her shell lately,” the man behind the divider said, voice much deeper and again more familiar than you’d been expecting. “The Traveler made quite an impression on her.”
Your stomach took a sharp plunge of dread. There was no way.
It was supposed to be twelve. Twelve. What was the probability of getting the one person you didn’t want out of that twelve?
“Indeed,” your father said. “It is to no one’s surprise that you’re the head of the Yashiro Commission.”
Your mother cleared her throat to signal you to move. Remembering yourself, you flipped open your fan, covered your mouth, and stepped from behind the divider. Suddenly you were grateful Chisato lent it to you.
As soon as you laid eyes on him, it became apparent that this was not the first time you’d met this man. When you met his eyes, you could clearly see that he was just as happy about this as you were. He smiled at your parents nonetheless, the cunning bastard.
“…this will prove to be a perfect match, Kamisato Ayato.”
There was no way.
Revolted, you stared at him, wondering if he felt the same anxiety about this as you were. Did he want this? Wouldn’t he mind? You’ve been rivals for a long time. The only time you’d spent together in which you hadn’t been arguing had been when you were teenagers.
“F/N…” The sheen of sakura pink and cold mountain wind blew into your memory and suddenly you were piecing together a fuzzy puzzle in your head that wouldn’t complete.
Ayato’s gaze raked over you, once, twice, before he bowed. You did the same. It was fortunate you were holding a fan to the face, because your mouth opened and closed for a few seconds as he started towards you. Each step had your head pounding. His eyes bore into yours, as though challenging you to look away. You wouldn’t dare give him such satisfaction.
As per Inazuman traditions, you extended an arm. Without breaking eye contact, he took your hand and bent down to place a chaste kiss.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace,” he said. You were sure he was recalling the last time he’d called you by your title. “It’s been a long, long time.”
“Lord Ayato,” you greeted stiffly. “The pleasure is all mine.”
The sentence, the prompt, the attitude of the voice. You could shut your eyes and suddenly you'd be taken back to the Grand Narukami Shrine, so many years ago, pink sakura falling in your hair as you’d whisper your prayers to the Electro Archon. Being prodded by your mother to meet the children from the Yashiro Commission, and suddenly you were bowing in front of the Kamisato siblings, and they were doing the same. It might have started there.
Maybe it started when a purple onikabuto crawled from his pocket, and he hastily pushed it back in. You were — and there was no other word to describe it — thoroughly disgusted. Bugs were not encouraged pets in your household. It was a mystery as to why the Yashiro Commission allowed it. You could grow to like him, though. From the light cornflower blue of his hair to the little mole at the corner of his mouth. Then, within weeks, you could learn to dislike him and you’d stay acquaintances forever.
Maybe it started when he began frequenting his attention on you every time you’d cross paths. When your family would dine at the Komore Teahouse, and he coincidentally happened to be there with his mother and sister, and approach you, the color of his kimono the same shade of indigo as his eyes, and he’d order tea for both you and him. Passive-aggressively, much like your two commissions.
Back then, it was a well-known fact that the Yashiro Commission was falling apart. Who better the savior than their eldest son, Ayato? He was a master in his own right, a politician who led with tenacity. In the meeting rooms of Tenshukaku, he'd effectively turn down the suggestions of the Kanjou Commission.
You didn't know why, but a small part of you resented him for it.
And what irked you all the more, was that he had taken a particular interest in you. Did it start then? Perhaps it was during one of the Shogunate’s meetings in Tenshukaku, and you’d pass the time by playing with one of the cats that lounged around the gardens, Ayaka and Ayato with you, and sometimes his touch spread fire on your skin that you didn’t try to push away.
You didn’t remember when you realized you’d liked him, all you knew was his face, his smile, his laughter growing up. It wasn’t often you’d see kids your age other than Chisato. Soon enough it was hot gossip in the Shogunate. People eyed you to see if you would ever go any further. Would you cause a scandal? Announce marriage? Neither of you were ill-intended for that. Every moment he was with you, you felt a rushing in your throat, something so big and great that you couldn’t put it into words.
