Hilda wasn't an idiot.

(That was Tatsumi's job.)

But marrying Tatsumi was the most ridiculous action she had ever agreed to doing — possibly the only ridiculous action she had ever done in her livelihood. She considered herself as a very reasonable person, especially when it came to circumstances dealing with her life. But of course when life eventually got quite … unbearable, she just had to grab onto the opportunity that would save her life from poverty, even if it was coming from an act of desperation.

She loathed the fact that she had come to this. She was actually marrying somebody she didn't know at all and whom she incredibly detested. Coming from a noble family, that was a disgrace to herself and to her family.

But this was life, and this was how she was dealing with it.

At least she wasn't marrying him because she loved the idiot.

That would've been a disgrace.

Oga Tatsumi was the epitome of fools. Hilda had never once met someone so brash, disrespectful, moronic, ungrateful, disgusting, terrible, and unsanitary. She didn't think it was plausible until she had met him.

Here was a list of traits, mannerisms, quirks, etc. Hilda despised about Oga Tatsumi:

She hated how he had no table manners. She hated how he wouldn't listen to her. She hated his clothing; the fool wore what was lying about on the ground. She hated his face. She hated his hair. She hated how he snored — it was deafening, and she resisted the urge to shove two pillows down his throat (she did it once, though). She hated his reckless behavior. She hated his immaturity. She hated his inhuman intake of food; he never saved some for her. She hated his ripped muscles. She hated his abs. She hated how warm he could be. She hated how he sometimes stared at her as if he knew what she was thinking and could see right through her so transparently. She hated his rare kindness.

Oh, and most of all —

Hilda scowled and slammed her forehead on the table.

— she hated how he could be so attractive. Sometimes.

"Oi, what're you doing?" aforementioned sometimes attractive fool asked her.

"Thinking — something you never do," she retorted. She sat up straightly. "I should teach you the basics. First off, you should have a fuckin' brain."

He sneered at her. "Ha-ha-ha," he laughed sarcastically. "Anyways, bitch, my mom and my sister are here to discuss wedding shit."

"You have to be there for the shit."

"That's chick shit."

"It's still shit you have to cooperate with."

"Shit no."

Her right eye glimmered with hatred. See what she had to deal with? "Shit yes. Now, if you don't accompany me, you will die."

"Try me, woman. Who're you gonna marry now? 'S not like any fucker's gonna wanna get hitched with you." He smirked.

"You insufferable bas — " She stopped once Misaki and Tatsumi's mom strolled into the living room.

"We couldn't find any slippers," Tatsumi's mom announced, frowning at her son. "Why don't you have slippers?"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't exactly get visitors all the time, Ma."

"Yes, because he lacks social skills. It's very tragic knowing my Tatsumi has no friends other than his white-haired slave." She wiped a tear and stood straight up determinedly. "Don't you worry, Tatsumi's mother and Misaki-san. I will not only be Tatsumi's wife and lover, but I will also be his friend."

Tatsumi created a horrendous, fake smile. "Isn't she amazing?" he asked.

The three girls (and Tatsumi) settled into the living room. Misaki and her mother placed multiples of wedding magazines they had stashed at their homes, bought with their own money, and stole from beauty salons. Tatsumi's mom immediately discussed about the type of wedding (traditional, Western?), décor (pastels, primary, compact?), catering (Japanese, Macanese, or a mixture of both?), venue (garden, church, ocean view?), and the amount of guests cordially invited (50-100 or 100-200?).

However, before they could discuss wedding dresses, Misaki asked the question that haunted the duo.

"Where's the ring? I just noticed that now."

Tatsumi's mother glanced at Hilda's bare ring finger. "Oh, goodness. Where's your ring, Hilda-chan?" she inquired concernedly. She gave Tatsumi a reprimanding look. "Did you lose it?"

"What?! How could I lose it when she's the one wearing it?!" He glanced nervously at Hilda's way. "Ask her. She'll provide the answers."

Asshole. "Tatsumi's a poor fuck — I mean, man," she explained, mouth twitching at Tatsumi's glare on her "slip-up."

Tatsumi's mother nodded for her to go on. "And … ?" she pressed.

