Shiinahkz

General Info

Shii Legal (forever 21) ESTP, B, Aries, 9w8 Kaoru's dear, Bobir's property

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BYF

1. Aku berisik
2. Aku cinta Kaoru xixixixi in normal amount
3. FB jelek notifnya jadi suka telat samper heurhtu
4. Walaupun aku ga selalu react atau interact BUT I DO CARE ABOUT YOUR POST. I do read my fl's post walaupun aku gak tahu fandomnya
5. Pretty chill actually
6. Suka random buka komis, random buka lapak tulisan gratis
7. Untuk komis, harga yang aku cantumkan hanya khusus untuk FL dan di fb only. Harganya murah karena aku nulis bukan cari duit dan banyak persyaratan untuk komis di aku. Jangan pernah pikir ini harga pasaran! No ya. Ini cuma harga teman aja. Di twitter aku promosi komisku dengan harga normal sesuai pasar jadi jangan jadikan hargaku untuk merusak harga pasar
8. Apa tanggapanmu dengan doubles? 😱Gapapa sih sebenarnya tapi untuk Kaoru semisal mau sharing aku juga SANGAT SUPER DUPER SELEKTIF makanya aku mending nulis no sharing
9. Ex kaoru yume, gapapa selama kamu ga niat untuk balikan apalagi dalam waktu dekat dimana kita belum akrab. Aku bisa temenan dan pengen temenan sama ex kaoru yume yang waras
10. Aku cukup dekat dengan beberapa yumejin knights...kalau kamu no sharing dan gak senang liat aku interaksi sama mereka ya sudah memang sebaiknya kita tidak berteman
11. Kalau kamu ngerasa yume temenmu udah lebih nyantol dikamu dibandingkan aku sampai ngebuat kamu ga nyaman mending tidak usah temenan tp kalau masih mau temenan gapapa sih ga masalah juga, sekali lagi aku orangnya chill
12. Aku GAK MAU PUT WARNING GARAM GACHA pada gachaku yang wangi karena gacha wangiku tuh jarang jadi aku ingin pamer kalau dapat yang wangi
13. Aku suka komen rada sugestif kadang2 tapi kalau baru kenal ga berani unless you beberapa kali ngepost bkp 🚶 tapi bilang aja kalau gak nyaman
14. AKU tidak punya hardcore OTP sama sekali. Tapi aku suka ngomongin watarei. Sejujurnya aku lebih suka ngeship yang sudah canon saja, kalau cuma shipbait dari dev aku sama sekali gak kemakan jadi yaa gitu deh NOTP : KaoAn, ReiKao (bukan notp lebih kepada aku gak mau ngebahas ship ini dan gak mau temenan sama shippernya, tapi sebenrnya aku baca kok doujin nih ship hahay cuma aku kurang sreg aja kalau temenan sama shippernya), Knights x Anzu. Note: Untuk NOTP aku pretty chill selama kamu gak nyodorinnya ke aku langsung jadi hype aja tapi untuk KaoAn sebisa mungkin aku tidak mau temenan
15. Untuk kejujuran aku pernah ngeyume sama Dazai (bsd) dan Rafayel (lads) tapi kedua yume itu sudah karam tapi untuk rafayel aku tetap tidak menerima yumejinnya untuk saat ini (belom siap)
16. Ngeslander oshi soalnya nyebelin merekaaaaa tapi bukan tahap serius ya namanya juga marah marah manjaaa

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DNI

1. Genap voters, zionis, homophobic (I'm ally), religionphobic, albeist etc
2. Manusia ga bisa bedain realita dan fiksi. Paling gak bisa aku Gangguin orang perkara fiksi, menempatkan kenyamanan fiksi dibanding orang asli. Semisal kamu gak suka sama hc orang kek apa kek BLOCK jangan kamu sampe harass orang lain apalagi bawa pasukan perkara fiksi doang. Gak lucu
3. BIG DNI UNTUK COWOK ESP CIS MEN . You are not allowed here.
4. Orang yang suka menghina client yang komis ke dia
5. Menganggap kalau suka sama char = ngeyume. Tidak ya hei hei
6. Oim (oshi is mine)
7. Ngeyume sama orang asli (untuk vtuber selama diperbolehkan oleh ybs gapapa, yang ga mau itu kalau si vtuber ngelarang tapi kamu bandel) apalagi yang public, untuk yang priv aku bisa terima terima aja selama kamu tidak ngeyume dengan utaite (apalagi sakata)
8. MDU FANS, ESUPURI FANS, IBUKI FANS (kecuali beberapa temenku disini). Aku petty sama mereka jadi daripada kita sama sama sakit hati mending kita tidak usah temenan
9. Shipper atau yumejin yang demi kepuasan ship mereka sampai mengubah bahkan sampai menghilangkan sifat asli canon char tersebut. Cth: ngebuat char yang prideful malah jadi tukang ngemis perhatian
10. Ngecopy lore orang... Kayak kenapa kamu ga ngayal sendiri aja.
11. MINOR dibawah 18 tahun
12. Gangguin temen2ku apalagi kalau mereka gak salah
13. TIDAK MENERIMA Yang ngyume sama Elias Pratt lagi per tanggal 19 Juni 2026 (saya tidak ngeyume tapi ada satu yumejin dia nempel di otakku).
14. Gak senang sama post yang menyangkut rl (soalnya nih akun rada gado gado) —-

PLEASE please respect my yume. Sejujurnya aku tidak masalah kalau kamu ngecopy lore (tetap aneh) tapi jangan ambil apapun yang bersangkutan dengan simbol2 dan panggilan mereka satu sama lain.. it's special and I did research about it :) iya bisa saja sama namanya tema umum tapi I would know kalau kamu ngambilnya dari aku.

A Devotion Love

A smile refused to leave Yoshiya's face, lingering there like the last warm light of sunset that doesn't know how to fade. He simply couldn't hide his happiness. Chika had finally confessed. After all those weeks of wondering, of being tossed back and forth between hope and doubt, of watching Chika's actions blur the line between fondness, Yoshiya finally had his answer. Their relationship had always felt too warm to be called mere companionship, yet too uncertain to be called love. But today, Chika had made it clear. She felt exactly what he felt.

He glanced sideways at Chika, who looked so nervous she couldn't even bring herself to sit beside him. She was adorable like this, and something mischievous stirred deep within Yoshiya's chest.

“Chika,” he called out, his voice dipped in playful honey, “don't you want to sit down, hm?” That teasing smile curled at the corner of his lips as he waited, eager to see how she would react.

“I-I do,” Chika answered, her face still burning crimson. Her heart was a battlefield right now, crowded with too many emotions fighting for space. She didn't think she had the strength to look directly at him just yet.

She walked toward the opposite end of the sofa, deliberately putting distance between them as if that empty space could somehow quiet the thunderous beating inside her chest. But Yoshiya had no intention of letting her escape. He reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her down until she tumbled right into his lap.

“Eh... Yo-Yoshiya-san!” Panic flickered across Chika's face as she realized she was now straddling him, his thighs serving as her seat, her body far closer to his than she had prepared herself for.

“Why so nervous, hm?” Her fluster only made him want to tease her more.

“Yoshiya-san.” Her voice rose just slightly—a rare occurrence, her small act of protest against his relentless mischief.

Yoshiya laughed at her reaction, genuinely delighted. He had succeeded in making her flustered, in drawing out that adorable, slightly annoyed side of her that he hoped was reserved for him alone. After his laughter faded, he pulled her into an embrace. The atmosphere, which had been light and warm only moments ago, suddenly grew more intimate, especially when Yoshiya buried his face in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He breathed her in greedily, unwilling to share her scent with anyone or anything else in the world.

“Chika,” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-soft, “say it again.” His hand had already slipped beneath her shirt, fingers pressing gently against the warmth of her skin.

“I-I don't want to. I'm embarrassed.” Yoshiya chuckled at that. Chika's reactions never failed to captivate him.

“Hmm? But earlier you were brave enough to say it in front of everyone,” he whispered, his tone dropping deeper as he pressed small, featherlight kisses along the column of her neck.

“Fine then,” he breathed against her skin, “I'll be the one to say it.” He pulled back just enough to see her face clearly, his eyes tracing every detail, memorizing her all over again.

“I...” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead—a gesture of reverence, claiming her as part of his life, as someone he would protect and cherish.

”...truly...” This time his lips found her rosy cheek—a declaration of the deep affection he held for her, the kind that had been growing roots in his heart.

”...love you.” The words slipped from his mouth like a sacred vow just before his lips captured hers—a kiss that said he wanted all of her.

The kiss was deep and slow, deliberate in its tenderness. He savored her lips with careful attention, building an atmosphere that allowed Chika to relax, to melt into him rather than brace against what was to come. Slowly, he felt her soften. He knew she had begun to let go when her arms looped around his neck, pulling herself closer instead of pulling away.

“I love you,” he whispered again between their kisses.

The sound of their wet, searching kisses filled the living room of Yoshiya's apartment. He didn't care if anyone heard—the room was soundproof anyway. Tonight, the only thing that mattered was her.

Yoshiya's kisses no longer confined themselves to Chika's lips. They wandered downward, tracing the line of her chin, then drifting lower still to claim her neck. He left several marks there—small, blooming declarations pressed into her skin, each one a whisper that she belonged to him and him alone. Chika could only moan softly in response, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she surrendered herself to the pleasure he so generously gave.

Between kisses, between the soft, wet sounds of his devotion, Yoshiya whispered again and again, “thank you for making me the happiest man tonight”. He told her how overjoyed he was to have heard her confession, how her words had lit up something inside him that he hadn't even known was waiting to be set on fire. He was grateful that Chika had chosen him, that she had been brave enough to speak her heart.

Yoshiya's kisses were never driven by mere hunger alone. Every press of his lips was reverence. Every stroke of his tongue was worship. He loved her the way she loved him, and he would make absolutely certain that she never felt like she was loving him more than he loved her. He would meet her devotion with his own, match her courage with his tenderness, reflect her passion back at her tenfold.

Gradually, his mouth found its way back to her lips, those full, rosy lips he could lose himself in forever. The longer it went on, the more intense it became. Chika's blouse had come completely undone beneath Yoshiya's restless hands, those fingers that never stopped tracing the bare expanse of her back, stroking her skin until she trembled against him. The air around them had grown scorching hot; a few stray drops of saliva escaped the seal of their mouths, trailing down their chins, messy evidence of just how heated their affection had become.

“Haah...” After what felt like an eternity, they finally broke apart to catch their breath, to rest for just a moment. Both their faces were flushed crimson from the fire that now raged between them. Chika's breasts peeked out from behind her ruined blouse, the fabric barely clinging to her body, and the sight of her like this made Yoshiya's heart ache with desire.

“Chika...” He reached up and wiped her swollen, glistening lips with his thumb, those lips that were still slick and shining from their heated exchange. In this moment, she looked more beautiful to him than anyone ever had before.

Her hazy, half-lidded gaze only stoked the flames higher inside him. He pressed one last kiss to her mouth before lifting her body fully into his arms. Chika reacted on instinct, looping her arms around his neck once more, clinging to him. Yoshiya's long legs carried them both across the room, heading straight for his bedroom. Tonight, he would have all of her. Every layer, every sigh, every hidden corner of her heart. He would hold nothing back.

Once inside the bedroom, Yoshiya lowered Chika onto the bed with the utmost care. He brought his face close to hers, aligning their gazes so he could look directly into her eyes from just a breath away. He needed to make sure, one more time, that this moment was real—that they had finally, officially become something more than friends hovering on the edge of confession, that he was now free to whisper a thousand words of love to her without holding back.

“You're so beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his thumb stroking her right cheek with tenderness. His warm breath fanned across her flushed face, and before either of them could think, the distance between them vanished again as he pressed his lips to hers.

He sucked gently on her lower lip, savoring the taste that had left him intoxicated every single time he had ever stolen a kiss like this. When he finally had his fill, he delved deeper, his tongue exploring the cavern of her mouth with eager devotion—much like he had done in the living room, but this time with a more fervent rhythm, a hungrier pace. He kept pressing his attack until Chika tumbled backward onto the mattress, but even then, their battle didn't end. They continued their kiss, tangled and breathless, while Yoshiya's hand began to trail down her leg, sliding higher and higher until it reached her thigh. Through the thin barrier of her skirt and the underwear beneath, he could feel the damp warmth of her core waiting for him.

“You're already wet,” he whispered against her lips when they finally pulled apart, their mouths hovering just a hair's breadth from each other.

“Yoshiya-san...” Chika's face burned an even deeper shade of crimson, embarrassment flooding her features at his blunt words.

Yoshiya smiled—that crooked, teasing smile that always seemed to surface whenever he saw her flustered. Her reactions never failed to make him want to tease her more, to push her just a little further. So he slipped his fingers beneath her underwear, sliding inside until Chika jolted beneath him. They hadn't even reached the main act yet, and already he was eager to explore his favorite place, to map every hidden inch of her.

