Chapter 3: An Unconventional Union

The Zenin estate’s guest quarters were a study in contrasts—elegant in their minimalism, yet suffocating in their purpose. The room assigned to Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki was no exception. Sliding shoji screens opened to a moonlit garden, where the soft rustle of bamboo whispered secrets to the night. Inside, a low wooden table held a single lantern, its flickering light casting long shadows across the tatami floor. The bed, neatly made with crisp linens, loomed like an unspoken challenge in the corner. For Megumi, the space felt like a cage, albeit one dressed in silk and tradition. For Nobara, it was a stage—one she was determined to command.

Nobara sprawled across the bed, her tailored black suit jacket discarded on a nearby chair, her crimson tie loosened around her neck. She kicked her boots onto the floor with a thud, the sound defiant in the quiet room. “Well, this is cozy,” she said, her voice thick with sarcasm as she propped herself up on one elbow. “What’s next, Fushiguro? They gonna make us braid each other’s hair and share life goals?”

Megumi leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his black kimono still pristine despite the chaos of the day. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his eyes lingered on Nobara for a moment longer than necessary, tracing the way her orange hair caught the lantern’s glow. He pushed the thought aside, focusing on her words instead. “They’ll expect us to keep up appearances,” he said, his voice low and measured. “Publicly, at least. The Zenin don’t tolerate weakness.”

Nobara snorted, rolling her eyes. “Appearances? Please. I’m not about to play blushing bride for those crusty old geezers. They want a show? I’ll give ‘em one, but it’s gonna be on my terms.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed, standing with a stretch that was more performative than necessary. “So, what’s the deal? We hold hands at clan meetings, maybe fake a smile or two? Easy enough.”

“It’s not that simple,” Megumi said, his tone edged with frustration. “The Zenin will be watching us—closely. They’ll want proof of… commitment. Loyalty. Maybe even…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he avoided her gaze.

Nobara raised an eyebrow, her grin sharp and teasing. “What, an heir? Oh, hell no, Fushiguro. Don’t even go there. This marriage is fake as my aunt’s designer bags. No babies, no lovey-dovey nonsense, just you and me pretending to tolerate each other. Got it?”

Megumi’s lips twitched, a faint flicker of amusement breaking through his stoic mask. “Got it,” he said, though the weight of her words didn’t fully erase the tension in his chest. The Zenin clan’s expectations were a noose, and he knew they wouldn’t be satisfied with mere playacting for long. But for now, Nobara’s defiance was a lifeline, a reminder that he wasn’t alone in this absurdity.

She flopped back onto the bed, folding her arms behind her head. “Good. Now, I’m claiming this side of the bed. You can sleep on the floor or summon one of your creepy dogs to keep you warm. Your call.”

Megumi sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I’ll take the floor,” he muttered, already resigned to the idea. The thought of sharing a bed with Nobara was… complicated. Not because he wanted to—definitely not—but because the idea sent an unwelcome jolt through him, a spark he was determined to ignore.

“Suit yourself,” Nobara said, smirking. “But don’t come crying to me when your back’s screaming tomorrow.”

The days that followed were a masterclass in controlled chaos. Nobara, true to her word, turned their forced marriage into a performance art. At clan gatherings, she’d drape herself over Megumi’s arm, batting her eyelashes with exaggerated sweetness and calling him “darling” in a tone so saccharine it made his skin crawl. The elders, oblivious to her mockery, nodded approvingly, their egos soothed by the illusion of unity. Megumi played along, his expression a careful mask of indifference, though every touch of her hand sent a jolt through him he couldn’t quite explain.

In private, however, they were the same as ever—teammates, friends, two sorcerers bound by mutual respect and a shared disdain for the Zenin’s games. Their shared quarters became a battleground of sorts, filled with Nobara’s scattered clothes, her blasting music, and her relentless teasing. “You ever smile, Fushiguro?” she’d ask, tossing a pillow at him. “Or is your face just stuck like that?”

“Smiling’s overrated,” he’d retort, dodging the pillow with ease. “Unlike you, I don’t need to announce my presence to the entire estate.”

Their banter was a comfort, a tether to normalcy in a situation that was anything but. Yet, as the days turned to weeks, Megumi found himself noticing things he hadn’t before. The way Nobara’s laugh filled the room, bright and unapologetic. The way her eyes sparkled with mischief when she landed a particularly sharp quip. The way her hand brushed his during a training session, lingering just a moment too long. Each moment was a spark, small but persistent, threatening to ignite something he wasn’t ready to face.

