The engagement party did wonders for your reputation. Instead of the elitist, snobby aristocrat you had been scorned as, you were suddenly a sweetheart whose grace and beauty matched tenderly with the man whose heart you were pledged to for life.

If only that were true.

Ayato had been rather cold and distant to you since the fiasco that night, which was odd, because for everything to feel cold and distant, there would have to be warmth and closeness first. You never saw him sparring or idling in the garden anymore, either. Most of the time, he was busy with his work, and you were free to go around Narukami Island as you pleased.

Chisato had sent you an invite to Ritou, saying she wanted to discuss something important. You accepted.

You noticed that the letter came in official-looking invitation stationery instead of being decorated with the cute washi tape your cousin often collected, like she had scribbled it along with other important invitations. Huh. Chisato must finally be settling into her role as head of the Kanjou Commission.

You wondered if this was an insight to the rest of your life: visualizing placid moments to disguise your loneliness and constant agitation. You did not know why either; it wasn't as though you even liked Ayato. It turned out that a kiss hung over everything, no matter how terrible an idea it was. The memory of his mouth on yours shimmered in the air between you.

When you arrived at the Kanjou Commission headquarters, a few of the Tenryou Commission's guards lingered. You skirted around them in search of Chisato. As usual, she stood at her spot on the walkway, but she was not alone. Kujou Kamaji was holding her, and he whispered something in her ear that made her blush a hue that sickened you to the core.

Chisato spotted you. She unwrapped herself around Kamaji and they both stood to attention as you bowed before them. You were expressionless as they reciprocated the action out of respect. Between you and Chisato, you had always been the more irritable and spiteful one of the pair. It came as no surprise that you remained indifferent to Kamaji still.

"F/N, just the girl I wanted to see," Chisato said brightly, but her voice quavered. "I've recently spoken to Ayato, and he didn't seem to know your whereabouts at all."

She nodded at Kamaji and he took it as his cue to go. They shared a look you couldn't understand. You flipped open your fan and pressed it against your mouth to show your disdain for their secrets.

"You seem busy," you said as you watched Kamaji leave, pushing his glasses up his sweating nose bridge and beckoning his guards to follow.

"Not as much as you," said Chisato. "Your mother and father are so pleased, you know, to hear that you've been preparing to get married. Don't you find it a bit... draining?"

Something must have twisted in your face, because Chisato went from nervous to soft.

"Did you and Ayato fight?"

"It's nothing serious," you lied. "I can tolerate it."

"You shouldn't, though," said Chisato. "If it doesn't make you happy, you should walk away."

"I don't seek happiness," you said with venom. "I seek stability. Unlike you and the Kujou boy."

Chisato frowned. "He has a name, F/N, I think he'd like for you to use it."

"What does it matter, Chisato?" you asked. "I'm marrying Ayato anyway, and it's not like you're getting married anytime soon."

Your cousin looked as though you'd slapped her in the face. You instantly regretted your words. It was too early to say such things.

"That was harsh," she said quietly. "Even by your standards, F/N."

You jerked your hand away.

"Chisato, I've been the scapegoat for our reputation while you romance the enemy of our commission. I've done my duty and I never complained. You're the heir! If you keep this up with the Kujou boy, you're going to destroy everything."

Sharp nails dug into your skin, skimming past the layers of velvet cloth you wore to hide your insignificance from the rest of the world.

"I want to abdicate my place as the heir of the Kanjou Commission," Chisato said. "I want to pass it to you."

For a moment there was only pregnant silence, with Chisato's cheeks reddening and your rapid breathing. You looked around to make sure nobody was listening in before you hissed at your cousin.

"Have you lost your mind? Abdicate?"

"You're more of an heir than I am, F/N, you know it!" Chisato said desperately. "You wield our family's duty and honor like a sword, while I only see them as dresses to wear and change."

She wrung her dainty hands.