Oh, I thought what I said was self-explanatory. "He couldn't possibly afford to buy me such an expensive jewel. I am well-informed of his tragic situation, so I understand perfectly." And it's not like the fool has any taste anyway.

"That is still inexcusable." Tatsumi's mother directed her eyes towards her irresponsible son. "You should've worked your hardest to get that ring for Hilda-chan, Tatsumi! That was the only thing you had to spend on! We've got everything covered."

"Well, she already said 'yes,' so I don't need to buy crap," Tatsumi informed her, yawning out loud shamelessly. "Now, are you people done discussing all this wedding shit so I can sleep?"

Misaki clicked her tongue. "You are one shitty husband, Tatsumi," she commented, shaking her head.

Hilda's fiancé left the living room, ignoring all the piercing stares following his direction.

Hilda didn't mind that she had no ring. It was useless since she didn't plan on being wed to Tatsumi. They were going to divorce each other once they collected all the money from the gifts. Of course they were going to wait a while; it would cause suspicion among their friends and families if they divorced just days after their wedding.

Unless one of them died.

(Which certainly wasn't going to be her.)

"I still don't understand what you see in my idiot of a younger brother, Hilda-chan," Misaki was saying. "I mean, he treats everything with such an apathetic attitude. He doesn't take anything seriously. He has no ambition, no drive. He doesn't know what the hell he wants with his life. All he does is beat up punks that are asking for it. Jeez."

"However," Tatsumi's mother inputted, casting a stern glance towards her eldest, "we can see that Tatsumi cares for you very much." She smiled, eyes twinkling.

Hilda wasn't sure how to respond to that. He must be a good actor, but then again, his family is gullible. "And I, too, care about Tatsumi very much."

"I know you do, sweetie. I can see it clearly."

Misaki nodded. "I like how you can deal with his shit and throw it back at him."

"It comes with the job of being a wife, right? Dealing with your husband's aggravating quirks?" At least, that was what she had read in a magazine.

Tatsumi's mother agreed, smiling even more widely. Misaki laughed softly.

Seeing how ecstatic Tatsumi's family was made Hilda feel … uneasy.


"I'm sorry!"

"You're sorry?! You slammed the freakin' door in my face, you rude creep!"

"I thought you were a girl scout! You're kinda dressed like one … "

"Oh, so you're cosplaying as an annoying girl scout now? I don't know a manga character that does that."

Lamia flashed her angry greens at Tatsumi. "Shut up! Why do you have such a stupid, creepy friend?!" She huffed, cheeks tinged with flaming red.

"Lamia, you're wrong," Hilda interjected from the couch.

Furuichi's eyes glittered with happiness. He interlocked his fingers together and held them to his chest. "Hilda-san!" he exclaimed. "Tell her I'm not a cree — "

"He's Oga's stupid, creepy slave," she corrected.

Tatsumi nodded in agreement, flipping through the channels quietly.

Realization dawned on the pink-haired girl's face. "Ahhh, now I understand, Hilda-neesan."

Furuichi crawled towards the corner. He positioned himself into a fetal position and whimpered depressing songs to himself.

"Hilda-neesan!" Lamia called out in whiny tone. "I don't want to work with that loser in the corner! His creepiness might be contagious!" She shivered in repulsion.

"He can't help his creepiness, Lamia. His pores spill it out, too," Tatsumi informed her. He settled on the food network, stomach grumbling. Coincidentally, they were preparing a special dish involving croquettes.

"WHAT KIND OF FRIEND ARE YOU?" Furuichi wailed loudly. "AND I DO NOT HAVE PORES!"

"Well, you're my maid-of-honor, Lamia. The maid-of-honor and the best man have to work together with whatever needs to be worked on. I believe you have to prepare the speeches, and you are the emcees of the wedding reception." She read through the list, double-checking if she got all of what she told Lamia was accurate.

Lamia slumped on the ground, back against the couch. Her lower lip jutted out, pout forming. "Fine," she relented, casting a dark look Furuichi's way.

"Well" — Tatsumi stood up from the couch, slapping his thighs for effect — "I've got things to do."

