Chapter Text
Stepping back onto the Zenin estate felt like walking into a trap she had escaped years ago. The massive walls and wooden buildings hadn't changed much. They still felt heavy and grey, designed to make anyone who wasn't at the top feel small.
Ten years ago, her father had been one of the clan's most respected sorcerers. He was powerful and held a high rank, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut about the way the clan treated people. He hated their old, cruel traditions and said so openly. Because he wouldn't back down, the rest of the family turned on them.
It wasn't just verbal abuse. To get back at her father, the clan started targeting Y/N and her mother. "Accidents" started happening during training-hard hits that left bruises and broken bones that the clan's doctors refused to treat. Her father realized that his strength wasn't enough to protect them as long as they lived there. One night, they left everything behind and fled into the city to live as regular people.
The next ten years were a struggle. Without the Zenin name or money, they were nobody. They lived in small, cramped apartments that were always cold. Her parents took on dangerous, low-level jobs that wore their bodies out. Y/N watched her father's hands start to shake from exhaustion and her mother's health slowly fail because they couldn't afford good doctors.
The invitation to come back wasn't a gesture of kindness. The Zenin clan was running low on strong sorcerers, and they knew Y/N's bloodline carried too much power to waste. They needed her family's strength to keep their spot at the top of the sorcery world.
For her parents, the offer was a dream come true. They were tired of being poor and tired of struggling to survive. The promise of a warm home and a stable life was enough for them to push the memories of the old abuse aside.
Y/N didn't feel the same way. She still remembered the blood on her mother's clothes and the way the elders used to look at her with disgust. But she loved her parents more than she hated this place. If her being here meant they could finally rest and eat well, she would put up with it.
As they passed through the towering gates of the compound, Y/N tightened her grip on her mother's arm, offering a steady anchor. Her mother walked with a visible frailty, her steps small and uncertain. The last ten years had been cruel to her; the constant stress and lack of proper care had aged her far beyond her years.
Despite her weakness, her mother looked around with a faint, hopeful smile. "Oh, look at the stone path," she whispered, her voice sweet but thin. "And the gardens... they've changed so much, haven't they?"
Y/N hummed softly in response, a gentle, comforting sound. She didn't share the sentiment, but she wouldn't ruin this for her mother. "It's well-kept."
Her mother turned her eyes toward her husband, who was walking several paces ahead. His back was rigid, his hands tucked into his sleeves. "Satoshi?" she called out softly. "What do you think? Doesn't the courtyard look lovely today?"
Satoshi didn't turn around. He remained closed off, his shoulders tense. Y/N knew exactly what was happening in his head. For a decade, her father had been the one to shield them. He had fought every day to keep them fed and safe, clinging to his beliefs even when it meant they had nothing. He felt like he had failed as a provider, forced to crawl back to the very people who had hurt them because he wasn't enough to keep his family from slipping away.
Y/N didn't see it that way. To her, he wasn't a failure-he was a hero. He was the man who had traded his pride and his high-ranking status just so she and her mother wouldn't have to suffer under the clan's thumb.
"Satoshi, dear?" her mother tried again, reaching out a hand.
"It's just wood and stone," he replied, his voice coming out colder and sharper than he probably intended. He finally stopped and looked back, his eyes dark with a mix of shame and exhaustion. "And please, don't speak so loud. We aren't here to admire the scenery. We're here because we have to be."
Her mother shrunk back slightly, the light in her eyes dimming as she lowered her hand. The harshness of his tone stung, and she looked down at her feet, suddenly quiet.
Y/N leaned in, patting her mother's arm softly. "He didn't mean it like that, Mom," she whispered, making sure her voice was only for her. "He's just stressed. He wants everything to go perfectly for us today."
Her mother looked up at Y/N and offered a small, weary smile. "I know," she murmured. "I know he worries."
Satoshi turned back around and continued walking until they reached the front of the main residence. He came to a sudden halt on the gravel. Sitting on the elevated wooden porch was Naobito Zenin, flanked by several other high-ranking members of the clan. They stood like statues, their eyes cold and judgmental as they watched the disgraced branch of their family return to the fold.
Without a word of hesitation, Satoshi dropped to his knees. He pressed his forehead against the cold stone of the path, his hands flat on the ground. It was the posture of a man who had finally been broken. Y/N quickly helped her mother, Misaki, down to the same level. They all bowed low, their bodies forming a line of submission in front of the porch.
"Lord Naobito," Satoshi's voice was muffled by the ground, but he spoke with a forced, practiced respect. "We are humbled to stand before you again. I thank you for receiving us into your home."
Naobito didn't answer immediately. The only sound was the slow slide of a door somewhere in the house and the faint clink of a cup. He took his time, letting them sit in the silence until their muscles began to ache.
"Rise," he finally said. His voice was deep and heavy.
Satoshi stood up, his face pale and his expression tight. Y/N and her mother remained on the ground, straightening their backs but keeping their eyes fixed on the stone. They knew the rules: you didn't look a head of the house in the eye unless he invited you to.
"You've lost weight, Satoshi," Naobito remarked. His tone was casual, almost friendly, but there was a sharp edge of mockery underneath it. "The world outside hasn't been as kind to you as your ideals were, it seems. You look... thin. Worn out."
Satoshi's jaw tightened. Y/N could see the strain in his neck. "I am grateful for your permission to return to the estate," he said, the words sounding bitter and dry.
"Gratitude is a good start," Naobito said. "But the Zenin clan is not a charity. We have a shortage of hands, and everyone here must earn their keep. We've already decided where to place you."
He gestured vaguely toward Misaki. "Your wife looks as though a stiff breeze would knock her over. She will be given time to recover and access to the clan's healers. Once she has regained her strength-if she ever does-she will be assigned to the kitchens or the laundry. Nothing too demanding for someone in her... delicate state."
Satoshi bowed his head slightly, hiding his eyes. "Thank you, Lord Naobito."
"As for you," Naobito continued, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Satoshi. "Since you've spent the last decade living like a commoner, you'll be assigned to the plantation. The fields need tending, and I'm sure your physical labor will be of use there. It's a far cry from the high-ranking missions you used to lead, but we must all start somewhere, shouldn't we?"
It was a direct slap to Satoshi's pride, but he didn't flinch. He just nodded, accepting the demotion to a farm hand.
Then, the air seemed to shift. Naobito stood up and walked to the edge of the porch, his shadow falling over Y/N.
"And you," he said. His voice had changed. The mocking sharpness was gone, replaced by a tone that was suspiciously, terrifyingly soft. "Look at me, girl."
Y/N lifted her head slowly. Her breathing hitched as she met his gaze. He looked at her with a strange intensity.
"You've truly grown up," he murmured. "A far cry from the crying child that left here. Do you remember me?"
Y/N's heart hammered against her ribs. "I remember you well... Uncle," she said softly.
The word felt foreign and wrong on her tongue. He wasn't her actual uncle, but because her father had been such a high-ranking sorcerer, she had practically lived in the main residence as a child. While her father was away on missions or working with the elders, she had been raised in the shadow of the main family. They had been a twisted version of a family back then.
Naobito let out a short, dry chuckle. "Uncle. It's been a long time since I heard you say that." He paced a few steps, his eyes never truly leaving her. "It's good to see you again. You were always a observant little thing."
He stopped and looked back at the other men standing in the shadows of the house. "You will have the rest of the week to settle in and recover from your travels. But come Monday, you will begin training. Unfortunately, since you've missed years of proper instruction, you'll be placed with the younger children-the ones who are still learning the basics of cursed energy. You'll have to fall in and learn fast if you want to be of any use. We don't have time for those who can't keep up."
