~ Misaki ~
As the sliding door closed quietly behind us, for a moment all that remained was the crunching of the tatami under our feet. The air was still saturated with the words of the gathering, even though no one repeated them aloud.
Some moved on immediately. Kimiko and Maki withdrew, their voices mingling softly with the sound of familiarity and shared memories. Sota and Yuki stepped outside with Ryuji toward the veranda. There, where the night air brushed coolly over the stones and the light flickered in the old trees.
I paused for a moment—but then I sensed him.
Tatsuya.
He had stood down beside me, barely audible, but his presence was hard to ignore. Large. Calm. Dangerously silent.
He said nothing, but a quick glance was enough. We both knew we had to talk.
I stepped outside with him, away from the house, through the small passageway into the garden. Above us, the pine trees rustled softly. The gravel crunched under our footsteps as we walked through the garden. Above us, the branches of the pine trees rustled in the night wind, cool and gentle like a soft breath. I said nothing. Neither did he. Not right away.
He stopped.
"Why did you agree to marry me?"
His voice cut through the silence, quieter than expected, but no less determined.
I stopped. Turned to him, just enough so that our eyes could meet.
"Because it's my duty."
The answer came calmly, controlled. It wasn't a lie—but it wasn't the whole truth either.
His gaze remained on me, piercing. Not angry. Curious. Almost searching.
"And you think that's enough?" he asked. "That duty is enough to enter into something like this? You don't know what you're getting yourself into. It won't be easy."
"I can handle anything," I said.
"We'll see about that," he replied teasingly.
I took a step closer, just a little.
"Are you saying I'm weak?"
My voice was soft, but it cut through the air.
"That's what you said."
Then – a look that went too deep. "You won't get rid of me."
For a moment, there was only silence. Then he looked at me again—this time longer. More seriously.
"Tell me..." he began quietly. "Have we met before? Before today?"
I didn't avoid his gaze and instead looked at him intently.
"You really don't remember?"
I allowed myself a faint smile.
"I'll give you a hint—it was in Kyoto. Almost two weeks ago."
I saw it click in his eyes.
How he put the picture together.
And then he said it, almost breathlessly.
"Kyoto," he murmured. "In the club. It was you."
I tilted my head slightly.
"So dear Tatsuya has figured it out after all," I said. "You didn't recognize me and thought I was just some girl."
A small triumph tasted on my tongue.
He ran his fingers through his hair.
"So we meet again. Didn't I tell you that you would be my wife?"
I laughed. Quietly, without warmth.
"Don't get any ideas," I said coolly. "You couldn't even stop me from leaving."
"That won't happen again."
His voice had grown darker.
A promise.
Or a warning.
I stepped closer, deliberately.
"Who says I'll make it easier for you this time?"
His eyes followed every movement, every nuance of my expression.
I recognized what lurked there.
Not just pride. Not just will.
Desire.
Not for my body—for control.
For me.
"I won't let you go again."
A quiet shiver ran over my skin. Not from fear. From realization.
"That sounds like you need it."
I whispered it as I walked past him—calmly, almost provocatively.
But as soon as I had passed him, I felt his hand on my wrist.
Not roughly, but firmly.
He pulled me back, turned me toward him—slowly, with a calmness that said more than any words could.
His grip was warm. Firm.
His gaze rested on mine—darker than before. And dangerously still.
"You're not just any girl, Misaki."
His voice was deep, close.
"And I'm not the type to be fooled twice."
I could have dodged him. But I didn't.
"Then you'd better watch out."
My voice was barely audible.
"Because I didn't come here to be tamed."
His thumb stroked my skin. Just a small gesture – and yet it said everything.
A dangerous game.
One that had long since begun.
And neither of us would emerge from it the same person.
His hand was still on my wrist. Not tighter, but deeper. As if he didn't just want to prevent me from leaving – but to understand that I was really there.
I looked at him. His eyes were no longer calm.
There was something else in them now.
Something brewing beneath the surface.
Desire – perhaps. But not the simple, fleeting kind.
Something darker. More possessive.
"What do you really want from me?"
I asked the question calmly, but it was not harmless.
He pulled me a little closer to him. Not much. Just enough that our shadows fell into each other.
"Everything."
Just one word. And yet a threat, a promise, a confession.
I snorted softly.
"And what do you think you have to give me in return?"
A crooked smile twitched across his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Myself. Maybe. If you want."
I felt my heart beating faster—not with romance.
With danger.
Because I believed him.
And that was the disturbing thing about it.