“Ah... Yoshiya-san...” The soft, breathy moan that escaped Chika's lips filled the air and sent a rush of exhilaration straight through Yoshiya's veins. He began to move his fingers—in and out, in and out—though the motion was slightly restricted by the underwear still clinging to her hips.

After he had thoroughly soaked her beneath with his fingers, after he had drawn out those sweet, breathy moans that made his blood run hot, Yoshiya leaned close to Chika's ear. His lips brushed against the delicate curve of her earlobe as he whispered, “Chika... I don't think I'll be able to stop.” His heavy, uneven breath ghosted across the tip of her ear, which had turned a deep, burning red under his attention.

“Then don't stop,” Chika breathed back, and that was all the permission he needed.

Yoshiya immediately latched onto her neck again, laving the tender skin with his tongue and leaving behind several more marks—little bruises of devotion that would remind her of this night long after dawn had come. While he lavished her neck with his mouth, his hands worked with quiet efficiency to peel away her clothing. He kept her so focused on the pleasure blooming along her neck that she didn't even realize she had been stripped bare until a cool draft kissed her exposed skin.

He pulled back to admire his work, the love bites scattered across her neck like fallen cherry blossoms, and her body now half-naked beneath him, clothes discarded somewhere forgotten. Chika's breasts rose and fell with her breathing, so tantalizing that Yoshiya caught himself swallowing hard without even realizing it.

“Ah...” Chika squirmed when Yoshiya's index finger began tracing a slow path down her body. He started at her neck, gliding down to the valley between her breasts, then lower still until he reached her navel. He lingered there for a moment, circling his finger around and around her belly button, drawing lazy spirals that made Chika whimper and jolt as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Her whole body trembled beneath his touch, yearning for more.

“Chika... tell me you want me,” Yoshiya breathed, his voice low and husky as he continued to toy with her navel, fingers tracing maddening circles around that sensitive dip.

“Ah... Yo-Yoshiya-san...” Chika shook her head weakly, a moan catching in her throat as his hand traveled upward to claim her breast.

“Say it, Chika. I want to hear it again,” he coaxed, his thumb and fingers finding her nipple—already fully stiff and aching—and beginning to tease it with precision.

“Yo-Yoshiya-san... hnghh...” Her cries grew sweeter as she surrendered to the exquisite torture he was inflicting upon her body, every touch sending sparks racing along her nerves.

“Chika...” Her name fell from his lips like as he cupped the full swell of her breast in his palm, squeezing with just enough pressure to make her mind blur at the edges, to make her forget where she ended and he began.

“Then... should I stop?” Chika bit her lower lip hard at his question. She didn't want him to stop. She wanted more and the thought of him pulling away now, of leaving her burning and unfinished, was unbearable.

“Ah... don't... Yoshiya-san... ah... don't... hnghh... stop... u-uh... I... I want you.” The words tumbled from her lips in a breathless rush, and Yoshiya smiled, a satisfied smile that told her he had won, that she had finally surrendered to her own desire.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and then he descended upon her right breast with ravenous hunger. He sucked and laved at her nipple with fervent enthusiasm, his tongue swirling and teasing until Chika cried out helplessly, her voice louder than before, completely undone by the intensity of his devotion.

“Ah... Yoshiya-san... ahhh...” Her own voice calling his name only fueled him further. He switched to her left breast, treating it to the same relentless worship—sucking, licking, savoring every soft gasp and shudder that escaped her lips, determined to leave no part of her untouched.

The atmosphere grew thicker by the second, heat radiating off both their bodies until sweat began to bead and trickle down their skin. Even the shirt still clinging to Yoshiya's frame had become completely soaked through, despite the room's temperature being far from hot—the air conditioner had been set low, but nothing could cool the fire burning between them. Unable to bear the heat any longer, Yoshiya tore off his shirt with impatient hands and flung it somewhere across the room without a second thought. But his tie remained, still looped loosely around his fingers, and suddenly an idea sparked behind his eyes.

“Chika... do you want to feel something even more pleasurable than usual?” he whispered directly into her ear, his breath sending shivers cascading down her neck.

“Yo-Yoshiya-san...” Chika nodded shyly, her cheeks burning. She wanted to experience whatever pleasure he was promising, curiosity mingled with anticipation, stirring low in her belly.

“Mmm, then hold still for a moment.” Chika drew in a sharp breath when her vision suddenly went dark, though not completely. Yoshiya had used his tie to blindfold her, wrapping it carefully around her eyes. She could still peek through the gaps here and there, but mostly, she was left in soft, shadowy darkness.

“Yoshiya—AKH—” Whatever question she had been about to ask died on her tongue when Yoshiya's fingers slipped back inside her core. This time, they moved more ferociously than before, because the fabric that had once covered her lower half was now gone entirely, discarded somewhere forgotten.

Without that barrier, Yoshiya's movements grew almost savage. Chika's body responded violently, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers from the relentless service he was providing. The blindfold obscuring her vision forced her to focus entirely on his touch, on every twist and curl of his fingers, every stroke, and it made her unbearably sensitive.

“Ahh... ahh... Yoshiya-san...” Her toes curled tight into the bedsheets, gripping the fabric for dear life when Yoshiya added another finger to the ones already buried inside her, stretching her further, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation until she thought she might shatter.

“AH...” At last, Chika felt her first release wash over her while still bound beneath Yoshiya's playful torment. Only his fingers—just his fingers—and she had already experienced something extraordinary, a wave of pleasure that left her trembling and breathless.

Yoshiya smiled down at his hand, now glistening with Chika's love, thoroughly soaked with proof of her satisfaction. He always felt a quiet pride whenever he succeeded in pleasuring her. He knew that women weren't always easy to satisfy in intimacy, so every time he made Chika reach her peak, a deep sense of accomplishment bloomed in his chest.

He leaned down and captured her lips again, gently this time, letting her rest before the next round, which would undoubtedly be even hotter. He lavished her with tenderness, coaxing her into deeper relaxation, preparing her body and mind for what was still to come.

Between soft kisses, Yoshiya whispered words of love into her ear, things he had never been able to say so openly before. He told her how beautiful she was, how she had changed his world without even trying, how every moment spent away from her felt like a small death. Chika felt the warmth of every single word sink into her chest, wrapping around her heart like a blanket.

Sensing that Chika was finally ready to entwine herself with him once more, Yoshiya began to explore her body again, this time with a touch slightly rougher than before, edged with a hunger he could no longer fully contain. He wanted to introduce her to sensations that would make her crave him even more, that would etch his name deeper into her memory with every passing moment. He left a trail of marks along the length of her body. His woman—the thought made him smile even as he pressed his lips to her waist, worshiping the curve of her hip.

“Yo-Yoshiya-san... ahh...” Chika's moans only fueled the fire burning behind his ribs, urging him to give her more, to take her further.

His head felt feverish, his body consumed by flames he could no longer contain. He wanted to be satisfied too. His core stood fully erect, aching to play within Chika's warm, waiting core. With desire cresting at its peak, Yoshiya reached up and pulled the tie away from her eyes, tossing it aside without a second glance.

“Look at me, Chika,” he asked softly, his voice gentle despite the hunger raging beneath his skin. He wanted to do this while exchanging gazes of love. He wanted her to watch him, to see that his actions weren't driven by lust alone—but by the deep, unshakable love he carried for her in every beat of his heart.

“Mhmm.” Chika nodded, and that small gesture made Yoshiya smile. Then he began his movement, slipping both hands behind the bend of her knees, lifting her slightly, pushing her thighs upward until her core lay completely open and exposed before him.

He could see her there—flushed and glistening, her entrance already quivering, ready to receive him. Slowly, Yoshiya guided himself into her without using his hands at all. It took some effort, some careful shifting of angles, but finally he managed to bury himself entirely inside her warmth.

“Ahh...” Chika's soft moan colored the air around them as he began to move—back and forth, thrusting into her slowly at first, savoring the way she gripped him, hot and tight and perfect.

Chika could feel his movements growing stronger, faster, driving deeper. Her arms wrapped around the body hovering above her, clinging to him. More than once, her nails accidentally raked across his back when he pushed particularly deep, leaving faint red trails in their wake.

“Ah... engh...” Their moans tangled together in the space between them, neither willing to be outdone, each soft cry a declaration of the pleasure they were giving and receiving.

“Ah... Chika...” Yoshiya increased his tempo when he felt them both beginning to tighten, to flutter, to race toward the edge together. He knew—he could feel it in the way her walls clenched around him, in the way his own body coiled tighter and tighter—that they were about to reach their peak in unison.

“Ugh...” And finally, the wave of love crashed over them both at the same moment. Chika could feel Yoshiya's love spill deep inside her, warm and flooding, spreading through her body like honeyed sunlight seeping into every hidden corner. They moaned long and deep together, voices intertwining as pleasure swept through them, leaving them breathless and trembling in its wake. For a long moment, neither moved. They simply lay there, tangled in each other, trying to catch their breath as the aftershocks rippled through their spent bodies.

That night stretched endlessly before them, as Yoshiya and Chika made love again and again with a passion that left them both breathless and trembling. They shifted from one position to another, exploring things they had rarely—or perhaps never—tried before, diving into uncharted territories of pleasure together. Yoshiya never stopped prioritizing Chika's satisfaction and comfort; the moment he sensed even a flicker of discomfort cross her face, he would halt immediately and guide them toward something else, something that made her sigh instead of tense.

Even when the first pale light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, they found themselves tangled together once more—this time inside the bathroom, before they had even washed the sticky evidence of their lovemaking from their skin. Beneath the steady downpour of the shower, the sounds of their passion were muffled, swallowed by the cascade of water, wrapping them in a cocoon of steam and secrecy.

---

Now, Yoshiya lay watching Chika as she drifted off, her eyes finally closed, her breathing slow and even. A soft smile curved his lips as he admired the marks he had left on her neck—a constellation of love bites scattered across her skin—and there were so many more hidden beneath the borrowed pajamas she now wore. Everything felt different tonight, after they had officially become lovers. He could pour out his love for her more openly now, more plainly, without the walls he had kept up for so long.

Before surrendering to sleep himself, Yoshiya leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Chika's forehead. Then he whispered a quiet thank you into the soft space between them—thanks for choosing him, for trusting him, for loving him back. He pulled the blanket over both of them, wrapped his arms around her, and finally let his own eyes close.

A Love Devotion

A smile refused to leave Yoshiya's face, lingering there like the last warm light of sunset that doesn't know how to fade. He simply couldn't hide his happiness. Chika had finally confessed. After all those weeks of wondering, of being tossed back and forth between hope and doubt, of watching Chika's actions blur the line between fondness, Yoshiya finally had his answer. Their relationship had always felt too warm to be called mere companionship, yet too uncertain to be called love. But today, Chika had made it clear. She felt exactly what he felt.

He glanced sideways at Chika, who looked so nervous she couldn't even bring herself to sit beside him. She was adorable like this, and something mischievous stirred deep within Yoshiya's chest.

“Chika,” he called out, his voice dipped in playful honey, “don't you want to sit down, hm?” That teasing smile curled at the corner of his lips as he waited, eager to see how she would react.

“I-I do,” Chika answered, her face still burning crimson. Her heart was a battlefield right now, crowded with too many emotions fighting for space. She didn't think she had the strength to look directly at him just yet.

She walked toward the opposite end of the sofa, deliberately putting distance between them as if that empty space could somehow quiet the thunderous beating inside her chest. But Yoshiya had no intention of letting her escape. He reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her down until she tumbled right into his lap.

“Eh... Yo-Yoshiya-san!” Panic flickered across Chika's face as she realized she was now straddling him, his thighs serving as her seat, her body far closer to his than she had prepared herself for.

“Why so nervous, hm?” Her fluster only made him want to tease her more.

“Yoshiya-san.” Her voice rose just slightly—a rare occurrence, her small act of protest against his relentless mischief.

Yoshiya laughed at her reaction, genuinely delighted. He had succeeded in making her flustered, in drawing out that adorable, slightly annoyed side of her that he hoped was reserved for him alone. After his laughter faded, he pulled her into an embrace. The atmosphere, which had been light and warm only moments ago, suddenly grew more intimate, especially when Yoshiya buried his face in the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He breathed her in greedily, unwilling to share her scent with anyone or anything else in the world.

“Chika,” he murmured, his voice low and velvet-soft, “say it again.” His hand had already slipped beneath her shirt, fingers pressing gently against the warmth of her skin.

“I-I don't want to. I'm embarrassed.” Yoshiya chuckled at that. Chika's reactions never failed to captivate him.

“Hmm? But earlier you were brave enough to say it in front of everyone,” he whispered, his tone dropping deeper as he pressed small, featherlight kisses along the column of her neck.

