pslplz | Tharja Mamoru Arranged Marriage

Tharja Mamoru Arranged Marriage

"You're getting married."

Mamoru spent most of the next three days processing that one simple phrase. He understood the reason, of course. Six years back with his grandfather. No love life to speak of in that entire time. No other living family... he was concerned about the line. Mamoru knew his grandfather was aging rapidly. Most likely, he wanted to secure the succession for his own peace of mind. He certainly had little reason for confidence that it would happen naturally.

Mamoru didn't protest or complain about the announcement. Still, it was a discomforting thought. There was a reason he hadn't pursued a relationship until now-- several reasons if he were to be honest. He didn't know how he was supposed to overcome those obstacles now just because the motion was being forced.

He went about his daily business as much as possible. The idea slipped from the forefront of his mind under a barrage of more immediately pressing matters. He told no one. Then, before he knew it, he was scheduled to meet her.

Mamoru straightened his tie in the backseat of his ride before giving it a small tug in hopes of loosening it a little; it felt tight about his throat. No doubt the media was going to be all over this once word got out, just as it had been as he debuted onto the political scene in the footsteps of his presumed father, Reiji. Questions of his position on current events and policies, on whether he aimed to go all the way to the Prime Minister's seat as Reiji had.

He was not looking forward to that explosion of public attention. Current events and policies he could at least sound informed about. What was he going to say about his future bride? As yet, Mamoru knew little about the young woman to whom he was affianced. An ambassador's daughter whose appearance recommended her as well as her status was all he'd been told. Mamoru would have preferred knowing something about her interests or personality, but it seemed he'd be flying blind in that regard. He would just have to hope he could keep the conversation more about her. He wasn't particularly keen to divulge much about himself anyway.

Well, it wasn't as though he had no practice putting on a good face to strangers. The sleek black sedan pulled to a stop in front of the Ritz-Carlton in Tokyo Midtown, which housed Azure 45, heralded as one of the best restaurants in the country. A valet opened the door to the car to let him out and escorted him to the private dining room overlooking a gorgeous cityscape.

Truth be told, it was all entirely too fancy for him. The chandelier of metallic bubbles, the menu of items most people wouldn't even be able to pronounce, the three-piece suit and polished shoes that pinched his feet. Given the choice, he would have opted for a quaint café by a park with a walking trail.

Then again, choice wasn't really the name of the game here, was it? Of course two young members of the upper crust would be at a place like this instead. Mamoru was a good twenty minutes early, so he seated himself at the window end of the entirely too large table and skimmed the wine menu while he waited.

Hidden beneath his coat at his beltline, he kept a small case with four slender darts. Mamoru had a new name, a new home, a new family, and a new career, but some habits never changed.

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Tharja had been severely tempted to kill her parents in order to get out of this 'business arrangement', but that would mean she might inherit their work, or she could go to prison - either one was a displeasing thought. How annoying. This whole thing was annoying. Though her face remained stoic on the drive over, those who knew her or were paying close attention might notice the twitch her upper lip was developing - as if a trained attack dog was suppressing the urge to rip out its enemy's throat.

Maybe she could kill her supposed fiance... No, what would stop her family from simply finding another poor soul? Gods above, if they wanted her to settle so down, they could at least have given her some choice in the matter. It was a small secret that she had a romantic side - she wanted to find true love, a soul mate, someone she was bound to eternally - but if someone actually found that out, she'd deny it. No need to ruin her reputation, what little she had of it.

When the car came to a stop and the driver announced their arrival, she merely nodded, lost in her own thoughts. Maybe she could poison this person slowly... Just keep them weak enough to stay out of her way and never take her to bed. Or maybe, and this wasn't too far-fetched as far as she was concerned, he'd reject her as soon as he knew her. She knew she wasn't a sociable or even likable person. Sometimes that hurt, sometimes it didn't. You couldn't change a person so easily, and she doubted she ever would.

