"𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐰." - 𝑵𝒂𝒐𝒚𝒂 𝒁𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏
⟶ He was born a king, and he reigned as a god. Gojo didn't walk-he crushed. His laughter slapped the w...
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Chihiro grew up in silence.
Time brushed against her without ever truly touching, like a wave too timid to break upon a forgotten shore. Within the sanctuary, she was a disciplined shadow—a figure sweeping the courtyard, folding laundry, serving tea to the monks without a single word. She knew the scent of incense as well as the dried blood on the temple steps, the prayers murmured at dusk, the crows perched upon black wooden beams.
She was growing—still young, still fragile—but her body was beginning to change, and with it, the way people looked at her.
The sanctuary's rules weighed upon her shoulders like a second skin. Chihiro always kept her head lowered. She never met the eyes of men. She never spoke, even if she had the ability to. Her muteness protected her. It granted her a strange kind of freedom—the freedom of being nothing more than a silhouette, a whisper, a memory too faint to be possessed.
But there was the Zenin clan.
Sometimes, they called for her, like a dog summoned by a whistle. A servant would drag her from the sanctuary, leading her to the main estate, where she would sit, listen, and learn.
The lessons in etiquette were prisons wrapped in silk and velvet.
— Stand straight. — Do not smile without reason. — Women always walk behind men. — When Naoya-sama enters, bow.