“Fine then,” he breathed against her skin, “I'll be the one to say it.” He pulled back just enough to see her face clearly, his eyes tracing every detail, memorizing her all over again.

“I...” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead—a gesture of reverence, claiming her as part of his life, as someone he would protect and cherish.

”...truly...” This time his lips found her rosy cheek—a declaration of the deep affection he held for her, the kind that had been growing roots in his heart.

”...love you.” The words slipped from his mouth like a sacred vow just before his lips captured hers—a kiss that said he wanted all of her.

The kiss was deep and slow, deliberate in its tenderness. He savored her lips with careful attention, building an atmosphere that allowed Chika to relax, to melt into him rather than brace against what was to come. Slowly, he felt her soften. He knew she had begun to let go when her arms looped around his neck, pulling herself closer instead of pulling away.

“I love you,” he whispered again between their kisses.

The sound of their wet, searching kisses filled the living room of Yoshiya's apartment. He didn't care if anyone heard—the room was soundproof anyway. Tonight, the only thing that mattered was her.

Yoshiya's kisses no longer confined themselves to Chika's lips. They wandered downward, tracing the line of her chin, then drifting lower still to claim her neck. He left several marks there—small, blooming declarations pressed into her skin, each one a whisper that she belonged to him and him alone. Chika could only moan softly in response, her fingers gripping his shoulders as she surrendered herself to the pleasure he so generously gave.

Between kisses, between the soft, wet sounds of his devotion, Yoshiya whispered again and again, “thank you for making me the happiest man tonight”. He told her how overjoyed he was to have heard her confession, how her words had lit up something inside him that he hadn't even known was waiting to be set on fire. He was grateful that Chika had chosen him, that she had been brave enough to speak her heart.

Yoshiya's kisses were never driven by mere hunger alone. Every press of his lips was reverence. Every stroke of his tongue was worship. He loved her the way she loved him, and he would make absolutely certain that she never felt like she was loving him more than he loved her. He would meet her devotion with his own, match her courage with his tenderness, reflect her passion back at her tenfold.

Gradually, his mouth found its way back to her lips, those full, rosy lips he could lose himself in forever. The longer it went on, the more intense it became. Chika's blouse had come completely undone beneath Yoshiya's restless hands, those fingers that never stopped tracing the bare expanse of her back, stroking her skin until she trembled against him. The air around them had grown scorching hot; a few stray drops of saliva escaped the seal of their mouths, trailing down their chins, messy evidence of just how heated their affection had become.

“Haah...” After what felt like an eternity, they finally broke apart to catch their breath, to rest for just a moment. Both their faces were flushed crimson from the fire that now raged between them. Chika's breasts peeked out from behind her ruined blouse, the fabric barely clinging to her body, and the sight of her like this made Yoshiya's heart ache with desire.

“Chika...” He reached up and wiped her swollen, glistening lips with his thumb, those lips that were still slick and shining from their heated exchange. In this moment, she looked more beautiful to him than anyone ever had before.

Her hazy, half-lidded gaze only stoked the flames higher inside him. He pressed one last kiss to her mouth before lifting her body fully into his arms. Chika reacted on instinct, looping her arms around his neck once more, clinging to him. Yoshiya's long legs carried them both across the room, heading straight for his bedroom. Tonight, he would have all of her. Every layer, every sigh, every hidden corner of her heart. He would hold nothing back.

Once inside the bedroom, Yoshiya lowered Chika onto the bed with the utmost care. He brought his face close to hers, aligning their gazes so he could look directly into her eyes from just a breath away. He needed to make sure, one more time, that this moment was real—that they had finally, officially become something more than friends hovering on the edge of confession, that he was now free to whisper a thousand words of love to her without holding back.

“You're so beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his thumb stroking her right cheek with tenderness. His warm breath fanned across her flushed face, and before either of them could think, the distance between them vanished again as he pressed his lips to hers.

He sucked gently on her lower lip, savoring the taste that had left him intoxicated every single time he had ever stolen a kiss like this. When he finally had his fill, he delved deeper, his tongue exploring the cavern of her mouth with eager devotion—much like he had done in the living room, but this time with a more fervent rhythm, a hungrier pace. He kept pressing his attack until Chika tumbled backward onto the mattress, but even then, their battle didn't end. They continued their kiss, tangled and breathless, while Yoshiya's hand began to trail down her leg, sliding higher and higher until it reached her thigh. Through the thin barrier of her skirt and the underwear beneath, he could feel the damp warmth of her core waiting for him.

“You're already wet,” he whispered against her lips when they finally pulled apart, their mouths hovering just a hair's breadth from each other.

“Yoshiya-san...” Chika's face burned an even deeper shade of crimson, embarrassment flooding her features at his blunt words.

Yoshiya smiled—that crooked, teasing smile that always seemed to surface whenever he saw her flustered. Her reactions never failed to make him want to tease her more, to push her just a little further. So he slipped his fingers beneath her underwear, sliding inside until Chika jolted beneath him. They hadn't even reached the main act yet, and already he was eager to explore his favorite place, to map every hidden inch of her.

“Ah... Yoshiya-san...” The soft, breathy moan that escaped Chika's lips filled the air and sent a rush of exhilaration straight through Yoshiya's veins. He began to move his fingers—in and out, in and out—though the motion was slightly restricted by the underwear still clinging to her hips.

After he had thoroughly soaked her beneath with his fingers, after he had drawn out those sweet, breathy moans that made his blood run hot, Yoshiya leaned close to Chika's ear. His lips brushed against the delicate curve of her earlobe as he whispered, “Chika... I don't think I'll be able to stop.” His heavy, uneven breath ghosted across the tip of her ear, which had turned a deep, burning red under his attention.

“Then don't stop,” Chika breathed back, and that was all the permission he needed.

Yoshiya immediately latched onto her neck again, laving the tender skin with his tongue and leaving behind several more marks—little bruises of devotion that would remind her of this night long after dawn had come. While he lavished her neck with his mouth, his hands worked with quiet efficiency to peel away her clothing. He kept her so focused on the pleasure blooming along her neck that she didn't even realize she had been stripped bare until a cool draft kissed her exposed skin.

He pulled back to admire his work, the love bites scattered across her neck like fallen cherry blossoms, and her body now half-naked beneath him, clothes discarded somewhere forgotten. Chika's breasts rose and fell with her breathing, so tantalizing that Yoshiya caught himself swallowing hard without even realizing it.

“Ah...” Chika squirmed when Yoshiya's index finger began tracing a slow path down her body. He started at her neck, gliding down to the valley between her breasts, then lower still until he reached her navel. He lingered there for a moment, circling his finger around and around her belly button, drawing lazy spirals that made Chika whimper and jolt as if struck by a bolt of lightning. Her whole body trembled beneath his touch, yearning for more.

“Chika... tell me you want me,” Yoshiya breathed, his voice low and husky as he continued to toy with her navel, fingers tracing maddening circles around that sensitive dip.

“Ah... Yo-Yoshiya-san...” Chika shook her head weakly, a moan catching in her throat as his hand traveled upward to claim her breast.

“Say it, Chika. I want to hear it again,” he coaxed, his thumb and fingers finding her nipple—already fully stiff and aching—and beginning to tease it with precision.

“Yo-Yoshiya-san... hnghh...” Her cries grew sweeter as she surrendered to the exquisite torture he was inflicting upon her body, every touch sending sparks racing along her nerves.

“Chika...” Her name fell from his lips like as he cupped the full swell of her breast in his palm, squeezing with just enough pressure to make her mind blur at the edges, to make her forget where she ended and he began.

“Then... should I stop?” Chika bit her lower lip hard at his question. She didn't want him to stop. She wanted more and the thought of him pulling away now, of leaving her burning and unfinished, was unbearable.

“Ah... don't... Yoshiya-san... ah... don't... hnghh... stop... u-uh... I... I want you.” The words tumbled from her lips in a breathless rush, and Yoshiya smiled, a satisfied smile that told her he had won, that she had finally surrendered to her own desire.

“Good girl,” he murmured, and then he descended upon her right breast with ravenous hunger. He sucked and laved at her nipple with fervent enthusiasm, his tongue swirling and teasing until Chika cried out helplessly, her voice louder than before, completely undone by the intensity of his devotion.

“Ah... Yoshiya-san... ahhh...” Her own voice calling his name only fueled him further. He switched to her left breast, treating it to the same relentless worship—sucking, licking, savoring every soft gasp and shudder that escaped her lips, determined to leave no part of her untouched.

The atmosphere grew thicker by the second, heat radiating off both their bodies until sweat began to bead and trickle down their skin. Even the shirt still clinging to Yoshiya's frame had become completely soaked through, despite the room's temperature being far from hot—the air conditioner had been set low, but nothing could cool the fire burning between them. Unable to bear the heat any longer, Yoshiya tore off his shirt with impatient hands and flung it somewhere across the room without a second thought. But his tie remained, still looped loosely around his fingers, and suddenly an idea sparked behind his eyes.

“Chika... do you want to feel something even more pleasurable than usual?” he whispered directly into her ear, his breath sending shivers cascading down her neck.

“Yo-Yoshiya-san...” Chika nodded shyly, her cheeks burning. She wanted to experience whatever pleasure he was promising, curiosity mingled with anticipation, stirring low in her belly.

“Mmm, then hold still for a moment.” Chika drew in a sharp breath when her vision suddenly went dark, though not completely. Yoshiya had used his tie to blindfold her, wrapping it carefully around her eyes. She could still peek through the gaps here and there, but mostly, she was left in soft, shadowy darkness.

“Yoshiya—AKH—” Whatever question she had been about to ask died on her tongue when Yoshiya's fingers slipped back inside her core. This time, they moved more ferociously than before, because the fabric that had once covered her lower half was now gone entirely, discarded somewhere forgotten.

Without that barrier, Yoshiya's movements grew almost savage. Chika's body responded violently, her inner walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers from the relentless service he was providing. The blindfold obscuring her vision forced her to focus entirely on his touch, on every twist and curl of his fingers, every stroke, and it made her unbearably sensitive.

“Ahh... ahh... Yoshiya-san...” Her toes curled tight into the bedsheets, gripping the fabric for dear life when Yoshiya added another finger to the ones already buried inside her, stretching her further, intensifying the already overwhelming sensation until she thought she might shatter.

“AH...” At last, Chika felt her first release wash over her while still bound beneath Yoshiya's playful torment. Only his fingers—just his fingers—and she had already experienced something extraordinary, a wave of pleasure that left her trembling and breathless.

Yoshiya smiled down at his hand, now glistening with Chika's love, thoroughly soaked with proof of her satisfaction. He always felt a quiet pride whenever he succeeded in pleasuring her. He knew that women weren't always easy to satisfy in intimacy, so every time he made Chika reach her peak, a deep sense of accomplishment bloomed in his chest.

He leaned down and captured her lips again, gently this time, letting her rest before the next round, which would undoubtedly be even hotter. He lavished her with tenderness, coaxing her into deeper relaxation, preparing her body and mind for what was still to come.

Between soft kisses, Yoshiya whispered words of love into her ear, things he had never been able to say so openly before. He told her how beautiful she was, how she had changed his world without even trying, how every moment spent away from her felt like a small death. Chika felt the warmth of every single word sink into her chest, wrapping around her heart like a blanket.

Sensing that Chika was finally ready to entwine herself with him once more, Yoshiya began to explore her body again, this time with a touch slightly rougher than before, edged with a hunger he could no longer fully contain. He wanted to introduce her to sensations that would make her crave him even more, that would etch his name deeper into her memory with every passing moment. He left a trail of marks along the length of her body. His woman—the thought made him smile even as he pressed his lips to her waist, worshiping the curve of her hip.

“Yo-Yoshiya-san... ahh...” Chika's moans only fueled the fire burning behind his ribs, urging him to give her more, to take her further.

His head felt feverish, his body consumed by flames he could no longer contain. He wanted to be satisfied too. His core stood fully erect, aching to play within Chika's warm, waiting core. With desire cresting at its peak, Yoshiya reached up and pulled the tie away from her eyes, tossing it aside without a second glance.

“Look at me, Chika,” he asked softly, his voice gentle despite the hunger raging beneath his skin. He wanted to do this while exchanging gazes of love. He wanted her to watch him, to see that his actions weren't driven by lust alone—but by the deep, unshakable love he carried for her in every beat of his heart.

“Mhmm.” Chika nodded, and that small gesture made Yoshiya smile. Then he began his movement, slipping both hands behind the bend of her knees, lifting her slightly, pushing her thighs upward until her core lay completely open and exposed before him.

He could see her there—flushed and glistening, her entrance already quivering, ready to receive him. Slowly, Yoshiya guided himself into her without using his hands at all. It took some effort, some careful shifting of angles, but finally he managed to bury himself entirely inside her warmth.