The implication was clear. He was stripping away everything she had learned on her own, lumping her in with toddlers to remind her exactly how low her status was.
"I under—"
"Sorry I'm late," a voice drawled.
The tone was heavy with boredom, entirely unimpressed by the weight of the moment. Y/N and her mother both looked up as a man sauntered past them. He didn't even glance at the family kneeling on the stone, walking with a lazy stride that suggested he owned every inch of the air he breathed. He came to a stop in front of Naobito, his posture loose and disrespectful.
Y/N stared at his back. He was dressed in expensive, traditional layers that moved fluidly with him. From her position on the ground, she could see the glint of piercings in his ears and the sharp, clean line of his undercut. Then, there was that hair-the unmistakable yellow-blonde.
*Naoya.*
She felt a jolt of recognition so sharp it made her stomach turn. She immediately dropped her gaze, staring at the gray stone until her eyes blurred. She tried to make herself small, hoping the shadows of the porch would swallow her whole.
"You're late," Naobito said, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling growl of irritation. "I told you to be here at two o'clock. The return of family is not something you attend at your leisure."
Naoya let out a short, airy huff that was almost a laugh. "I had things to attend to, old man. Besides, what was the rush? It's not like they'll be assigned to anything important." He turned his head slightly, peering over his shoulder. "I assumed you'd have them processed with the rest of the servants by now. Why are they still on the main walkway?"
"Naoya," Naobito warned, his eyes narrowing. "Control your tongue. You were instructed to be here to welcome them. This is your blood."
Naoya finally turned his entire body around. His expression was a mask of pure, unfiltered distaste. He scanned their worn, frayed clothing and the dust on their shoes from the journey. He looked at them like they were a stain on a clean floor.
"Who the hell are these people anyway?" Naoya asked, his lip curling in a sneer. "You invited beggars into the main residence and started calling them family? I've seen more dignity in the people who clean our gutters."
"I gave you the briefing days ago, Naoya," Naobito said, his voice tight. "It seems you've chosen to forget everything I tell you."
Naoya's eyes drifted to Satoshi. He stared for a long beat. A slow, cruel smirk spread across his face.
"Oh, wait. I see it now," Naoya laughed, the sound sharp and biting. "Is that really you, Satoshi?"
Satoshi's jaw was locked, his knuckles white where his hands rested in front of him.
Naoya didn't stop. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over Y/N's mother. "And Misaki," he said, his voice dropping into a chilling, mock-polite tone. "I almost didn't recognize you. You've aged quite a bit, haven't you? The outside world hasn't been kind to your face at all. It's a shame." He tilted his head, his eyes turning cold. "You aren't bowing low enough. Have you forgotten your manners over the years?"
Finally, his gaze shifted to Y/N.
The mocking smirk on his face didn't just fade; it vanished. He went completely still.
The silence stretched too long, becoming tense and suffocating. Naoya's face twisted, his irritation turning into something much more aggressive.
"And you," he hissed, his voice rising.
"You both hold your heads far too high for animals who came back to beg for scraps. You're not family. You're failures coming home to hide. Get down. Now!"
The sheer venom in his voice was like a physical blow. Y/N and her mother both flinched. Her mother, trembling with fear, quickly reached out and grabbed Y/N's arm, pulling her down. She forced both of them to press their foreheads against the cold, hard stone, their bodies trembling under the weight of his stare.
Satoshi's entire body was vibrating with the effort not to move, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts through his nose.
Naoya didn't acknowledge them for another second. He turned back to his father, his face tight and flushed with a strange, angry energy. "If we're done with this circus, I'm leaving. The smell of them is starting to piss me off. It's disgusting."
Naobito waved a hand, dismissing him with a look of weary disappointment.
Once the sound of his footsteps faded, Naobito sighed. "Maids! Take them to the guest quarters. See that they are fed."
Satoshi s moved first, his face a mask of cold, hollow fury. He reached down, his hands shaking slightly as he helped his wife and Y/N to their feet. None of them spoke. They simply turned and followed the servants, walking away from the main house as the suffocating reality of the Zenin clan settled over them once again.
~~~
By the time the sun began to peek through the paper screens of their new quarters, the family was finally settled. The contrast between this room and their old apartment was jarring. The air was warm, the mats were clean, and the futons were thick enough to actually cushion their aching bones. Y/N sat up, taking a moment to simply breathe in the scent of fresh cedar and tea. It was comfortable-dangerously so.
She stood up quietly and slid her door open to check on her parents. In the adjacent room, her mother was still deep in sleep. Y/N leaned against the doorframe, a small, genuine smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in years, the lines of pain around her mother's eyes seemed to have smoothed out. The medication the clan's healers had sent over the night before had clearly done its job, giving her a rest she hadn't had in a decade.
Gently, Y/N slid the door shut and made her way toward the small kitchen area. Her father was already there, sitting at the low table with a steaming cup of tea gripped in both hands. He looked lost in thought, his gaze fixed on the steam rising from the ceramic.
"Good morning, Dad," Y/N said softly, stepping into the room.
Satoshi blinked, his focus returning as he looked up at her. He offered a tired but warm smile. "Morning, sweetheart. I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't. I just couldn't sleep much longer," she said, reaching for a cup and pouring herself some of the tea. She sat down across from him, feeling the warmth of the cup seep into her palms. "How did you sleep?"
"Better than I have in a long time," he admitted, though his voice was heavy. "The bed is soft. It's... quiet here."
"Mom looks peaceful," Y/N murmured. "I think the medicine is helping."
Satoshi nodded, his expression softening for a moment before he looked back at his tea. They sat in silence for a minute, the only sound being the distant chirp of birds outside.
"Do you want to talk about yesterday?" Y/N asked tentatively. "About what they said?"
Satoshi tensed, his shoulders pulling back. "No. There's nothing to talk about, Y/N. I want you to do me a favor-try to forget every word that came out of their mouths. It doesn't matter what they call us or how they look at us. They're just words."
"But the way they treated us-"
"It doesn't matter," he interrupted, though not harshly. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers, his skin a familiar comfort. "Just focus on yourself. Rest while they let us, and when the time comes to work or train, just do as they ask. We stay quiet, we do our jobs, and we'll be okay. That's all that matters right now."
Y/N squeezed his hand, nodding slowly. "I know. I just... I thought they'd put you back in the field. You're a Grade 1 sorcerer, Dad. You have more experience than half the people we saw yesterday. Putting you on a farm feels like a waste of everything you've worked for."
Satoshi sighed, leaning back. "I was expecting the same. If they wanted the strength of our clan back, subjecting me to manual labor doesn't make much sense. It's inefficient." He rubbed his face with one hand. "But don't overthink it. Maybe it's just their way of testing us. Or maybe they just want to remind me that I'm not the man I used to be."
"You're still a hero to me," Y/N said firmly.
Satoshi looked at her, a flash of real emotion breaking through his stoic mask. He gave her hand a final squeeze before pulling away. "Go back to sleep for a bit, Y/N. We don't have anywhere to be today. You should take the chance to heal up while things are quiet."
"I'm actually feeling okay," she said, finishing her tea. "I think the walk yesterday did me some good. Actually... I was thinking of going out for a bit. I wanted to see if Maki was still around. I haven't thought about her in years, but seeing this place again made me wonder."
Satoshi's expression turned thoughtful, then a bit sad. "Maki... she might have left by now. The clan was never easy on her, even when she was a little girl. If she had any sense, she would have found a way out."
