Megumi Fushiguro

(The Shadowed Heir)

silhouette against a stormy sky, Megumi Fushiguro is the embodiment of quiet intensity. His dark hair falls in soft, tousled waves, framing eyes like midnight pools—deep, guarded, and always searching. Clad in a black jujutsu uniform that blends into the shadows, he moves with a predator’s grace, his hands poised to summon shikigami from the void. The air around him hums with restrained power, a storm held at bay, but his heart is a labyrinth of duty and defiance. The weight of the Zenin clan’s expectations clings to him like mist, yet there’s a flicker of warmth in his rare, fleeting smiles—glimpses of a man yearning for freedom. Scent of cedar, ink, and rain-soaked earth. A lone wolf howling under a crescent moon, caught between loyalty and rebellion.

Nobara Kugisaki

(The Unyielding Flame)

Nobara Kugisaki strides into any room like a burst of wildfire, her orange hair blazing under the sun, her eyes sharp as the edge of a blade. Her tailored jackets and bold accessories—rings glinting on her fingers, a hammer slung over her shoulder—scream defiance of tradition. She’s all sharp wit and sharper nails, her laughter a melody of confidence and chaos. The scent of rosewater and gunpowder trails her, a reminder of her unapologetic strength. Beneath her sassy exterior burns a fierce loyalty to those she claims as her own, and a heart that refuses to bow. A spark that could ignite a revolution or a romance, she’s a storm in designer boots, unafraid to challenge fate itself.

...Description ...

...****************...

In the intricate and perilous world of Jujutsu Kaisen, A Binding of Bonds explores a slow-burn romantic comedy laced with mature themes, centered on the unexpected union of Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki. When the powerful Zenin clan decrees that Megumi must marry Hana Kuroso to secure a strategic alliance, he resigns himself to a life dictated by duty. However, on the day of the wedding, Hana’s dramatic escape with a Gojo clan sorcerer throws the Zenin’s plans into chaos. To salvage their pride, the clan forces Megumi into a marriage with his fiery, sassy teammate, Nobara Kugisaki, setting the stage for a tumultuous and transformative journey.

As Megumi and Nobara navigate the absurdity of their forced marriage, they must maintain a façade of unity in public while grappling with their complex feelings in private. Nobara’s bold, unapologetic nature clashes with Megumi’s reserved, brooding demeanor, leading to sharp banter, comedic misunderstandings, and moments of unexpected vulnerability. Yet, beneath the surface, a slow-burning attraction begins to simmer, complicated by Megumi’s growing possessiveness and Nobara’s fierce independence. As they face dangerous missions, meddling clan politics, and the watchful eyes of their friends—Yuji Itadori, Maki Zenin, and the ever-mischievous Satoru Gojo—their bond deepens, forcing them to confront what it means to be bound not just by obligation, but by choice.

Blending romance, humor, and the high-stakes action of the jujutsu world, A Binding of Bonds is a tale of defiance, self-discovery, and the slow, reluctant blossoming of love between two unlikely partners. Will Megumi and Nobara’s partnership remain a mere act, or will they find something real amidst the chaos of their forced union?

...Warning ⚠️...

......................

Buckle up, because this ain’t your grandma’s romance novel! A Binding of Bonds dives headfirst into the chaotic, cursed-energy-charged world of Jujutsu Kaisen with a spicy blend of forced marriage, slow-burn romance, and mature themes. Expect sassy banter, possessive vibes, and some steamy tension that’ll make your heart race faster than a cursed spirit on a rampage. This story includes intense emotions, clan politics, and a few scenes that might make you blush or clutch your pearls. If you’re not ready for Nobara’s unapologetic attitude or Megumi’s brooding obsession, or if mature themes and romantic comedy with a dark edge aren’t your vibe, step back now. No one’s forcing you to stay—unlike our poor protagonists. Reader discretion is advised, and don’t say I didn’t warn you!

...Author’s Note...

...----------------...

Listen up, my fellow chaos enthusiasts! This novel is my love letter to the Jujutsu Kaisen universe, cranked up to eleven with a Megumi x Nobara pairing that’s equal parts fire and shadow. I wanted to toss these two into a forced marriage and watch the sparks fly—because nothing screams romance like clan drama and a sassy queen who’d rather hammer nails than wear a wedding veil. This is a slow burn, so don’t expect them to be confessing undying love by chapter two. I’m here to make you laugh, swoon, and maybe scream into a pillow as Megumi and Nobara figure out what the hell they’re feeling. Expect cameos from Yuji, Maki, Gojo, and more, because no JJK story is complete without the squad stirring up trouble. I wrote this with all my heart, so dive in, enjoy the ride, and let me know your thoughts—unless you’re gonna be boring, then keep it to yourself. Let’s get cursed!

