Chapter Text
Hoshina Sōshirō had no fanciful notions regarding his future spouse. As the second son of a respectable samurai family, he knew whoever ended up tied to him would have not been by his choice and would only be determined by how useful they could be to the success and reputation of his family. It would probably be someone from a noble house or at least someone with an honorable ancestry. Someone in a similar situation to his, a second or third child, probably someone who had never seen a battlefield.
No, Sōshirō had no outrageous expectations of his life as a married man. But not even that resigned mindset of his could have prepared him to confront the fact that his future wife was literally trying to escape their engagement by climbing one of the walls of the estate. Because his spouse-to-be had not ended up being some wide-eyed girl from a long line of warriors nor a meek noble boy. No. Narumi Gen was an orphan, a talented swordsman and archer who had also been trained as an onmyōji by Shinomiya Isao.
He was a force to be reckoned with. And he was currently flailing like a distressed cat, trying to cling to the slippery tiles on top of the wall. Oh, and he had lost one of his geta. Sōshirō could see it sticking out from a bush.
“Well, this is quite the introduction, Narumi-san.”
An unholy shriek pierced his ears as Narumi promptly lost his grip and fell on his ass.
“What are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?!”
“… I can.” He cocked his head to the side. “Do you perhaps don’t know who you are talking to?”
Even by the waning light of the sunset the blush in Narumi’s cheeks was noticeable. Sōshirō couldn’t quite make out his eyes as they were obscured by his bangs. “Of course I know! You and your brother have the same dumb squinty face!"
Sōshirō felt his good natured smile spread into something sharper. “Ah, so you are just rude. My, my, poor Shinomiya-sama must have gotten quite his share of white hairs because of you.”
“Huh?! He’s the one stressing me out!” Apparently deciding that Sōshirō didn’t deserve the respect to at least sit properly in his presence, Narumi spread his legs wide and rested his elbows on the floor. “Who in their right mind decides to marry off their best swordsman instead of bringing them out to fight every kaiju they can? I swear he’s going senile!”
There were so many things wrong with those statements Sōshirō had a hard time refusing to engage. He tried to instead channel his chagrin into the most unimpressed sigh he could let out. The insolent young man in front of him immediately straightened at that, his frown growing deeper. Huh. Was he that easy to rile up? Or was Sōshirō just finding all the right buttons to push?
“Shinomiya-sama is truly commendable, isn’t he? Sheltering and educating so many misguided souls and only out of the kindness of his heart.”
“As if! My aim is always true and my swordsmanship is the best out of the whole battalion! I was clearly an investment for the old man!”
Sōshirō let the silence drag enough for it to emphasize the ridiculousness of their current situation. “... Right. That’s why ya couldn’t climb up a 3 meter wall.”
“Shut up! These clothes are awkward! I can’t take a full breath with this freakin’ obi!” Now that he mentioned it, Sōshirō could see that the attendants that had escorted Narumi to their house had decided to style his kimono in a more feminine fashion. The obi sat just under his breastbone. Narumi must be used to tying his kimono around the hips like most men. “Let’s go to your little dojo and I’ll use you as a pincushion! I’ll even keep my eyes closed!”
“Oh? Has Narumi-san taken the liberty to explore the estate without a chaperone?”
Narumi’s cheeks turned even redder. His expression, which had been set in a scowl since their whole interaction began, broke into one of bewildered panic. “I–”
“There you are, Narumi-sama!” A slim black haired man hurried to their side. Sōshirō noticed the Shinomiya crest was embroidered onto the short sleeves of his white kariginu. Probably one of the people responsible for inadvertently thwarting his future wife's escape attempt. Sōshirō nodded at him and the servitor bowed deeply before continuing his approach. “Hoshina-sama, thank you so much for keeping Narumi-sama company.”
Narumi clicked his tongue. Sōshirō ignored him. “It was no trouble but I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
“Kurusu Akira, at your service, sir,” he bowed again and then turned to his charge. “Narumi-sama, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”
“What for? I’m perfectly capable of handling myself, it’s just a house, not a battlefield.”
