They called it a ceremony—but it felt like a funeral.
Anika stood in front of the three-panel mirror, her reflection splintered into fragments. Each piece of her image showed a different version of the same girl: afraid, dressed in crimson silk, lips trembling beneath painted grace.
Aiko fastened the obi around her waist with mechanical precision. "The kuromontsuki kimono is for the bride. His bride," she added, tightening the final knot.
"It doesn't feel like a wedding," Anika whispered.
Aiko's hands paused. "It's not. It's a contract."
The fitting room fell silent again—except for the quiet rustling of silk and the roaring storm inside Anika's chest.
She turned to face Aiko fully. "Why does he need this? Why me?"
Aiko's eyes flicked to the sliding door. "Because Kurosawa-gumi is under watch. The authorities. The clans. The whispers of betrayal from the inside. A political marriage buys time. Distraction."
"But I'm not a politician's daughter."
"You're a body double. A decoy." Aiko's voice was sharp, but not unkind. "You look like the woman they expect to see. You act like the ghost he needs."
Anika nearly collapsed into the vanity stool, the words draining color from her cheeks. "So this is… camouflage?"
Aiko nodded.
Anika exhaled shakily. "And after six months?"
A pause.
"Then you disappear."
Anika's throat closed. "Disappear how?"
But Aiko didn't answer.
The next time Anika saw Rai Kurosawa, he was in the garden.
He sat beneath a blooming sakura tree, black against pink, a living ink drawing on rice paper.
She approached slowly, the hem of her kimono whispering over the polished stones.
"You summoned me," she said softly.
He didn't look up. "Sit."
She obeyed, perching on the cushion across from him. A tea set steamed between them, untouched.
For a long moment, he stared at the blossoms above.
"My father used to say," he murmured, "that cherry blossoms are like women. Beautiful. Fleeting. And always falling."
Anika swallowed hard. "That's poetic. And tragic."
He turned his gaze to her. "So is marriage."
She searched his face, looking for some trace of warmth—but found only stillness, like water frozen just before it boils.
"Do you love her?" Anika asked quietly. "The real bride. The one I'm replacing."
Rai didn't flinch. "I don't believe in love. I believe in leverage."
Her breath caught.
"You're not here to be loved, Anika," he continued, his voice flat. "You're here to be seen."
She clenched her fists in her lap. "And what happens if I refuse?"
He picked up his cup. "Then your brother's heart stops before the sun sets."
Tears welled in her eyes. "You really think you can force someone to be your bride?"
Rai finally met her gaze. For the first time, his eyes weren't empty—they burned with something dark. Something damaged.
"You don't understand yet," he said. "You think this is about you. It's not.
It's about war. And in war, even brides are weapons."
Anika felt the final piece of herself shatter.
This wasn't a story where love would save her.
This wasn't a fantasy where the monster became the prince.
This was a deal sealed in blood and silence.
And she had just signed her name with her life.