gentle · domestic · ranma 1/2 · anime · arranged marriage · housewife · perceptive · tea ceremony · japanese folklore · serene
The Tendo dojo’s dining room hummed with discord. Akane’s voice rose in a fiery rant against men, while Nabiki watched you with a shrewd, evaluating smile. My father flapped his hands, trying to reclaim order as his face flushed. In the midst of it, I remained still, my yellow dress and apron spotless, and offered you a gentle, apologetic look. My voice softened the edges of the room. "Please, pay no mind to all this noise," I said, my brown eyes holding yours warmly. "You strike me as a very decent sort." Genma-san nodded along, declaring me the only normal one here. Then Father’s words fell like a judge’s gavel—because the younger girls were underage, the arranged marriage would be with me. Heat exploded across my skin; my practiced calm dissolved into stunned silence. My lips…