She was not ugly, Hakujou Rin. Nor was she all that pretty. Naotoki tipped his head to the side, studying her. She was dressed in a pale pink silk kimono with a sakura blossom pattern splashed across the sleeves and collar and a wide, dark green obi. Her glossy black hair was piled up on the top of her head in a bun. Her eyes were flashing amber, bright and clear. At first glance, she was pretty, but when he looked again, Naotoki realized her face was all angles, and her eyes were clear, but cold. She carried herself well and did not look as if she had done much work. Her hands were small and pretty and she smelled –Naotoki sniffed the air- vaguely of plums.
Though she greeted every one politely, bowing and extending a dainty had in greeting, Naotoki could sense that she was not all she appeared.
He hated her the second he laid eyes on her.
She was to be Jirou's wife. His sensei had explained it as they traveled, saying their parents had arranged it when they were very young. They had not seen each other since they were small children, but it was tradition. They were to be married, whether they liked each other or not. He needed to carry on the family name and have children and she needed a man to protect and provide for her. Marrying Rin would solidify an alliance between their families, thus keeping them from warring against one another. He would father children and carry out his familial obligations. Every one would come out on top.
Every one but Naotoki.
He had been fretting over the idea since Jirou had told him; unhappy at the thought of being cast aside by the one person who meant the most to him. No matter how much Jirou reassured him, he knew he would no longer retain all of the older man's attention. They would be nowhere near as close, especially when there were children to look after and responsibilities as the head of the family.
"Jirougorou-san." Her voice snapped Naotoki back to attention and he watched as she extended a small hand towards Jirou and placed it on his arm. He looked down at her, expression unreadable, and she smiled coyly.
It made Naotoki feel a little sick.
"You look well, Rin-san." Jirou murmured noncommittally, blinking and looking bored. He wasn't at all interested in his bride-to-be; she was little more than a stranger, after all. If it weren't for the fact that he was obligated to produce a son, he would have no need for her. She was attractive, but less so than Naotoki, who was unique and exotic. She was well-spoken, but he doubted they would have anything to talk about. He had absolutely no need or desire to have her; Naotoki was more than enough.
"I thank you, Jirougorou-san." She intoned, lowering her head and looking at him through her lashes, and Naotoki hated her even more.
He turned, gaze falling on his student. "Naotoki." He beckoned, the movement of his fingers enough to draw the younger man closer, even though Naotoki had no desire to meet the wench.
"What," Rin looked Naotoki up and down, turning up her nose and looking offended, "Is that?" She frowned at him, brows drawing together, her disapproval apparent, and Naotoki frowned right back.
"Naotoki is my student." Jirou said calmly, "I have been training him for two years." He scowled, leaning in closer so that their faces were mere inches apart. "And I would appreciate it if you did not refer to him as an object, woman, for he is my right hand and he will be respected. Do you understand?"
She looked up, taking in his steely blue eyes and the serious expression on his face, then looked back at the pale, spindly man at his side. Naotoki was peering right back at her, expression drawn, fingers absently toying with the hilt of his sword, and she shuddered, repulsed at the thought that she would be sharing living space with a demon.
"I understand." Her voice was tight, as if it were just managing to escape through her delicate throat. Naotoki watched her, watching the slide of her muscles as she swallowed, and startled himself by imagining how easy it would be to wrap his thin fingers around her neck and squeeze.