Sōshirō had to suppress a snort. Clearly, Narumi had not been raised in a noble house. He turned his back on the attendant fretting over the disheveled appearance of the boy they were trying to convince his family would be a good match for their second son. Sōshirō pitied them. He tuned them out while being careful to not scratch himself with the prickly branches of the bush behind them.
“Narumi-sama, where is your other sandal?”
“Um—”
“Here you go,” Sōshirō let a genial smile do the work for him and handed the poor wooden sandal to its owner. “It was stuck in a bush.”
A hand quick as a whip snatched it out of his hold. “I knew that!”
“We are so sorry to have caused you trouble!” Kurusu bowed again. Upon realizing his charge was not showing the same level of gratitude, he bumped his shoulder.
Narumi barely tilted his head. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, I guess.”
“Narumi-sama, please.”
“... what?”
“Do you need me to escort you to your rooms, Kurusu-san, Narumi-dono?”
The boy’s eye seemed to twitch at the use of the new honorific. Sōshirō didn’t let his smile slip.
“There’s no need, sir! Please, you have done enough for us tonight!”
The men bowed (one at the correct angle, the other so shallowly it was more of a nod of his head than anything) and retreated to the outer rooms of the house. When they were far enough not to hear him, Sōshirō let out the longest sigh his lungs could expel. Gods, his future was looking grim. He casted a last look towards his betrothed. The sliding door that led to one of the inner hallways was open and the light of the oil lamps bled outside. Narumi had stopped by the threshold and was looking back at him. From this distance, Sōshirō could begrudgingly accept he cut a striking figure with his long limbs and the small dip of his waist thanks to the position of the obi. But before he could dwell on whatever his dumb instincts wanted him to notice, he felt a cold shiver run his spine. He blinked. Narumi’s eyes were no longer obscured by his dark hair. In the dying light of the evening they shone a vibrant pink. Sōshirō felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.
Those eyes were looking through him. They were seeing the very fabric of his soul. And Sōshirō couldn’t look away.
A soft breeze ruffled Narumi’s face and hid his eyes once more. He shook his head and went inside. Sōshirō crossed his arms in front of his chest, suddenly feeling cold. Narumi’s kimono had a firefly motif, the little insects had been embroidered fluttering over running water.
Maybe Sōshirō had not been exaggerating. Maybe his future really was grim.
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If he had to read another book on fucking etiquette of all things, Gen would find the closest koi pond rich people seemed so fond of and drown himself in it. After that atrocious first day, he had been confined to his temporary rooms and lectured for so long he didn’t know how Hasegawa hadn’t run out of air. He hadn’t thought— well, he hadn’t known what to expect out of this unbelievable scenario but he hadn’t foreseen he would end up his day trying to climb a wall. Ironic, wasn’t it?
At least today he had all morning to lounge in his most worn-out clothes before having to be dolled up and paraded in a fucking marriage interview. He should be out there training, killing kaiju, even attending Isao-san’s awful war councils, not— whatever this was.
“— and I can’t believe you were out there traipsing without a collar,” Hasegawa appeared to have caught his second wind. That or Gen simply had tuned out whole minutes of lecture. “You’ll wear one tonight, Narumi. You were lucky the kimono’s collar was high enough and that your hair covered the rest of your nape.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved his hand. “Shouldn’t the people we pay tribute to control themselves even if I don’t wear a flimsy strip of fabric? Aren’t they supposed to be so much better than us, pea— agh!” He brought his hands to the place the older man had chopped him on the head.
“You will not be voicing any of those sentiments in front of our hosts.”
Gen glanced at the book still open on the tea table. “I won’t be saying much of anything according to this.”
“Good. Otherwise the Hoshinas would never accept this proposal.”
“Hey! You are supposed to be sympathetic!” He slammed his open palm on the wooden table. “Like say ‘poor Narumi, you don’t get a choice on who you have to spend the rest of your life with! Here, let me secret you away so you can keep killing our enemies like you were clearly sent to this world to do!’”
“Even now the size of your ego astounds me.”
“You know I’ll just be wasted here! What am I supposed to do? Be the pretty wife of some spoiled brat and pump out kids? Forget it!”