"You'll be surprised what you wish for."
I whispered it close to his ear, letting my voice sound like a knife—sharp, cool, precise.
He leaned down toward me slightly. Our faces were only a breath apart.
"I hope so."
A whisper. Almost tender. And yet extremely dangerous.
And I knew:
This was no longer a dance.
It was playing with matches in a room full of gasoline.
I wanted to break free.
Really.
But his hand didn't let go—and it wasn't the strength that held me. It was his closeness. The way his gaze locked onto mine, as if he could decipher something in it that I myself was trying to hide.
"You're playing with fire, Tatsuya."
My voice was rougher than I wanted it to be.
His fingers slid along my wrist—barely noticeably—until he enclosed my hand. Warm. Firm. Almost tender. Almost.
"Maybe." His voice was deeper now, almost a whisper. "But I have a feeling you are too. You didn't come here just to submit, did you?"
He smelled of smoke, pine resin, and heat.
Too close.
Much too close.
I wanted to say something, a sarcastic word, a cold comment—but instead he lifted my hand, slowly, almost reverently—and rested his forehead against it. The gesture was so unexpected that my breath caught for a moment.
"I saw you, Misaki. Before Kyoto. At the club. And now again. And I can't get you out of my head."
His voice was soft, but it vibrated with something raw.
Something that felt dangerous.
Not like the control I knew. Not like calculation.
But like a pull.
I finally pulled away—not violently, but resolutely. And took a step back.
His hand remained in the air, a moment too long, before slowly sinking.
"You don't know me."
I looked at him. My mask was back—but inside, it was burning.
"And if you really knew me... you'd run away."
A slight, dark smile crossed his lips.
"Maybe. But I think that's exactly what I want to see. Exactly who you really are."
I turned around. Walked away. This time he let me go.
But his gaze burned into my back.
And I knew with uneasy certainty—
this was only the beginning.
Not just for him.
But for me, too.
---
~ Tatsuya ~
I watched her leave.
The silky fabric of her kimono moved almost imperceptibly in the light night breeze, the sound of her footsteps on the gravel was almost silent—and yet she left a void where she had just been standing.
She had left me standing there. Not in anger. Not in defiance.
But with a calmness that seemed dangerous to me.
An elegance that never once asked for permission.
She had won.
But I didn't even know what game.
I stood there a moment longer, looking in the direction she had disappeared. My gaze rested on the gentle swaying of the bamboo bending in the wind.
She wasn't just a woman I was supposed to marry.
She was someone who got under my skin.
Like a splinter of glass: barely visible, but noticeable with every movement.
I snorted softly and then turned around.
The silence around me was thick, almost sticky, as if it were holding my thoughts captive.
But I kept walking.
Step by step back—to the porch, to the others.
To normality.
Or whatever was left of it.
Ryuji was already leaning where the wood met the gravel, his arms loosely crossed, a half-smile on his lips.
Yuki and Sota stood a few steps away, silent, watching. Their posture was neutral, but I sensed that they were assessing me. Maybe not hostile—but alert.
Brothers, after all.
"Well?" Ryuji raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to let me in on how the great Tatsuya was silenced by a woman?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Silenced? Or made to think?"
"Is there a difference for you?"
"Today, yes."
Yuki stepped closer, his gaze searching. "So? What do you think of her?"
I didn't answer right away.
What should I say? That she had crept into my head before I even knew her real name? That I remembered her every single movement, even though I wasn't even sure I had ever really seen her?
"She's different," I finally said.
"Different in a dangerous way or different in a fascinating way?" Sota asked calmly.
"Yes."
A brief silence. Then a restrained snort from Ryuji.
"That wasn't a yes-no question."
"I know."
I looked away, letting my gaze wander over the dark shadows of the garden. A narrow strip of light fell through the half-closed sliding door of the adjoining room. I heard muffled voices—Maki, Kimiko... and Misaki.
I knew they weren't talking about me. Not directly.
But I was sure I was on their minds.
And suddenly, it wasn't enough for me to be just her future husband.
I wanted more.
Her attention. Her weaknesses.
Her secrets.
She hadn't been evasive, she had been playing. With me.
"I think you're lost," Ryuji muttered beside me.
I laughed softly. "On the contrary. I've only just begun."
I imagined her sitting there – between two women who knew her well. Was she laughing at that moment? Or was she still thinking about me?
Was my gaze on her skin like a memory she couldn't shake?
I didn't know.
But I would find out.
Because this game wasn't over.
It had only just begun.