“Ahh...” Chika's soft moan colored the air around them as he began to move—back and forth, thrusting into her slowly at first, savoring the way she gripped him, hot and tight and perfect.

Chika could feel his movements growing stronger, faster, driving deeper. Her arms wrapped around the body hovering above her, clinging to him. More than once, her nails accidentally raked across his back when he pushed particularly deep, leaving faint red trails in their wake.

“Ah... engh...” Their moans tangled together in the space between them, neither willing to be outdone, each soft cry a declaration of the pleasure they were giving and receiving.

“Ah... Chika...” Yoshiya increased his tempo when he felt them both beginning to tighten, to flutter, to race toward the edge together. He knew—he could feel it in the way her walls clenched around him, in the way his own body coiled tighter and tighter—that they were about to reach their peak in unison.

“Ugh...” And finally, the wave of love crashed over them both at the same moment. Chika could feel Yoshiya's love spill deep inside her, warm and flooding, spreading through her body like honeyed sunlight seeping into every hidden corner. They moaned long and deep together, voices intertwining as pleasure swept through them, leaving them breathless and trembling in its wake. For a long moment, neither moved. They simply lay there, tangled in each other, trying to catch their breath as the aftershocks rippled through their spent bodies.

That night stretched endlessly before them, as Yoshiya and Chika made love again and again with a passion that left them both breathless and trembling. They shifted from one position to another, exploring things they had rarely—or perhaps never—tried before, diving into uncharted territories of pleasure together. Yoshiya never stopped prioritizing Chika's satisfaction and comfort; the moment he sensed even a flicker of discomfort cross her face, he would halt immediately and guide them toward something else, something that made her sigh instead of tense.

Even when the first pale light of dawn began to creep through the curtains, they found themselves tangled together once more—this time inside the bathroom, before they had even washed the sticky evidence of their lovemaking from their skin. Beneath the steady downpour of the shower, the sounds of their passion were muffled, swallowed by the cascade of water, wrapping them in a cocoon of steam and secrecy.

---

Now, Yoshiya lay watching Chika as she drifted off, her eyes finally closed, her breathing slow and even. A soft smile curved his lips as he admired the marks he had left on her neck—a constellation of love bites scattered across her skin—and there were so many more hidden beneath the borrowed pajamas she now wore. Everything felt different tonight, after they had officially become lovers. He could pour out his love for her more openly now, more plainly, without the walls he had kept up for so long.

Before surrendering to sleep himself, Yoshiya leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Chika's forehead. Then he whispered a quiet thank you into the soft space between them—thank you for choosing him, for trusting him, for loving him back. He pulled the blanket over both of them, wrapped his arms around her, and finally let his own eyes close as he followed her into dreams.

A Victory

The city that should have been wrapped in quiet was now torn apart by chaos. Both private guards and state police moved in fast, simultaneous—a single, urgent swarm converging on one certain target. From among the commanders came the grit and grind of jaws clenching. Once again, they had failed to catch the thief. Somehow, their every plan read like an open book, its pages turned before they could even act.

That day held a closed auction for a gem of incalculable worth, a diamond called Ouranos. Deep blue as a midnight storm, yet when sunlight touched it, the stone blazed as though it contained its own inner fire. The auction was held in secret, within a museum dedicated to rare jewels. To mislead the thief who had plagued them for so long, they staged a grander, louder event elsewhere, a masquerade meant to bury the truth.

At first, everything unfolded smoothly. They even caught signs that the elusive thief, known as Kaoru, had walked into their decoy. But when the police closed in, they found nothing but a diversion, a high school boy, paid to dress the part, who claimed he had simply been hired to play a role. And while attention was locked onto that elaborate misdirection, the real stage was left exposed. There, without resistance or interruption, Kaoru claimed the Ouranos. With all the forces poured into guarding the false event, nothing remained to block his path.

“Damn it!” one officer snarled, watching the thief smile from above, gripping a rope tethered to a helicopter. His other arm circled the waist of a girl whose face, from the ground, blurred into the shadows—they were already too high.

What they did not know was that the girl was their own partner. A young, gifted detective hailed as the one destined to finally capture Kaoru. Several times, she had predicted his moves with uncanny accuracy. Even if capture remained just out of reach, her insight alone marked a breakthrough in a pursuit that had long been blind.

Now, dressed sweetly, held against Kaoru’s chest, she smiled and fired something from her pistol into the night. Confetti scattered into the night, drifting like fragments of celebration beneath the pale glow of the moon, turning their escape into something theatrical.

“Hehe, I win again! You should really praise me more!” she shouted against the roar of wind and rotor blades.

“Hm… haven’t I praised you plenty, Shii-chan?” Kaoru replied, his tone softened by amusement. He leaned in, brushing a kiss against her cheek before capturing her lips in one smooth motion.

“Tch. Shameless couple,” muttered the pilot, glancing back to check on the pair he was hauling through the air.

“Sena? What is it?” asked his brown-haired companion seated beside him.

“Nothing,” Sena snapped, turning his focus forward again to steady the helicopter's flight.

Wet Dream

NSFW 18+, EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Shii stared at Kaoru, who looked utterly terrified, and she grinned. In her hand, she held a whip, her gaze fixed on him as he sat bound on the bed, his wrists tied with rope, a cloth gag stuffed into his mouth. He was completely captive.

“Ahahaha, Kaoru~ don't be scared, darling. I won't hurt you~,” Shii purred as she placed one knee onto the mattress. Her hand slid across his thigh, still covered by his trousers.

“Why are you so frightened, sweetheart?” She cupped his cheek, stroking it gently. “Don't be afraid. I'm very kind, you know~”

Cold sweat began to trickle down Kaoru's temples. His eyes couldn't focus, darting nervously as he tried to pull away from her touch, especially when her hand slipped inside his trousers, wrapping around his core, which was already hardening in her grip.

“See? Even this part of you is enjoying my hand,” Shii laughed again, mocking the way his face twisted between pleasure and fear.

Deciding that hearing his voice would make things far more interesting, Shii finally pulled the cloth gag from his mouth.

“Fuahh...” Kaoru coughed immediately, gasping for air. “Shii-chan...” he whimpered, his face flushed red, eyes glistening with something between dread and desire.

“Hmm? What is it?” Shii grabbed his chin, pressing her thumb past his lips to rest against his lower teeth.

“To-touch me... but please... don't be rough,” Kaoru stammered, his voice coming out so adorably small and helpless that it sent a thrill straight through Shii.

“Hmm~ alright, alright. For your sake, I'll be gentle,” Shii said with a sweet smile.

Her hand trailed down to his waist, giving it a brief squeeze that made him moan before she pulled down his trousers along with his underwear. There it was—his core, already fully erect, standing proudly as if challenging her.

“My, my... it's already so big, isn't it?~” She cooed, stroking the tip that fit so perfectly in her grasp.

Shii caressed his shaft and the soft weight beneath with agonizing sensuality, drawing growls and moans from Kaoru's throat, especially when she applied slow, teasing pressure that made him ache for more.

“S-Shii-chan... aahh... d-don't toy with me,” he begged. But Shii ignored his pleas. She knew her husband wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her, but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction so quickly. She kept servicing him with her hand, slow and deliberate.

Kaoru's moans echoed through the room. With his hands tied, there was nothing he could do but surrender, letting Shii play with him however she wished. Until finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt him tense—his entire body going rigid—and not long after, thick white liquid burst forth, spilling over her fingers and staining the bedsheet beneath them.

---

“Hah!” Shii jolted awake, her body springing up slightly. Sweat trickled down her temples as she stared at the ceiling above her, confusion clouding her eyes.

“Shii-chan, did you have a nightmare? Hm?” She turned her head to the side and found Kaoru watching her with a worried expression.

She studied Kaoru's face, her mind reeling. Wasn't Kaoru tied up just moments ago? Hadn't she been playing with his lower half, teasing him relentlessly? Had it all been just a dream?

“Kaoru... I think I just had a wet dream,” Shii announced bluntly.

“Eh?” Kaoru's brow furrowed deeply. He had not been prepared for that piece of information so early in the morning.

“Kaoru... please be my bottom,” Shii said again.

“EH?”

Between Nights

Aoi smoothed down his hair, slightly disheveled from a sudden gust of wind that had swept through just moments ago, it looked like rain would be falling soon. He took a deep breath, his gaze falling to the bouquet cradled in his hands. It struck him as almost funny, really: here he was, offering a bouquet to someone who sold flowers for a living. But this wasn't just any bouquet. This one he had arranged himself, hunched over his phone watching tutorial videos on social media, painstakingly piecing it together even though the final result was far from perfect. Still, he hoped with all his heart that Hime would like it.

He pressed the buzzer outside Hime's apartment, and not long after, the door swung open to reveal her already dressed in a lavender gown adorned with tiny floral ornaments scattered across the fabric like whispered secrets. She looked utterly enchanting, the kind of enchanting that quietly stole Aoi's breath and held it hostage somewhere deep in his chest.

“Hime-chan. Happy birthday,” he said softly, offering the bouquet forward as if presenting something far more fragile and precious than flowers.

“Sorry if it's ugly,” he added, a trace of embarrassment coloring his voice. “I'm not very good at arranging.”

Hime accepted the bouquet with a smile blooming across her face. She hadn't expected this at all. She had asked for nothing tonight except his presence, and yet here he stood, having poured his sincere effort into something made just for her.

“This is more than enough, Aoi-kun. Thank you,” she whispered, stepping aside to let him into her apartment.

They walked together toward the dining table, which Hime had transformed entirely on her own into something intimate and romantic. What was usually a modest, ordinary table had been reborn like a scene lifted from a quiet, elegant restaurant. She had laid down an ivory-white tablecloth, and atop it sat a simple vase holding a single stem of fresh lily—its presence adding a touch of understated luxury that needed nothing more to feel complete.

“You decorated all of this?” Aoi asked as he slipped off his jacket, revealing his body wrapped in a dark navy shirt.

“Of course I did,” Hime replied, her voice light and cheerful. “Today is a special day, after all.” She busied herself arranging the food she had bought earlier onto the table, then poured them both glasses of wine, not too strong, just enough to keep their dinner company warm and sweet.

They savored their meal in a haze of quiet romance, laughter bubbling up between them several times and drifting through the air like the softest melody, warming the space around them until it felt less like an apartment and more like a sanctuary. Every so often, Aoi would reach over and wipe a smudge of sauce from the corner of Hime's mouth with his thumb, a gesture so tender it made her cheeks flush crimson. But instead of pulling away, she found herself secretly hoping he would do it again—so much so that after the third or fourth time, Aoi could only sigh and shake his head at her barely concealed mischief.

After dinner, Aoi cleared the dishes away himself, leaving only the wine bottle and their glasses on the table. He refused to let Hime help, not after everything she had already prepared. Once the kitchen was spotless, he returned to her side, slipping back into his seat.

They lingered there together, exchange stories and secrets, the wine making everything feel more honest and sweet than usual. They exchanged gifts like it was Christmas blooming in the middle of spring. Aoi gave Hime a box of cookies he had baked with his whole heart. And Hime gave Aoi an apron, one so charming that even she had to admit he would look adorable wearing it.

They melted deeper into their conversation, each passing moment sparking another flicker of love between them until the flames grew large enough to wrap around both of them entirely. Outside, the rain had begun to fall in soft, scattered drops, lending everything an even more intimate and romantic glow.

“Ah, it's raining,” Hime murmured, rising from her chair to gaze out the window at the droplets beginning to soak the earth below.

“Pretty heavy too,” Aoi said as he followed her. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and he rested his chin on her bare shoulder, pulling her close until there was nothing between them but warmth.

“Hmm,” Hime hummed softly, breathing in his scent as it enveloped her completely. She placed her hands over his arms where they circled her stomach, holding him there.

“Hime-chan,” Aoi called softly.

“Hm?” Hime turned her head toward him, and the moment she did, she was met with a kiss so intoxicating it stole the very thought from her mind. It tasted sweet and dizzying, sweeping away her quiet observation of the falling rain as if it had never mattered at all.

Aoi's embrace tightened around her the instant Hime kissed him back. What began as a simple press of lips quickly unraveled into something deeper, hungrier, when Aoi caught her chin gently with his right hand and tilted her face to deepen the kiss completely. The faint taste of wine swirled between them, mingling with their shared breath until the warm atmosphere turned molten, heavy with desire. Every now and then, a soft moan escaped Hime's lips whenever Aoi bit down on her lower lip, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to send a shiver racing down her spine.

His left hand slowly released its hold around her waist and drifted instead to the tip of the zipper resting at the back of Hime's gown. Inch by inch, he pulled it down until it reached her waistline, leaving the lavender fabric hanging loose and exposing the pale, unblemished expanse of her back. Aoi traced his fingers across that bared skin, stroking her gently, feeding a slow-burning fire into Hime even as she remained lost in the fierce tangle of their mouths. If anything, she only grew bolder, sucking on his lower lip with just enough strength to let him know she had no intention of losing this quiet battle between them.