Y/N sighed, leaning her chin on her hand. "You're probably right. But I still want to check the training grounds later, just in case."
Her father looked at her with concern, his protective instincts clearly surfacing. He nodded reluctantly. "Alright. But don't stay out long. And Y/N... be careful. We don't know who's still holding a grudge from ten years ago. Not everyone is going to be happy to see us walking these halls again."
"I'll be careful, Dad. I promise."
"Good," he said, standing up to refill the teapot. "And if you see anyone from the main house... just keep your head down. Don't give them a reason to notice you."
Y/N nodded, though she knew that might be easier said than done.
After dressing and preparing for the day, Y/N chose her nicest kimono. It was a soft, understated color with a simple pattern-the only piece of clothing she owned that didn't have a visible patch or a frayed hem. She didn't want to give anyone in this place another reason to look at her with the disgust she had seen yesterday.
She stepped out and began to stroll through the compound. She made a conscious effort to stay away from the main house, taking the winding side paths instead. The estate was quiet. She didn't see any familiar faces, which was a relief. She didn't want to be recognized; she just wanted to find a piece of the past that didn't hurt.
Eventually, her feet led her to the training grounds. She stopped dead when she saw it. The area was empty, but the atmosphere was suffocating. There were dark, dried bloodstains splattered across the stone, and in the center of the yard was a massive, ominous pit. It was deep, the bottom lost in shadows. Y/N walked to the edge, looking down into the darkness. She wondered what kind of horrors happened down there for it to feel so cold even in the morning sun.
"What are you doing standing around like a lost ghost?" a sharp voice called out.
Y/N jumped and turned around. An elderly woman was marching toward her, dressed in the dark, practical robes of the estate's domestic staff. She looked harried, her grey hair tucked tightly into a bun.
"Oh, hello," Y/N said, quickly bowing politely. "I was just looking for someone. I didn't mean to-"
"Looking for someone? In the middle of the training grounds?" The woman sighed, reaching out and grabbing Y/N's arm with surprising strength. "Honestly, the new recruits get more useless every year. You're supposed to be at the west wing for the morning rotation. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
Y/N stumbled as the woman began dragging her toward the main house. "Wait, I think there's been a mistake. I'm not-"
"Of course there's a mistake! The mistake was hiring someone who spends their morning staring into the discipline pit like it's a wishing well," the woman snapped, her pace not slowing down. "Lord Naobito is already in a foul mood today, and if his son finds out the staff is lagging, we'll all be hearing about it for a week. You want to be the one to explain to Master Naoya why his tea is three minutes late?"
Y/N laughed softly, trying to gently pull her arm back. "Ma'am, please. You're being very kind to look out for me, but I think you've got the wrong person. I'm not a mai-"
"Stop complaining and hold this," the lady interrupted, practically shoving a heavy wooden bucket of fresh water into Y/N's hands. "I've been fetching this from the well since dawn. My back isn't what it used to be, and you're young and sturdy. Carry it. Move."
Y/N stood there, blinking, holding the sloshing bucket. The lady was already walking ahead, waving her hand for Y/N to follow.
"I really don't work in there," Y/N said, raising her voice slightly as they approached the back entrance of the main residence. She came to a halt, refusing to take another step toward the building she had promised her father she would avoid.
The woman stopped and turned around, putting her hands on her hips. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean? You're wearing the uniform, aren't you?"
Y/N looked down at her "nice" kimono. Then she looked at the woman's clothes. Then she looked at a younger maid passing by in the distance. Her heart sank. The colors, the cut, even the simple embroidery on the sleeves-it was almost identical to the Zenin servant attire.
"Oh no," Y/N muttered, a sheepish, awkward laugh escaping her. "This... this is just my only nice kimono. I didn't realize it looked like... well, this."
The old woman's face softened for a split second, her eyes scanning Y/N's face properly for the first time. "You aren't a maid?"
"No," Y/N said, clearing her throat and offering a small, embarrassed smile. "But I've already got the bucket. I'll carry it inside for you so you don't have to strain your back, but then I really have to go."
The woman let out a long, wheezing breath, her shoulders dropping. "Well, bless your heart. I suppose I've gone and bullied a guest into doing my chores. I'm sorry, dearie. My eyes aren't what they-"
The woman's voice cut off abruptly. Her eyes traveled past Y/N's shoulder, and her entire face went pale. She froze, her mouth hanging slightly open, her hands beginning to tremble as she stared at something behind Y/N.
A long, dark shadow stretched across the ground, swallowing Y/N's own. She felt a sudden, familiar chill crawl up her spine.
"Tell me, old woman," Naoya said, his voice smooth and devoid of any warmth. "Why exactly are you making her do your chores? Is the staff so incompetent now that we have to rely on the charity of others just to get water across the yard?"
Y/N froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and for a second, she couldn't even breathe. She didn't want to turn around. She didn't want to see that mocking face again.
The elderly woman turned as pale as a sheet. She began to stammer, her hands shaking as she bowed so low she nearly lost her balance. "Master Naoya... I-I am so sorry. It was a mistake! I thought... I truly thought she was one of the new girls. My eyes are failing me, Master, please-"
Naoya didn't wait for her to finish. He moved from behind Y/N, stepping into her line of sight. He didn't look at Y/N yet; he kept his focus on the trembling woman. He walked toward her slowly, each click of his sandals on the stone sounding like a countdown. The woman stumbled backward, her eyes wide with terror.
Before she could be cornered, Y/N moved.
She stepped between them, her shoes scraping against the gravel as she moved to shield the old woman. She held the heavy water bucket tightly in both hands, her knuckles white. She kept her gaze fixed on the ground near Naoya's feet, her voice steady but tight.
"She didn't make me do anything," Y/N said. "I volunteered to carry it. She was struggling with back pain, and I happened to be standing there. It wasn't her fault."
Naoya stopped. He looked down at Y/N, then shifted his gaze back to the maid, his expression one of pure boredom.
"Back pain?" he repeated, his voice dropping into a cold, flat tone. "If she's unable to work because of her health, then she's wasting our time and our space. If a tool is broken, you don't keep it in the shed; you throw it out. Why should the clan feed someone so useless?"
The pure rudeness of his words hit Y/N like a physical blow. Her grip on the bucket tightened until her hands ached. She couldn't help it-she looked up. She broke the rule of keeping her head down, meeting his eyes with a look of genuine disbelief and a simmering, hot anger.
"She isn't a tool," Y/N said, her voice dropping lower. She tried to remain polite, for her father's sake, but the disgust was hard to hide. "She's been working here since before I was born. She's strong for her age, and she's dedicated. She just needed a hand with one bucket."
Naoya looked at Y/N, his eyebrows lofting slightly. He didn't look offended; he looked like he was watching an ant try to lift a pebble. He ignored her comment entirely, turning his attention back to the maid as if Y/N hadn't even spoken.
"Take the bucket," Naoya commanded the woman. "And get back to your duties. If I see you lagging again, don't bother showing up for your next shift. I'll have someone more capable take your place by noon."
The woman nodded frantically, tears welling in her eyes. She scrambled forward to Y/N's side. Y/N felt the woman's presence-small, fragile, and completely broken by the threat.
Y/N handed the bucket over, her fingers brushing the woman's arm in a brief, comforting squeeze. "Are you okay?" she whispered, her voice soft with genuine concern.
The woman didn't dare answer with words. She just gave a quick, jerky nod, her eyes darting toward Naoya in fear of upsetting him further. She took the bucket, the water sloshing over the sides as she hurried away toward the house as fast as her old legs could carry her.