“Narumi, you know what Shinomiya-sama said,” Hasegawa let out a sigh and Gen grinded his teeth at his condescending tone. “This is the only path for you.”
“The old man had no idea what he was talking about,” he grumbled under his breath.
“I beg your pardon?”
Gen clicked his tongue. “I’ll behave. They’d be idiots not to accept Isao-san’s offer.”
“Yes, well, I don’t need you tempting fate.”
“What, you don’t believe in me?” He tapped two fingers to his temple, smirking. “It’s been foretold. There’s no changing what these eyes of mine have glimpsed.”
He joked around but it was half the reason he hadn’t ditched this whole operation at their stop in the last inn. And even just ignoring any supernatural signs the betrothal made an awful amount of sense. The Shinomiyas were one of the most respected defense forces in all of Japan and the Osakan samurai families were looking for ways to reinforce their strongholds. A pact between the two of them would allow collaboration in terms of manpower and the opportunity to develop a fine-tuned information network, a major component in the success of a kaiju raid. The risks for both families were low as well: a second son and an adopted charge. While assets themselves in terms of combat ability, they were not the heir and not a blood relation. A win-win situation.
Except for the people getting married against their will, of course.
Gen sighed explosively and went to his chest to mess with the array of collars the Shinomiya family had commissioned for him. He still wasn’t used to all this pomp and ceremony. Whenever he had to join the old man to any of his boring outings Gen usually wore something made out of linen as it didn’t chafe his skin and muted his scent pretty well. But linen would not cut it this time, he guessed. The estate had several buildings, for both the servants and outer branches of the family, not to add they had an actual dojo inside the premises. The Hoshinas were probably used to wealth in the same way little Kikoru was: as a given, as their divine right and not something fought and scrapped for by the people beneath them. He could forgive Kikoru for it, the brat was barely ten years old and already trying to uphold her family’s name with her tiny shoulders. Hoshina Sōchirō on the other hand? Not a fucking chance. Not after what Gen had heard yesterday.
He took out a deep blue ribbon. It was embroidered with a wave motif and the fabric was almost as soft as downy fleece. He was pretty sure he could keep all the temple’s kids fed for a year by selling it.
“Let’s just get this over with.”
⚔️ 🌸
Sōshirō allowed himself one moment to stare at the shoji doors blankly before going in. After yesterday’s disaster, he had absolutely no idea how this would go. Maybe if he was lucky his betrothed would act as childishly as he did last evening and his father would be forced to call the whole thing off. Small miracles and whatnot.
Forcing himself not to straighten out the collar of his dark purple kimono, Sōshirō stepped inside. They had chosen a spacious room for the occasion, the engawa led to one of the smaller gardens which was enclosed by plum trees. The light swaying of their branches and the rhythmic clang of the sōzu gave it an unperturbed air. Like time was standing still in this little pocket of the Earth.
His father was already seated to the right and he moved to join him. He hadn’t finished settling down into a proper kneeling position when his father spoke:
“You understand your role in this, Sōshirō.”
He didn’t turn to look at him. Sōshirō kept his gaze on his hands, arranged neatly over his lap.
“Of course, father.”
“You are unparalleled in your mastery of the sword. Working with the Shinomiyas will allow you to make a name for yourself on the battlefield.”
Did it really need him to attach himself to someone who didn’t want him though? Wouldn’t a spouse get in the way?
“Yes, father.”
“I know the boy’s— lineage is questionable but Shinomiya-dono assures me his abilities are genuine,” the older man paused. “He’s kaiju-touched.”
Before Sōshirō could dwell on the implications of that, the doors opened on the other side of the room. Leading the small party of three was an older man with a placid expression who had first visited months ago with tidings about the omiai and information about his bride-to-be. After him was the same austere-looking man who had made their initial greetings when they arrived, followed closely by one Narumi Gen.