Nobara, for her part, seemed oblivious—or at least, she acted like it. She’d challenge him to spar, mock his “brooding aesthetic,” and fill their quarters with her chaotic energy. But there were moments when her guard slipped. A glance that lingered too long as he summoned his shikigami. A fleeting softness in her voice when she asked if he was okay after a particularly grueling day. A brush of her fingers against his as they passed a water bottle during a mission. Each moment was fleeting, but it left Megumi’s heart racing, his carefully constructed walls trembling.

One afternoon, as they returned from a mission briefing with Yuji and Maki, the tension in the air was palpable. The Zenin elders had been particularly insufferable, grilling Megumi about his “duties” as a husband and dropping not-so-subtle hints about the need for an heir. Nobara had deflected with her usual flair, tossing out sarcastic remarks that left the elders flustered and the other sorcerers stifling laughter. But the strain was starting to show, even on her.

They were walking through the estate’s garden, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the gravel paths. Yuji bounded ahead, chatting animatedly about the mission, while Maki trailed behind, her polearm slung over her shoulder. Nobara lagged a few steps back, uncharacteristically quiet, her hands stuffed in her pockets.

Megumi glanced at her, his brow furrowing. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that Yuji and Maki wouldn’t hear.

Nobara blinked, as if startled, then flashed her usual grin. “Me? I’m fine, Fushiguro. Just plotting how to burn this place down without getting caught.”

He didn’t buy it. Her grin was too forced, her eyes too guarded. “You don’t have to do that,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “Pretend, I mean. Not with me.”

Her grin faltered, and for a moment, she looked almost vulnerable. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep this circus going,” she said, her voice lighter than her expression. “Besides, you’re not exactly Mr. Open-and-Honest yourself.”

He didn’t argue. She wasn’t wrong. They continued walking in silence, the crunch of gravel under their feet the only sound. Yuji’s laughter echoed ahead, a stark contrast to the weight between them. Megumi’s mind churned, a mix of frustration and something deeper—something that felt dangerously like protectiveness. He didn’t want Nobara to carry this burden alone, but he didn’t know how to say it without breaking the fragile balance they’d struck.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Yuji called, turning back with a grin. “You guys gonna keep moping, or are you coming to train? I’m ready to kick both your asses!”

Nobara’s grin returned, sharper this time. “Dream on, Itadori! I’ll have you crying for mercy in ten seconds flat.”

Maki snorted, adjusting her glasses. “Ten seconds? You’re generous. I give him five.”

“Rude!” Yuji protested, clutching his chest dramatically. “Megumi, back me up here!”

Megumi shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re on your own, Itadori.”

The banter eased the tension, and as they headed toward the training grounds, Nobara’s stride regained its usual swagger. But Megumi couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, a subtle crack in the foundation of their “just friends” agreement. He told himself it was nothing, just the stress of their situation. But as he watched Nobara laugh, her hair catching the sunlight, that spark in his chest flared brighter, refusing to be ignored.

That evening, as they returned to their quarters, Nobara was back to her usual self, blasting music from a small speaker she’d smuggled in. “You ever listen to anything that’s not depressing?” she asked, tossing a sock at Megumi as he sat at the table, reviewing mission reports.

“You ever listen to anything that’s not ear-splitting?” he shot back, catching the sock and tossing it into her growing pile of laundry.

She laughed, flopping onto the bed. “Touché. But seriously, Fushiguro, you gotta loosen up. This whole ‘married life’ thing doesn’t mean we have to be boring.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long. She was sprawled across the bed, one arm behind her head, her tie undone, her shirt slightly untucked. There was something unguarded about her in moments like this, something that made his chest tighten. He looked away, focusing on the reports, but the words blurred together, his mind elsewhere.

“Hey,” Nobara said, her voice softer now. “You’re doing that brooding thing again. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly.

She sat up, her eyes narrowing. “Liar. You’ve got that look—like you’re summoning a shikigami in your head to deal with your feelings. Spill it.”

He hesitated, his fingers tightening around the pen in his hand. “It’s just… this,” he said finally, gesturing vaguely at the room, at them. “It’s a lot.”

Nobara’s expression softened, and for a moment, she didn’t have a snappy comeback. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “It is. But we’re in this together, right? No matter how stupid it gets.”

He nodded, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “Together,” he agreed.

She grinned, the spark back in her eyes. “Good. Now stop moping and help me pick a song. This one’s too slow.”

As she fiddled with the speaker, Megumi watched her, the flicker of warmth in his chest growing stronger. He told himself it was just gratitude, just the comfort of having a friend in this mess. But deep down, he knew better. This was something more—something dangerous, something that could unravel everything. And for the first time, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to stop it.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***