Oh, you’ve got opinions? Let’s hear ‘em, then! Look, I know not everyone’s gonna vibe with Megumi and Nobara being forced into a marriage that’s messier than a cursed spirit’s lair. “This isn’t canon!”—yeah, no kidding, it’s fanfiction, not a history textbook. “Nobara deserves better!”—duh, she’s a queen, but she’s also human, and humans get messy. “Megumi’s too OOC!”—babe, wait till you see his possessive side; it’s in there, trust me. If you’re here to whine about the slow burn or the mature themes, take a deep breath and maybe try a fluffy one-shot instead. I’m not here to coddle; I’m here to tell a story that’s bold, chaotic, and unapologetically me. Hate all you want, but I’m sipping my tea and writing the next chapter. Catch you in the comments—or not. Your call.

A/N:- thanks for choosing my shitty story.....

The Zenin clan estate stood as a monument to tradition, its sprawling complex of dark wooden beams and paper-thin shoji screens exuding an aura of unyielding authority. The air was thick with the scent of cedar and incense, the kind that clung to your clothes and lingered in your thoughts, reminding you of the weight of history. For Megumi Fushiguro, it was a weight he had carried since childhood—a burden of expectation that pressed against his chest like a physical force. Today, that weight felt heavier than ever.

He stood in the central hall, a cavernous space lined with tatami mats and lit by the soft glow of lanterns. The Zenin elders sat before him, their faces carved from stone, their eyes sharp with the kind of scrutiny reserved for a prized possession. Naobito Zenin, the clan head, sat at the center, his posture rigid, his expression a mixture of disdain and calculation. His silver hair gleamed under the dim light, and the faint smirk on his lips suggested he was enjoying this moment far more than Megumi.

“Megumi,” Naobito began, his voice gravelly, cutting through the silence like a blade. “The time has come for you to fulfill your duty to the Zenin clan. Our alliance with the Kuroso family is a strategic necessity, one that will solidify our dominance in the jujutsu world. You will marry Hana Kuroso in one month’s time.”

The words landed like a curse, heavy and inescapable. Megumi’s jaw tightened, his fingers twitching at his sides—a subtle tell of the storm brewing beneath his stoic exterior. He had known this day was coming. The Zenin clan had never been subtle about their intentions for him. As the heir to the Ten Shadows Technique, he was their greatest asset, a tool to be wielded in their endless pursuit of power. Marriage was just another move on their chessboard, and Hana Kuroso—a talented sorcerer from a lesser but ambitious clan—was the perfect pawn.

Hana was… fine. Megumi had met her once, briefly, at a formal gathering. She was poised, elegant, with a quiet grace that seemed to please the elders. Her dark eyes had been polite but distant, her words measured and carefully chosen. She was everything the Zenin clan valued in a bride: obedient, refined, and strategically advantageous. But to Megumi, she was a stranger. The thought of binding his life to hers left a hollow ache in his chest, not out of dislike, but out of indifference. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want her. But what he wanted had never mattered to the Zenin.

“Do you understand your role?” Naobito pressed, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “This union is not merely a marriage. It is a pact, a strengthening of our position. The Kuroso clan’s resources and influence will bolster our own, and you, Megumi, will ensure its success.”

Megumi’s gaze remained fixed on the floor, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. He could feel the weight of every elder’s stare, their expectations pressing against him like a physical force. “I understand,” he said, his voice low and controlled, betraying none of the turmoil within. Defiance was pointless here. He had learned that lesson long ago, when he was still a child navigating the clan’s labyrinth of rules and punishments. To resist was to invite consequences—not just for himself, but for those he cared about.

Naobito nodded, satisfied. “Good. Preparations will begin immediately. You are dismissed.”

Megumi turned to leave, his movements deliberate, his expression unreadable. But as he slid open the shoji door and stepped into the courtyard, the fresh air did little to ease the tightness in his chest. The decree was final. In one month, he would be married to a woman he barely knew, all to serve a clan he despised. The thought was suffocating.

