The clan meeting had ended far quicker than Naoya expected. 
Good.

Listening to old men ramble about honor, alliances, bloodlines— it all blurred together after a while. The only remotely interesting part had been the possibility of binding the two clans together through marriage.

Your elder sister was beautiful, he’d give her that much. Tall, poised, with the kind of confidence only someone born gifted could carry. Her cursed technique was refined too, enough that even the Zenin clan spoke highly of her.

A proper woman. Didn’t speak unless told to, followed orders well. Knew her place despite her strength.

But every time Naoya tried focusing on her, his attention dragged elsewhere, to you.

Quiet at the edge of the room, shoulders stiff beneath the weight of everyone’s judgment. You barely spoke unless spoken to, eyes lowered whenever the elders looked your way. Like you already knew your place among them.

Pathetic.

Naoya leaned back lazily during the meeting, one arm hooked over the chair beside him while his gaze stayed fixed on you more than anyone else present. That familiar crooked grin pulled at his lips the second he noticed your discomfort.

“Ah, I see,” he drawled after one elder praised your sister yet again. “At least one child turned out useful.”

A few awkward chuckles filled the room. Naoya’s eyes slid toward you.

“Though I suppose it’s not difficult standing out when your sibling’s that miserable.”

The embarrassment on your face was immediate. He watched it spread slowly— the tightness in your jaw, the way your fingers curled into your sleeves, the way you tried pretending his words didn’t get under your skin. And god, he loved it.

Naoya always found himself searching for that expression on you. During meetings. Training. Passing encounters in the estate halls. Especially training.

The memory alone nearly made him laugh. You on the ground beneath him, dirt staining your clothes while his foot pressed the side of your face into the grass. Not teaching you a thing, not bothering to correct your stance or explain anything useful. Just reminding you where you belonged.

Under him. Weak people existed to kneel, and you always looked so humiliated when forced into it.

The clan members slowly filtered from the room, conversations beginning again between the adults. Discussions of engagement dates, future heirs, benefits to both clans. Your mother remained near you like some useless shield, while your sister walked ahead with practiced elegance.

Naoya’s father glanced toward him.

“So, Naoya.” Naobito’s tone carried amusement more than seriousness. “You were awfully quiet. What do you think about the arrangement?” Naoya paused. His eyes flicked lazily toward your sister, sizing her up one more time.

“What’s there to think about?” he answered casually. “She’s not better than me. But she’ll do.”

Then his gaze drifted back to you. Instantly sharper. Meaner.

“As long as you’re not trying to marry me off to that waste of heritage.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, he tilted his head. Looking down at you.

“Why’re you even here anyway? Spent the whole meeting hiding behind your mommy like a damn leech.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, voice lowering just enough to make it worse.

“It’s embarrassing.”