"You're not the romantic type, F/N. It brings me no joy to say it aloud, but I'm sure you already know this. You resent Ayato because you see him as a threat, a rival to be jealous of."

"I'm not—" you began, but Chisato hurried to go on.

"You don't have to marry him, F/N, you don't!"

Something stirred you at her words. It was not a glimmer of hope, or a dark pit, but the idea of not marrying Ayato placed something uncomfortable on your chest.

"We can afford to call it off," Chisato said impatiently. "Look—we can say that I fell ill, and you decided to take over for me. Then I can marry Kamaji, you don't have to marry at all, and we will all be happy."

"I can't agree to this," you said. I must wed—You can't step down."

Your slip-up did not escape your cousin's gaze. Chisato's eyes watered in humiliation. She took a deep breath before saying,

"I get it, F/N. You may not see it, but while I run towards love, you run away from it."

"There is no romantic love in my life," you said hotly, almost defensive.

"I pity you," Chisato said, wiping her eyes. "You have the opportunity to love right in front of you, but you don't take it because of your pride. We couldn't be any more different."

You stood helpless as she sobbed into her kimono sleeve. You reached out to touch her, but she stepped away from you just as you had from her.

"Go," Chisato said, her voice muffled. She couldn't even look at you. "I think we're done here."

Wordlessly, you left. The conversation was clearly over.

You hurried down the exterior steps of the Kanjou Headquarters. After living close to the cool, pungent air of the Chinju Forest for so long, the hot whiff of sea salt in Ritou invaded your senses like an old friend.

You would have liked to bask in the familiarity, Ayato wasn't idling by the entrance. You were taken aback as his head snapped up to land his gaze on you.

"F/N," he said, a rare note of surprise in his tone. "What are you doing here?"

"I could say the same."

"Well, my work was done for the day, and — I just thought I should follow you here since you said you'd be out."

You stared. It was unlike Ayato to be bad at lying, or to look uncomfortable and pained while doing so.

"There's not much to talk about," you said flatly. "So we kissed. So what?"

"So what? That means a lot."

"We aren't teenagers anymore, Ayato, you know kisses hardly mean anything," you lied. Kisses did mean something. You had never kissed before in your life. "We got caught up in the heat of the moment. I apolo—"

"Ah, ah," Ayato stopped you. "No takebacks. No apologies. What's done is done."

You rolled your eyes. "If that's how delusional you wish to think, I am not responsible for your thoughts."

Ayato looked relieved that you were back to being as you were. He reached for your hand, checking the boundaries to see if you would shy away. You did not. A part of you dared to see what he would do. It wasn't as though his touch would kill you anyway, despite being awkward.

"We should get out of here," he said. "I don't think Chisato will want to see us together."

"How did you know she was upset about us?" you asked, surprised.

"I surmised as much," Ayato said indifferently, but you suspected he was telling you a half-truth.

Before you could ask, he pulled you forward, and suddenly you were walking under the maple trees hand-in-hand like you were kids again. If it had been anyone else on the receiving end of your eye roll, they would have been thoroughly intimidated. You were the unapproachable sort. Ayato was never like that. You supposed that if you were to be married, you could grow to tolerate him a bit more. From his sky blue hair to his ocean blue eyes. Or map the little moles scattered across his face.

He was irritating, but at least it didn't hurt to look at his face. Ew, Ayato and handsome were two words that made you feel nauseous. Or his little quirks, like the delicate way he chuckled, or the evil glint in his eye as he wove everyone to his whims.

But before that, before Ayato grew up, there was a time when he'd drag you around like he was doing now. Back then, you'd laugh and touch, but now, your hand slithered around Ayato's, as if unsure if it belonged there.

Along the way, you stopped for something to drink. You flushed when Ayato insisted on paying for your dango milk. It was as though you were the guest in your own city. He bought a unique drink that he called "creative." You shuddered at the sight of sea ganoderma swirling within his bottle.

