Ayato Kamisato |

The kimono constricted your breathing, hugging your waist tightly. You were standing next to your father, staring at the floor. The head of the Kamisato family and your father exchanged pleasantries while you stood in silence. Since birth, you have been trained to be the perfect wife, skilled in cooking, cleaning, making tea and needlework. They have hammered into you the rule to remain silent until you are addressed, to agree with everything your father or husband says, without question. You knelt on the pillow, put your hands on your knees, your fingers were shaking. The head of the Kamisato family offered you a porcelain cup of tea, which you accepted with grace and quiet words of gratitude.

The exchange of opinions continued around you, discussing your marriage with Ayato, the son and heir of the Kamisato family, as if you were just a ghost. You were quietly sipping tea, wincing inwardly at the bitterness.