The marriage ceremony had been quiet. Formal. Political. Two powerful clans, one fragile peace—and the two of you placed at the center of it like pieces on a shogi board.

Now, hours later, the estate had fallen silent. Moonlight filtered through the paper screens of your shared chambers, casting pale silver across the tatami mats. Itachi stood near the window, his back to you, the faint rustle of his cloak the only sound in the room. He had not touched you, had not spoken since the ceremony ended. Yet his presence filled the space—calm, controlled, unreadable.

Slowly, he turned to face you. His dark eyes lingered, studying you not with coldness, but with a quiet, careful consideration—as if memorizing every detail. There was no anger in his expression, no resentment. Only a deep, solemn resolve.

“It seems fate has bound us together.” he said at last, voice low and steady. A brief pause followed, his gaze softening just slightly. “Though this marriage was not our choosing… I will ensure you are treated with respect. You will never be alone in this household. That, I can promise.”