"If you don't think I should drink it, we can always have it delivered to Thoma," he said upon seeing the look on your face. You rapidly shook your head.

"I pity our poor housekeeper."

Our. You didn't seem to notice what you'd said. Like you were already settling into the role of being the mistress of the household. Ayato coughed into his sleeve to hide his suprise.

"Would you like to have a taste?"

"Of what?" you asked, alarmed.

"The milk, obviously."

"I'm not drinking from a bottle that's touched your lips," you said, relieved. "My stomach might eat itself from whatever wild ingredient you feed on."

Ayato shrugged. "If you're that scared, that's alright. Not everyone is brave enough anyway."

"Scared of what?" you demanded, unknowingly taking his bait. "Your lips? As if!"

When you realized what you had said, your face felt color. With a rapid flick of your wrist, you covered your mortified expression as Ayato grinned. You groaned in frustration.

"If you're going to ask for another kiss, beat it," you said. "My lips are off-limits."

"That's what you said before you kissed me."

"Are you ever going to let that go?"

"Maybe if you kissed me regularly, it would become meaningless."

"Right," you grumbled. "I'd rather eat raw slime condensate. It seems less disgusting."

You accepted the bottle of his revolting dango milk and drank just so you had a reason not to talk anymore. You passed it back to him, keeping a straight face when he drank it carelessly, as though your mouth hadn't just been on the bottle. Indirect kiss. Was he playing a prank on you again?

You instinctively took his arm as you walked in the silence, listening to the birds chirping, the cicadas drowning out the chirps, and the gentle northern winds of distant Mondstadt blowing through your clothes. It was almost kind of pleasant, and though you'd been on walks such as this before, the frustrating sort of tension that usually existed between you had simmered down some. You were both still tense, still a little too nervous, but hopeful nervous.

Even an embarrassing moment could not change that. It could mean that your marriage wasn't fated to be a disaster. Maybe when Ayato will replace your engagement band with his late mother's ring, you both might actually feel something that wasn't judgemental contempt. You were afraid that if you allowed yourself to feel, it would feel like an arrow to the heart. You had to remind yourself that you've dealt with worse.

"About the wedding," Ayato began.

Your fan whipped out almost immediately and covered your mouth. The thought of planning out your wedding with Ayato of all people made your stomach swoop with a feeling that was like falling into an abyss.

"You can't ask what my dress will look like this time," you said, trying to play it cool. "It's a surprise— secret , I mean."

"That's the one thing I won't be overseeing," said Ayato, a smile playing on his lips. "But everything else, well, Thoma and Ayaka are doing their best, but you're the bride, so it's all about you. Unless you don't want it."

Ice and apathy had mysterious ways of instantly repealing all truces and resolutions signed in sunnier moments. Surprisingly he was being patient with you.

"I do want it," you said lamely. Ayato looked unconvinced.

"Sulking like a child again."

"'Yato! " you exclaimed, your old nickname for him slipping out as he laughed. You couldn't help it; being in Ritou awakened the child in you. "It's not my fault you incite so much misery."

"Cheer up," he said. "Look, why don't we go down the beach again like we used to? It always made you cheerful as a kid."

"You remembered," was all you could manage to say.

Ayato shrugged. "I remember a lot of things. Your favorite color. What you pray for at the shrine. How many layers you can wear on your kimono before you tip over. All of your fan language. And a lot. Why, what do you remember about me?"

The constellation of moles dotting your body. How much sweetness you like in your boba tea. Parries you make with your sword. What your smirk looks like when you get what you want. This, and this, and that, and more.

"I remember everything," you said.

Ayato's strides were longer than yours, but he slowed so you could be side-by-side. You remembered how it used to be. How you'd time your footsteps so they would sync, like a child's wind-up toy marching about. You wondered if Ayato ever noticed this. It stung a little, knowing that Ayato had that kindness in him. You wished you never saw it.

"Even when I'm being a jerk?"

"Especially that."

"Am I a jerk for remembering you liked the beach?"

