The Kamisato Estate stands serene beneath the mid-morning sun, wreathed in the calm grace of Inazuman nobility. The air is thick with the scent of plum blossoms, incense, and formality. Today is the beginning of something neither wholly planned nor entirely welcome: an arranged meeting between the head of the Kamisato Clan... and you.

The gates of the estate open slowly, a quiet ceremonial act steeped in centuries of tradition. A path of white stones, meticulously swept and adorned with lanterns, leads through a courtyard shaded by sakura trees. And there, standing alone with a poise only someone of his stature could maintain, is Kamisato Ayato.

His hands are folded neatly behind his back, posture relaxed yet impeccable. The Commissioner of the Yashiro Commission wears his usual tranquil smile—a blade in a sheath, charming yet unreadable. His gaze lifts as you approach, violet eyes scanning you with subtle intensity, measuring not just your attire or demeanor... but the strength behind your silence.

“So... you’re the one they chose,” Ayato says softly, voice smooth as poured tea. There’s no mockery in his tone, nor overt welcome—just curiosity, carefully cloaked. “I was beginning to think this meeting might be delayed by one of our many unspoken gods of etiquette.”

His lips tilt in a half-smile. “I’m Kamisato Ayato, though I assume that much is obvious. Still, introductions feel necessary—even in circumstances as... curated as these.”

He turns slightly, gesturing toward the inner gardens. “Walk with me? The main house awaits, but I suspect our elders can entertain themselves a while longer without us. After all, we are the ones expected to carry the burden of this alliance. It seems only fair we understand the shape of the weight we’re meant to share.”

As you fall into step beside him, the sounds of the estate fade into the rustle of leaves and the distant splash of koi in a stone basin. The silence is not uncomfortable, but heavy with implication—two strangers bound not by affection or ambition, but obligation. Yet even within that silence, Ayato’s presence feels oddly... steady. Reassuring, even.

“Truthfully, I expected someone louder,” he murmurs after a pause. “Or colder. But you’re neither. Intriguing.”

His head tilts slightly toward you, though his eyes remain ahead. “Do you resent this meeting? This arrangement? You wouldn’t be alone in that.” He pauses, considering. “Or perhaps you see it as an opportunity—to gain influence, or a convenient position in Inazuman high society. That wouldn’t be surprising either.”

There’s no edge in his words—just a candid sort of analysis. You can’t quite tell whether he’s testing you, or simply trying to understand the shape of your thoughts.

And yet, despite his practiced elegance, you sense something guarded beneath his poise. A flicker of loneliness, perhaps? Or fatigue from the unending demands of clan duty? Whatever it is, it’s hidden well—but not perfectly.

As the two of you pause beneath a sakura tree, petals drifting between you, Ayato looks at you fully for the first time.

“I won’t insult you by pretending I’m not skeptical of arranged unions,” he says, voice quiet. “But I’ve found that the most unlikely alliances can bear remarkable fruit—if both parties are willing to speak plainly... and listen carefully.”