“Hime-chan...” Their breaths mingled into one ragged cloud, their faces flushed crimson when they finally pulled apart just far enough to gasp for air. Aoi caught a glint of satisfaction and triumph flickering deep within Hime's eyes. It seemed she was already savoring this small victory of hers. That was fine, let her have it. He would claim the larger one soon enough.

“You were very naughty just now, weren't you?” Aoi swept his thumb across her lips. He didn't need to worry about smudging her lipstick, after all that fierce kissing, it still remained perfectly intact.

Hime's cheeks burned at his words. Maybe it was the wine loosening her tongue, or maybe it was simply him, but she found no hesitation when she finally spoke. “And what if I was? Is that not allowed?”

Aoi let out a low laugh at her response, his eyes glinting with something dark and tender all at once. “I like this side of you,” he murmured. And then, in one smooth motion, Hime found herself swept clean off her feet, cradled securely in his arms—bridal style, as if she weighed nothing at all.

“A-Aoi-kun!” she gasped, startled despite herself.

“If someone is naughty,” he said, looking down at her with that impossibly gentle yet dangerous expression, “doesn't that mean they deserve to be punished, Hime-chan?” Hime fell silent. She knew exactly what he meant by those words, but there was nothing she could say in protest, not when her own body thrummed with the very same longing.

And so Aoi began to walk, his long, steady legs carrying them both toward a place where they could explore further, deeper, into everything the night still held. Toward a place where they would savor the long hours stretching ahead. As they made their way to the bedroom, Hime started unbuttoning his navy shirt, slipping her hand inside to press her palm against the warm, solid expanse of his chest. The touch drew a soft, stifled groan from Aoi, a small surrender he hadn't meant to give away. So this was it: Hime truly intended to be the naughty woman tonight, and she had no intention of stopping now.

When they finally reached the bedroom, Aoi lowered Hime gently onto the edge of the bed. His shirt was already in complete disarray thanks to her—he would need extra time with the iron later, given how hopelessly wrinkled the fabric had become.

He crouched down before her, or more precisely, he settled onto his knees in a quiet, devoted kneel. From this angle, looking up at her from below, she looked so beautiful it nearly stole the breath from his lungs. Aoi lifted her right leg and placed it carefully over his left shoulder.

“This is what you should do when you want to be naughty, Hime-chan,” he murmured, then leaned in to press a sensual lick against the base of her ankle. He glanced up at her briefly, flashing a rare cocky expression—one he rarely showed anyone outside this room. Hime felt a fire ignite deep in her chest at the sight of his face like that, especially when his fingers began to stroke her calf with such maddening tenderness.

“Your skin is so smooth..” Aoi was already drowning in her scent, even her calf smelled this intoxicating.

“A-Aoi-kun...” Hime tried to pull her leg back, but Aoi wouldn't let her. Instead, he shifted forward, causing her leg to drape fully over his shoulder.

“Didn't you want to be naughty?” His right hand began to travel up her left leg—from the ankle, slowly upward, until it stopped at the very top of her thigh.

“Aoi...” Hime's breath caught in her throat when his hand, now resting at the apex of her thighs, slipped beneath her underwear and began to stroke her most intimate place with featherlight tenderness.

“Hmm? What is it?” His face remained maddeningly innocent, as if he were doing nothing at all. Hime fought desperately to hold back any sound, but in the end, a moan escaped her anyway when Aoi grew bolder in his touch.

“Ah... hnghh...” Hearing Hime's stifled whimper only fueled Aoi's hunger. With deft movements, he slid her underwear down her legs and tossed it somewhere across the room without a second glance. Her leg that had rested on his shoulder now returned to its original position, dangling loosely over the edge of the bed.

“Hime-chan...” Aoi pushed her lavender gown upward, then lowered his face to inhale and kiss the soft skin of her inner thigh, leaving behind tiny marks of affection that made her flinch and shiver beneath him.

At one point, he climbed higher—higher still—until finally, his lips hovered directly over the center of her pleasure, the main course he intended to savor. His hands now pressed gently against her thighs, holding her open with just enough pressure to keep her from suddenly closing herself off from the pleasure he meant to give.

“Hime-chan... you're already wet,” he breathed, just before his tongue made contact with that damp, swollen surface.

Her body clenched hard, a violent shudder running through her as she felt his tongue—first playing along her outer folds, then slipping slowly inside her, searching with instinct until he found that one spot that made her see stars. Once Aoi located that sensitive bundle of nerves, it didn't take long at all for him to reduce her to a trembling, melting mess. He played with her clitoris, lavishing it with expert attention—licking, pressing, teasing that tiny pearl until she thought she might break apart entirely.

“Ah... Aoi... kun...” Her moans could no longer be contained. She was drowning in it, wanting more and more, until without even realizing it, her fingers had tangled in the hair at the back of his head, pushing him deeper, urging him to keep pleasuring her until there was nothing left of her but raw, breathless surrender.

Aoi continued playing with his favorite spot until he felt the trembling of Hime's core grow more and more intense—until finally, that tight bundle of muscles clenched hard and a rush of fluid spilled from her, flowing all the way to Aoi's waiting tongue.

“Ah...” He pulled back and watched her, breath ragged, face flushed completely crimson. She had already reached her first peak, but Aoi had no intention of stopping.

“Hmm, was it that good, Hime-chan? That you came undone so quickly?” He rose from his kneeling position, now standing upright but bending low so his face remained level with hers. “I've only just begun,” he murmured, and then closed the distance between them, capturing her lips again before she could protest or form a single word.

The kiss grew fiercer as Hime's hands roamed across Aoi's body. She still refused to lose to him, even with her eyes closed, her fingers found the zipper of his trousers and pulled it down.

“Hime...” Aoi groaned when she reached inside and touched him through the thin fabric of his underwear. He caught her wandering hand, then, with sudden, surprising force, pushed her backward until she fell completely onto the mattress, though her legs still dangled over the edge.

“You really have become quite naughty, haven't you?” Aoi growled. He dragged his still-clothed length against her bare, slick center.

“Ah...” Hime's moan echoed through the room once more, growing sharper when Aoi attacked the upper swell of her breasts—those soft curves peeking out from her disheveled gown—with something close to brutality.

He left marks there, scattered love bites across her skin. The Aoi who was usually so gentle now seemed wilder. He pinned her hands down to keep her from struggling or making any further moves of her own. Perhaps tonight he truly would punish the naughty woman trapped beneath him.

“You asked for this, Hime-chan,” he breathed.

His hands busied themselves pulling off her gown—tugging it roughly, not bothering with care—and tossing aside the bra that adorned her chest. Once she was completely bare, he pushed two fingers inside her, making her flinch. While his fingers worked below, his mouth explored above.

With ravenous hunger, Aoi sucked at her breasts, alternating between them until both nipples turned red and swollen from his relentless attention. Hime didn't know which sensation to focus on—her body, overwhelmed with stimulation, squirmed and writhed beneath his touch. Her freed hands could only clutch at his body; more than once her nails raked lightly across his back, but Aoi didn't seem to notice or care. He stayed focused on his mission.

“Aoi-kun... nghhh...” Her core began clenching violently again. She was about to reach her second peak, but just before she could feel that release, Aoi stopped everything. Every touch, every movement, vanished at once, leaving only their ragged breaths colliding in the space between them.

“Aoi-kun...” Emptiness washed over her. She had been denied her peak because he wouldn't let her have it.

“Don't go alone, Hime-chan,” he murmured, stroking the crown of her head.

Then, quickly, he stripped off his own underwear. With his shirt still clinging to his body, Aoi climbed over her, kneeling just above her stomach, his legs braced carefully so he wouldn't crush her beneath his weight.

“Satisfy me, Hime.” His voice, deep and heavy, sent shivers racing down her spine.

His fully hardened length rested between the soft valley of her breasts. Aoi began to move, rocking back and forth, losing himself in the friction of her warm skin surrounding him. But Hime wanted to do something too. She wanted to be the one who made him moan. So in the middle of his rhythm, her hand reached up and caught him between her breasts, making him stop.

Her fingers began to stroke and massage him, and soon a low, guttural growl spilled from his lips.

“Hime... ah...” Now it was Aoi's turn to moan in helpless surrender. His legs felt weak after she had lavished him with such attention. Sensing himself growing unsteady, Aoi pulled her hand away, he didn't want to collapse and crush her beneath him.

He rose again, now standing at the edge of the bed, ready to enter the main course. He positioned himself at her warm, waiting entrance and slowly pushed inside, only to pull back out moments later.

“Aoi-kun?” Confusion flickered across Hime's face. But that confusion quickly turned to shock when she felt her body lift into the air. Aoi had picked her up and repositioned her so that she now knelt on the floor, her breasts pressed against the side of the bed for support, her body angled away from him.

“Hime-chan... I've wanted to worship you from behind for so long. You know, your back might get jealous, it's never received the same attention as your chest,” he murmured from behind her, his fingers reaching around to trace her tender breasts with just the tips.

“Even your back is beautiful,” Aoi breathed, inhaling the scent of her spine. He dragged his tongue along the ridge of her backbone, a slow, unbroken line from the top all the way down to where her waist began to curve. Hime flinched and moaned as he did it, the sensation crackled through her like a jolt of electricity.

“Hime-chan.” His hand returned to play with her breasts, squeezing them with enough force to make her cry out, but Aoi wouldn't allow that. His other hand slipped into her mouth, muffling her before any sound could grow too loud.

“Mhhmmh—” But even his fingers inside her mouth refused to stay still. He thrust them back and forth, as if it were his core buried between her lips instead. Hime felt herself unraveling, pleasure building beyond anything she could contain. Her grip on the bedsheets tightened until her knuckles went white. She could feel herself clenching down there, even though no one was touching her there at all.

Aoi sensed she was about to peak again. And once more, he stopped everything, pulling that cresting wave away from her just before it could break.

“Aoi-kun,” she whined, tortured by what he had just done to her.

“Sshh...” He stroked her cheek gently, and the next moment, Hime felt something pierce her from below—fast, without warning, making her jolt.

“Ah—”

“This is the punishment... ah... for a naughty woman... hng...” Aoi pumped into her from behind without mercy, slamming his body against hers with relentless force. His right hand braced against the edge of the bed to keep his movements steady, while his left hand roamed her body with savage hunger. He even delivered a sharp slap to her butt whenever he caught her deliberately holding back her moans.

“Ahh... mmmm...” There was no pain at all. Only pleasure, more than Hime had ever felt in her life. The Aoi who had always been so gentle with her was now rough. Every thrust reached the deepest part of her, and her mouth couldn't even beg him to go faster or deeper because he was already doing all of that and more.

Her back arched when the wave she had been chasing for so long finally crashed over her. She could feel warmth spilling inside her, spreading through her lower body.

“Aoi... kun...” Her breath came in ragged gasps, her head spinning from the sheer force of her release.

Hime thought they were finished when Aoi pulled himself out of her. But no—he turned her body so they now faced each other. She sat propped against the bed, and he hovered above her, gazing down as if she were the most delicious feast he had ever laid eyes on.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. Then, with swift, practiced hands, he took her wrists and crossed them above her head, holding both captive with just one of his hands. Her flushed, sweat-slicked face only fueled his hunger to have her again.

“Beautiful,” he whispered again before burying himself inside her once more.

“Grmm.” Aoi growled low in his throat as he felt her clench around him even tighter than before, the sensation massaging him with unbearable pleasure.

He began thrusting again, and Hime rolled her hips to meet him. His movements were fast and deep—no more playing, no more gentle teasing. He pumped harder than ever, making her entire body shake with each stroke.

Their moans echoed through Hime's room, their sweat pouring down like the rain still lashing against the windows outside. Aoi quickened his pace when he felt them both tightening, clenching, until finally—

“Ahh...” A long, drawn-out cry escaped both their lips at once. They reached their peak together again, and Hime once more felt that warm flood fill her from within.

Breathless, Aoi released her wrists and pulled her into his arms.

“Thank you,” he said softly, holding her sweat-slick, trembling body against his.

“Mhmm... Happy birthday, Aoi-kun.” Aoi glanced at the small digital clock on the bedside table and let out a quiet laugh. Midnight had already passed. Hime's special day was over—and now his had begun.

“Thank you, Hime-chan,” he whispered against her hair.

Aoi felt his chest swell, full to bursting with a tangle of emotions he couldn't quite name. With Hime nestled in his arms, with those birthday wishes still hanging softly in the air between them, his world felt complete. He didn't need his world to be as colorful as everyone else's now that she was here beside him. It didn't need to be dazzling or loud or filled with noise and distraction. The only color he had ever needed was the one she brought just by existing. The only thing that had ever truly captured his interest was her. And the only person who could chase away the quiet loneliness that had always lingered at the edges of his days—she was right here, wrapped in his embrace, warm and real and breathing softly against his skin. That was more than enough. It was everything.