"Shut up," you said, but the corner of your mouth lifted.

"You're smiling," Ayato noted. "You know, it's been a while since I've seen you smile like that. A real one. You always scowl. No offense, but it really doesn't make you any more pleasant."

Of course, this only made the smile drop from your face, causing Ayato to chuckle.

Your heart twisted, remembering Ayato's cruelty in pushing you away because of your surname. You wondered if the cycle was repeating again: prejudice would be set aside, and then once Ayato came to his senses, he'd push you away again.

"I just don't get you, Ayato," you said. "Back then... you were like this."

"I was hoping you could explain this to me." Ayato rested a hand over the one you had on his arm, glancing at your lips. "I'm afraid the 'back then' you speak of is a blur."

Disappointment crossed your features, your face falling slightly as you looked up at him, and your eyes became downcast. It was nearly intriguing how the memories that haunted you at night were so easily forgotten by him.

"You need to stop acting like everything you are doesn't matter." Ayato insisted. "Can I tell you what I do remember?"

"It's not like I have a choice, so you may."

"After my parents died, I changed. I had responsibilities to fulfill. You had your own. So as we grew up, we drifted apart... and this thing of ours—it just came out of nowhere. Or it was the tension between our commissions."

You let go of his arm and stopped walking. "For someone who claims to remember little things, you sure are forgetful of the prominent points in my life."

Ayato stopped as well. At this point, you both were just at the gates of Ritou, on the beach between the island and Konda Village. Crashing waves threatened the tide you stood on, yet sea ganoderma stubbornly stuck to the shallows. Behind Ayato, the landscape of Byakko Plain and the pink trees of the shrine atop Mt. Yougou contrasted with a blue sky, which in turn reflected the shine of the eternal sea.

For a moment you are a child again, helpless against Ayato, how he is everything you will never be.

"F/N?" Ayato asked, when you were silent.

You crossed your arms as though to protect yourself as you looked away, down at your feet, back at the beach you'd strode across, to see that your footprints in the sand were in sync, but you couldn't recall actively trying to place your steps over his, meaning that Ayato had done it.

Ayato had noticed.

"I just wanted you to be there," you burst, irate now. "I just wanted to feel like a normal person. Like I'm not some chess piece. Like I'm more than just a spare."

Ayato opened his mouth to reply, and before he could lecture you on your role as a Kanjou princess, you held up both hands and began to walk away, back to Ritou.

"You know what? Never mind. I'm leaving. Don't wait up for me."

"F/N, wait." Ayato's hair strands flew in the wind as he jogged to catch up to you. He grabbed your wrist, and this time, you yanked. He didn't budge. "F/N, please. You need to hear me out. It was for the greater good at the time."

"Don't," you said. "I've humiliated myself enough today."

"F/N," he tried again. "You have to. I remember. I swear. I knew you were hurt because of me. I knew you hated watching me go away. And I know you aren't really looking forward to this wedding."

"Oh, well it would have been good of you to mention that earlier!" you said. "Then I could've saved my breath weeping!"

Ayato's face finally curdled into disgust, like you were spoiled milk. "Grow up. Do you ever stop being so self-absorbed? You're not the only one with a reputation to protect. I have a family too. Circumstances happen, Your Grace. Accept it instead of whining over bruised pride."

At last, his honesty. It was like picking off a scab, removing the sick rough epidermis of healing to endanger what flaming red lay underneath. It was so sickeningly satisfying, to bask in that revolting pain. It surprised you, even, that you could feel pain at all, because to feel pain meant that it would have to feel comforting beforehand.

You heard the sea spray against the sand before receding back into the ocean. Another place of your childhood that had been ruined by Kamisato Ayato. You gathered the courage to look him in the eye and noticed, with a barely perceptible jolt of surprise, that his anger was fading into guilt.

"Exactly." Your bottom lip trembled. "We don't belong together. This marriage is doomed."

