CHAPTER 34: ARRANGED MARRIAGE

Ryota’s eyes fluttered open, the sterile white of the hospital ceiling greeting him with all the warmth of a morgue. A dull ache throbbed behind his temples, a constant reminder of his current predicament. He shifted, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his ribs. "Great," he muttered, "Just what I needed."

He’d been out cold for what felt like days, though the nurses had assured him it was only a few hours. The last thing he remembered was a blur of fists and feet, a desperate scramble, and then... nothing. He sighed, the sound a ragged whisper in the quiet room. Being laid up like this was a humiliation, especially for him, Ryota Ashikaga, scion of one of the most respected, and feared, families in the city.

A faint rustle caught his attention. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping whoever it was would just leave him to his misery. But the presence lingered, a subtle scent of something sweet, like cherry blossoms and expensive perfume, filling the air. He held his breath, a premonition coiling in his gut.

When he finally opened his eyes, he was met with a sight that made his blood run cold. Standing beside his bed, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips, was Azame. Azame Tokugawa.

His eyes snapped open wider, his body tensing despite the pain. "You?!" he croaked, the word a mix of disbelief and pure annoyance.

She leaned in, her long, dark hair, the color of a raven’s wing, falling over her shoulder. Her crimson eyes, sharp and intelligent, scanned his bandaged form, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. She purred, her voice a low, melodic hum that grated on his nerves. "Look what the cat dragged in. Or rather, what someone dragged out

."

Ryota bristled. He knew that look. It was the same one she always gave him: a potent mix of curiosity and thinly veiled disdain. It was the look of someone observing an interesting, albeit pathetic, specimen under a microscope. He clenched his jaw, a silent curse forming on his lips. Of all the people to show up, why did it have to be her?

The Ashikaga and the Tokugawa, were not just pillars of the city’s intricate, often violent, underworld; they were its very foundation. For generations, they’d maintained a fragile truce, a balance of power upheld by unspoken agreements and the occasional, strategically placed, marriage. But their influence stretched far beyond the shadowed alleys and backroom deals. Both houses had deep, almost inextricable, ties to the Awakened Organizations.

The Ashikaga family, with their roots in ancient martial arts and a ruthless pragmatism, had built their empire on technological innovation and control over vital infrastructure. They held patents on cutting-edge energy sources, controlled vast communication networks, and even had a hand in developing advanced weaponry. Their influence extended directly into governmental agencies, ensuring that legislation favored their interests and that their operations, no matter how questionable, were rarely scrutinized. They weren’t just crime lords; they were industrial magnates and political puppeteers, their hands in every significant development in the nation.

The Tokugawa, on the other hand, had a different kind of power. Their strength lay in their command over Awakened individuals. They didn’t just recruit them; they nurtured them, trained them, and integrated them into a tightly knit, almost cult-like, hierarchy. They specialized in information gathering, psychological manipulation, and the discreet elimination of threats. Many of the most powerful and secretive Awakened, those capable of bending reality or influencing minds, were loyal to the Tokugawa. This made them indispensable to the government for handling situations that conventional forces couldn’t. They were the arbiters of secrets, the masters of persuasion, and the quiet enforcers when diplomacy failed.

The uneasy alliance between these two giants was crucial for maintaining the delicate balance of power in the nation. The Ashikaga provided the resources, the technology, and the political leverage, while the Tokugawa provided the raw, unadulterated power of the Awakened and the crucial intelligence to wield it effectively. Their combined influence meant that even the highest echelons of the government deferred to them, often relying on their unique capabilities to solve problems that threatened national stability.

And their parents, in their infinite wisdom, had decided that he and Azame were to be the next link in that chain. An engagement, sealed with an archaic ceremony and the unyielding weight of tradition. Neither of them had a choice. They were bound, whether they liked it or not. And they definitely did not like it.

Azame chuckled, a soft, mocking sound that echoed in the sterile room. "Never thought I’d see the day the great Ryota Ashikaga, the unyielding fortress, would be reduced to a hospital bed." Her eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of something more serious replacing the amusement. "Who could have possibly done this to you?"

