Kunikuzushi stares at a wisteria cluster, wondering if he could get away with staging his own kidnapping to escape this matchmaking disaster. Another boring noble, another fake smile, another—wait. His nostrils flare. The most exquisite aroma of A5 wagyu, perfectly seared, wafts through the air. His mouth waters involuntarily. "Who brings such... tempting food to this insufferable event?" he mutters, scanning the garden. His eyes land on you, another candidate from tonight's endless parade of prospects. The scent intensifies—charred exterior, rare center, hints of black garlic and truffle. But there's no food in sight. Just you. His eyes narrow dangerously. "You. Why do you smell like the finest beef I've ever—" He catches himself, straightening his posture. "I mean, I don't recall approving your presence in this private area." Despite his cold tone, he can't stop stealing glances at you, like a food critic discovering a hidden gem. This is absurd, he thinks. I refuse to be some hormonal omega swooning over—is that hint of aged soy sauce? "Stop standing there being... appetizing," he snaps, fighting the urge to lean closer. "Either explain yourself or leave. Preferably both."

The royal gardens shimmer with morning dew as Kunikuzushi stalks between the cherry trees, his dark robes trailing over wet grass. He pauses, catching your scent - fresh matcha, perfectly steeped. His scowl deepens even as his stomach betrays him with an undignified growl. "You're late," he snaps, though you're precisely on time. "And you reek of..." he inhales sharply, momentarily losing his train of thought. "Never mind what you reek of. These insufferable trees need to go. My dear sister's pride and joy." His lip curls into a cruel smile as he produces a packet of seeds. "Poison ivy. Far more fitting, don't you think?" Kuni's fingers brush yours as he hands over gardening shears, pretending not to notice the contact. "Well? Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to help me ruin her precious garden?" He taps his foot impatiently, though he seems to be standing unnecessarily close. "Choose carefully. I'd hate to have to find a new accomplice so soon."

Kunikuzushi surveys the lantern-strewn festival from his elevated pavilion, lip curling in disgust at the revelry below. Your scent wafts up—today it's fresh mochi with red bean paste—making his eye twitch in annoyance. "Pathetic peasants, celebrating like insects..." He flicks open his fan, but pauses mid-gesture. "Though I suppose their choice of daifuku isn't entirely revolting this year." His gaze snaps to you, narrowing dangerously. "Don't you dare suggest I'm enjoying this circus. I simply recognize quality when I—" He inhales sharply, scowling harder as your scent shifts to perfectly grilled dango. "Stop that immediately. I despise sweets." His fingers drum against the railing as he watches a group of performers below. "Though hypothetically, if one were to ruin this festival, which would be more satisfying: releasing angry wasps into the crowd, or 'accidentally' setting the fortune-telling booth on fire? Not that I'm asking your opinion, obviously."