"Where are you going? We have details to discuss," Hilda said, narrowing her eyes at him. He was not going to dump all of the responsibilities on her.

"It concerns the wedding, Hilda, don't worry. Jeez." He rolled his eyes at her pulled on his jacket. "I'll be back 'round … later. Save some burgers for me."

He waved and left.

Come to think of it, Tatsumi had been heading out a lot of times and ended up coming home in the middle of the night. He would interrupt her glorious slumber, slamming doors and such rudely. He'd enter the room and all but collapse on his bed, yawning and sighing in in pure relief.

Ugh, that bastard. I bet he's going to sneak over to our apartment and play his ghastly videogames again. She shook her head. I should've destroyed those contraptions as soon as he took them from his old room.

Hilda regarded the creep. "Hey. Creepichi."

Sniff, sniff. "Y-Yes?"

"I'm going to grab some ingredients from your kitchen. It's about time I cooked for that lazy-ass."

All tears vanished instantly. "You're just gonna grab them — ?"

She shot him the look of death.

He eeped and cowered back into the corner.


His groan filled with exhaustion and the slamming of the door alerted Hilda that her wonderful hubby was home. (Sarcasm, sarcasm.)

She let out a long sigh and wiped her hands on the apron she got from Tatsumi's mom. She leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed her slender arms over her chest. She waited until he came.

And in he came. He was busy sniffing the air, puzzlement written on his face. He stopped walking once he spotted her against the counter.

"You can cook?" Tatsumi questioned, sounding astonished.

Hilda glared. "Why do you sound so shocked?"

"I dunno, it's just you never mentioned that you can cook … or even cooked the past few weeks we've been living together." He took folded his arms on the island where the meal was at, which was covered with a domed net. His eyes lit up. "You made croquettes?"

She smiled. It was merely out of smug, not happiness out of seeing his happiness. "Try them. I made them especially for you."

At that, his dark eyes narrowed down in distrust. " … What'd you put in 'em?" he asked lowly.

"The ingredients. Eat it already."

He took off the net and grabbed a pair of chopsticks. He took one piece, but before he was about to take a large bite, he paused.

Hilda was getting antsy. She had never cooked for anyone before. "What?" she snapped impatiently.

"Why does it look like it's … smirking at me?"

"It must be your imagination."

"And … " — he pinched his nose — "why does it smell like this? It smelled good when I came in, but now it smells like sewer shit."

Hilda growled. "You're the sewer shit, sewer rat. Eat the damn thing already!"

"What the hell? Why're you so hell-bent on making me eat your food, huh? You probably did poison it!"

"I didn't! Now eat it!"

"Then why does it look that way? Don't tell me you're still on that insane hit-list of yours?!"

"Take a bite already, Oga Tatsumi! And I told you — I'm saving you for last! Be thankful!"

"Hell-fuckin'-no, bitch!"


Hilda scowled as soon as Tatsumi entered the bathroom. She began vigorously brushing her teeth, wishing that if she did all the bacteria would just go away. He leaned around her and grabbed his toothbrush from the cup. He snatched the toothpaste tube and smeared an ungodly amount of toothpaste on his toothbrush. He put the tube back, not even closing it. He began brushing.

Through the mirror, she was glowering lasers of anger. She was still pissed off at him for insulting her cooking and not eating her croquettes. She cooked for him. He should be grateful towards her. She had to get food from the creep himself and spent her free time attempting to create croquettes for him. She figured she could try out the housewife role.

He didn't seem to notice her glowers. He must be ignoring her.

Simultaneously, both heads lowered down to spit out the liquid. And then BAM — temples clocked each other hard and painfully. They lifted a hand to rub the side that was hurt.

"The fuck is wrong with you, demon?!" Tatsumi shouted at her, toothpaste foam smudged around his mouth.

She spat out the foam flooding her mouth. She quickly wiped her mouth of any traces of the foam. "Didn't you see me bending down already, idiot?! And you came minutes after me; you're not done yet brushing, you pile of shit!" He has no common courtesy. Couldn't he admit his faults? Hilda thought bitterly.

"Oh, shut up! What, now ya gotta nag on my brushing?" He didn't wait for her answer and proceeded to spit out the liquid. He grabbed the empty cup next to Hilda and poured water in it.