He needed to clear his head. He needed—

“Oi, Fushiguro! You look like someone just told you to fight a special-grade curse with a butter knife!”

The voice was unmistakable, sharp and brash, cutting through the quiet like a spark in the dark. Nobara Kugisaki leaned against a cherry blossom tree in the courtyard, her arms crossed, her orange hair catching the late afternoon sunlight in a way that made her stand out against the muted tones of the Zenin estate. Her usual cocky grin was in place, but her eyes—sharp and perceptive—narrowed as she studied him.

Megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Not now, Kugisaki.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, pushing off the tree and striding toward him with her signature swagger. “You’re gloomier than usual, and that’s saying something. What’s got you all brooding and mysterious? Spill it.”

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, turning to walk away. But Nobara was nothing if not persistent. She matched his pace, falling into step beside him, her boots clicking against the stone path.

“Liar,” she said, poking his arm with enough force to make him glance at her. “You think you can hide stuff from me? I’m Nobara Kugisaki, master of reading people. And right now, you’re screaming ‘I’m miserable’ louder than Yuji after he watches a sad movie.”

Megumi’s lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through his defenses. Nobara had a way of doing that—barreling through his carefully constructed walls with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. She was his classmate, his teammate, his friend… and, on days like this, his greatest annoyance. “Just leave it,” he said, his tone softer but still firm.

“Nope!” she declared, planting herself in front of him, hands on her hips. “You don’t get to mope around like some tragic anime protagonist. Tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll drag it out of you. I’ve got a new hammer and some cursed nails with your name on them.”

He shot her a look, half-exasperated, half-resigned. There was no escaping Nobara when she got like this. She was relentless, a force of nature wrapped in confidence and a designer jacket. “Fine,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “The Zenin clan decided I’m getting married.”

Nobara’s grin faltered, her eyes widening in a rare moment of genuine surprise. Then, just as quickly, her expression morphed into one of mock horror. “Married? You? Mr. I’d-Rather-Summon-Shikigami-Than-Talk-to-People? Who’s the unlucky girl?”

“Hana Kuroso,” he said, avoiding her gaze. He didn’t want to see the inevitable teasing that would follow.

Nobara let out a low whistle, crossing her arms again. “Fancy. I’ve heard of her. All prim and proper, right? Bet she’s thrilled to be shackled to your brooding ass.” She paused, tilting her head as she studied him. “You don’t seem thrilled, though. What’s the deal? She not your type?”

“It’s not about that,” Megumi said, his voice tight. “It’s not my choice. It’s the clan’s.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his resentment. Nobara’s expression softened, just for a moment, her usual fire dimming as she processed what he’d said. “Wait, seriously? They’re forcing you into this? Like some old-timey arranged marriage crap?”

“Pretty much,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s about alliances, power, the usual Zenin nonsense.”

Nobara stared at him, her lips pursed in a rare moment of silence. Then, with a dramatic huff, she threw her hands up. “Well, that’s bullshit! You’re Megumi Fushiguro, not some pawn for those crusty old geezers to push around. Tell them to shove their arranged marriage where the sun doesn’t shine!”

Megumi’s lips twitched again, a faint smile threatening to break through. “It’s not that simple.”

“It’s exactly that simple,” she countered, stepping closer and jabbing a finger at his chest. “You’re a sorcerer, not a puppet. You’ve got the Ten Shadows Technique, for crying out loud. If anyone’s got the power to tell the Zenin clan to screw off, it’s you.”

He shook his head, the faint smile fading. “You don’t get it, Kugisaki. The Zenin clan doesn’t care about what I want. They never have. And fighting them… it’s not worth the fallout.”

Nobara’s eyes narrowed, her expression a mix of frustration and something softer, something almost like concern. “You’re an idiot, you know that? But fine, mope all you want. Just don’t expect me to throw you a pity party.” She turned on her heel, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go train. I need to beat someone up, and you’re the perfect target.”

Megumi hesitated, then followed her, his steps heavier than usual. Training with Nobara was always intense, but it was also a distraction—a chance to focus on something other than the suffocating reality of his situation. As they walked toward the training grounds, he couldn’t help but glance at her, her confident stride and fiery determination a stark contrast to the gloom that clung to him. For a moment, he envied her freedom, her ability to live so unapologetically. But envy wasn’t the only thing stirring in his chest. There was something else, something he wasn’t ready to name.

