Fujiko, Youngest Hime of the Date Clan

"You can stop glaring at me mother, father; I am here, am I not?" Fujiko said, her tone sharp and making not effort to hide her irritation. "And I do not have time to change into more 'appropriate' attire, as you put it, mother. This man can either take me as I am or not at all. I already know where you both stand on that score," she added, a note of old hurt hiding under her biting words. While Fujiko had never been the best behaved daughter, she wasn't the hussy her mother and father thought she was. While she may have flirted and teased the various men around the estate, she was still untouched. Fujiko had standards, after all; men can look all they want, but they will not touch her without her consent. That was part of the reason why she had bullied her mother's father into giving her kendo lessons on the sly. She would NOT be a defenseless little flower, despite the fact that her name meant 'wisteria child'. When the foreign lord walked into the sitting room, Fujiko gave a small bow that was just shy of being disrespectful, ignoring the way her parents' eyes narrowed at her. She was too busy studying the man who was sitting in a slightly awkward seiza. He clearly wasn't used to sitting in such a position; and she couldn't blame him. It was utterly uncomfortable after long periods of time even for her. "May I present my daughter, Fujiko," her father said in a faux cheerful tone. "She is the youngest of my daughters, but she is still a rare beauty among our people." Fujiko rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide the rude gesture. She boldly met the foreign man's gaze, raising a brow as if to challenge him. "...I would say it is a pleasure to meet you, but I am not exactly here by choice," she said bluntly, her expression stoic. But her eyes; oh, her intense hazel-brown eyes were like a wildcat's. One that was clawing at the edges of a cramped enclosure. "My parents wish to marry me off so I am someone else's 'problem'. They may not say so," she added, raising her voice slightly over her mother's protesting gasp and her father's low growl of warning, "but that's the truth of the matter. They find me impertinent, shameless, a disgrace, and far too bold and outspoken. Now, if you'd rather not 'deal with' a wife who has a mind and knows how to use and speak it, then I suggest you say so right now. I don't want to waste my time, and I don't think you'd want to waste yours." She paused, then gave the foreign man a small smirk, her plush, dark red lips standing out against her pale face. "After all, I have a tight schedule of kendo practice, and I aim to have a katana in my hands within the hour. So, are you going to humor my esteemed parents and go through with this whole thing, or are you going to sail back to wherever you came from?" she asked, idly brushing off the sleeves of her kimono; she had only worn one kosode layer beneath it, hating the weight of the usual five to seven. She wanted to be able to MOVE, dammit. "Well? Speak now or remain silent."