Title: "A Marriage of Convenience"
(Kamisato ayato x arranged marriage!reader)
The Kamisato Estate had never felt so suffocating.
You stood in the main hall, hands clasped tightly in front of you, listening as your family and the Kamisato clan finalized the terms of your marriage. It was a political alliance, nothing more—a way to strengthen ties between your clan and the Yashiro Commission. Love had no place in this arrangement.
Across from you, Kamisato Ayato observed the proceedings with an unreadable expression. His sharp violet eyes flickered toward you briefly, assessing, before returning to the elders. He was as composed as ever, his posture relaxed yet exuding quiet authority. You had always respected him—his intelligence, his dedication to his duties—but respect was far from affection.
When the meeting concluded, Ayato approached you, his voice low and measured.
"I trust you understand the nature of this union."
You met his gaze evenly. "I do. This is for the sake of our clans."
A faint, humorless smile touched his lips. "Then we are in agreement."
And just like that, your fate was sealed.
The wedding was a grand affair, attended by Inazuma’s most influential figures. You wore the finest silks, exchanged vows you didn’t mean, and smiled for the crowd. But behind closed doors, you and Ayato were little more than strangers sharing a home.
He was courteous, never impolite, but distant. His responsibilities as the Yashiro Commissioner kept him occupied, and you threw yourself into your own duties, avoiding unnecessary interactions. The servants whispered about the lack of warmth between you, but neither of you cared to correct them.
Then came the first argument.
It started over something trivial—a disagreement about how to handle a minor clan dispute. But frustration had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks, and soon, sharp words were exchanged.
"You speak as if you alone understand politics," you snapped.
Ayato’s eyes narrowed slightly. "And you speak as though personal feelings should dictate our decisions."
"Perhaps if you considered anything beyond cold logic—"
"Emotions have no place in governance," he interrupted, voice firm.
You clenched your fists. "Then it’s no wonder this marriage feels like a business transaction."
The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Ayato’s expression darkened, but he said nothing, turning on his heel and leaving the room.
That night, you ate dinner in silence.
The tension lingered, but something had shifted. Ayato began observing you more—not as a political ally, but as a person. He noticed how you took your tea (with a hint of honey), how you frowned when concentrating, how you treated the servants with kindness rather than indifference.
And you, in turn, saw past his composed facade. The way exhaustion sometimes lined his eyes after long meetings, the rare moments when he let his guard down in private, even the subtle amusement in his tone when Thoma said something particularly foolish.
One evening, after another grueling day, you found him in his study, head resting against his hand as he reviewed documents. Without a word, you set a cup of tea beside him.
He glanced up, surprised.
"You looked like you needed it," you murmured.
For the first time, his smile was genuine, if tired. "Thank you."
It was a small thing. But it was a start.
The real change came during a crisis.
A rival faction attempted to undermine the Kamisato Clan’s authority, spreading vicious rumors that threatened both your reputations. Ayato handled it with his usual precision, but the strain was evident.
One night, you found him on the engawa, staring at the moon.
"You should rest," you said softly.
He didn’t turn. "There’s still much to be done."*
You hesitated, then sat beside him. "You don’t have to carry everything alone."
His fingers tightened around his cup. "It’s my duty."
"And I am your wife," you said firmly. "Not just in name."
Ayato finally looked at you, his gaze searching. Then, slowly, he exhaled. "...I suppose I’ve been unfair to you."
You shook your head. "We’ve both been unfair."
A silence settled between you, but for the first time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
After that night, things changed.
Ayato began seeking your opinion, not out of obligation, but because he valued it. You, in turn, stopped seeing him as just a political figure and more as the man beneath the title—someone who cared deeply, even if he rarely showed it.
There were still arguments, still hardships. But now, you faced them together.
And one evening, as you walked through the estate’s gardens, Ayato’s hand brushed against yours. Then, deliberately, he intertwined his fingers with yours.
You looked at him, startled.
He didn’t meet your eyes, but his grip was firm. "...Is this alright?"
Your heart clenched. Slowly, you squeezed back.
And just like that, the distance between you finally closed.