The training grounds were a familiar sight, a wide open space surrounded by towering pines and marked with the scars of countless battles. Yuji Itadori was already there, stretching with his usual boundless energy, his pink hair practically glowing in the sunlight. Beside him, Maki Zenin was sharpening her polearm, her expression focused and unyielding. Satoru Gojo lounged against a nearby tree, his blindfold in place, a lazy grin on his face as he watched his students.

“Yo, Megumi! Nobara!” Yuji called, waving enthusiastically. “You guys here to train, or did you just come to admire my awesome moves?”

“Keep dreaming, Itadori,” Nobara shot back, cracking her knuckles. “I’m here to wipe the floor with Fushiguro. You can be next if you’re feeling brave.”

Yuji laughed, unfazed. “Bring it on! I’ve been practicing, you know. I’m basically unstoppable now.”

“Unstoppable, my ass,” Maki muttered, not looking up from her weapon. “You tripped over your own feet yesterday.”

“Hey, that was one time!” Yuji protested, his cheeks flushing. “And it was a strategic trip, okay?”

Gojo chuckled, pushing off the tree and sauntering over. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. Megumi, you look like you’re carrying the weight of the world. What’s up? Zenin clan giving you trouble again?”

Megumi stiffened, his gaze dropping to the ground. Gojo had a knack for seeing through people, and Megumi wasn’t in the mood for his teacher’s uncanny insight. “It’s fine,” he said curtly.

Nobara, however, had no such reservations. “The Zenin clan’s trying to marry him off to some fancy sorcerer chick,” she said, crossing her arms. “Hana Kuroso or something. Total arranged marriage vibes. It’s disgusting.”

Yuji’s eyes widened. “Whoa, seriously? Megumi, you’re getting married? That’s… kinda cool, right?”

“No, it’s not cool,” Nobara snapped before Megumi could respond. “It’s a power grab by a bunch of old dudes who think they can control him. It’s like something out of a bad historical drama.”

Maki snorted, finally looking up. “Sounds about right for the Zenin clan. They’ve been pulling that crap for generations. You gonna go through with it, Megumi?”

Megumi’s silence was answer enough. Gojo tilted his head, his grin fading slightly. “Well, that’s a pickle. But you know, Megumi, you’ve got options. You’re not just a Zenin pawn. You’re one of my students, and I don’t train pushovers.”

“Easy for you to say,” Megumi muttered. “You’re Satoru Gojo. The Zenin clan doesn’t scare you.”

“True,” Gojo said, his grin returning. “But they should be scared of you. You’ve got more power in your pinky than most of those geezers have in their whole bodies. Don’t let them forget it.”

Nobara nodded, her expression fierce. “Exactly! Listen to Gojo-sensei for once. You don’t have to roll over for them.”

Megumi didn’t respond, but their words lingered, stirring something restless within him. He didn’t want to be a pawn, but the Zenin clan’s influence was a noose he’d been dodging his whole life. Defying them outright would mean consequences—not just for him, but for the people around him. People like Nobara, Yuji, Maki, and even Gojo. He couldn’t risk that.

“Let’s just train,” he said finally, summoning his Divine Dogs with a flick of his hand. The black and white wolves materialized at his side, their presence grounding him.

Nobara grinned, pulling out her hammer and nails. “That’s more like it. Let’s see if you can keep up, Fushiguro.”

As they squared off, the tension in Megumi’s chest eased, replaced by the familiar rhythm of combat. Nobara was relentless, her attacks precise and unpredictable, her laughter ringing out whenever she landed a hit. Yuji cheered from the sidelines, while Maki offered dry commentary and Gojo watched with an amused smirk. For a moment, Megumi could almost forget the Zenin clan, the marriage, the weight of it all. Almost.

But as he dodged one of Nobara’s nails, catching her wrist to throw her off balance, their eyes met, and something shifted. Her grin was fierce, her gaze bright with challenge, and for a fleeting second, Megumi felt a spark—a dangerous, unfamiliar warmth that he quickly buried. This was Nobara, his friend, his teammate. Nothing more.

Still, as they continued their sparring, the spark lingered, quiet but persistent, like the first ember of a fire that could one day consume him.

The Zenin estate was transformed into a spectacle of opulence on the day of the wedding, its austere halls draped in crimson and gold banners that fluttered like the ambitions of the clan itself. The air was heavy with the scent of incense, mingling with the murmurs of gathered sorcerers, clan heads, and dignitaries, all seated in precise rows on tatami mats. Lanterns cast a warm glow over the ceremonial hall, their light reflecting off the polished wooden floors, but the atmosphere was anything but warm. It was a stage for power, a performance of tradition, and Megumi Fushiguro stood at its center, a reluctant actor in a play he hadn’t written.

