Chapter Text
Morning light shone through the blinds, casting long shadows across the room. Your cloudy mind, still heavy with sleep, failing to register that the room you were currently in wasn’t your own.
Not that you could call anything “your own” in the Zen’in household.
Yes, the general feel of the room was the same, the weight of the family’s backwards ideals crushing everything and everyone within. The weight of those beliefs that they so desperately clung to left no exemption in their wake – including you. Or maybe that was the way you felt, given your position within the household.
You were sold to the Zen’in clan years ago. Nothing special. No cursed energy. Cast off to them to repay your family’s obligation; some desperate means to square their debt. Not that you blame them. The clan were known for their gruesomely creative ways of clawing back what they were owed when pushed too far. No. You couldn’t begrudge your family for that. If anything, you had offered yourself to the Zen’in when their advances became too aggressive to ignore.
So here you were. Working for the most notorious of the big three families. Of course, you were under no impression that the other families had their problems but this one was renowned for their cruelty. You were silent on most days. It made it easier to remain invisible, carrying on with your menial tasks for the household till the day was done. Things were better that way. They were better when he didn’t notice you.
Naoya Zen’in
The modern world’s walking example of a sociopath. The Zen’in clan’s destructive vices were culminated and exemplified through him and the poison that he spewed. If anything were to become of Naobito, he would become the clan’s next head. The devastating forces of the Zen’in armies would be under his twisted command. The thought was enough to turn your stomach. You were afraid to think of the atrocities that would be committed with him at the forefront of the operations. Things were bad enough since he was given the Hei – a gesture no doubt, to afford Naobito a few months peace from him. Considering he was enjoying commanding the Zen’in’s elite sorcerers, it was only a matter of time before he wormed his way to more power.
You were aware of his views on women. Word around the household help included whispers of how he helped to drive out his own cousin. I suppose not even family bound by blood were held as exceptions to their misogyny.
In the beginning, he ignored you. But lately, he’d been paying you more attention. For some God forsaken reason, he had noticed you. And the thought turned to bile in your throat.
It began with arrogant glances that lingered for too long on your face. You were unsure when it first began but you wished you never noticed it. The weight of his gaze forced you to turn towards him, you could feel it, heavy and uncomfortable, locked on your features. You watched his lips slowly upturn into an egotistical smirk. Heat pooled in your cheeks. Your desire to wipe the expression off of his face nearly boiling over. You quickly realized that the mere acknowledgement of his existence was a mistake.
You quickly found yourself being called to provide services for him, specifically.
“This one gives me something decent to look at, at least.”
You heard him mockingly say to his father while you served them sake in his office.
“If only she didn’t have such a distasteful expression pasted on her countenance. What man would want to look at that?”
You felt your fists clench at your sides. You wanted to hit him square in his jaw. But you paused, you knew better, remembered that anything that you do could have possible repercussions for your loved ones at home. Instead of giving into your impulses, you channeled silences and told yourself that you would continue to do so.
Your interactions with him continued that way. You realized that he enjoyed it more when he would get a rise out of you, when you looked his way, or when his vulgarities caused a flush in your cheeks: not out of embarrassment but unadulterated anger. You could see his smirk grow wider when his neuroticism had an audience, so you trained yourself to work closer to the shadows, grew thicker skin in his presence. You quickly learned how your lack of response almost disappointed the psychopath. You reveled in your small victories; savoured the comfort of becoming emotionally untouchable.
Until that night. That was the worst of it.
Hands wrapped around your throat. Hazy words crept into your mind.
Whispered into your ears.
“Stop fucking ignoring me.”
A sick smile spread across his face.
Your body convulsed with repulsion at the memory flooding your brain. Your head spun. Your airways tightened. And all went quiet.