"Work carefully," Y/N called after her quietly, watching until the woman disappeared through the sliding doors.
Y/N felt his eyes boring into the back of her head, cold and predatory. She stood perfectly still, her heart slamming against her ribs. She didn't even dare to breathe, her mind racing for an exit. *If I move now-if I'm fast enough-*
She didn't even get a foot away before the world jolted.
Naoya lunged, his hand clamping around her wrist. He didn't just hold her; he wrenched her arm upward, twisting it at an angle that made her shoulder joint scream in protest. Y/N gasped, forced onto her tiptoes as the pain flared white-hot. Her other hand flew up to grab his forearm, trying to pry his fingers off, but he was immovable. She kept her face down, teeth gritted to keep from crying out.
"You really haven't learned a damn thing, have you?" Naoya's voice was a low, venomous hiss right at her ear. "Ten years of rotting in the dirt and you still come back here thinking you can look me in the eye without permission? You're still just a brat with no sense of place."
Y/N didn't answer. She couldn't. She just struggled to find her footing, her breath hitching in her throat.
"Let's be clear," he whispered, his grip tightening until she felt her bones grate together. "If you ever open that mouth to speak to me again without the proper title, I'll snap your neck. Do you understand me, vermin?"
With a sharp, disgusted shove, he released her. The force sent her stumbling back, her heels catching on the gravel as she hit the ground hard. She scrambled to prop herself up on her palms, her chest heaving with a mixture of terror and a violent, simmering rage.
Naoya stood over her, looking down with a face full of pure loathing. "And don't get it twisted," he added, his voice flat and cruel. "Whatever childhood nonsense you're clinging to is gone. We aren't friends, and we never will be. You're a guest here on sufferance, nothing more."
Y/N looked up then, her eyes narrowed and sharp with hate. A jagged, bitter scoff left her throat. "Friends?" she spat. "I never considered you a friend, Naoya."
The insult hit its mark. Naoya's expression darkened instantly, his boredom replaced by a flash of genuine fury. Before she could move, he swung his foot out. His sandal connected brutally with her shoulder, slamming her back into the dirt.
"What did I just say about that mouth of yours?" he snapped, his voice rising.
Y/N rolled onto her side, clutching her shoulder as the pain throbbed. She forced a breathless, mocking laugh, pushing herself back up even as her muscles shook. She didn't look at him, keeping her back turned as she wiped the dust from her face.
"You haven't changed at all," she said, her voice cracking with the weight of the memory. "You're still the same insecure, pathetic bully I remember. I thought ten years might make you a man, but you're just a bigger version of that miserable boy."
The words seemed to hit him.
"How dare you!" he roared, his voice cracking with sudden, explosive rage.
His hand shot out, fingers tangling brutally in her hair. He wrenched her head back, forcing her to look up at him, intending to see her crumble. But as their eyes met, Naoya froze.
Her eyes were glassy, tears pooling at the edges and threatening to spill over, but the expression behind them wasn't what he expected. She winced at the sharp pain in her scalp, yet she didn't look away. She didn't look terrified.
Suddenly, the present faded. The smell of the morning air changed.
***Flashback***
"I give up! Naoya, I'm done!"
Little Y/N's voice was high and wavering, exhausted from hours of wandering the Zenin courtyard. They had been playing hide and seek since the sun was high, and as usual, Naoya was being a cheat. He made her count every single time, hiding in the high rafters or deep within the restricted storehouses where he knew she was too afraid to go.
"You can't give up yet!" Naoya's voice echoed from somewhere above. "You haven't even checked the koi pond!"
"I'm not going near the pond, it's dark!" Y/N yelled back, her lower lip trembling. "It's not fair. You know all the spots and I don't know any!"
"That's because you're slow," Naoya said, suddenly dropping from a low-hanging branch right in front of her.
Y/N shrieked, jumping back and nearly tripping over her own kimono. Naoya stood there with a smug, toothy grin, crossing his arms. "The rules are the rules, Y/N. You gave up. That means I get your sweets at dinner tonight. All of them."
"But I wanted them..." she whispered.
"Should've been faster then," he teased, sticking his tongue out before running off toward the main hall.
Later that evening, after the servants had cleared the plates, Y/N sat in Naoya's room. She had secretly tucked the honey-soaked caramels from her tray into her sleeve. Shly, she pulled them out and held them out to him.
"Here," she murmured.
Naoya snatched them without a second thought, popping one into his mouth. "See? Losing isn't so bad when you're honest about it. Maybe tomorrow I'll let you count to fifty instead of eighty."
Suddenly, a muffled roar of anger echoed through the paper walls. Shouting erupted from a few rooms over-the unmistakable sound of their fathers arguing again. The air in the room turned heavy. Y/N flinched, her eyes darting toward the door.
"They're doing it again," she whispered, her voice small.
Naoya casually chewed his candy, leaning back on his elbows. "It's your dad's fault," he said confidently, his voice mimicking the way he had heard the elders speak. "My dad says your father is a nuisance. He's weak because he won't just follow the rules like everyone else."
Y/N's head snapped up. "He's not weak! My dad is the strongest person I know!"
"My dad says he's dumb," Naoya countered, his eyes flashing with a borrowed arrogance. "He says your father thinks he's better than the clan. That's why everyone is mad at him."
"Take it back!" Y/N yelled, her face turning bright red. She lunged forward, snatching the remaining sweets out of Naoya's open hand. "My dad isn't dumb! Your dad is a liar!"
Naoya's face twisted in shock. "My father is the head of the house! He doesn't lie! Give those back, they're mine!"
"No! You don't deserve them!"
They scrambled on the tatami mats, a mess of tangled limbs and fabric. Naoya, stronger and more aggressive, managed to pin her down. He reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head back just like his father did when he was angry.
"Hand them over!" he shouted. "They're mine by right!"
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes brimming with hurt and absolute terror. She was shaking, her small hands clutching the candy to her chest. "No," she sobbed, her voice cracking. "My dad... he's not dumb. You're mean, Naoya! I hate you!"
With a burst of desperate strength, she shoved him off her and scrambled to her feet, bolting out of the room before he could catch her.
**Present**
His grip on her hair softened unconsciously.
Y/N didn't wait for him to recover. As soon as she felt the pressure release, she shoved his chest with both hands, the force of it catching him off guard.
"Don't touch me,"
She turned and ran, her footsteps heavy and fast against the stone, leaving Naoya standing alone in the center of the courtyard.
~~~
The following day, Y/N made it her mission to stay as invisible as possible. She spent the hours helping her mother with small tasks inside their quarters, her shoulder still dull and aching from the previous day's encounter. Every time she heard footsteps on the gravel outside, she tensed, waiting for the door to slide open and reveal that pale yellow hair. But the day passed in a quiet, tense peace.
As evening approached, the family began preparing a simple dinner of rice and miso. The steam from the pot made the small room feel almost like a real home until a sharp knock echoed through the wood of the front door.
They all froze. Her father, Satoshi, stood up slowly, wiping his hands on a cloth before heading to the entrance. When he slid the door open, a young maid was standing there, her head bowed deeply. In her arms, she held a lacquered wooden box.
"Lord Naobito requests the presence of your daughter, Y/N, for dinner at the main residence tonight," the maid said, her voice small and rehearsed.
Y/N felt her stomach drop. She looked at her mother, whose face had gone pale.
Satoshi stepped forward, blocking the doorway slightly. "Dinner? On what grounds? We were told we had the week to settle in."
