Bound by Obligation

An Arrangement of Distance

The garden was a sea of twilight, bathed in the dusky tones of lavender and maroon as the evening folded in upon itself. The scent of jasmine drifted lazily through the breeze, mixing with the earthy dampness from the soil below. The moon, hanging low on the horizon, cast silver streaks over the cobblestone path where Kira and Suguru walked side by side, though they seemed miles apart in spirit.

They were an odd pair. From a distance, they might look harmonious, gliding through the garden like the perfect married couple. But upon closer inspection, the tension between them shimmered like the heat rising from a flame—subtle but undeniable. Suguru's gaze flitted to her briefly, his practiced smile masking the annoyance that brewed just beneath the surface.

He hated this. Hated her—not because she had done anything particularly offensive, but because of what she represented: the powerless, the "monkeys," the humans devoid of cursed energy. Kira was a delicate thread tying him to the mundane, and he resented it. Her presence, however calm, was a chain clamped around his neck.

And yet, there she was—walking with grace and composure, her light eyes gleaming with a quiet knowing. She looked calm on the surface, but Suguru knew better. People with such stillness always harbored storms beneath. She was clever—irritatingly so.

"Had fun today, my dear?" Suguru asked, the question sliding off his tongue with ease. He forced a smile that never reached his eyes.

Kira glanced sideways at him, her expression indifferent but not without a trace of tired amusement. "Hmm, yes" she said softly, her voice laced with dry sarcasm.

Her words held no weight, a mere formality in return for his charade. Suguru narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, studying her face for cracks—any sign that she might be struggling with this marriage more than he was. But she was unreadable. A wall in human form.

"You didn't enjoy yourself," he stated, voice smooth but hollow, like a performer reciting lines from a script.

Kira let out a soft chuckle, bitter and fleeting. "I could say the same for you." She turned her gaze forward, her stride steady. "No need to fake it. I know you're not happy about this arrangement."

Suguru's steps faltered, his forced smile slipping—just for a second—before he quickly masked it with another. She had called him out so easily, with a precision that made his skin crawl.

"How observant," he murmured, his tone tinged with irritation. His smile grew tighter, and the corners of his mouth twitched with annoyance.

Kira's voice was like a knife slicing through silk, deliberate and calm. "It must be exhausting—pretending to be happy all the time."

Suguru exhaled sharply, the mask falling for a moment. She was infuriating—this woman with no cursed energy, seeing through him so effortlessly. A puzzle he couldn't solve.

"You're right," he muttered, letting his real voice—cold and indifferent—finally slip through. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, curious despite himself. "So, you're not exactly thrilled about this either?"

Kira shrugged, her movements slow and deliberate. "Agree or not, it changes nothing."

Suguru hummed, appreciating her bluntness, even if it irked him. "True. We're both trapped in this."

A silence settled between them, the only sound the crunch of pebbles beneath their feet. The garden's beauty felt distant, like a painting they couldn't touch—just out of reach, like everything else in their lives.

Then, Kira tilted her head slightly, a glint of challenge flickering in her gaze. "What do you say we strike a deal?"

Suguru raised a brow, intrigued despite himself. "A deal?"

Kira's lips quirked in a small, humorless smile. "We stop pretending—at least when we're alone. You won't bother me, and I won't bother you. We do our own thing." She paused, her dark eyes steady on his. "And I'll respect your space, Suguru. I know you don't like being touched by me."

He blinked, momentarily stunned by her directness. No one had ever spoken to him like this before—not without fear or reverence. But Kira was neither afraid nor impressed by him. She treated him like an equal, though without warmth. It unsettled him.

He huffed, a low chuckle escaping him. "You're surprisingly perceptive for someone without cursed energy."

"Not cursed, just observant," she replied dryly, her sarcasm threading through her words.

Suguru considered her proposal, weighing the freedom it offered. No need to act, no need to pretend. Just a quiet, unspoken understanding between two unwilling participants in this farce of a marriage.

"Fine," he said, his tone clipped. "As long as I don't have to be near you, I'm in."

Kira gave a small, sad smile—so subtle that it almost passed unnoticed. Almost. But Suguru noticed everything.

"Something bothering you?" he asked before he could stop himself. The words came out sharper than intended, more curious than concerned.

"Yes," she said simply, her gaze distant. "It's been bothering me for a long time now."

He didn't know why he wanted to ask more, but the words slipped out regardless. "Explain."

Kira sighed, her expression unchanging. "People make me tired, Suguru.'

'Most of them aren't worth the effort." Suguru found himself nodding. He understood that sentiment more than he cared to admit. Humans were exhausting. Weak. Clingy. Disappointing.

"Especially people like me, right?" Kira's voice was devoid of resentment—just an observation, clinical and cold.

Suguru smirked, finding a strange comfort in her honesty. "You expect me to deny it?"

"No," she said with a small shrug. "I'm not dumb. You're disgusted by me. That's obvious."

Suguru stopped walking, turning to face her fully. She was close now, too close, but she stood her ground. Her gaze was sharp and unwavering, cutting through the night like a blade.

"You really don't care what I think of you, do you?" he asked, more amused than annoyed now.

"No," Kira said bluntly. "You don't matter to me."

Suguru chuckled, the sound low and dry. "Fair enough."

They stood in silence, two souls tethered by obligation but drifting in separate currents.

And yet, something strange stirred in Suguru's chest—a flicker of something he couldn't name. She was different from anyone he had ever known. Not because she lacked cursed energy, but because she faced him without fear. She didn't want anything from him. No admiration, no approval. Just distance. And strangely enough, he found that refreshing.

For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to truly know her. But the thought was fleeting, like a shadow that slips away before it can be caught.

"We're here," he said, nodding toward the house.

Kira stopped a few paces away from him, maintaining the distance between them.

Suguru smirked. "What's wrong? Afraid I'll bite?"

Kira rolled her eyes, her sarcasm cutting through the night. "I'm just keeping my distance—who knows what a sorcerer like you might be carrying."

Suguru laughed, genuinely this time, the sound surprising even him. Perhaps this marriage wouldn't be so unbearable after all.