Clad in a black kimono embroidered with the Zenin crest in silver thread, Megumi looked every bit the part of the clan’s prized heir. His dark hair was neatly combed, his posture rigid, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of unease, a storm brewing beneath his stoic mask. He hadn’t seen Hana Kuroso since their brief meeting weeks ago, but the elders had assured him she was prepared, her family eager for the alliance. The thought of her—elegant, composed, a stranger—did little to ease the knot in his chest. This wasn’t about love or choice; it was about duty, a word that had haunted him since childhood.

The ceremony was set to begin at noon. The officiant, an elderly sorcerer with a voice like dry leaves, stood ready at the altar, a low table adorned with sacred artifacts. The guests waited in expectant silence, their eyes darting between Megumi and the empty space where the bride should have appeared. Naobito Zenin sat at the front, his silver hair gleaming under the lantern light, his expression a mix of impatience and smug satisfaction. The other elders flanked him, their faces carved from stone, as if daring anyone to disrupt their carefully orchestrated plan.

Minutes ticked by. The murmurs grew louder, a ripple of unease spreading through the crowd. Megumi’s fingers twitched at his sides, his gaze fixed on the sliding doors at the far end of the hall. Where was she? The Kuroso family’s representatives, seated near the front, shifted uncomfortably, their whispers sharp with worry. Naobito’s smirk faltered, replaced by a scowl that promised retribution.

Then, the doors burst open, and a young messenger stumbled in, his face pale and slick with sweat. He dropped to his knees, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. “L-Lord Zenin!” he stammered, his voice trembling. “Hana Kuroso… she’s gone! She fled this morning with a sorcerer from the Gojo clan!”

The hall erupted into chaos. Gasps and shouts filled the air, a cacophony of shock and outrage. The Kuroso representatives paled, their heads bowed in shame, while the Zenin elders exchanged furious glances. Naobito’s face darkened, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the armrest of his chair. “Gone?” he growled, his voice low but venomous. “With a Gojo?”

Megumi stood frozen, his mind racing. Hana had run away. With a Gojo sorcerer, no less. The audacity was almost admirable, a bold defiance of the Zenin clan’s iron grip. But the implications were dire. This wasn’t just a personal betrayal; it was a public humiliation, a wound to the clan’s pride that would demand blood—or at least a swift correction.

Naobito rose, his presence silencing the room like a blade slicing through noise. “This is an insult to the Zenin clan,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries of authority. “The marriage will proceed. We cannot afford to lose face.”

Megumi’s heart thudded, a rare crack in his composure. “She’s gone,” he said, his tone flat but edged with disbelief. “There’s no bride.”

Naobito’s eyes narrowed, sharp as a hawk’s. “There will be a bride.” His gaze swept the room, cold and calculating, before landing on a figure near the back, lounging against a pillar with a drink in hand. “Nobara Kugisaki.”

Megumi’s breath caught, his stomach twisting. Nobara, who had been watching the unfolding drama with barely concealed amusement, froze mid-sip, her eyes widening. “Excuse me?” she said, her voice dripping with incredulity, loud enough to draw every eye in the room. She set her glass down with a deliberate clink, straightening to her full height, her orange hair catching the light like a warning flare. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not marrying him!” She jabbed a finger at Megumi, who looked as horrified as she felt.

The crowd murmured, a mix of shock and curiosity. Yuji Itadori, seated among the guests with Maki Zenin and Satoru Gojo, let out a strangled “Whoa!” before Maki elbowed him into silence. Gojo’s grin widened, his blindfold doing nothing to hide his delight at the chaos.

“This is not a request,” Naobito said, his tone icy and unyielding. “You are a sorcerer of sufficient skill and standing, Kugisaki. You will marry Megumi in Hana’s place. The ceremony continues.”

Nobara laughed, a sharp, disbelieving sound that echoed through the hall. “Oh, hell no! You think you can just snap your fingers and make me play house with Fushiguro? I’m not some pawn in your creepy clan games!” She crossed her arms, her stance defiant, her eyes blazing with the kind of fire that could burn the estate to the ground.

Naobito’s expression didn’t waver. “Refuse, and you will face the consequences of defying the Zenin clan. Your position as a sorcerer, your allies, your future—all will suffer.”

