Sitting across the table, she does not speak without prompt or eat much or look up, as befits a noble girl in the presence of her betrothed. Small and dark and wrapped in yards of satin, kohl lining her colorless eyes, she sips chamomile tea silently as a ghost.
This is Ayakura Mai. She's the only daughter of the Caldera's wealthiest merchant, and when you're seventeen you're going to marry her— such a strange, nebulous concept to you. Your parents are married; mostly, they seem to order around and yank by the hair (Father) or cry and avoid at all costs (Mother). You try to imagine her shredding your best robes or flinching when you raise a hand... and draw a mental blank.
"So, what do you enjoy doing, Mai?" Mother asks politely.
"Whatever it would please his highness for me to enjoy," she replies, voice hesitant and raspy. Her mother, Lady Kaida— a thin-lipped, sharp-faced woman— nods her approval.
"If only my daughter could be half as demure," Mother says with a laugh, though you can tell that wasn't really the answer she wanted. You're very, very bored, drowsy in the bright sunlight, wishing you could be anywhere else. You don't care about this boring girl's hobbies— or lack thereof.
Mai splashes tea onto her expensive furisode. Lady Kaida twists her arm where she thinks you can't see, the same way your father twists yours when you mess up a kata, and she cringes a little. You feel a newfound, sharp stab of pity— she's just an actress reciting her lines— and the ginger biscuit in your mouth suddenly tastes worse than sawdust.
"Do you like swords?" you whisper when your mothers have become distracted by dowry negotiations. "You have to like something."
"My uncle sent me throwing knives for my last birthday, and I'm pretty good with them," she whispers back, looking a lot less snooty now. "I guess swords are cool, too."
You smile. Shyly, from behind her bangs, she returns the gesture.