Two guards escorted her out of the car and into the building, and she couldn't resist rolling her eyes. As if these pathetic goons would stand a chance against a fully trained killer. The fake jewelry she was wearing would do a much better job - the pearls around her wrists, the ruby necklace dangling above her exposed cleavage, the tiny earrings embedded in her earlobes - all of them fake, all of them filled with deadly chemicals. All she had to do was break them open, or even just throw them, and anyone who wished her harm would suffer before death.

Just the idea of that was enough to make her crack a small, temporary smile. She distracted herself with that cathartic imagery as she was led into the table, and finally she was forced to look at him.

... If he'd lift his eyes from the menu.

A proper, polite ambassador's daughter would have demurely said "Excuse me, would you be... Mamoru Takatori...?"

Tharja just snapped. "Hey. You."

By all outward appearances, Mamoru seemed to be preoccupied with the menu. In truth, he had long since finished reading it by the time Tharja arrived, and was normally more than alert enough to notice the sound of a door opening. Later, he might look back on this moment with no small degree of self-bewilderment, because no matter how avoidant he might feel of following through on this date, that didn't excuse getting tangled up in one's thoughts and losing awareness of the surroundings.

He snapped out of his daze as her voice cut through the quiet and jerked his head up toward the door.

"Ah-- sorry. I..."

That was about as far as he got before he processed the sight in front of him. She was as beautiful as he'd been led to believe and then some. In a way, that only made her seem that much more unapproachable coupled with the way she spoke. This was a woman who wasn't happy to be here and who had seemingly no interest in pretending otherwise, not even for the sake of another's face or feelings.

Feeling that way inside was understandable, but showing it so blatantly didn't bode well. Less because Mamoru didn't feel up to tolerating it long-term and more because it made all interactions with the public precarious. In a position so in the public eye, that was a level of indiscretion that simply couldn't fly.

He stood from his chair to greet her, his expression neutral and tone level rather than rising to—or worse, cowering from—the brusque call for his attention.

“I was just reviewing the menu. Mamoru Takatori… it’s nice to meet you.”

She was used to the way men looked at her - she dressed this way for a reason. That gave her the time to look him over, and at least he wasn't ugly. In fact, this was a handsome fellow, perhaps someone she would have given actual interest, if she'd been given an actual choice. He didn't back down from her curt tone either, or even appear to be annoyed by it. So he was either faking sincerity, or honestly didn't mind how she spoke. Further testing would be necessary.

"Tharja." She didn't bother with the last name - after all, she was there to lose her last name to his own. But at least she had the polite decency to bow - the Japanese didn't need to lose their civility. But as soon as it was over, she took her seat, not waiting for anyone to pull it out, and instead she glanced at what he had been reading. The wine menu, huh?

"I don't tend to drink too much. It dulls the senses." Not that she'd been asked. "But if you order something, I'll have another. Might as try to understand what it is you like."

He didn't need the supply of the last name, per se, as he'd already been told her name before coming here. All the same, Tharja communicated more than just her name with her response. Mamoru interpreted the omission of her surname in introducing herself to mean she wanted him to use her given name off the bat. That was unusual; he would have defaulted to her surname without that signal so as not to be rude. Even if they were getting married...

He returned the bow with a slighter one and reclaimed his seat when Tharja took hers. He supposed it was a good thing that she wanted to learn what he liked. He wouldn't have minded or been offended if she hadn't. Maybe making the best of the situation? It did make sense to at least try to get along. Maybe even become friends.

"I'm not much of a drinker myself. I was looking at the wine menu because the dinner menu is a bit of a short read."

He wasn't kidding. If Tharja looked at the dinner menu, she would find two options for dinner: the six-course, and the seven-course. Excepting the fifth course on each, every dish was predetermined.

He assumed her concern about dulled senses pertained to fully tasting food or enjoying the moment.

Tharja raised an eyebrow at the description of the menu. Surely some place as fancy and insufferable as this had to have a decent selection. So of course she picked it up to read it for herself, and her normally thin eyes widened. Who in the world could eat that much food? Did they want her to balloon up? Maintaining this body wasn't easy!

"By the gods." She muttered, taking a moment to rub her temple. "I would have to exercise for a full week, day and night, just to burn this off." But it was made apparent she hadn't meant for that comment to slip out, as evidenced by her reddening cheeks. As abrasive and confident as she had tried to appear, there was still a feminine side of her. She just loathed to bring it out so easily.