"That's my cup!" Hilda said.

"My apartment, my stuff." He began to gurgle the water, facing the ceiling, and then spat it out. He wiped his face with his sleeve.

"The cup happens to be one of my antiques!"

"Yeah, yeah." He waved her off and departed to the bedroom.

Hilda mentally made sure that his death wouldn't only be slow and painful. She wiped the cup with her towel, disinfecting all of Tatsumi's bacteria off of it. She then filled the cup with water, gargled, and spat. She wiped her face off with a new towel. She would remember to burn the towel filled with Tatsumi's bacteria in the morning. She headed off to the bedroom.

In their shared bedroom, she saw Tatsumi changing the covers of his pillows. He dumped the covers inside the hamper — there was no use in having one since the fool didn't even wash his clothes — and pulled some new ones on his pillows.

Hilda settled into her bed, fluffing her head pillow twice.

"Hilda, wait," Tatsumi said suddenly.

Her hand retreated from the lamplight. She raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" she asked, exhaustion transparent in her tone.

He walked over to her bedside. He had a casual expression on his face, but she could see that he looked … nervous. It began to make her curious as to what he had to say.

He inserted his hand in his pajama's right pocket and pulled out a velvety box. Since she was already lying sideways on her bed, he knelt down to regard her properly. He opened the box.

Normally, Hilda was a rather stoic woman, but seeing this brought many emotions to her face.

Inside the box was a ring. It had a thin gold band. The center was a pearl with gold, intricate trimming. The design was so simple, but it was, for the lack of better word, beautiful. Impeccably so.

Tatsumi grabbed her left hand without permission and slid the ring where it belonged. It fit perfectly and complimented her slender hand very well.

Oh my goodness was all Hilda thought. As soon as Tatsumi let go of her hand — he held it for a while there — she brought her hand up to the light and inspected it. It truly was beautiful.

"I know you told my mom and my sister that you didn't need a ring," he started, rubbing the nape of his neck, "but I could see that you kinda wanted one. So, Toujou got me a part-time job at the warehouse. I helped out with inventory."

"That explains your late-night adventures," Hilda murmured, awe-struck. She felt something stirring in the pit of her stomach. She also felt pretty warm. "How do you know my ring size?" Did he ask Lamia?

He looked at her. "Lucky guess," he answered quietly.

She stared at him silently, relishing the feel of the ring. She always wondered how it felt like to have an engagement ring on. It felt … nice.

"Do you expect me to thank you?"

He scoffed. "No, 'course not. That's not you." He grabbed the chain around her neck and pulled it out from underneath her nightgown, thumb caressing the pendant. "I saw the ring and thought it matched your necklace."

She watched him stare at her most prized possession with lidded eyes. Was this a dream? Was he actually doing this? Did he really buy her a ring?

She couldn't believe how translucent she was in his eyes.

Tatsumi let go of the ring and stood up. He placed the box on the nightstand. "So, yeah, that's that. 'Night, Hilda." He yawned loudly and got into bed. He turned off the lamplight.

Hilda was stroking the ring with her thumb. She noticed her right hand was clutching her necklace tightly. Her heart was hammering against her ribs. She felt really, really warm. What was going on with her?

She faced the man sleeping next to her and smiled gently. It wasn't like he was going to see it anyways.

"Oga," she called.

He grunted.

"I won't cut off your balls anymore, okay?"

" … Uh, thanks."

"Goodnight."

"'Night."

She fell asleep with her left hand cradled in her chest.


— & now we are graced with Hilda's perspective of things, which will continue on throughout part ii of the storeh.

I always thought that Hilda was the first one being affected with her feelings (y'know, like admiration, respect, yadda, yadda … ) towards Tatsumi. I kind of noticed that in the manga. We never get a clear view of Tatsumi's feelings towards Hilda; they're always subtle. But I'm glad we saw it when Hilda got amnesia. That was remarkable. :)

Muh feels, guys, muh feels!

But it's so hard inserting romance. The two hardly show any affection, and Tatsumi's not a romantic. -_-

Expect new characters, peeps.

Review!