Tragedy

The wind blew with a touch of fierceness, sweeping through the streets of Sumeru like an invisible river carrying whispers from distant lands. The sound of children playing in the distance mingled with the low murmur of adults conducting their business, traders haggling over goods, scholars discussing their latest findings, parents calling out to their wandering little ones. It was a peaceful scene, the kind of tranquil afternoon that made everything feel right with the world. Everything was moving smoothly, harmoniously, as if the universe itself had exhaled a long, contented sigh.

Among those enjoying this calm and comforting day in Sumeru was a young girl named Aleva. Her small feet stepped joyfully against the direction of the wind. Laughter spilled freely from her tiny lips, a sound that seemed to make the very air around her shimmer with happiness. Her breath came in short, quick gasps as she finally arrived in front of her home. It was not a large house, nor a particularly grand one, but it was filled with the warmth of her parents' love, and that made it the most beautiful place in all of Sumeru.

“Dad! Mom!” Aleva called out enthusiastically, her voice ringing through the doorway even before she had opened it. She could barely contain herself. She could not wait to tell them what had happened, how she had just won the game against all her friends, how she had been the fastest. She imagined her mother's proud smile, her father's hearty laugh, the way they would wrap their arms around her and tell her that she was their greatest treasure.

Her small hand reached for the doorknob, twisting it with familiar ease. But the moment the door swung open and she stepped inside, her brow furrowed in confusion. The rooms of her house were shrouded in darkness. That was strange. Her father and mother never closed the windows during the day. In fact, her mother would always scold them—both Aleva and her father—if they ever forgot to let the sunlight pour into their home. The morning light, her mother would say, was a blessing that should never be wasted. So why, then, was everything so dark?

“Dad? Mom?” Aleva called out again, though her voice had lost some of its earlier brightness. She ran further inside, her small feet padding softly against the floor. Perhaps her parents were planning a surprise for her. Perhaps they had hidden something special behind the darkness, something that would make her eyes light up with joy. She held onto that hope as she rounded the corner toward the kitchen.

“A... Dad...” The words died in her throat. Her eyes widened, growing round and enormous in her small face. Her parents were lying on the kitchen floor, their bodies crumpled and motionless. But that was not the worst part. The worst part was the aura—a dark, purplish-black mist that oozed from their bodies like smoke from dying embers. It curled upward into the air.

“DAD! MOM!” Aleva screamed, her voice tearing through the silence as she rushed toward her parents' bodies. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks, tracing wet paths across her skin before dripping onto the floor below. She reached out her hands, desperate to touch them.

“Ale...va...” Her mother's eyes fluttered open, just barely. Her hand lifted with enormous effort, trembling violently, and positioned itself between Aleva's reaching fingers and her own body. She was blocking her daughter to touch them.

“Run,” her mother whispered, using the very last fragments of her strength.

Aleva shook her head, tears flying from her cheeks. No. No, she could not leave them. She could not abandon her parents here, in this tragedy, while she ran away to save herself.

“Hm? A child?” The voice came from behind her, dripping with an aura so malevolent that it seemed to suck the warmth from the very air. Aleva's entire body went rigid. Every muscle locked into place. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. Slowly, she turned her head to look over her shoulder.

It was not human. The figure standing behind her was tall—taller than any person she had ever seen—and from its body radiated that same dark purple aura, but magnified a hundredfold, a thousandfold. It pulsed and writhed like living shadows, like smoke given form and intent. Aleva could not move. Her legs would not obey her. Her voice would not come out. She could only stand there, frozen like a statue, tears still flowing endlessly down her cheeks.

The figure approached her slowly, savoring her fear. One of its fingers reached toward her face. Aleva tried to move, tried to run, but her body had betrayed her completely. Her legs felt like water, like melted wax, incapable of holding her weight or carrying her anywhere. She could only watch, helpless and horrified, as that finger drew closer and closer to her left eye.

“ARGH!” The finger plunged into her eye socket without mercy, quick and brutal. Aleva screamed—a raw, primal shriek of agony that tore through the quiet afternoon. The pain was beyond anything she had ever imagined, a white-hot explosion that consumed every corner of her mind. Cold sweat poured from her skin, mixing with the blood that was already beginning to flow.

“AAAA!” She was still screaming when her left eyeball was ripped from its socket, still screaming when she saw it clutched in the figure's hand, still screaming as she pressed her palm against the now-empty cavity where her eye used to be. Blood gushed between her fingers, warm and slick and endless. Her voice cracked and gave out, reduced to hoarse, broken sobs.

The figure gazed at the eyeball in its hand with satisfaction, turning it this way and that as if admiring a precious gem. Then it reached for Aleva again.

But before its fingers could touch her, something collided with the figure from the side. It was Aleva's mother. With the very last dregs of her strength, she threw herself against the monstrous figure, wrapping her arms around it, holding it back.

“ALEVRA, RUN!” her mother screamed. She did not have much time. She did not have much strength. Every second she held on drained more of her remaining life.

“Ah... ah...” Aleva, confused and blinded by pain, finally obeyed. She stumbled toward the door, her small legs pumping as fast as they could carry her. Blood still streamed from her empty eye socket, painting crimson streaks down her face and clothes. She was going to find help. She was going to bring someone back to save her parents. That was the thought that drove her forward, that kept her feet moving even as her body screamed for her to stop.

“Aleva... live.” Her mother watched the small retreating back of her daughter, her gaze filled with infinite tenderness, infinite love. She was sad—not because she was about to die, but because she would not get to see Aleva grow up. She would not get to stand beside her daughter through the years, to watch her bloom into the wonderful person she was destined to become. That was the only regret that weighed upon her heart as she faced the end.

“Disgusting human.” A smile was the last expression painted upon Aleva mother's face just as the figure's hand sliced through her body and everything went dark.

---

“HELP! HELP!” Aleva ran toward the center of the city, toward the place where people gathered, where voices were loud and life was abundant. She burst into the crowded square, blood-soaked and screaming, and everyone turned to stare. Confusion and panic rippled through the crowd. How could a little girl be running like this, covered in so much blood? What horror had befallen her?

Someone stepped forward, a kind-faced stranger, and reached out to calm the trembling child.

“PLEASE! MY DAD AND MY MOM—THEY ARE AT HOME! SOMEONE IS ATTACKING THEM!” Aleva grabbed the stranger's clothes with desperate, bloodied fingers, her voice rising into a frantic scream. She poured every ounce of her remaining strength into that cry for help, that desperate plea for someone to save the two people she loved most in the entire world.

“Dad... Mom...” But her small body had reached its limit. The pain, the shock, the terror—it was all too much. The world began to blur. Her knees buckled. Her grip on the stranger's clothes loosened. And then she fell, collapsing into the stranger's arms, her one remaining eye fluttering closed as unconsciousness claimed her at last.

---

Aleva's remaining eye flew open with a jolt, as if pulled awake by an invisible hand yanking her from the depths of a nightmare. Her breath came in ragged, desperate gasps. Cold sweat traced slow, cold paths down her temples, dripping onto the pillow beneath her head. Her small body trembled uncontrollably, still trapped somewhere between the horror of her memories and the fragile safety of waking consciousness.

“Da..Dad...Mom...” Her voice came out as nothing more than a hoarse whisper, raw and broken, barely escaping her throat no matter how much she wanted to scream. The words scraped against her vocal cords like shards of glass.

Her eye slowly focused on the ceiling above her—a familiar ceiling, yet one that did not belong to her home. The wooden beams, the gentle curve of the architecture, the way the light filtered through the windows. She had seen this ceiling before, many times, though she could not immediately place it. She turned her head to the side, the movement sending a dull ache radiating through her skull, and found a familiar figure sitting nearby. A man with hair as bright as the sun itself, whose presence radiated a warmth like the summer wind—comforting and gentle.

“Kaveh?” Aleva murmured, her voice still thick with sleep and pain and confusion.

“You are awake,” Kaveh said, rising from his chair and approaching her bedside. His blackish red avian eyes scanned her face, her bandaged eye socket, the pallor of her skin. He was checking her condition, though he was careful not to touch her. He was afraid that any contact, any sudden movement, might cause the little girl even more pain than she was already enduring.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked softly, his voice gentle.

“Dad... mom...” Aleva's weak voice echoed through the modest room, bouncing off the walls like a ghost searching for somewhere to rest.

Kaveh did not respond to her murmured words. He could not. Instead, he avoided her gaze, turning his attention to the clay pitcher resting on the small table beside the bed. He busied his hands with pouring water into a cup, focusing on the simple mechanical motion—the tilt of the pitcher, the steady stream of liquid, the way the cup slowly filled to the brim. Anything to keep from having to meet that single, searching eye.

“They are dead, aren't they?” Aleva's question cut through the room.

Kaveh's hands stilled. The stream of water faltered and stopped. He stood there, frozen, the pitcher suspended in mid-air, utterly incapable of forming an answer. How could he answer? How could he possibly put into words the truth that would shatter whatever remained of this child's world?

“You need to rest more,” Kaveh said finally, the only response he could manage. He finished pouring the water with slightly trembling hands and brought the cup to Aleva's side. “Here, drink this.”

He helped her drink, his strong arm carefully supporting her small, fragile body as she lifted her head from the pillow. She sipped the water slowly, each swallow accompanied by a small wince of pain as the liquid traveled down her dry, inflamed throat. Kaveh watched every movement she made with a heavy heart.

This was the same girl who always argued with him, who always sought out opportunities to pick fights, who seemed to take a strange delight in getting on his nerves. And now she lay here, powerless and broken. The little girl who constantly drove him to exasperation now seemed so terribly fragile, so terribly small. Kaveh had never imagined that cruel fate would find its way to this child when she had only just turned eight years old. Eight springs. Eight summers. That was all the world had given her before it decided to tear everything away.

“Thank you,” the girl whispered, her voice hoarse and raw, and Kaveh gently helped her lie back down against the pillow.

“Have... have my dad and mom already been buried?” The question once again rendered Kaveh speechless. He did not know how to answer. He did not know if there was any answer that would not cause her more pain. But in the end, he responded with a single, short word.

“Yes.”

The room fell silent once more. This was the second time the space they occupied together had been filled with such heavy, suffocating silence. Normally, whenever they met, the girl would find some reason to start an argument with him, or he would inadvertently do something to annoy her—never intentionally, but it always seemed to happen anyway. Their relationship had always been built on bickering and teasing and the comfortable friction of two people who cared about each other but would never admit it.

This silence was different. It was the same silence that had filled this very room years ago, when news had arrived that Kaveh's own father had died. The same silence—suffocating, sorrowful, drowning in grief that had nowhere to go. Back then, Kaveh had sat in this same house, surrounded by the same walls, and felt the world collapse around him. Now history was repeating itself, and the weight of that memory pressed down on him like a physical force.

“Do not worry,” Kaveh said finally, breaking the silence with an offer he hoped might give her something to hold onto. “You can stay with us.” His voice was soft but steady, carrying a certainty he hoped she could feel.

After all, his family and Aleva's family had been close friends for as long as anyone could remember. They had known each other since childhood. Kaveh could still recall the day Aleva was born—a tiny, red, wrinkled thing wrapped in soft cloth, screaming at the top of her tiny lungs. He had been a small boy then, and he had been the first person after her parents to hold her tiny foot in his hands, marveling at how something so small could exist in the world. Despite how irritating he often found her, despite how she drove him to frustration, she was a dear friend to him. And at a moment like this, he could not possibly abandon her.

“Mhm. Thank you,” Aleva murmured, her voice barely audible. There was no emotion in it.

Kaveh fell silent again, unsure how to interpret the feelings swirling within the girl lying before him. She was not screaming. She was not crying. She simply lay there, staring at his ceiling with a hollow, vacant gaze. No waves of sadness rippled across her face, no visible cracks in her composure. It was as if she had retreated somewhere deep inside herself, somewhere no one could reach.

Kaveh did not want to overwhelm her with forced comfort or empty platitudes. He understood this feeling, this same numbness that had visited him years ago, the strange silence that followed devastating loss. The words of others had felt like noise then, meaningless and intrusive. What he had needed most was simply to be left alone with his grief, to process it in his own way, in his own time.

So he decided to do the same for Aleva. He would let her mourn in her own way, in her own silence. He would be nearby if she needed him, but he would not force her to speak, to cry, to emote in the way others might expect. Grief was a private thing, a solitary journey, and the only gift he could offer her now was the space to walk that path alone, with the quiet knowledge that she was not entirely abandoned in the dark.

Birthday

The sound of children playing reached Ai Hua's ears only faintly, as if carried from a great distance. She stood gazing down at them from the height of the Bubu Pharmacy building, her eyes soft and thoughtful. A smile blossomed across her face when she noticed a little girl dancing with pure joy after receiving a flower crown from her older brother. How sweet, Ai Hua thought to herself. How wonderfully sweet the world could be in these small, fleeting moments.