But no matter who you were when you'd cross paths, you were ultimately from different worlds. Maybe that was why it was easy to hate him when he cut you off.
So why was he here now, taking your hand in marriage?
“Is it alright with you?” your mother asked, breaking your train of thought. You knew it wasn’t a question. It was a plea, a command.
“Of course, it’s alright with me,” you answered after a while, lips shifting as you swallowed back what you really wanted to say. “It is our duty, I suppose.”
“Right, duty,” Ayato repeated, the eye contact between you still refusing to break as you agreed to tie yourselves together for life. It was just business. Nothing personal. That was how it worked with people of your status.
Nobility didn’t marry for love, they married for alliances, for profit. Like one of the many contracts Rex Lapis issued to his warriors, this was merely a business transaction. If he were anyone else, you wouldn’t feel anything about this, but it was Ayato. This was the man you had once played with in the Kamisato Estate, the man who’d once brought light into your world, the man you’d once confided in, and it was fitting that he’d also be the man you’d marry, but it was all in the past.
Your mother seemed relieved. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We’ll leave you two to it,” she said before they both exited the room. “Please see to it that the Kanjou Commission sees you together, it will quell the… malevolent rumors.”
The doors slid shut, leaving you in silence.
Sunlight pouring into the room gave the tatami mats a warm glow. The long sleeves of your kimono swished as you instinctively wrapped an arm around yourself, holding the fan to cover your mouth as your eyes narrowed in dislike. Ayato chuckled under his breath.
“You look well, Your Grace,” he said.
“As do you.”
“I’m surprised how obedient you were when your mother called for your opinion,” he said. “Last I checked, you were about as pliant as a sea rock.”
“Why would you agree to marry me? We can’t even stand to be in the same room together.”
“Yes, well, I only agreed to marry you because you said that you’d agree to marry me if I agreed to marry you—”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you hissed, snapping the fan shut. “I never thought you’d stoop so low as to suggest that day.”
“I will behave as long as you do,” he said smoothly. “Besides, your people will want to see us, do they not?”
You bit back your tongue. “So they will.”
“Will you give me the pleasure? I swear I have no germs.”
“You can’t have what you already are,” you said as you reluctantly took his arm. “I take it you wish my hands were gloved so as to not stain your divine robes?”
“Maybe if you weren’t frowning so much you’d make for a better portrait,” he shot back nastily as he led you outside. “Don’t look so disappointed, people are staring at us.”
Sure enough, the Kanjou officers and workers idling by were whispering quietly and occasionally looking in your direction. Perfect. Just what you needed to make an already uncomfortable situation worse. No doubt your mother had gossiped to the rest of the family and news spread like wildfire. It wasn’t going to be long until the entire nation knew you were engaged.
“You should smile,” Ayato said from the corner of his mouth. “Courting couples should look happy with each other.”
“This is not an arrangement of courting, as we are already engaged,” you pointed out. “And even if it was, you’re the last person I’d ever accept courtship from.”
“And you’d be the last person I’d ever think to court.”
He tactically gave you a natural-looking smile as you passed by some shrine maidens. They giggled and loudly shushed each other as they snuck peeks at the two of you. Undoubtedly, the older maids told them about how dear you and Ayato were to each other when you were teenagers, when he was a regular guest at your house and vice versa. This whole ordeal must have seemed incredibly romantic to them. You pointed your chin away and hid your face behind your fan, unwilling to let him close. Ayato chuckled again.
“What, hoping you’ll charm some girls from my Commission?” you asked, irritated. “Do take your pick, My Lord, we have a lot of pretty ones here. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Ayato looked amused, which infuriated you. “Well, it’s customary for the one being courted to not seem too eager. Society might frown upon it.”
“Well, don’t we all hate displeasing society?” you muttered as the warmth of his skin radiated through his sleeves. It had been a while since you touched him like this, and it felt just as familiar as the day you’d done it for the last time.
You were well aware of all the eyes that lingered on you. You wanted to go to your room, kick this annoying man out of your house, your town, and forget that all of this had ever happened. That he had ever happened.