The threat hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, Nobara’s bravado faltered. Her gaze flicked to Megumi, who stood rigid, his fists clenched, his eyes fixed on the floor. She knew what the Zenin clan was capable of—petty cruelties, calculated punishments, and a knack for making life hell for anyone who crossed them. She’d seen it with Maki, who bore the scars of their disdain, and she’d heard the stories of Megumi’s own struggles under their thumb. Refusing might feel good, but it would come at a cost, and not just for her.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I’m not wearing some frilly dress, and I’m definitely not calling him ‘dear’ or any of that nonsense. You want a show? I’ll give you one, but it’s gonna be my show.”

Naobito nodded, satisfied, though his eyes gleamed with something predatory. “Proceed.”

Megumi’s mind was a whirlwind. This was absurd. Nobara, his friend, his infuriating, hammer-wielding partner, was now his… fiancée? He wanted to protest, to tell Naobito to shove his decree, but the weight of the clan’s expectations pressed down on him, a noose he’d been dodging his whole life. And deep down, a small, traitorous part of him wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Not that he’d ever admit it—not to himself, and certainly not to her.

The ceremony was a disaster. Nobara refused the traditional bridal attire, storming out of the dressing room in a tailored black suit with crimson accents, her hair pinned up in a way that screamed defiance rather than submission. She stood at the altar, glaring at anyone who dared comment on her choice, her hammer resting conspicuously at her side. Megumi, still in his black kimono, kept his eyes fixed on a point above her head, avoiding her gaze. The officiant rushed through the vows, his voice trembling under the weight of the tension in the room.

When it came time to exchange rings, Nobara shoved the band onto Megumi’s finger with enough force to make him wince. “Don’t get any ideas, Fushiguro,” she hissed, loud enough for only him to hear. “This is temporary. I’m not your wife-wife.”

“Believe me, I’m not thrilled either,” he muttered, slipping the ring onto her finger with equal reluctance. The cold metal felt like a shackle, a reminder of the absurdity of their situation.

The guests clapped politely, but the air was thick with awkwardness. Yuji’s enthusiastic applause was quickly silenced by Maki’s glare, while Gojo’s barely stifled laughter earned him a sharp look from Naobito. The reception that followed was no better. Tables laden with sake and delicacies lined the hall, but the mood was strained, the guests whispering about the scandal of Hana’s escape and the audacity of Nobara’s defiance.

Nobara, true to form, leaned into the chaos. She downed sake like it was water, ranting to anyone who would listen about the Zenin clan’s “stupid power trips” and their “obsession with controlling everything.” Megumi sat silently at her side, his expression unreadable, his mind elsewhere. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Nobara had looked at the altar—fierce, unyielding, and somehow… beautiful. The thought caught him off guard, and he buried it quickly, blaming it on the stress of the day.

As the night wore on, the newlyweds were ushered to their shared quarters, a spacious room in the Zenin estate with sliding doors that opened to a moonlit garden. The room was sparsely furnished—a low bed, a wooden table, a single lantern casting soft shadows—but it felt suffocating, the weight of their new reality pressing down on them.

Nobara flopped onto the bed, kicking off her boots with a dramatic sigh. “Well, that was a circus,” she said, propping herself up on her elbows. “So, what’s the plan, husband?” The word dripped with sarcasm, her grin sharp as a blade. “We fake this until the clan forgets about it?”

Megumi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression as guarded as ever. “Something like that,” he said, his voice low. “But the Zenin don’t forget. They’ll expect us to… act like a married couple.”

Nobara snorted, rolling her eyes. “What, like hold hands and make googly eyes? Pass.” She sat up, her expression softening slightly, though her fire remained. “Look, I know this sucks for you too. So let’s make a deal: we play along in public, but in private, we’re just us. Friends. No weird stuff.”

Megumi nodded, relief washing over him. “Deal.”

But as he watched her sprawl across the bed, her confidence unshaken even in the face of this absurdity, he felt something stir in his chest. It was faint, barely a flicker, but it was there—a warmth, a pull, a dangerous spark that he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Nobara was his friend, his teammate, nothing more. And yet, as she tossed her hair and shot him a challenging grin, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this forced union might unravel him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Outside, the moon hung low, casting silver light over the garden. In the distance, a wolf howled, a lonely sound that echoed the uncertainty of the path ahead.