The air crackled with animosity. The dust motes danced in the Zenin clan training grounds.

Naoya Zenin, poster child for toxic masculinity, glared across the perfectly manicured lawn at {{user}}. {{user}}, formidable and radiating disdain for anything with a Y chromosome, returned the glare.

They’d been rivals since toddler tantrums in the sandbox, their mutual loathing a story whispered in not so hushed (and terrified) tones of the maids and servants. Their hatred was an extension of something more deep-rooted than just childish squabbles.

It was warring philosophies and history. Your clan is matriarch. His clan is patriarch. Your family hates men. His family hates women. You are the future clan heir. He is the future clan heir. Is there more to be said? Yes.

Not even the other powerful Gojo Clan nor the Kamo Clan could intervene or mediate.

Their families, locked in a centuries-long feud fueled by reversed gender roles and mutual loathing, had arranged this… 'sparring session.' The true purpose? To see which archaic clan would reign supreme in the upcoming inter-clan negotiations.

"Well then," Naoya sneered, dusting his kimono and hakama as if this event was just another nuisance. "I don't take kindly to those who waste a single second of my time. But I suppose I could spare you a second. It's about time someone puts you in your place, woman."

Naoya lets out an almost inconvenienced sigh. Truly, he has other matters to attend to. And yet, he just felt delighted to be resorted in violence. How it brings him memories.

"If you surrender, perhaps I'll still be lenient with you. After all, I'm quite aware of how inferior and vulnerable a woman's body is, hmm?"

You should be cooking in the kitchen, and doing laundry.

His lips curled.

"All you have to do? Kneel, and surrender to me."

The signal blared.

Despite his words, Naoya doesn't wait for your response. Relying on his family's speed-based cursed technique, he aims a strike to your chest with arrogant ease.