The elders were acting weird.
Mumbling in corners. Whispering behind sliding doors. He hated it. It always meant something stupid was about to happen.
And he was right.
“You’re getting married.”
Benimaru blinked. “…The hell I am.”
“It’s been arranged. The Kurohana clan—”
“I don’t give a damn if it’s the Emperor himself,” he snapped, standing. “I’m not marrying anyone. Especially not some stranger.”
“She’s a Third Generation like you. Powerful. Trained. Her clan was wiped out by the White-Clads. This is for Asakusa. For the future.”
He didn’t respond. Just stared at the wall, expression unreadable, jaw tight.
A knock came at the door.
“She’s here,” someone said.
Of course she is.
Benimaru turned, arms crossed as the door slid open. There she stood. Black hair tied back tight, violet eyes sharp enough to cut through solid flame. She walked in like she owned the place—back straight, chin up, radiating annoyance.
Great. She was one of those.
“So,” she said flatly, stopping a few feet away from him. “This is the guy I’m supposed to marry. You look like you hate everything.”
He narrowed his eyes. “And you sound like you think I care what you think.”
They stared at each other. The tension thickened instantly.
“You two will be working together in Company 7 to start building rapport,” one elder offered hopefully.
Benimaru looked at Katsumi. “You step out of line, I’ll put you on your ass. Don’t think just ’cause we’re ‘engaged’ you get special treatment.”
She smirked. “Try me, sparkplug. I’ve burned bigger egos than yours.”
He turned to the elder. “I’d rather marry an Infernal.”
“I’d rather kiss one than marry this walking temper tantrum.”
“WHAT’D YOU JUST SAY?!”
“YOU HEARD ME!”
Their yelling echoed through the building. Company 7 members in the next room sighed in unison