"I am only the messenger, sir," the maid replied, not lifting her gaze. "I was instructed to deliver the summons and this box. Lord Naobito was very specific."
"What's in the box?" Y/N asked, standing up and walking over to join her father.
The maid held the box out. "The attire you are instructed to wear for the evening. Lord Naobito expects you within the hour."
Satoshi took the box, his grip tight enough to make the wood creak. "And if she isn't feeling well? My daughter had a long journey."
"The Lord did not mention an alternative, sir. He simply said she is to be there." The maid bowed one last time and hurried away into the evening mist.
Satoshi slid the door shut and turned back to the room, the box looking heavy in his hands. Misaki, stood up with a start, her hands trembling as she clutched her chest.
"Y/N, what did you do?" her mother whispered, her voice climbing with panic. "Did you break something? Did you speak to someone you shouldn't have? Why would they summon just you?"
"I didn't do anything," Y/N said quickly, forcing her voice to stay calm. She hated lying, but telling them that Naoya had assaulted her in the courtyard would only make her mother's health worse. "It's probably just a formality. You know how the elders are."
"I don't like it," Satoshi muttered, setting the box on the table. "They don't invite people to the main house for pleasantries"
"Maybe they're going to tell us we have to leave again," Misaki fretted, pacing the small space. "Maybe they changed their minds about the truce."
"Darling, breathe," Satoshi said, placing a steadying hand on his wife's shoulder. He looked at Y/N, his eyes dark with worry. "We can't refuse. Not now. We're finally getting your mother the medicine she needs. If we start defying orders on the second day, we're finished."
He pushed the box toward Y/N. "Go to your room and change. I'll walk you to the main residence and wait outside for you. If anything feels wrong, you find a way to let me know."
Y/N looked at the box, then at her father's tired face. She didn't want to go back into that house. She didn't want to see Naobito or Naoya.
"I'll be fine," Y/N said, picking up the box. It was surprisingly light. "It's just dinner. I'll be back before you know it."
She went into her small bedroom and slid the door shut. As she lifted the lid of the box, the smell of expensive silk and incense filled the air. It was a kimono.
The pink kimono felt stiff against Y/N's skin. The cherry blossom print was bright, and the makeup her mother had insisted on felt heavy on her face.
As they walked toward the main entrance of the Zenin estate, Satoshi held her hand tightly.
When they reached the stairs, a group of servants was already waiting. They bowed in perfect unison, their faces expressionless.
"We will take the Lady inside now," one of the maids said.
Satoshi's grip tightened for a fraction of a second before he slowly let go. He wasn't invited further. Y/N felt a chill as she was led away from him, the heavy wooden doors closing between her and her father.
The interior was breathtaking. The halls were polished to a high shine, and the scale of the rooms was far more grand than Y/N remembered. But despite the beauty, the air felt thin. It was too quiet. Every step she took echoed through the empty-feeling corridors, making the back of her neck prickle.
They reached the dining room. Y/N and the maids dropped to their knees. A soft knock was followed by Naobito's deep voice.
"Enter."
The door slid open. Y/N kept her head bowed low, staring at the mat.
"The girl has arrived, Lord Naobito," the maid announced.
Naobito stood up. The sound of his robes dragging across the floor grew louder as he approached. He waved a dismissive hand at the servants. "Go. Leave us."
He reached down and took Y/N by the arms. He didn't wait for her to move; he guided her up with a firm, controlling grip.
"There's no need to stay on the floor, Y/N. You aren't a servant," Naobito said. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. They remained sharp, scanning her face. "You look quite a bit more like a Zenin today. It suits you."
"Thank you, Uncle," she whispered, her voice tight. "I'm sorry for any trouble my arrival has caused."
"No trouble at all. Come, sit." He walked her over to the low table.
As she sat, she noticed the empty cushion directly beside her. Her stomach did a nervous flip-not out of excitement, but out of pure dread. She knew exactly who was supposed to be sitting there.
Naobito took his seat across from her and began pouring tea. "You're looking at the empty seat. Naoya will be late. He's occupied with some business in the training halls. He's become very dedicated to his position."
Y/N gave a stiff, polite nod. "I see. I wouldn't want to interrupt his duties. He always did take them very seriously."
Inside, she was relieved he wasn't there yet. The thought of seeing him made her skin crawl, but she kept her expression neutral. She knew better than to show any distain for Naoya in front of his father.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, Uncle," Y/N said carefully, "but why was I invited to sit with you today?"
"Can an uncle not have tea with his family?" Naobito asked, though his tone wasn't playful. He set the teapot down with a heavy thud. "I wanted to speak with you before you begin your formal training next week. I wanted to make sure you understood the situation."
He leaned forward slightly. "I hope you know that you were never the problem here. Neither was your mother. I never wanted either of you to leave this house."
Y/N kept her gaze on her teacup. "My father thought it was the only way."
"Your father was a selfish man," Naobito said, his voice turning cold. "Satoshi let his own ego get in the way of what was best for his family. He took you into a life of struggle just because he couldn't handle the rules. He was weak. You realize that, don't you?"
Y/N bit her tongue. She hated the way he spoke about her father, but the weight of Naobito's presence was suffocating. She couldn't argue. "I understand what you're saying, Uncle."
"Good," Naobito hummed. "I always liked having you around when you were a girl. You were one of the few people who could actually keep my son entertained. You remember Naoya well, I assume?"
"Of course," she said softly. "We spent a lot of time together."
"You were close friends," Naobito added, taking a slow sip of his tea. He paused, watching her over the rim of the cup. "It's interesting, really. Did you know it was Naoya who told me about the night your father took you away? He came straight to me the moment he knew."
The air left Y/N's lungs. Her heart stopped. She had completely blocked that out. The memory of that summer afternoon-the secret she thought was safe-rushed back with terrifying clarity.
**Flashback (18-year-old Y/N)**
The summer heat was oppressive. Y/N hurried toward the training grounds, her pulse racing. She knew she was supposed to be at home helping her mother pack in secret. Her father had been very clear: tell no one.
But she couldn't leave without seeing Naoya. Even back then, he was arrogant and often cruel, but she thought that if she told him, maybe he would finally say something kind to her. Maybe he would ask her to stay.
She saw him in the center of the training yard. He was nineteen, tall and athletic, his blonde hair damp with sweat. He was pummeling a straw training dummy, his movements violent and precise. Every hit sounded like a crack of thunder. He looked furious.
Y/N stood by the fence for a moment, her heart fluttering. He looked so much older when he was focused like that. She took a deep breath and stepped into the yard.
"Naoya?" she called out softly.
He didn't stop. He landed a heavy strike that sent bits of straw flying into the air. "What do you want, Y/N?" he snapped, his back still toward her. "I don't have time for you today."
"Can we talk for just a second? Please?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Naoya stopped, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. He tilted his head, giving her a glimpse of one sharp, narrowed eye. "Piss off," he said in a cold, stiff voice. "Go find someone else to bother. I have actual work to do."
He had been so distant lately, constantly reminding her of the gap between them. But Y/N moved closer, desperate to get the words out.
"I have something important to tell you," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It's about tonight. I'm not going to be here tomorrow."
"I said go away!" Naoya suddenly spun around, his face contorted in a snarl. "Are you deaf? Listen to me for once and get out of my sight!"
When he turned toward her, Y/N froze. His face was a mess of dark bruises and a nasty cut across his cheekbone.
"Naoya, your face!" she gasped, immediately stepping closer. Her heart sank at the sight of him. "What happened? Who did this?"