"... Either one is fine." She muttered quickly, hoping to stave off any further embarrassment.

Mamoru lifted his eyebrows a bit. That was a curious reaction of Tharja's. That she was concerned about preserving her figure wasn't surprising; Mamoru was no stranger to the concept that maintaining a physique took proactive measures. It was why he still ran in the mornings and lifted weights twice a week. Technically, he didn't need the stamina and muscles anymore, but he wasn't keen to lose the ability to fight in an emergency. You never knew when you might need to run or defend yourself.

What was more curious to him was how much food Tharja seemed to think was coming. Either that or she never ate. It was as though she expected full plates, but Mamoru knew that wasn't true. To be from a family of such status, she had to have experienced the formal dinner before.

Whatever the case, she seemed embarrassed after she said it, and Mamoru didn't want to call further attention to it for her sake. He smiled warmly.

"Six sounds like a bad omen for our future, doesn't it? Let's try the seven."

Perhaps it was insensitive to suggest the larger meal when she was already worried about keeping her shape. Mamoru thought it would be worse to suggest he was worried about her keeping it as well. That seemed like it would only compound the pressure she was putting on herself.

It wasn't so much that she never ate - it was just that Tharja wasn't used to eating in restaurants... or going out a lot. She was a bit of a shut-in, which explained why the public knew so little about her. It was another very embarrassing aspect about her.

"We can have it... but the number seven isn't always a guarantee of good luck." Now believe it or not, Tharja wasn't just trying to be creepy as she delved into this morbid topic. "While countries like America revere it, it really depends on where you are." This was in fact her attempt at a conversation. Unfortunately, her best known topics were macabre at best.

"In the Chinese culture... the number seven is a symbol of death." As she explained, she unfurled her napkin, but then held up a spoon to show Mamoru's reflection. "And you have seven years of bad luck breaking a mirror... That was from the Romans. They believed people went through a physical and spiritual regeneration every seven years, and that a mirror reflected that change. Thus... breaking a mirror destroyed all that hard work, and you must wait seven years to regenerate again."

Mamoru wasn't bothered by the morbidness of the discussion. While it was a little awkward that she might think he was serious about something like a superstition, he was impressed with her level of knowledge, and glad to see that she was intelligent. He didn't have a lot of patience for fools.

"You know a lot about different cultures. Is that something you picked up from being an ambassador's daughter?" Diplomats did, after all, have to learn quite a lot about the cultures they visited in order to do their job effectively.

"... You could say that." She placed the utensil back down. She had expected a strange expression in return, at the very least a quirked eyebrow. Yet he was reacting normally and calmly. She couldn't tell if he was humoring her, or...

... Or was this what having an honest to god conversation was like? Hm.

"... Even without my family's bloodline, I'd still be interested in the ways of the world." She eventfully continued. "It's foolish to simply be content with your own culture, when there's so much to learn. There is always a new chance to learn things... There is always a learning opportunity waiting."

Out of the corner of her eye, one of her hired guards seemed a little bit antsy. Fidgety. She ignored it.

"There certainly is more to learn than anyone ever could in a lifetime. Which foreign culture do you find most interesting?"

If the conversation stayed like this, Mamoru thought they would be fine. He could carry on a polite chatter about someone else's interests and problems as long as they liked, as long as he didn't have to talk too much about himself. He intended to keep the discussion tipped in this fashion.

His attention, however, was divided. He noticed the guard's apparent nervousness as well, perhaps because he was so used to his own bodyguard, Nagi, a quiet young man whose body language was almost always stoic and controlled. He hadn't come along tonight; Mamoru wondered if perhaps he should have. He took a brief glance across the spread of cutlery at his place setting, taking note of the knife edges at his fingertips before returning his gaze to Tharja. What was disconcerting was that the guard seemed nervous rather than simply alert. That was bad. It meant one of two things.

One: he detected trouble, and was afraid of confronting it.

Two: he was the trouble, and was afraid of premature discovery.