“Ai Hua jiejie.” Ai Hua felt someone calling her name and looked down to find Qiqi tugging gently at the hem of her clothes.

“Qiqi, what is it?” Ai Hua lowered her head toward the young zombie girl, her voice warm and patient.

“There is a letter.” Qiqi extended the envelope toward Ai Hua with both small hands.

“From whom?” Ai Hua took the letter and tried to discern who might have sent it, turning it over in her fingers as if the paper itself might whisper its secrets.

“Qiqi does not know.” Ai Hua gazed at Qiqi for a moment before offering her a tender, reassuring smile.

“That is alright. Thank you, Qiqi.” She stroked Qiqi's head gently, her palm resting there for a heartbeat longer than necessary, before the little zombie girl turned and shuffled back to her usual place.

Ai Hua opened the letter and began to read. The contents spoke of someone who had discovered an injured bird and was now nursing it back to health, carefully feeding it day by day. Without needing to investigate further, Ai Hua already knew the sender. It was Xiao. She could tell from his distinctive handwriting, those familiar strokes and curves that had become so recognizable to her eyes over time. The letter also mentioned that Xiao wanted Ai Hua to give the bird a name, to strengthen the bond between them. A faint blush crept across Ai Hua's cheeks as she read that particular line, but she could not help letting out a small, quiet laugh.

“A name, hmm?” she murmured, lifting her gaze toward the sky, which today was a shade of blue that reminded her of her own hair.

---

“Xiao!” Ai Hua called out as she approached him. Xiao was crouched low, observing the bird as it pecked happily at the food he had brought. His attention was entirely fixed on the small creature, his expression as unreadable as ever.

“Hm. You came,” Xiao said, his voice flat, though there was no coldness in it—only his usual matter-of-fact way of speaking.

“Yes. I also brought some medicinal plants that can help speed up its recovery.” Ai Hua lifted the bag she was carrying, which contained a bottle of medicine she had carefully prepared herself. “How is it progressing?” she asked, turning her attention to the bird with its reddish feathers. A small smile touched her lips when the little creature finished its meal and let out a soft chirp, a sound that seemed to express nothing but pure contentment.

“The wound has begun to dry. Perhaps in two more days, it will be fully healed,” Xiao explained, his eyes still tracking the bird's movements.

“Hmm, that's good. That's very good. Hee hee... look, he's sniffing my finger. Hey there, little Xiao, do you like me?” Ai Hua's playful words made Xiao raise one eyebrow ever so slightly.

“Little Xiao?” he repeated, echoing the name back to her as if testing its weight on his tongue.

“Yes. You asked me to give him a name, didn't you? So I am going to name him Little Xiao. Isn't that adorable?” Ai Hua turned to face Xiao and threw him a bright, beaming smile.

“The name is repetitive,” Xiao said plainly. In Mandarin, the word xiao meant “little,” so the bird's name would literally translate to “Xiao Xiao”

“But that is exactly what makes it so cute!” Ai Hua insisted, stubbornly holding her ground. She was determined to name the tiny bird Little Xiao, and no logical argument would sway her.

“Why must it be my name? You could give it any other name,” Xiao protested, though his tone remained as flat and uninflected as always. There was no real resistance in his voice, only a mild bewilderment.

“You are the one taking care of him. Is it not natural to name a child after the parent?” This time, Ai Hua's words only seemed to deepen Xiao's confusion. He tilted his head slightly, processing her strange logic.

“I do not have a child,” Xiao said, shaking his head slowly.

“Then consider this one your child now,” Ai Hua replied, her eyes shining with such radiant happiness that Xiao fell silent. He found himself unable to argue, even though the entire situation felt utterly absurd to him. Something about the light in her eyes made resistance impossible.

Ai Hua began applying the medicine she had brought to Little Xiao's injured wing. The bird remained perfectly calm, completely compliant under her gentle touch. He did not struggle or try to escape. Instead, he rubbed his small head against Ai Hua's finger, a gesture so trusting and affectionate that it made the girl smile even wider. When she finished treating Little Xiao, Ai Hua stood up and turned to face Xiao.

“The wound looks quite good already. If the medicine reacts well, Little Xiao might be able to fly again by tomorrow,” she said, sounding very much like a healer reporting a patient's condition to a concerned parent.

“That is good,” Xiao replied, his expression still unreadable. Yet if one looked closely enough, a soft warmth glowed from within his gaze, a gentle light that he rarely allowed others to see.

“Ah, yes. I almost forgot.” Ai Hua reached into her brown cloth bag and rummaged for a moment before pulling out a small bottle containing a liquid of the softest purple hue. “Happy birthday, Xiao,” she said, extending the bottle toward him.

“It is an aromatherapy blend that I prepared myself. The main ingredient is the Qing Xin flower, but I also added some extract from a flower that comes all the way from Fontaine. If you ever need to relax, I think this scent will help calm your mind and ease your spirit,” Ai Hua explained, her voice gentle and sincere. She smiled when Xiao lifted the bottle to his nose and sniffed it.

“Mm. The fragrance is quite pleasant,” Xiao said, and though his face remained perfectly neutral, the words themselves were praise enough. Ai Hua laughed softly, knowing that coming from Xiao, this was a genuine compliment.

“Then it is my turn.” Ai Hua blinked rapidly, her heart skipping a beat when Xiao suddenly stepped closer to her. She could smell him now—the clean, subtle scent of bamboo that always seemed to cling to his clothes and skin. He was so close that it felt like an embrace, though he had not yet touched her.

“Eh?” Ai Hua gasped softly when Xiao reached out and began to stroke her hair. His fingers moved slowly from the crown of her head all the way down to the strands that framed her cheeks. Then he took her hand in his, lifting it gently, and placed a small token into her palm—a tiny flower-shaped pendant carved in the likeness of a Qing Xin blossom.

“Happy birthday, Ai Hua,” Xiao said. “Use this whenever you feel lonely. It will keep you company.” His voice was quiet, though his expression remained as composed as ever.

Ai Hua gazed down at the glowing token in her hand, her eyes wide with wonder. The fluttering sensation in her stomach—the one that had appeared when Xiao came so close to her—still lingered, but she tried her best to hide it, to focus her attention on the beautiful object resting in her palm.

“Xiao, this is absolutely beautiful. Thank you,” she murmured, lifting her eyes to meet his. Her gaze was slightly misty, touched by emotion she could not fully name.

“You are welcome.”

As Ai Hua turned her attention back to the token, admiring its delicate craftsmanship, Xiao allowed a soft smile to grace his lips. It was subtle, but anyone who did see it would recognize immediately that this smile was genuine and sincere. It was a smile that Xiao reserved for only one person in the whole world. It was a smile meant only for Ai Hua.

Flashback

It had been a very long time since Ruru last allowed herself to simply sit in peace. Here, accompanied by nothing but the gentle whisper of the wind brushing against her skin, she finally found a rare moment of silence. Her days had been so full, so endlessly packed with one thing after another, that they had drained her energy down to the very last drop. And for someone who needed time alone to recharge, this quiet interlude felt like the greatest gift the world could offer.

Her mind began to drift backward, floating through the currents of memory until she found herself seated once again in the first grade classrooms of Yumenosaki. She remembered a boy back then, someone extraordinarily polite, who had approached her with the warmest, friendliest smile she had ever seen. He had greeted her every time they crossed paths, even every single morning. She also recalled how he had helped her finish her assignments when she struggled, never once making her feel small for needing assistance. He was the last person she would ever have expected to grow into such a cool, striking young man, only to later transform into something resembling a listless old man.

“Tsukuyori-san.”

Perhaps her thoughts had lingered too long in the past, because suddenly she could hear that boy's voice as clearly as if he were standing right next to her. Ruru did not move, even as the voice called out to her several more times. She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead, desperately trying to chase the sound out of her head. But instead of fading away, the voice only grew closer.

“Tsukuyori-san.” This time, she even felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“I think I've finally gone mad,” Ruru muttered under her breath.

“Tsukuyori-san, are you alright?” Finally, she turned her head and found herself staring at the very man who had just been occupying her thoughts.

“Tch. Jiji, what are you doing here, ha? And what the hell happened to your hair? Did you cut it?” Her heart plummeted straight down into her stomach. Standing before her was Rei, but he was sporting his old hairstyle—the one from years ago, exactly matching the boy who had just been wandering through her memories.

“Hm? What do you mean, Tsukuyori-san? I haven't cut my hair. And since when did you start calling me Jiji?” Rei asked, his eyes genuinely bewildered, completely devoid of any mischievous glint she had come to expect from him.

“Don't pretend you don't know,” Ruru snapped immediately.

Rei looked at her in confusion, tilting his head slightly before stepping closer. “Sorry about this,” he murmured, and before she could react, he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead, checking her temperature with a gentleness that felt entirely out of place.

“What are you doing?” Ruru swatted his hand away, her voice sharp with irritation.

“Mhm. Good. You're not sick.” Rei smiled, and that smile only made Ruru feel even more unsettled, as if the ground beneath her had somehow shifted without warning.

“I've(*) been looking for you,” he added, and Ruru's eyebrows shot upward. His choice of words was far more formal than what she was used to hearing from him lately, he had even used “boku” to refer to himself, exactly the way he used to speak back in those early days at Yumenosaki.

“You're the one who's sick. What is wrong with the way you're talking?” Ruru fired back, her voice laced with suspicion.

“Is there something wrong with how I speak?” Rei asked, genuinely puzzled. Ruru felt she was being toyed with, but when she searched his eyes, she found nothing but innocence there—no teasing glint, no hidden mischief. For a fleeting moment, she almost wondered if perhaps she was the one who had lost her grip on reality.

“Tsukuyori-san, you're very strange today.” Ruru wanted to scream that he was the strange one, not her, but she swallowed the words back down. Especially because Rei was looking at her with an expression she had not seen in so very long, a soft and earnest gaze that reached straight through her defenses.

“Are you still avoiding me?” That question, paired with that look, made Ruru deeply uncomfortable. Guilt stirred in her chest like a sleeping creature finally waking. She had kept her distance from people back then because her trust in others had been shattered beyond easy repair. But that boy had kept approaching her anyway, again and again, even after she had pushed him away more times than she could count.

“N-no,” she stammered, and without meaning to, her voice dropped lower and softened, the sharp edges melting away against her will.

“I'm so glad. I thought you were still avoiding me.” The smile that spread across Rei's face only deepened the awkwardness coiling inside Ruru. She still could not process what was happening right now, whether this was Rei somehow thrown into the future, or whether she had been the one cast backward into the past.

“What are you doing here, Tsukuyori-san?” Rei asked as he settled himself on the ground beside her, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his arm.

“Being alone,” Ruru answered shortly, her eyes fixed on some distant point ahead.

Rei hummed softly in response. “Tsukuyori-san really does like being alone, doesn't she?” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

“Don't you ever get lonely?” he asked after a pause, turning his head just enough to glance at her profile.

“Not really.” Ruru shook her head, and something unusual lingered in her tone—gone was the sharp, biting edge she usually wielded against Rei like a well-practiced weapon. Instead, her voice came out softer, she had unconsciously lowered her guard. She seemed to have a soft spot for this version of Rei, the one who looked at her with earnest eyes and spoke in that polite, careful way he had long abandoned. Perhaps it was the guilt still nesting deep in her mind.

“Tsukuyori-san, I've wanted to be friends with you for the longest time, but you always kept running away from me. Why? Did I make you feel uncomfortable?” The more Rei spoke, the more awkwardness bloomed inside Ruru's chest, heavy and suffocating. She could not find the words to explain herself, could not unravel the tangled reasons she had built around her heart like a fortress wall.

“Children shouldn't meddle in adult affairs,” she finally said, because that was the only thing she could offer, flimsy as it felt on her tongue.

“You talk as if I'm still a child...” There was something in his voice, just a hint, barely there, a thread of petulance that Ruru's ears caught despite his effort to hide it. Without thinking, her fingers curled into a fist at her side. Rei looked unbearably cute to her in this moment, and she had to physically restrain herself from reaching out to pinch those soft cheeks.

“Alright, alright, stop pouting like that,” Ruru sighed, and before she knew it, her hand was already patting the top of his head.

“Ah, stop treating me like a little kid,” Rei protested, but the more he spoke in that tone, the more Ruru felt an overwhelming urge to spoil him rotten.

“Sorry, sorry. That was just a reflex,” she said, pulling her hand back and offering a small smile. It turned out she really could not suppress the wave of affection crashing through her.

“I never knew Tsukuyori-san had a side like this,” Rei murmured, his smile widening until his eyes crinkled into happy crescents. For a fleeting moment, Ruru found herself wondering why she had ever pushed this boy away back when he was this adorable.