She reached out, her fingers trembling as she tried to touch the bruised skin. Naoya's reaction was instant. He swatted her hand away with a sharp smack.
"Don't touch me," he snapped. He looked away, his jaw tight. "I lost a fight at training today. The old man decided I needed a punishment. It's none of your business."
There was a heavy silence between them. They both stared at the ground, the only sound being the distant chirp of cicadas. Y/N felt a lump in her throat.
Slowly, she lifted her hand again. She was braced for him to hit her hand away, but this time, she reached out even slower. Her fingertips brushed against his cheek. He flinched, his eyes flickering with annoyance, but he didn't pull away. He let her hand rest there for a second.
"You really should go to the healer later," she whispered, her thumb gently rubbing the edge of the bruise. "It looks like it hurts."
Naoya looked at her. For a brief moment, his expression softened, and their eyes locked. It was the kind of look that made Y/N feel even more overwhelmed But then, the moment broke. He swatted her hand away again, though this time it was less harsh.
"I don't need a healer," he grumbled. He turned away and started putting his training stick back on the rack. "So? What was so important that you had to interrupt me? Speak up or leave."
Y/N followed him, her hands hovering near her sides. "It's a secret. You have to promise me you won't tell anyone. Especially not your father."
Naoya stopped and turned back to her, looking even more irritated than before. "I'm not a damn kid, Y/N. I don't go around yelling secrets. Either tell me or shut up and go home."
Y/N sighed at his rudeness, but she was used to it. She took a deep breath, looking around to make sure no one was listening. "I'm leaving, Naoya."
He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Leaving? What do you mean 'leaving'? You're going to the city for the day?"
"No," she said, the words coming out in a rush now. "My mother and father told me. We're leaving the clan tonight. For good. We're running away."
Naoya didn't move. He just stared at her. The shock was visible in the way his pupils dilated. He looked like he had been struck. He stayed like that for several seconds, just processing the words. Then, the shock turned into something sharper-fear.
He lunged forward, his hand snapping out to grab her wrist. "Are you crazy?" he hissed, his voice low and urgent. "You think you can just leave the Zenin? If my father finds out about this, he'll kill all of you. He doesn't let people just 'walk away.'"
"We can't stay here, Naoya!" Y/N argued, her voice trembling. "Did you see my mother yesterday? Someone in the village 'accidentally' tripped her. She almost broke her arm. They laughed about it! And last week, those girls pushed me into the river again. Everyone here hates us. It isn't safe anymore."
Naoya let go of her wrist as if he'd been burned. He shoved his hand into his hair, gripping the blonde strands and pulling hard as he looked down at the dirt. He looked genuinely distressed, his breathing becoming shallow.
"And whose fault is that?" he suddenly yelled, his voice cracking. "This wouldn't be happening if your damn father had just kept his mouth shut! He's the one who made everyone turn on you! He's the one who ruined everything!"
Y/N didn't flinch. She had heard it all before. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is! The point is, we're in danger. I'm telling you because... because I didn't want to just disappear. I didn't want you to think I just left you without saying anything."
She looked at him, her eyes pleading. "I'll come say goodbye one last time before we go. I promise."
Naoya's hands dropped from his hair. He looked at her, but the boy from a few moments ago was gone. His eyes were cold, chillingly vacant, and his expression was as hard as stone.
"You aren't going to make it out, Y/N," he said quietly. His voice was devoid of emotion.
"Naoya-"
Before she could finish, Naoya roughly pushed past her. His shoulder slammed into hers, nearly knocking her off balance. He didn't look back as he marched toward the main house, leaving her standing alone in the settling dust of the training yard.
***Present***
The sliding door groaned on its tracks, cutting off Y/N's spiraling thoughts. She tensed, her shoulders locking as Naoya stepped into the room. He looked entirely unimpressed, his expression bored as his eyes swept over the formal dinner setting.
Y/N immediately stood up. She kept her gaze low, following the rigid etiquette she had been taught. She bowed deeply, her hands pressed against her thighs.
"Welcome, Master Naoya," she said, her voice steady despite the flutter of dread in her chest.
Naoya didn't respond immediately. He watched her for a moment, his gaze lingering on the top of her head with a look of mild distaste. He then glanced at his father, who was watching the interaction with a testing, expectant look. The silence stretched until Naoya finally gave a sharp, dismissive n
Head bow.
"Sit down," Naoya instructed. His voice was stiff.
Y/N nodded and sat, sinking back onto her cushion. Naoya took the seat directly beside her.
Naobito chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. "How lovely it is to have you both at the same table again. It feels as though things are finally back where they belong."
Naoya ignored the comment. He reached for the bottle of sake, pouring himself a cup. He turned his body slightly toward his father, effectively shutting Y/N out of the space.
"The reports from the Kyoto branch are in," Naoya said, his tone business-like and clipped. "The sorcerers there are complaining about the lack of resources. They're lazy, if you ask me. They expect the main house to do everything for them."
Naobito leaned back, swirling his drink. "Let them complain. As long as they maintain the borders, their comfort isn't my concern. Did you oversee the new recruits' evaluations?"
"I did," Naoya replied, picking up his chopsticks. "Most are useless. There's one with a decent technique, but he lacks the discipline. I'll have to break him in properly if we want him to be of any use to the clan."
Y/N kept her head down, picking at her food. It was delicious-high-quality fish and seasoned vegetables. She felt like a ghost at the table, a silent observer to a life she didn't want to be part of again.
Suddenly, Naobito shifted his focus. "Is the food to your liking, Y/N? I imagine you haven't had a meal like this in quite some time."
Y/N glanced up, offering a small, forced nod. "It's amazing, Uncle. Thank you."
"You could eat like this every night if you wanted to," Naobito said. He smiled, but the expression was predatory. "All you have to do is show up. This house has plenty of room for you."
Y/N's hand trembled slightly as she set her chopsticks down. The invitation didn't feel warm; it felt like a trap. "That is very kind of you, but... my parents would miss me at dinner. I wouldn't want to leave them alone."
The decline was polite, but it clearly hit a nerve. Naobito's eyes sharpened, though he kept the half-smile on his face. "You always were such a caring girl. It's a rare trait in this family." He paused, his gaze flickering to Naoya before returning to her. "That's why I was always so pleased to have you around Naoya when you were children. You kept him grounded. A man in his position needs a kind, obedient, well-behaved girl like yourself by his side."
Y/N almost choked on her water. She set the glass down with a soft *clink*, her heart racing. "I... I'm not sure what you mean, Uncle," she whispered nervously.
Naobito didn't answer her directly. He looked at Naoya, who was eating blankly, his eyes fixed on his plate as if he hadn't heard a word.
"Just enjoy your food, Y/N," Naobito said dismissively.
The rest of the meal passed in a suffocating silence, broken only by the sound of clinking ceramics. After the main courses were cleared, a tray of sweets was brought in-small, delicate cakes and honey-soaked caramels.
Naoya didn't move to touch any of them. He sat back, his arms crossed, looking thoroughly annoyed by the entire ordeal.
"Do you remember these, Y/N?" Naobito asked, gesturing to the sweets.
Y/N forced a smile. "Of course. These were my favorites when I was little."
Naobito chuckled. "Yes, but back then, you weren't allowed many. My wife was very keen on that. She used to say that too many sweets before bed made children restless and difficult to manage."
Y/N nodded, a brief flash of genuine nostalgia hitting her. "I remember."
Naobito turned his head toward his son. "Naoya. Are you going to eat, or are you just going to sit there?"