"The Japanese." She replied, and her attention was also not as focused as it could have been. She didn't know the guards well, but to be fair, Tharja never bothered to learn the names of any of her so-called protectors. These men might as well be strangers to her. But to have one so antsy was annoying. Either he was a failure at his job...

... Or he had a different job entirely. Hm. He was speaking to the other guard. couldn't make out what.

"They have a very rich culture, and their traditions are fascinating... Each shrine is different than the last. The gods are vastly unique, as if the monsters in their folklore... I can kill many hours just reading up on their myths and legends." But she still made sure to play her part in the conversation, as it was the polite thing to do. All the while she began to 'play' with her pearl bracelet, sliding off one of the fake pearls.

Oh. Mamoru couldn't keep a trace of awkwardness from his smile. It was strange to have his own culture lauded in such a way. It wasn't anything so special to him. Not that he was ashamed of where he came from; it was just all he knew, so how could it be unusual? And just for a moment, he had to wonder if she considered him to be an extension of that exoticism. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

"It's not that interesting at all," he replied, an obligatory degradation for humility's sake. "Although I guess this will be a good chance for you, if that's how you feel. If you're going to be immersed in a different culture, your favorite one seems like the way to go."

Tharja leaned back further in her seat. A waiter was coming closer, ready to hear if they were ordering the six or seven. "That is one thing I dislike about the Japanese culture." She added after his apology, slightly snide. "The constant apologies and humility...It gets annoying after a while. I said a compliment, and it's immediately deflected. For what?"

The chosen pearl was off, and now rested snugly between her fingers. "If I say anything nice about it, or about you, take it. Otherwise you'll hear it much rarer."

Wow. Mamoru had to wonder just how well grandfather had vetted this one. It was unusual-- but not unheard of-- to marry a foreigner, and it was a decision that came with its own unique set of challenges to work through, including culture clashes and children from the relationship facing discrimination. But this was just downright offensive. She was insulting and condescending about it.

Though his surprise at her audacity was evident on his expression for a moment, he followed it with a smile and a tone that, at face value, sounded perfectly accommodating.

"That's all right with me. At the risk of irritating you further, I have to offer another apology: you seem to have gotten the idea that I need your compliments."

Tharja smirked at him. So, he wasn't just an obedient lapdog? That was refreshing. She didn't necessarily want someone to fight with constantly, but also didn't want someone who would simply nod along to whatever she said. Could this be a prelude to a battle of the wits? At the very least, this wouldn't be an average, boring dinner.

"Isn't that relaxing to hear." She chuckled darkly. "Though I think we can both agree you won't hear another one tonight. Does that make you feel better?"

The waiter had stopped approaching them, no doubt hearing the acidic conversation beginning to take place. As for the bodyguards, the fidgety one had stopped talking. The stoic one began moving towards them, eyes set on Tharja.

Perhaps it bode well that his retort made her smirk and perhaps it didn't. It could mean that she took the disses as well as she gave them or it could mean he'd sparked a wrathful temper.

There was no time to contemplate it further, however, nor time to answer her question. Mamoru abruptly stood from the table, gaze and attention now fully directed at the stoic bodyguard that was coming toward them. His expression was not friendly.

"What's the matter," he said, calling the man out.

Tharja didn't bother getting up or even looking at the bodyguard, even as his burly hand came on her shoulder.

"Miss Tharja. We need to leave."

She slowly moved the pearl in her left hand to her right. "We haven't even ordered yet."

"Now, miss Tharja." His voice growled, growing impatient, ignoring Mamoru - which was mistake one.

As the bodyguard raised his other hand, only the skillful eyes of an assassin - or something akin - could spot the hidden knife in the man's sleeve.

Mamoru caught the glimmer of silver and responded on raw instinct.

It wasn't the knife; keeping a concealed weapon up one's sleeve wasn't alarming if you were talking about a bodyguard. That was, in fact, something of a smart practice. The trouble was that the man's movements did not match up to intention to keep it concealed, nor to allow Tharja to rise. A hand on the shoulder pinned down. With the other arm lifting, Mamoru thought he knew why there was some nervousness between the two standing guard.