Sharded memories of rain and thunder began to crack through your mind and suddenly you could recall all the hurt, all the heartbreak you had once felt when you were young. You gritted your teeth and stared straight ahead. Ayato kept glancing at you every now and then, and you were certain that his eyes were full of disgust.
“We’re supposed to pretend to talk, you know,” he said. “For appearances.”
“I have nothing of interest worth mentioning to you.”
“Not even the weather? Ritou autumn is quite lovely.”
“Lovely weather we’re having,” you said monotonously. “Ritou autumn is indeed lovely.”
“It did rain a lot the last time I saw you,” he commented. “It even rained on your face.”
Yes, you vividly remembered the last time you’d seen each other. It rained on your kimono, and there had been hot tears of anger sliding down your cheekbones as Ayato stood in front of you, unmoving and frozen, unable to say apologies as he did the one thing that shattered your heart forever. How dare he treat that moment with such an insulting demeanor? It fueled hatred for his arrogance and insolence.
You glared at your fiancé. “You’re a conceited ass.” You sneered at him, but quickly fixed your composure. A noble person shouldn’t have such an expression. “No, even a donkey is too good for you. You’re dirt, Kamisato Ayato, the dirt that stains everything on this earth—”
“You forget yourself, Your Grace. That’s no way to speak to your fiancé.”
“Neither of us wants to be the other’s fiancé.”
And just like that, any sort of brief camaraderie you’d felt in the reunion you had together chipped away. Whatever magic that had once bonded your souls so strongly together had vanished and made way for nothing except loathing.
Ayato’s jaw locked and he muttered, “There it is.”
“What?”
“That hatred you carry for me,” he said. “I nearly thought it’d disappeared, but it seems as though I thought wrong.”
You gripped him tighter around the arm, fingers digging into his skin. “You haven’t spoken to me in years,” you reminded him. “You hurt my honor—”
“And you insulted my virtue.”
“You did it first,” you argued. “And you didn’t speak to me for months after. How hard could it have been to write me a letter? It was Ayaka who informed me of your whereabouts.”
“I seem to recall you telling me, and I quote, that you never wanted to see my face again,” he whispered, reminding you of more things you didn’t want to remember. “You told me to never speak of what happened between us, and I kept my word. Ever since then, we’ve despised one another, so forgive me if I assumed you’d burn the letter without reading it.”
He paused to adjust your hand on his arm. Warmth was underneath his coat. You imagined he’d spent his free time sparring around with a sword, if he wasn’t looking at his face in the mirror. He didn’t look at you.
“You could have written to me, too.”
“Perhaps, but I assumed if you wanted to say something, you would have,” you said. “After all, it’s the one being courted who shouldn’t look too eager, right?”
“The silence is answer enough,” he said, almost like a scoff. “No doubt about it. I’m no fool, F/N. Everyone has a limit, and when you reach yours, whatever we had will end.”
“Good,” you said hotly. “Then we agree on what sort of marriage this is going to be.”
“We do,” he answered. He sounded on edge. As unhappy as this arrangement made you, you were quite keen on seeing him unravel out of spite. It would satiate your petty self-satisfactory needs.
You were tempted to ask him why he agreed on marrying you if that was the case, considering that he was the most powerful man in his Commission. Unabashed shame ran through you when you wondered if he only did this out of pity. Perhaps no one else was willing to take the child from the dishonored faction of the Shogunate. Still, logically, tying the Kanjou Commission and the Yashiro Commission would benefit both in wealth and power, and was the best thing for either of them. It wouldn’t be anything, and there would be no emotions involved at all.
And yet…
A small part of you wondered what would have happened if things had turned out differently on that day last year. All you could do now was put that aside and focus on what was in front of you now. That was all that was going to happen.
Twelve months. The engagement period would only last as long as a year, and then you could finally stop pretending and resign yourself to work as he went back to his usual business. Such was the life laid out for you. You would like to say it didn’t faze you, but another voice in your head wondered if all these dull miseries were all there was until the end of your days.
You’d swear it now. You will never feel anything other than hatred for Kamisato Ayato.