*The event was coming to its closure. The minor clans left before dark, the Big 3 were also getting ready to bind their farewell. Just then...*
THE KAMO CLAN ELDERS
The moment is ripe.
The air still thick with the scent of incense, but now it was the scent of opportunity guiding us.
We stepped forward, our robes rustling like dry leaves against the stone floor.
The Head of the Kamo Clan bowed- not out of submission, but out of tradition.
He began, drawing the attention of every clan present. (only 4 were present there; The Gojo Clan, The Zenin Clan, The Kuzunoha Clan and The Kamo Clan.)
"The Kuzunoha and the Kamo are bound by the stars and the time itself," he announced, his voice carrying the weight of years of tradition.
"A thousand years ago, we were the teachers of the Great Seimei. You were the brilliance, and we were the vessel that held it. To let this bloodline drift toward the chaos of the Zenin or stay isolated within the arrogance of the Gojo is a waste of the heaven's blessing."
We presented the scroll.
It was wrapped in red silk and sealed with the wax of the Kamo crest.
A formal contract of betrothal.
"A formal contract," the Elder continued. "A tuition fee for the debt of a millennium (A repayment for a debt a millennium old). At age six, when the techniques and the kitsune have fully manifested, they shall be betrothed: the heir of Blood, who proves himself strongest among our sons, and Kiyomi, the heir of the Fox."
In reality,
It is the only way to reclaim our status.
The Gojo have their God and the Zenin have their soldiers.
But with this contract, the Kamo will have the Masterpiece.
We will bring the Kuzunoha back into the fold of "Strict Tradition" and we will leash the Nine-Tails to the Kamo throne.
THE KUZUNOHA CLAN
The air in the room turned freezing.
We looked at the scroll, then at the Kamo elders, then at our own child.
To refuse would be more than an insult; it would be a declaration of war.
To deny the "Teacher's Debt" would shatter the moral standing of our clan in the eyes of the entire sorcery world.
But to accept? It feels like caging something precious.
"The bond of teacher and student is sacred," our Head Elder said, his voice tight, his knuckles white as he gripped his staff.
"If the heavens decree that the Kamo and Kuzunoha should walk the same path to pay the debts of our ancestors... we shall accept the proposal. For now."
We signed. Reluctantly.
Every stroke of the pen felt like blood on the paper.
We have bought five years of peace, five years of Kamo protection against the Zenin, but we have sold a piece of her soul to do it.
We sold a piece of our own soul to cover the debt.
We still prayed to heavens, desperate and selfish, that none of the children would manifest the Blood Technique.
SATORU GOJO (Age 11)
I stopped leaning against the pillar.
The boredom I felt earlier vanished, replaced by a surge of genuine annoyance that activated the Infinity around me with a hum of low, dangerous frequency.
My eyes fixed on the scroll, then to the smug, stiff faces of the Kamo old men.
Betrothal?
Contracts?
They were talking about her like she was a Cursed Tool they could just wrap in bubble wrap, put in a box, and label Kamo Property.
I looked at the Kamo kids.
They were sitting there like statues, blank and small, not even realizing they were being used as leashes.
My cousin—no, my sister getting married to one of these stiff-necked bores? Without even getting to choose which one?
And I thought the Kuzunoha Clan is different. They're all the same.
"Hey," I said, stepping forward, the floorboards groaning under the sheer pressure of my Cursed Energy. "Don't get too comfortable with that paper. Contracts are just paper and ink. If she doesn't want to go when she's six, I'd like to see who in this room thinks they're strong enough to make her."
The elders gasped, and I saw the Kamo Head's eye twitch.
The Kuzunoha elders seemed relieved
I didn't care about them anymore.
I looked at Kiyomi.
They think they've caught a fox, like a pet.
They have no idea what they just invited in their family tree.
NAOBITO ZENIN
I let out a sharp barking laugh that echoed a bit too loudly for this moment , and took a heavy, unapologetic swig of sake.
"Direct as always, the Kamo," I muttered to myself only.
They're desperate.
It's pathetic.
They saw the Gojo and Kuzunoha getting too close.
They saw the "Sibling Clans" reuniting and they panicked.
It's a classic, dusty move- bind the girl before she can realize her own worth, before she's old enough to say 'no.'
I looked at the red seal on the contract.
It's a bold play, but a boring one.
The Kamo want to tame the fox fire with their still blood.
"Naoya," I whispered to my son. "Look at that. That's what happens when you move too slowly. The teachers have snatched the prize right out from under the warriors."
NAOYA ZENIN (Age 10)
My lip curled in disgust.
Married? To one of those Kamo kids? They all looked stiff, lifeless, and obsessed with rules.
I stared at the girl on the dais.
She looked so small in that big silk kimono, like a pearl sitting on a mountain.
She's the most captivating thing in this room, and she's being handed over to a clan that spends all day drawing calendars and bleeding into jars.
It's a waste. A total waste.
"She should be a Zenin," I thought, the bitterness rising in my throat.
Not because I cared whether she was happy, but because we are the strongest.
We take what we want.
We don't negotiate.
I watched Satoru snap at the elders, his white hair glowing in the candlelight.
For the first time in my life, I actually wanted to cheer for the arrogant jerk.
At least he had the spine to say what I was thinking:
That girl doesn't belong to you.
OGI ZENIN
I watched the Kamo Head present that scroll.
A contract.
A betrothal.
A girl who hasn't even spoken her first full sentence is being treated like the center of the universe.
She is a girl, yet the Kamo are bowing to her. She is a girl, yet the Gojo heir stands ready to kill for her.
"A tuition fee," I hissed under my breath, my eyes narrowing at the Kamo elders. "Pathetic."
But my hatred wasn't for them.
It was for the girl on the dais.
Every time she blinked those dark eyes, she reminded me of my own "failures" back at the estate.
If my daughters had a fraction of her spark.....
KIYOMI KUZUNOHA (Age 1)
Something changed.
The "clear" feeling of the room was gone.
It felt heavy now, like the air before a thunderstorm.
Everyone was looking at a piece of paper and then looking at me.
I didn't like it.
I felt the fox inside me pull back, tucking its tail and baring its teeth in the dark.
The man in the stiff Kamo robes smelled like iron and old dust. It made my nose itch.
I looked at the little boys in the corner.
They were staring at me like I was a ghost.
I reached out a hand, wanting to feel something other than the suffocation of the room, but my mother pulled me back. Her grip was tight. Too tight. She was shaking.
Then I heard Satoru's voice.
It was loud. It was angry.
I didn't understand what a "contract" was.
I didn't know what "marriage" meant.
But I understood the spark in his eyes.
He was standing up for me.
He was making the scary men in the dusty robes flinch.
I grabbed a handful of my iris-silk kimono and stared at the paper on the table.
Bad paper, I thought, my small heart thumping against my ribs. Makes mother sad. Makes Satoru loud. Makes everyone smell like anger.