Sōshirō blinked. Gone was the disheveled young man in an ill-fitting kimono. This time, they had styled his hair back and Sōshirō could see sakura-pink streaking the otherwise black strands. The coloring started at the root of the hair and seemed to only frame his face. No wonder he kept his bangs so long. Sōshirō knew most kaiju-touched people presented some uncommon traits which set them apart from regular humans. An odd coloring in hair, scars, sometimes even birthmarks if both parents were kaiju-touched. But he couldn’t dwell on that for too long. Without his bangs in the way, Narumi’s eyes were truly striking. Even if at that exact moment they weren’t exhibiting that luminous pink as before: they were a deep red now and they still seemed to peer into the deepest part of his mind. His attendants had dressed him in a dark blue furisode peppered with purple wisteria flowers, a simple red obi tied under his breastbone. He seemed more comfortable now if his fluid gait was anything to go by. When Narumi kneeled on top of the cushions set out for their guests, the long sleeves of the furisode pooled around him like a veil.
Sōshirō swallowed. He knew the man in charge of the proceedings was making their introductions but he couldn’t hear anything and only bowed towards their guests when he felt his father do the same. The person in front of him both looked more like the pictures their nakōdo had shown them prior to the interview and didn’t. The artist hadn’t been able to grasp the intensity of that gaze, the way the small eyebrows made his eyes look bigger, the long eyelashes that framed them. He didn’t know whether he was entranced by Narumi’s eyes or if they unsettled him. Probably a bit of both. It was almost a relief when he lowered his gaze to the floor.
“Now, we understand Narumi-sama’s position is a bit… unorthodox,” an almost imperceptible jolt made his spouse-to-be twitch his shoulders inwards for a second or two. “We are confident this can be overlooked in the presence of his many accomplishments. He excels at both swordsmanship and marksmanship, and has the highest kaiju count of his battalion, far exceeding warriors with more years and experience.”
That made Narumi puff up his chest a little. Gods, he was easy to read, wasn’t he?
“Stories about his battle prowess have reached us even here,” his father acquiesced. “But we would like to know more about the abilities with divination Shinomiya-dono mentioned in his letter.”
For a startled heartbeat, Narumi lifted his chin to look at Sōshirō’s father. He could have sworn he saw a pink gleam to his eyes, but Narumi immediately looked back down.
The man named Hasegawa spoke next: “Narumi-sama has absolute mastery of onmyōdō. He can see glimpses of the future and read hearts.”
Sōshirō sat a little straighter. “Like listening to people’s thoughts?”
“Only in very specific circumstances,” Hasegawa nodded to his charge. “You will know if he’s using his powers since his eyes change color and Shinomiya-sama has instilled in the boy the responsibility this kind of ability entails. He will not use it against your family.”
“I see,” his father turned towards him at last. “Sōshirō, show our guest to the gardens, perhaps he will be interested in the moon bridge.”
“As you wish.”
Sōshirō got up from his seat and waited by the engawa for Narumi. The young man joined him with no apparent difficulty and after getting their sandals, he guided them through the winding paths of the gardens. He looked back, frowning at his silent companion. He had been so chatty just yesterday.
“What’s wrong? Cat got ya tongue?”
Narumi flinched but refused to fall for the taunt. That was odd. He had known him for less than a day but Narumi had made such a strong impression that this meek and silent version of him rubbed Sōshirō the wrong way.
“Did ya tie your obi wrong again?”
“I didn’t—!” Narumi’s cheeks bloomed red when he caught himself replying. “Against all odds I can breathe in this thing. And I can tie my own obi just right, I’m not used to this style, is all.”
Sōshirō tried not to laugh at his betrothed. By the murderous look Narumi was sending his way he was failing.
“You try wearing men-styled kimonos your whole life and then getting swaddled in all these layers because suddenly people around you remember you are of age now and should be getting married!”
“But I did wear them when I was a kid,” he cocked his head to the side. “Ah, does that mean Narumi-san is older than me? I’m afraid I don’t have a thing for older men.”
Narumi squawked. “And I don’t care for younger alphas with squinty eyes and hair longer than mine.”
Sōshirō forced his hands away from his ponytail. “Could it be that Narumi-san is a bit of a tomboy?”
“I’m a man, omega or not!” he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “It’s just a pain to take care of. I have more important things to do.”
