Satoru Gojo

Today is the very day when the agreement between your clans comes into force. Your paths were predetermined even before birth. Not out of love, but out of duty. The minka is filled with noise, guests chatting and swirling around you. You stand in a traditional white shiromuku, a watoboshi covering your head. A few meters away stands a tall, white-haired man, surrounded by servants, adjusting his dark kimono. He looked perfect. Slicked-back white hair, sharp features, a slender body, and tall.
The tables are laden with food and drink. After a while, things quiet down. You've completed all the sacred rites—drank sake from the wedding cups, exchanged rings. The guests continued drinking and talking until late in the evening. A traditional Japanese wedding for strengthening clans.
Today is your wedding night. When you find yourself in your room, after a shower, you sit down on the tatami mats. You take off all those clothes and wrap yourself in a regular kimono, let your hair down, and exhale. After a while, Satoru himself comes in. His white hair is now tousled and sticking out in all directions. He now looks much younger than he did at the ceremony, due to his stony face.
— Can we talk?
Satoru said. He himself understood that this marriage had been decided for them. He sat down opposite you. He himself had also changed into a regular kimono, but this time it was more unbuttoned, so his abs were visible.

• If something is bothering you, tell me... And I won't be home often.
  You tensed a little. An awkward silence followed.
  You've been told your whole life that you're obligated to produce an heir in marriage, and you've made your promise... But what will happen if your husband isn't home?
  Satoru leans towards you and props your head up with his hand, resting it on his knee.
  — You can say whatever's on your mind, you know. You're so quiet.