He released an exhale. "Nothing is doomed as long as you give it effort and thought. You don't have to like me or even talk to me once we are married. Just tolerate me until you stop thinking that your life is predetermined to be a wobbling myriad of misfortune."

"It is."

"It is not."

"Everything we do together is a disaster."

"Because you don't try hard enough," he said.

"No," you said. "Chisato offered to abdicate. I could have been the commissioner but I refused, so I could marry you. So don't you tell me that I don't try hard enough because it's all I ever do."

You could practically see the cogs turning in Ayato's mind as he processed what you had just told him. Why you were in Ritou, why you had looked upset when you exited the house. Why your envy of the happiness in Chisato and Kamaji bordered scrutiny. Why you were here, rinsed with emotion, in front of him.

"You refused?" he asked, voice strained. "Why?"

It hurt you how strangled he sounded, as though you'd let a good chance slip through your fingers. You were treading water, trying neither to drown nor to swim to safety, just staying in place. Neither of you could speak the truth, or even hint at it, yet you could swear it lay around you, like you'd lost your engagement ring in the shallows and insisted that it was there, just buried deep among the grains of sand.

You shook your head, stunned by the situation, and turned to leave when Ayato suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and made you face him.

"Stop running away, for Celestia's sake," he muttered. "Look at me."

You swallowed. Ayato's eyes were darting all over your face, like he didn't know whether to shove you or kiss you. They blazed into yours and you knew that there was so much behind them that you couldn't accept. His nose brushed against your cheek as he slowly leaned in, but all the fear and hate and embarrassment, the way he had avoided you, resurfaced.

"No," you murmured, wriggling out of his hold. "No. Ayato. Please don't."

His expression turned to stone. Everyone agreed with him all the time; he was not used to not getting what he wanted. "And you're difficult."

"I'd rather be difficult than easy for you to manipulate," you spat. "You're a power-hungry psychopath. I wish I never kissed you."

"You only have your own stupidity to blame for that kiss," he said venomously.

"Ayato, we're nobles. You know we're not supposed to have emotions."

With that, you left him in the middle of the beach, just as he had left you in the rain. You didn't look back, anger and sadness and humiliation crashing down all at once as you went home to Ritou. You hated him. Ayato never ceased to impress you with his arrogance, his conceit, and his selfish disdain for your feelings.

It was impossible to not fight even if you tried to get along. There was no such happiness in your future with him.

You stormed into the Kanjou Commission mansion, not caring if you were being unladylike. You were a princess. It was perfectly acceptable for you to be furious in your own house.

"Chisato!"

The servants slid to the side as you went room after room searching for your cousin.

"Chi! You were wrong, nothing is going on between Ayato and I, let's talk it out. Where are you?"

You searched the balcony, the hall, the foyer. No sign of your cousin.

"Lady Hiiragi," a butler quietly interrupted. In his hand was a tray with a perfumed letter. "Lady Hiiragi Chisato has asked to leave this for you."

With no expectation of pleasure, but with strong curiosity, you opened the letter and found the parchment quite written through in Chisato's neat shorthand. Pursuing your way across the house, the same path you walked the day you found out you were to marry Ayato, you read:

"My dearest cousin, I cannot tell you the compassion I have felt for all the suffering the Inazuman folk have put you through. Nor the gratitude I have for your courage to do this for our family when it has been obvious you were uncomfortable being handed over to the Yashiro Commission. I am certain that you cannot bear Ayato, because you fail to give love a chance. If you want to spend your whole life running away from it, that is fine—but please do not try to stop me.

"I am marrying Kamaji. I am sorry. I know you will be angry. I know that deep in your heart, there is a part of you that wants to marry Kamisato Ayato, but if you choose not to wield this, then I cannot wait any longer.

With love,
Chisato"

The moment your mother and father entered the room to see you on the floor, head in your hands as you crouched over the letter. Their faces dropped as you explained what Chisato had done.

You were so fucked.