The morning.
The soft chirping of birds greeted the dawn as light filtered gently through the shōji screens of the Kitayama residence.
A calm breeze passed through the open windows, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and salt from the distant sea.
Inside one of the guest rooms, silence reigned—soft, sacred.
Kyouko sat gracefully before a mirror, her back straight, her eyes downcast in quiet focus. The shiromuku wedding kimono draped over her shoulders like a cloud—pure white, embroidered with cranes and waves, flowing down her arms like silken snow.
Two assistants were carefully adjusting the layers while another prepared the traditional tsunokakushi headpiece, meant to veil the bride's "horns of jealousy" and show obedience and serenity. But for Kyouko, it was simply a custom, a graceful gesture she had never needed.