“Like killing kaiju and falling from walls?”
Narumi, who had started nodding along the first part of his sentence, made an affronted noise. Before he could come up with some grandstanding response, Sōshirō opened the small wooden gate to one of the gardens closest to the central pond. Here, the sakura trees were waiting to bloom and blue hydrangeas surrounded the outer edges of the water. In the center, a curved wooden bridge crossed the still waters. His companion kept quiet, serious eyes surveying the area, before taking a big breath. Sōshirō’s left eyebrow twitched. This couldn’t be good.
“Maybe if you had helped me instead of scaring the hell out of me we wouldn’t be in this mess!”
He did not appreciate the accusing finger brandished towards his face. “Because I’m sure ya wouldn’t have been caught in a few hours and landed us in an even bigger mess, huh?”
“Of course not! I can track prey for days, I know how to run without leaving a trace.”
Sōshirō filled away that tidbit of information for later. “Perhaps, but I couldn’t help but notice Narumi-san didn’t have a bag with him for the journey. Did ya even have a coin purse with ya?”
His dumb betrothed closed his mouth with a clack. Sōshirō allowed himself one long suffering sigh and then herded Narumi towards the edge of the pond.
“Well, it’s more beautiful at night when you can actually see the reflection of the moon. But here we are.”
Narumi upturned his nose. “It’s just some water with a bridge and some plants. Let me guess, it has koi fish in it?”
He blinked. “Is there a problem with that?”
Narumi snorted derisively but didn’t reply. Not for the first time, Sōshirō wondered how something that had seemed so simple in theory had turned so vexing and confusing. Only the rustling sounds of tree branches and the low murmur of the water moving with the breeze was heard in the shared space of their silence. With a dexterity that contradicted his earlier complaints, Narumi folded himself neatly into a crouch. The pads of his fingers slid between the gravel. For some reason, Sōshirō couldn’t stop fixating on those hands. Surely, they must have sword callouses like his. He had heard from his brother that great archers developed sores in specific parts of their fingers, even when wearing gloves. Those were not the hands he had pictured when he had dared to even entertain the idea of his future spouse. They had always been silhouettes, mere wisps created by an idle mind. A means to an end. Therefore he had refused to face them head on, give traits or preferences to something out of his control.
No, those were probably not the type of hands he had imagined his wife would have. But they were powerful hands. Even when Narumi had made himself as small as he could, clad in delicate and soft robes, those hands betrayed his strength.
Sōshirō guessed there were worse fates to have than to marry a fellow warrior.
“Well, considering Narumi-san already wandered around the premises, what would he like to see next?”
He tilted his head towards Sōshirō, his eyes sparkling. From his vantage point, Sōshirō noticed a thick ribbon wrapped around his neck. Something unmalleable rattled inside him at the sight.
“Now you ask?” he huffed. “You have a dojo here, right? Want me to kick your ass?”
“I’m sorry to say but Narumi’s pretty kimono will get torn up if we even attempt to spar.”
Narumi blinked and looked down at himself, like he had just noticed he was wearing a full furisode ensemble. He pursed his lips. Between the crouching, the slumping shoulders and the pouting he made for the perfect image of a child throwing a tantrum in the middle of the road.
Sōshirō made sure to make his next sigh as condescending as possible. “Does Narumi-san have anything to tie his sleeves back?”
Just like that, Narumi straightened, jumping in place. For the first time since yesterday afternoon, something close to a smile graced his features. “Do you have a shooting range?”
Gotcha. “If ya follow me, I’ll lead ya to it.”
The walk towards the outer edges of the estate was nothing like the leisure pace they took wandering through the gardens. Narumi seemed determined to walk as fast as the tight fit of his kimono would allow him. Once Sōshirō had pointed out which one of the buildings was the training hall, his betrothed had taken the lead but he didn’t mind falling behind. From his spot he could see every time Narumi slipped on the gravel or had a stutter in his steps because he had miscalculated how long a stride he could make with how tight the skirt of the furisode was. It made for an entertaining view.