"Look out!"

As an assassin, aim had been his forte. He used projectiles of all sorts: darts, arrows, throwing knives. Even now, he had a pack of darts under his suit coat, but the knife at the place setting was easier reach (and required less explanation).

With no time to bridge the distance given the table between them, Mamoru swiped it up and hurled it at the man's raised arm. It collided with the concealed knife, knocked it out of the sleeve, and fell with it to clatter harmlessly on the floor.

By then, in a decidedly ungentlemanly manner, Mamoru had scaled the table from the chair and was jumping across to meet the attackers on Tharja's side.

It was obvious the bodyguard hadn't expected this kind of trouble from Mamoru, suddenly shouting out in pain and staggering back. Mamoru would find no trouble tackling this pathetic excuse for a killer down, but there was the second bodyguard to worry about. While other restaurant occupants screamed and ran, waiter included, he was heading for the couple, determined to finish the job.

But thinking Tharja would just quietly sit there during these attacks was mistake number two.

As Mamoru took care of the first man, she had already started to get out of her seat. With a good, hard throw, the pearl left her hand and hit the second man in the face - it shattered upon intact, releasing a horrific poisonous acid upon his face. He screamed, clawing at his pulsing red face in pain.

Mamoru landed in a crouch and swept his leg out to knock the man to the floor. The idea was to quickly move to disarming the second... except it seemed that was already handled.

He missed Tharja's throw; instead he heard the small crack of something shattering and the screaming that followed it. He looked up, quickly assessing that something corrosive was on his face. Later, he would think back and fully process what that meant. For now he was only thinking about disarming the threat. The acid meant his attention should stay focused on the first attacker, who was scrambling to pick up one of the knives on the floor.

Mamoru sprung over and planted the heel of his foot on the blade. The second knife he swept out of reach with his other foot.

"What's this about?" He demanded.

The first bodyguard at least made an attempt to hold any remaining pieces of his dignity. "I'm not saying another word." He grunted, trying to stay as still as humanly possible. The second was still reeling in agony - whatever had gotten on his face was long lasting and painful, becoming worse by the second. As such, Tharja calmly left his side and came to Mamoru's arm, offering another poisonous pearl.

"If he's not being cooperative, we can always send a message to his employers." Tharja was practically purring. She never would have guessed this unassuming man was capable of such power - of such agility - of such brutality. Be still her beating heart.

Mamoru's expression was cold and emotionless as he gazed down at the 'guard' on the floor. When Tharja joined him standing over the man, he regarded her for a moment in curiosity. He realized two things at that point. The first was that she must have been responsible for the acid attack. The second was that she seemed in a considerably better mood now, and Mamoru was not sure just what to make of that. Typically, the discovery that you were involved with someone dangerous was unsettling. Typically, an attack on one's life sent a person into fear, panic, unease-- at the very least, displeasure. Typically, a person didn't know how to fend for themselves in such a situation.

Clearly, Tharja was not your typical girl.

Her skill and cool head were qualities to recognize and admire once he'd had a little more time for their appearances to sink in. For now, it was surprise, mild confusion, and appreciation, though it was only barely evident in his expression.

He looked back down at the attacker.

"I don't think she's kidding. You might want to listen."

Those screams sounded pretty painful. Permanent facial scarring, Mamoru guessed.

The bodyguard looked back and forth between them - the emotionless man who had defeated him with little to no effort, and the young lady who could apparently saw poison as an aphrodisiac - and decided perhaps dignity wasn't so important. "I-It was just a job! A warning to her old man! I'll tell the cops everything, just... back off!"

Tharja was a little disappointed she wouldn't get to throw more acid into people's faces but she suppose she could always save it for a special occasion. She decided to let Mamoru take the reigns and decide what would be done with this pathetic excuse of meat. She happily pocketed her remaining pearls, and instead placed her hands on Mamoru's back. She was just content to stay here and appreciate his skill from behind. Like a stalker.

