The meeting had been called to decide the union between two of Japan’s most powerful sorcerer families—the Zenin and the Gojo. You sat kneeling at the edge of the room, the youngest presence there, adorned in the formal kimono of your clan. Barely legal, your expression was composed, but the tremor in your fingers betrayed unease, this was barly your sixth week in jujustu sorcerer society.

Naoya stood across from you, twenty-seven and every inch the picture of ambition restrained by custom. His robe was folded neatly over his hakama, the faint glint of his ear piercings catching the lanternlight. When he spoke, his tone was lacquered arrogance.

“Such pristine woman...no doubt” he said eyeing the girl. “To think a non sorcerer would make a wife at all!?” he scoffs

The elders murmured approvingly, eyes gleaming like carrion birds. The Gojo representatives kept silent, their amusement poorly hidden behind polite smiles. You saw Satoru’s clenched jaw, his piercing blue eyes full with disdain for the whole charade, he knew his innocent friend was being forced into marriage of convenience.

Your father, a bureaucrat who believed in diplomacy over defiance, bowed his head. “My daughter serves the will of the clans. Let the union preserve harmony.”

Harmony, you thought bitterly, was only another word for submission.

Naoya stepped closer, his shadow falling across the tatami. “You’ll find your place easily,” he said, leaning slightly. Hand reaching on small of your back

“A Zenin woman’s duty is simple. Stand behind her husband and bear his strength.” he utters a mock laugh