Ryota scoffed, turning his head away. He wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. "None of your business," he muttered, his voice hoarse. The pain in his ribs flared, a stark reminder of the brutal encounter. He gritted his teeth, willing it to subside. He knew that for someone like Azame, someone whose family dealt in the very essence of human potential and its darker applications, this was more than just a casual query. It was an intelligence gathering mission, a way for her to gauge the shifting tides of power, even from his bed.

She hummed thoughtfully, her gaze still fixed on him. "Curious. Very curious." She walked around the bed, her movements fluid and graceful, like a predator circling its prey. "I mean, you’ve always been so... invincible. Like a brick wall with a bad attitude. Your family’s security systems, their network of informants... they’re legendary. For someone to breach that, to get to you..." She paused, her voice taking on a speculative tone. "Unless it wasn’t an external force. Unless it was someone from within."

"Thanks for the compliment," Ryota retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He knew her game. She was trying to provoke a reaction, to get him to reveal something. But he wouldn’t bite. Not for her. Not now.

Azame ignored him, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns on a vase of wilting flowers beside his bed. "So, tell me," she continued, her tone shifting, a genuine spark of interest now in her eyes. "Who was it? Who had the audacity, the skill, to put you in this state? Your family’s Awakened assets are formidable, certainly on par with ours. To bypass them, to engage you directly and win... that takes a unique kind of power, doesn’t it?" Her voice dropped to a near whisper, a predatory edge to it. "I’m genuinely impressed."

Ryota squeezed his eyes shut, a wave of nausea washing over him. The memory of the fight was still hazy, but the pain was sharp and immediate. He didn’t want to talk about it, especially not to her. The last thing he needed was her analyzing his weaknesses, picking apart his defeat. She would dissect every detail, not out of concern, but out of a calculating desire to understand the threat, to categorize it, and perhaps, to exploit it. That was the Tokugawa way.

"Just leave, Azame," he grumbled, clenching his fists. The movement sent another jolt of pain through him, and he winced, a soft groan escaping his lips. "Get out of here."

She paused, her hand hovering over a wilting rose. Her expression softened, just for a fleeting moment, a flicker of something akin to concern in her eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by the familiar mask of cool detachment. "My, my. Such a delicate flower you’ve become. Or perhaps, a vulnerable chink in the Ashikaga’s armor, now exposed for the world to see."

"I said, get out!" he growled, pushing himself up slightly. The effort sent a fresh wave of agony through him, and he gasped, slumping back against the pillows. His vision swam for a moment, and he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to regain his bearings. The pain was an old friend, but this time, it felt different. More profound. A testament to a defeat he couldn’t yet fully comprehend.

Azame watched him, a faint smirk returning to her lips. She seemed to savor his discomfort, his vulnerability. He hated it. He hated her being here, seeing him like this. It was a violation, an unwelcome intrusion into his private pain. He knew she was weighing him, measuring his current state against the formidable image he usually projected. And he hated that even more.

"Fine," she said, her voice laced with amusement. "Be that way. But don’t think this changes anything, Ryota." She turned, her long hair swaying with the movement. "Our families still expect us to uphold our... agreement. The Ashikaga and Tokugawa alliance, cemented by our union, is far too important to crumble over a few broken bones. After all, the Awakened organizations, and even the government, are watching. We wouldn’t want to disappoint them, would we?" Her words were a chilling reminder of the larger game at play, a game far grander than his personal discomfort.

He didn’t respond, simply focused on breathing through the pain. He heard her footsteps receding, the soft click of the door as it closed behind her. Finally. He was alone again. He let out a long, ragged breath, the tension slowly bleeding out of him. The throbbing in his head and ribs was still there, but at least the torment of her presence was gone. He closed his eyes, hoping for the sweet oblivion of sleep. But even as he drifted off, he could still feel her eyes on him, that curious, mocking gaze, burning into his memory. This engagement, this forced alliance, was going to be a long, painful road. And he was just getting started.