Once they had reached the building, Sōshirō took a step back while Narumi got out the tasuki and started the process of getting his sleeves out of the way. The cord was a vibrant yellow and it actually matched quite nicely with the blue tones of the kimono.
“I betya the tasuki wasn’t part of the clothes yer attendants wanted ya to wear today, Narumi-san.”
He snorted, looping the cord around his shoulders and tucking the sleeves into the loop. “I had to convince Kurusu to find me one, like hell I was gonna have both my arms and my legs constricted by this monstrosity.”
“Will ya be able to get the proper footing?”
Narumi clicked his tongue. “Who cares? When you are in the middle of a battle you don’t always get the time or the right terrain, you know?”
Sōshirō nodded. While his teachers would probably find that answer an insult he had already seen his fair share of death. Once Narumi deemed himself ready, he moved around the long, open-faced hall, his feet barely making any sound over the wooden floorboards. He had his eyes trained on the different targets arranged along the end of the courtyard. Sōshirō opened the closet where they left the bows and arrows and stepped aside to not get in Narumi’s way. His betrothed examined each one. Sōshirō couldn’t bring himself to interrupt him. Even if he had never excelled at archery, there was something sacred about this place. Something that demanded not to be disturbed.
As he had expected, Narumi couldn’t take a proper stance with the furisode restricting his legs. Despite that, his form was almost perfect. Narumi took a deep breath and Sōshirō followed the movement of his chest. With his sleeves out of the way, he could see the definition of his arms, how the soft edges of his kimono had hidden the power beneath them. He lowered the bow, the arrow’s fletching just the smallest distance away from touching his cheek. Sōshirō tensed, waiting.
It happened in one heartbeat. One moment, Narumi’s eyes flashed pink. The next, the arrow struck true, piercing clean through the very center of the target. But when Sōshirō turned his gaze away from the straw target and looked back at the archer, what he saw pierced him.
“Did you see that, Hoshina?”
Narumi’s face was luminous, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed, a giddy smile turning his features into something soft and delighted. There was no otherworldly pink anymore but his utter joy over something so small was a spell on itself.
“I bet you can’t beat that precision!”
Sōshirō blinked, returning to himself. He raised a hand to stop where this outing was clearly going. “I’m afraid ya wouldn’t find a good challenge in me, Narumi-san,” he shrugged. “I lack any kind of skill with a bow and arrow.”
Narumi narrowed his eyes. “What, are you scared?”
“I assure ya, it’s not any sense of false modesty or pride from my part, Narumi-san,” he felt his good-natured smile slip into a smirk. “After all, wouldn’t it be a hollow victory if ya bested me in something I didn’t truly excel at?”
“Well, then tell me what we can compete in!” Narumi pointed an insolent finger at him. “You think I’m just gonna roll over and accept a mate that can’t match me?”
Something inside him cracked. He put actual effort into keeping his tone even: “My, my, Narumi-san is surprisingly a very traditional omega.”
Narumi spluttered. “What? I’m not!”
“Isn’t this a petition for me to gain yer favour?”
In a second, Narumi rushed to get in his face. “I’m strong! I’m probably stronger than any warrior in this territory! I will not give up the battlefield for someone who isn’t at least as strong as me!”
“Ya do get that it’s the Shinomiya family the ones trying to convince us to take ya, right?”
“Who cares about that? I won’t marry a weakling no matter what others want me to do,” he tilted his chin up, taking full advantage of the slight but very annoying height difference they had. “So you really are scared.”
“Well, then, Narumi-san,” before the other could smile triumphantly, Sōshirō continued: “We’ll have to leave our competition for tomorrow since ya aren’t wearing the right attire. Would that be amenable to ya?”
“Ha! That’s more like it!” Even though he was smiling, his eyes had a predatory gleam to them. “What’s it gonna be? I’ve mastered most weapons, you know?”
Sōshirō took the bow and arrows from Narumi’s lax hands and proceeded to store them back in their place. He could feel his betrothed impatience for an answer like the charged air before a storm. He walked towards the entrance and only then, he turned around to look back at his infuriating spouse-to-be.
“I thought it was obvious? Ya did just challenge a samurai to a duel.”