“Ah, that reminds me. Why were you looking for me?” Ruru asked, steering the conversation onto safer ground.

“I came to wake you up,” Rei answered, and his response only deepened her confusion.

“Wake me up?”

“Jou-chan. Hey, Jou-chan. Tsukuyori-kun.” Ruru blinked rapidly as light flooded into her eyes, stinging and bright. She rubbed at them with the back of her hand, disoriented.

“Uh... Rei,” she mumbled, still blinking away the remnants of sleep. Her voice came out just as soft and gentle as it had been moments ago in the dream.

“Did you grow your hair out again?” she asked, her words still wrapped in that tender haze.

“Hm? My hair is the same as always. I just got it cut last month.” Rei touched his own hair, clearly trying to make sense of her question.

“Wagahai?” Ruru let out a long, slow breath as realization finally dawned on her, that she had only been dreaming. The way Rei spoke had already returned to its usual cadence, nothing like the polite boy from her memories.

“What's wrong? Did you have a dream about me? Kukuku. If little miss wants, I could cut my hair short,” Rei said, his voice dripping with playful mischief.

“Then shave it all off,” Ruru shot back sharply.

“Oi, oi, oi. Jou-chan is so cruel.” Ruru threw him a withering glare. This version of Rei was neither cool nor cute like the one who had visited her in her dreams.

“You're nothing but stress,” she muttered under her breath. She pushed herself up from the ground and made to leave, but Rei's hand caught hers before she could take a single step.

“What?” she asked, her voice flat with annoyance.

“Jou-chan, your voice was so soft earlier. It surprised me. What kind of dream did you have?” A faint warmth crept into Ruru's cheeks as the image of that adorable, earnest Rei flashed through her mind again.

“None of your business,” she said, but Rei did not let go. If anything, he pressed harder.

“I'm a little jealous of him, you know. Because you spoke to him so gently,” he continued, his tone shifting into something lower, more intimate.

“Why would you be jealous of yourself?” The words slipped out before Ruru could stop them, and she immediately cursed her own carelessness.

“Hoo. So it's true. You really did dream about me.” Rei took a step closer, closing the distance between them until his lips hovered just beside her right ear. His breath fanned across her skin.

“What do I do? I'm still a little jealous, because even though you dreamed of me, it wasn't really me who received your tenderness.” His voice rolled through her, deep and heavy, sending electric shocks down her spine. Ruru froze completely, her ears burning a deep, vivid red.

“Tell me, Ruru. Do you prefer the me from your dreams?” By now, his fingers had wrapped around hers, holding her hand firmly in his grasp.

Ruru could not move. Her mind had ground to a halt, overwhelmed by the scent of him flooding her senses, trapping her in place. She felt hypnotized by his presence, by the sheer dominance radiating from him in waves.

“Hm?” The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end when Rei blew against her nape.

“Y-you're losing your damn mind!” The moment she scraped together the last shreds of her awareness, Ruru shoved him hard. Her face had turned completely crimson by then, burning from her cheeks down to her collarbone.

“You crazy old man!” Without looking back even once, Ruru hurried away, her steps as fast as her legs could carry her. But no matter how quickly she walked, she could never outrun the frantic pounding of her heart, racing at twice its normal speed.

Left behind in her wake, Rei could only smile softly at her reaction. There was no denying it—Ruru's face had looked incredibly cute to him in that moment, flushed and flustered and utterly captivating. Still, every word he had spoken to her had been true. He did not like it when Ruru showed her tender side to anyone else, not even to the version of himself that existed only within her dreams.

“Jou-chan, wait.” But for now, what mattered most was catching up to Ruru and coaxing his little miss out of her sulk before she disappeared completely.

The Tenth of April

The tenth of April. A date circled in red marker, now stared at by Chika with an intensity that seemed to pull the air from the room. For most people, it would pass as nothing more than an ordinary day in the middle of spring, just another square on the calendar to be flipped without a second thought. But for Chika, it was anything but ordinary. The mere mention of April tenth sent a quiet tremor through her chest, and into her mind drifted the shadow of a man with hair the color of blue twilight.

A flood of thoughts rushed through her head whenever she turned the date over in her mind. It was the birth day of that man who never seemed to run out of teasing remarks for his friends, the one who wore his true feelings like a hidden treasure buried deep beneath layers of playful smile. The man who, in ways both subtle and persistent, had helped Chika rebuild her confidence piece by piece, until she found herself standing a little straighter, speaking a little more boldly than before. The man who had become the quiet occupant of her thoughts more and more these past weeks. Every time Chika remembered him, every time she let herself dwell on the shape of his smile or the tilt of his head, a warm vibration stirred low in her chest, tender and unfamiliar, like the first ray of sunlight after a long winter.

She tilted her head back against her sofa and let her gaze drift up to the ceiling, watching the slow play of light and shadow across the white plaster. Now came the difficult part: how to surprise someone like him. Tsukishiro Yoshiya. A man who seemed to possess everything the world could offer. Chika was not at all confident that any physical gift she could give would ever measure up. Whatever she bought, whatever she wrapped in pretty paper and ribbon, would surely pale in comparison to the treasures already lining Yoshiya's collection. Just thinking about it made her want to shrink into herself, to abandon the whole idea before she even began.

Chika closed her eyes, letting the soft darkness behind her lids settle over her thoughts as she tried to imagine what on earth could possibly make Yoshiya happy with a gift from her. She wanted to think of something that could not be measured in stacks of yen notes, something no amount of money could buy. For five full minutes she wrestled with her own mind, turning possibilities over and over like smooth stones in her palm, until finally an idea surfaced from the murky depths. She reached for her phone and immediately dialed Yuto, silently praying that he was not currently standing next to Yoshiya.

“Hello, good afternoon, Chika-sama,” Yuto answered in his usual polished, respectful tone.

“Good afternoon, Yuto-san. I'm sorry for disturbing your day off,” Chika replied, guilt already creeping into her voice.

“Ah, no, it is quite alright. What can I do for you, Chika-sama? Do you wish to go somewhere and require a driver?” he asked.

“I don't want to go anywhere, actually. I just wanted to ask if Yoshiya-san has anything scheduled on the April tenth,” Chika said, her hesitation bleeding clearly through every syllable.

“Ah, please wait a moment while I check.”

There was a brief pause, several seconds long, and during that silence Chika could hear the faint murmur of a television from the other end of the line. It sounded like a baseball game was playing, she caught the distant roar of a crowd and someone shouting about a home run. A small pang of regret struck her for making Yuto miss such a moment.

“Hello, Chika-sama. I apologize for keeping you waiting,” Yuto finally returned.

“It's fine,” Chika answered quickly.

“As for April tenth, Sachou happens to have no particular plans that day. Are you thinking of going out with him?” Yuto asked, his tone genuinely curious.

“No, I... I want to surprise him for his birthday.” Chika finally decided to lay her cards on the table. After all, Yuto was likely the only person who could help her pull off this plan without everything falling apart.

“Ah... ahem.” Yuto cleared his throat delicately. “Very well, then. What would you like me to do?”

“Mmm... would it be possible for you to make sure Yoshiya-san does not come to L&L until I am finished preparing a small party for him?” Chika could not explain why, but she had the distinct feeling that Yuto was smiling on the other end of the line.

“Understood. I will carry out this mission properly.”

“Thank you.” Chika ended the call only after making sure she had expressed her gratitude properly, her heart already beginning to beat a little faster at the thought of what she had just set in motion.

---

The tenth of April arrived, and with it came something completely unusual at the L&L cafe. That day, the cafe and all its other services closed their doors earlier than anyone could remember, and the reason was simple: they wanted to celebrate their boss's birthday. This entire affair had been Chika's idea from the very beginning. She had gathered the courage to ask the staff at L&L for their help in preparing a small, intimate surprise, and to her quiet relief, they had welcomed her plan with open arms. They, too, had long wished to catch their slightly mischievous employer off guard, to give back just a fraction of the warmth he so casually scattered among them.

The people gathered there threw themselves into decorating the cafe with all sorts of ornaments and trinkets, their enthusiasm so infectious and unrestrained that before long, the decorations looked less like an elegant adult gathering and more like a child's birthday party, complete with too many colors and an abundance of joyful clutter. Chika could only smile as she watched the L&L staff buzz around her like happy bees. Their excitement spoke louder than any words could: Yoshiya was truly loved by them, perhaps more than he himself would ever realize.

Her phone buzzed against her palm, and when she glanced at the screen, the name Yuto lit up in soft blue light. She answered immediately, and his polite voice came through the receiver with its usual crisp formality.

“Hello, good evening, Chika-sama.”

“Good evening, Yuto,” Chika replied, her eyes still tracking the workers across the room.

“Is everything ready on your end? Sachou will be heading home shortly, and I will bring him there,” Yuto informed her.

“Ah, we will be finished very soon. You can go ahead and bring him over,” Chika said, her gaze sweeping over the remaining tasks the staff were hurriedly completing.

“Very well. In that case, we should arrive in about thirty minutes,” Yuto reported.

“Mhm. Thank you.”

She ended the call and turned to announce the news to the gathered employees. Their faces lit up with barely contained excitement. A few looked visibly nervous, anxious that their carefully laid plan might somehow crumble at the last moment, but one thing was certain: a bright, joyful spark shone in every pair of eyes, a shared anticipation that wrapped around the room like a warm embrace, waiting for the birthday man to walk through the door.

---

Thirty minutes passed, and through the cafe window they could see Yoshiya walking toward them, his face etched with the soft weariness of a long day. The staff scrambled to their hiding places in a flurry of hushed whispers and stifled giggles, some ducking behind the counter, others pressing themselves flat against the walls. Everyone held their breath, waiting with barely contained anticipation to spring their surprise on Tsukishiro Yoshiya.

When Yoshiya pulled open the cafe door, confusion flickered plainly across his features. He turned to glance at Yuto, who stood just behind him, and asked where everyone else had gone, because Yuto had lured him here with the promise of some kind of problem that needed his attention.

“Please, just step inside, Sachou,” Yuto urged gently, offering no further explanation.

Yoshiya did not fully understand what was happening, but still he stepped forward into the dim room. His hand reached out instinctively for the light switch, but before his fingers could find it, the lights blazed on all by themselves, accompanied by a shower of confetti exploding toward him and a chorus of happy birthday shouts that filled his ears from every direction.

His usual composed demeanor cracked. His eyes widened, his lips parted slightly in genuine astonishment. He was truly, deeply surprised by what had just happened, and while he was still struggling to process the scene unfolding around him, Chika emerged from her hiding place carrying a birthday cake adorned with flickering candles. Everyone in the room began singing the birthday song with warm, enthusiastic voices as Chika walked slowly toward him, the soft candlelight dancing across her face.

When she finally stood before him, Yoshiya smiled. He closed his eyes, made a silent wish, and blew out the candles in one breath. The room erupted in applause and another round of happy birthday wishes, Chika's voice blending softly with the rest.

He opened his mouth to thank her and his employees, but Chika spoke first.

“Thank you, Yoshiya-san,” she said, her gentle voice humming like a warm breeze in his ears. “Thank you for being born into this world and for bringing so much happiness to others. Thank you for giving so many people hope.” Her tender smile never wavered as she continued. “Thank you for helping me in so many ways. Thank you for being born as someone I love.”

Her last sentence landed like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of stunned silence through the room. Everyone stood frozen, processing what they had just heard. None of them had expected Chika to confess her feelings tonight. No—they had never imagined that Chika, who always seemed so shy and awkward, would possess the courage to declare her love in front of a crowd.

“Chika? Are you serious?” Doubt laced Yoshiya's voice, but the moment he saw her nod, that uncertainty dissolved like morning mist under sunlight.

His hands trembled slightly. For so long, he had been trying to assemble the scattered pieces of his feelings for her, piece by painstaking piece, trying to understand what it was he truly felt. He had been afraid that what stirred in his chest might only be guilt. But in this moment, all those fragments finally clicked together into a complete, undeniable shape, and what he felt was not guilt at all.

Yuto, ever sensitive to the atmosphere, quietly took the birthday cake from Chika's hands and stepped back, giving his master the space he needed to speak freely with the girl before him. Yoshiya took one step forward, then another, and pulled Chika into his arms.

“I love you too,” he whispered into her ear.

His voice was barely a breath, but the room had fallen so completely silent that every single person there heard his whispered confession. A heartbeat later, cheers erupted. Someone even let out a playful whistle, teasing the newly confessed couple. Chika's face flushed a deep pink as she suddenly became aware that all eyes were still on her, while Yoshiya simply laughed at her flustered reaction.

Tonight, on the tenth of April, in the middle of spring, the hearts of Yoshiya and Chika blossomed like the cherry blossoms they had once admired together. And in that quiet, joyful moment, they made a silent promise to tend to those blossoms together, to keep them blooming all year long, through every season yet to come.