Naoya gave his father a cold, hard glare, but Naobito wasn't fazed. Instead, the older man turned back to Y/N, his eyes glinting with a cruel sort of playfulness.
"Why don't you offer him something, Y/N? Perhaps he'll listen to you."
Y/N froze. Acting kind to Naoya felt like a betrayal of herself.
She managed a stiff, shaky nod. Her hand reached out toward the table, her fingers hovering before she settled on the plate of honey-soaked caramels. She placed the small dish in front of Naoya.
"Would you... would you like some?" she asked, trying her best to sound polite and soft.
Naoya didn't look at the caramels. He looked at her. His eyes were full of a deep, simmering resentment, as if her very presence was an insult to him. He let the silence hang for a few agonizing seconds.
Then, he scoffed, a sharp, ugly sound.
"This is so damn stupid," he spat.
Without another word he stood up. He didn't look at his father or offer any parting words. He simply turned and walked out of the room, the sliding door slamming shut behind him.
Naobito watched his son go, his expression darkening into one of clear displeasure. The "nice" mask had slipped, leaving only the cold authority of the Zenin head.
Y/N watched the door settle into its frame after Naoya slammed it. She scoffed internally. *Arrogant idiot,* she thought. He was just as ridiculous as he had been a decade ago.
Then there was Naobito. His words still rang in her ears, and they made her stomach churn. Did he honestly believe she was some kind of tool to be used? Like she was supposed to talk Naoya out of being a pile of garbage? She had spent her entire childhood trying to be kind to him, hoping he'd return even a fraction of it. It had never happened. She wasn't that stupid little girl anymore. She wasn't going to waste another breath on him; he didn't deserve her kindness.
She wanted to turn to Naobito and tell him exactly where he could shove his "kind and obedient" expectations. She wanted to tell him that Naoya could go fix his own damn self.
"Please, enjoy your dessert," Naobito said, his voice cutting through her anger. "When you are finished, a servant will escort you back home."
He didn't wait for her to answer. He stood up and walked out, leaving her alone in the massive, quiet room. Y/N stared at the honey-soaked caramels. She didn't have an appetite. After a few minutes of sitting in the silence, she stood up and left the dining room.
In the hallway, a servant bowed. "Are you ready to leave, Lady Y/N? I will walk you."
"There's no need," Y/N said politely. "My father is waiting just outside. You should go and rest for the night."
The maid looked hesitant but bowed again. "As you wish. Goodnight."
Y/N began the long walk through the estate. The wooden floors creaked under her feet. As she passed a set of open sliding doors that led to the inner gardens, she froze.
Naoya was sitting on the edge of the wooden porch, his back to her, gazing out at the moonlit trees.
She took in the sight for a second. These were the same gardens where they used to play all day as kids. The older they had gotten, the more those play sessions had turned into bitter fights. The nostalgia was sharp and painful.
Suddenly, Naoya turned his head. His eyes locked onto hers. She immediately looked away, shifting her weight to keep walking, but his voice stopped her.
"Stop."
Y/N felt a pool of dread form in her gut. She stayed still but didn't look at him.
"Come here," he said.
Her heart sank. Her fists clenched at her sides, the silk of her sleeves bunching in her grip. She glanced at him sideways, her expression hardening. "Why?"
"Just come here," he said calmly. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Reluctantly, she turned and took one step toward him. He looked unimpressed, his eyes tracking her movement.
"Closer," he commanded.
Her heart began to beat faster, a rhythmic thumping against her ribs. She took two more steps until she was standing just a foot away from him. She kept her head down, refusing to meet his eyes.
Naoya stood up slowly. He was taller than her now, his presence looming and heavy. He looked her up and down.
"You look different tonight," he said, his voice low. "But that kimono... it's far too tight on you."
Y/N's head snapped up. When she saw the way he was eyeing her-blatant and hungry-a heat crawled up her neck and settled in her cheeks. She looked away again, her voice stiff. "Don't look at me like that. It's improper."
Naoya scoffed. He took a step forward, closing the remaining distance until he was deep in her personal space. "Since when did you care about being proper with me?"
"What the hell do you mean by-"
She didn't get to finish. Naoya's hand went up, gripping her waist firmly and pulling her against him. Y/N gasped, her hands flying up to push against his chest. The heat of his body rolled off him in waves.
"Naoya, stop!" she hissed, the name slipping out before she could catch it. "I mean..."
Naoya sighed, a low sound that vibrated through his chest. His face fell into the crook of her neck, his forehead resting against her skin. "It's fine," he muttered. "You can call me Naoya for now."
The sudden softness in his voice caught her off guard. She stopped fighting for a second, her body going still as she felt him leaning into her. He didn't pull away. Instead, she felt him inhale deeply against her skin, sniffing her as if he were trying to memorize her scent. His hands on her waist squeezed gently, his fingers digging into the fabric of the kimono.
"Do you remember this?" he whispered against her neck.
Y/N's mind went completely still. Her breath hitched, and the memories hit her all at once.
The gardens were different back then. Publicly a battlefield, but privately a sanctuary.
As Naoya grew older, the time they spent together changed. His duties as the heir became a wall between them. He wasn't just a boy anymore; he was a Zenin. The bullying she had endured as a child sharpened into something far more cutting. He began to treat her like she was beneath him, a nuisance that he was forced to tolerate.
During the day, he was vicious. Whenever Naobito forced them to spar in the training yard, Naoya showed no mercy. He was faster and stronger, and he knew it. He would use his technique to pin her to the dirt, his knees digging into her ribs, his eyes cold as he reminded her exactly how weak she was compared to him. He was a bully, and he wanted everyone to see it.
But then, as they reached their late-teens, another side of him began to emerge. It was a side that only existed in the dark, away from the prying eyes of the elders and the harsh judgment of his father.
It started with a whispered command in the hallway, or a look that meant she was to wait for him. He began asking her to meet him in the gardens at night, long after the rest of the estate had gone to sleep.
The first time it happened, Y/N had been terrified. She thought he was going to finish what he started during their sparring sessions. But when she arrived, he was just sitting on the grass, his shoulders slumped. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a heavy, suffocating exhaustion.
His days were filled with the cruelty of his father and the relentless pressure from the men who trained him. If he made a mistake, he was punished. If he showed weakness, he was hit. The gardens at night became the only place where he didn't have to be an heir.
They would lie together in the grass in total silence. He didn't offer apologies for the things he said or did during the day, and she didn't ask for them.
It started small and slow for the first few days.
Then one night he just reached out and took her hand. There was no flourish or hesitation-he just closed the space and locked his fingers with hers. His grip was tight but not painful. He didn't let go for the entire hour they sat there.
A few nights later, the touch changed. He seemed more exhausted, the bruises from his father's "lessons" darker under his eyes. Without asking, he leaned over and laid his head in her lap. He was heavy, his full weight pressing into her thighs. Y/N stayed perfectly still. She watched the way his chest rose and fell, the heat from his body soaking through the thin fabric of her clothes.
The next time they met, he grew bolder. He didn't just lay his head down; he turned his face inward, pressing his nose against her lower abdomen. He breathed against her, slow and steady. The heat of his breath made her skin crawl in a way that made her heart race. She could feel the hardness of his face, and the desperate way he seemed to be drinking in her scent.
He never spoke in those moments; he had warned her once-forget it by morning-and it sounded like a threat, but the way he pulled her against his chest made it feel like a promise. He wanted her to be his secret, a place where he could be weak and hungry and cruel all at once, as long as the sun wasn't up to see it.