Mamoru tried not to let it show that he was a little thrown-- and maybe just a wee bit unnerved-- by Tharja moving behind him and putting her hands on his back. Yes, they were supposed to be getting married, but these two goons were supposed to be protecting her, and look how that turned out. For a former assassin, a stranger with poisonous weapons out of your field of vision was never a comforting thought.

For the time being, however, he ignored it in favor of those who were already established as an enemy. Ultimately, it was preferable to have himself between them and their target. He pulled out his phone and pushed a few buttons to activate the video recorder.

"I have a better idea," he suggested. "You can tell us everything. Now."

Like hell he was trusting the man to remember his promise once his tail was out of the fire.

Fortunately, Tharja didn't seem to want anything except just to stay in her position and bask in Mamoru's shadow. She had no intention of hurting him at all - in fact, her mind was already pages ahead on how to spend the honeymoon night. Unbeknownst to anyone, as Tharja had never been in love before, she was the type to sink her claws in and never let go. It didn't need to be anymore complicated than she liked him, end of story.

It never factored in what he might think of her new-found passion. It was inconsequential. He was her Mamoru now. Mamoru, Mamoru, stealthy, skillful, deadly "Ma-Mo-Ru." No, it wasn't his imagination, she was happily saying his name just like that.

The second bodyguard had long since passed out due to sheer pain, leaving the only troublesome matter under Mamoru's heels. As for the bodyguard, Tharja's singsong attitude was only making his hysteria worse. He began to babble everything he could remember - the names of his employers, dates and times they had met, how much money had been promised, even the type of car his boss owned, it would just get him away from these freaks!

Mamoru couldn't particularly blame the man on the floor for getting creeped out. It was a struggle to keep composure himself, and if they'd been alone right now rather than taking care of a pair of would-be assassins, he probably would have lost that struggle and asked her what was wrong. Not... that he was really in a position to talk. A young man that was supposed to be all money and manners that turned in an instant to a knife-throwing, table-jumping fighter? He might have some explaining of his own to do.

That would be awkward.

He caught every word from the 'bodyguard' on his camera, making sure to report the date and time and have him say his name on air. About the same time he finished, security burst in and took over custody of the two attackers.

It was sinking in now just how coolly Tharja had handled everything. It was impressive... maybe a little comforting, too. Association with him came with more than its fair share of dangers. Naturally he would take precautions to keep his family safe, but it didn't hurt that she knew how to defend herself. If worse came to worse, she could keep a clear head and fight back.

He stepped off the blade and shifted to look at her over his shoulder. Normally, he would have asked his date if she was all right about now. It seemed a silly question here, maybe even insulting considering how she'd handled herself.

"It looks like dinner here isn't going to work out." He didn't look very disappointed about it. "Is there anywhere you'd like to go instead?"

Perhaps by now, a normal person would have moved to talk face to face with him. It was clearly established by now that Tharja was far from normal. In fact, she actually preferred this angle. This way, she was in his shadow, always with him and never letting him out of her sight. She seemed to ignore the security guards handling the rest of the situation, and the entire calamity the restaurant was in. As far as she wa concerned, things were fantastic.

"Hm?" She glanced up, now that she was being addressed. "... Oh. I suppose we can't stay here..." She sighed, more annoyed by that than truly upset. "... Anywhere is fine, really... Watching you work has really given me an appetite."

Watching him work? That was an odd comment. He'd barely done anything; those assassins were ridiculously unprepared, physically and mentally alike. Mamoru wasn't ready to call a quick intervention 'work'... and really, that was all it was, wasn't it? It certainly wasn't a fight.

At least she wasn't hurt or upset. Really, it was lucky she was reacting like this. This was a lot easier and more familiar than hysterics. Tharja was amazingly nonchalant about the entire affair. He offered a small smile.

"We're a little overdressed, but let's try Yamato-ya. It's close, and I've heard they have good food." And it was authentic Japanese instead of the French they would have been having where they were. From what he'd gathered of Tharja from their brief conversation, that might be more to her tastes anyway. Mamoru knew it was closer to his, and there should be much better selection there.

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Tharja Mamoru Arranged Marriage

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Sorry for the delay! Work wiped me out this week

life happens, no worries

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