He held her in different ways, and as the weeks passed, the restraint he'd shown at the beginning started to rot away.
On some nights, it was a desperate sort of anchoring. He would lace his fingers with hers, squeezing so hard her bones ached, his knuckles white in the moonlight. But on most nights, the touch was urgent. He would pull her in until there wasn't a breath of air between them, his hands wandering over her back with a restless, frantic energy. He would bury his face in the crook of her neck and just breathe her in, his chest heaving against hers. The sounds he made were low and soft-small, private whimpers of frustration that made her blood run hot.
When the nights grew bolder, his hands stopped asking for permission. They moved with a hungry lack of restraint, learning every curve and dip of her body. He would slide his hands under her clothes, his palms hot and heavy against her thighs as he squeezed them while he dragged her against his lap. He liked the friction.
His mouth was the most aggressive part. He would start at the soft skin beneath her ear, his breath hitching as he worked his way down to the base of her throat. His kisses were hard, bordering on bruising. He would graze his teeth over her skin, nipping at her until he left a sharp, stinging heat that made her back arch and her fingers curl into the grass.
He was never satisfied. No matter how close he pulled her, or how deep he bit into the column of her neck, he always seemed to want more. He would grip her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat, his eyes dark and starved as he looked at her. In those moments, the rule didn't matter. The morning didn't matter. There was only the weight of him, the sting of his teeth, and the overwhelming hunger in the way he moved against her.
She didn't understand why he wanted her. The confusion sat right beside the pleasure, a quiet question she never had the nerve to voice. She didn't know why the boy who spent his days insulting her spent his nights starved for her touch. It didn't make sense, and she knew better than to ask.
But even with the confusion, she knew one thing with absolute clarity. When he was like this-his hands heavy, his breath hot against her skin, and his teeth grazing her throat-it felt good. The way he looked at her made her head spin. Everything about it felt good, and in the heat of the moment, that was all that mattered.
The last memory she had felt so vivid. It was a few days before everything went wrong-before she had told him the secret of their escape.
Naoya was already there, pacing the stone path like a caged animal. He had been waiting for nearly twenty minutes. Every second she was late felt like a personal insult to his ego.
He heard the faint rustle of fabric before he saw her.
Before she could even apologize, Naoya was on her. He stepped out of the darkness and grabbed her arm.
"You're late," he hissed, his voice low and jagged with frustration. "I told you to be here at midnight."
Y/N winced, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I'm sorry, Naoya. I couldn't help it. My father went to bed much later than usual. I had to wait until I was sure he was asleep before I could sneak out."
Naoya's eyes searched hers in the dark. He looked like he wanted to yell at her-to remind her that she should prioritize him over everything-but the anger seemed to drain out of him as he looked at her face. The harsh lines of his jaw relaxed, and his grip on her arm softened. Instead of letting go, his hand slid down to her wrist, pulling her closer.
"It's fine," he whispered, his voice dropping into that rare, quiet register that he saved only for these moments.
He didn't pull her toward the grass to lie down this time. Instead, he moved forward, forcing her back until her shoulder blades hit the stone wall.
By day, he treated her like she was nothing. By night, he looked at her like she was the only thing that kept him from coming apart.
He started the way he always did recently-kissing her neck, hands on her waist, steady and sure.
She tilted her head, giving him room. He moved in, soft at first, then his teeth grazed her skin. A soft whimper escaped her.
"...H-How...was...training today?" she asked in a breathy whisper.
His hand fumbled at the tie of her kimono. "Not now," he murmured, but his fingers kept working. He loosened the knot, slid the fabric down a little at her shoulder, and sucked at the spot he'd just bitten.
She kept her voice low. "I know. I just- I want to talk. We don't get to during the day."
Something in him tightened. He bit harder, more aggressive. He stopped then looked up. "If you want to talk that badly," he said in a low whisper, "moan my name while I touch you."
Her breath hitched. Heat crawled up her neck. He didn't wait. He went back to her throat, and one hand pushed her kimono higher, steady and hungry.
When the kimono was pushed up to her hips, his hands went to the backs of her thighs and lifted her off the ground. She blinked, surprised-he was stronger than she'd thought. He carried her a few steps, his hands tight against her like he was afraid she might disappear if he let go. When he laid her down on the grass, he did it carefully, but there was a restless, shaky energy in the way he moved.
He immediately grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, holding them there with a grip that wouldn't budge. He leaned his full weight over her, his chest heaving as he looked down at her for a split second. His eyes were dark and wide, looking less cruel and more like a someone who was actually starving. He didn't wait. He lowered his head and kissed her, and it was immediate and desperate. It was a deep, needy kiss, like he was trying to pull the very air out of her lungs just to keep himself going.
The memory of the kiss-hot, desperate, and forbidden-shook Y/N back to the present. The feeling of his lips against hers years ago felt far too real in the current silence of the garden.
Panic flared in her chest. She shoved him back with both hands, using every bit of strength she had. Naoya stumbled back a step, looking more irritated than surprised by her sudden resistance.
Y/N's breathing was heavy, her heart thumping frantic against her ribs. She smoothed her pink kimono with trembling fingers, trying to reclaim some shred of dignity.
"I remember," she said, her voice stiff and cold. "And I remember that we were just stupid teenagers. It was a mistake, Naoya. Nothing more."
Naoya adjusted his collar, a scowl crossing his face. He didn't like being pushed, and he certainly didn't like being told he was a mistake. He let out a sharp, mocking chuckle that made Y/N's skin crawl.
He took a slow step toward her, his eyes raking over her again. "Is that why you haven't found a husband yet?"
Y/N frowned, her confusion momentarily outweighing her anger. "What are you talking about?"
"Think about it," Naoya said, his voice dropping into a cruel, low tone. "I took your purity in these gardens. No man wants a girl as dirty as you. You've been ruined since you were eighteen, and we both know it."
Anger pooled in Y/N's gut, hot and sharp. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms.
"We didn't do anything like that," she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "It was just a bit of touching. We were kids. Don't act like it was something it wasn't."
Naoya tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips as he pretended to think. "I don't know," he mocked. "It felt pretty intimate to me. I'm sure if word got out, no one would believe your version of the story."
Without thinking, Y/N's hand flew up. She swung her palm toward his face, desperate to wipe that smirk off his lips. But Naoya was a trained sorcerer. Before her hand could even get close, he effortlessly caught her wrist in mid-air. His grip was like iron, immovable and cold.
He looked down at her, his eyes full of a dangerous light. He didn't say anything; he just held her there for a moment, proving how easily he could overpower her.
Y/N yanked her arm back with a snarl. "Go screw yourself, Naoya."
She didn't wait for a response. She turned on her heel and walked away, moving as quickly as legs would allow.
She burst through the outer doors, the cool night air hitting her face. Her father, Satoshi, immediately sat up from where he had been waiting on the stone steps. He looked tired and anxious, his eyes searching her face.
"Y/N? What happened? What did Naobito want?" he asked, his voice full of worry. He stood up and rushed to her side, taking her hand.
Y/N forced her expression to go flat. she didn't want him to see how badly she was shaking or how much Naoya's words had stung.
"I'll tell you at home," she said, her voice tight but calm. "Can we please just leave? Now."
Satoshi looked like he wanted to ask a hundred more questions, but he saw the tension in her shoulders and nodded reluctantly. He squeezed her hand and led her.
As they walked away from the massive walls of the estate, Y/N felt the weight of the Zenin name pressing down on her, heavier than it had ever been.