The wind carried no direction, only chaos. But we ran anyway.
The wedding dress fluttered behind her like torn silk wings, glinting under the fading gold of the afternoon sun. I didn't look back—I couldn't. The sound of boots behind us was growing faint, drowned by the pounding of my heartbeat and Izumi's shallow breaths as we rushed through the garden wall, through a forgotten gap behind the temple archway.
She stumbled once, gripping my hand tighter to steady herself. Her heels had long been discarded—bare feet against stone, dirt clinging to the hem of that once pristine dress.
"Keep going!" I shouted, even though I wasn't sure where we were heading.
She nodded. "Anywhere but there!"
We didn't stop running until the city swallowed us whole.
Nightfall cloaked us by the time we reached the old Shinto district. Lanterns swayed above in a quiet street. There were no more footsteps behind us. Only the distant noise of drums from the wedding that would now never be completed.
Izumi collapsed onto the steps of an old, closed bookstore, catching her breath.
"Ryou…" Her voice cracked—not from exhaustion, but something deeper.
I kneeled beside her. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
She shook her head, tears rimming her eyes. "No. I just—I really did it, didn't I?"
"We did."
We sat in silence, watching a cat slink by—pure white, like the one I once saw on my first day here.
"I thought… even if I ran, the world would find a way to drag me back."
"Then we'll keep running," I said, surprising myself with the conviction in my voice.
"You make it sound so easy."
"It isn't. But I'd rather lose everything than go back to a life where I have to pretend I don't care about you."
Her breath hitched.
There. It was said. Finally.
No metaphors. No halfway confessions.
Just truth, raw and untamed.
We spent the night in a capsule hotel by the train station. Izumi wore a borrowed hoodie from the lost & found bin, and I managed to get us a room with two beds and a lock that didn't feel entirely secure.
But for once, security didn't matter. Peace did.
As the city breathed in neon outside the cracked window, Izumi sat on the bed beside mine, her knees drawn up, her chin resting on them.
"You know," she began, "when I was little, I used to dream of weddings."
"Most girls do, I guess."
"Yeah, but I didn't dream about the groom. Just… the dress, the flowers, walking down the aisle. The idea of being wanted."
I stayed quiet.
"Today felt like betrayal," she said. "To my family, to expectations… but weirdly, not to myself."
"You didn't betray anyone," I said. "You chose yourself. For once."
"And I chose you," she added softly.
Our eyes met, and there was a silence that didn't feel like emptiness—but promise.
She reached out, fingers brushing mine across the gap between the beds.
"Stay with me, Ryou. Even if we don't know what comes next."
I nodded.
"I'm already here."
Morning came with headlines.
My name. Her name. The wedding. The disappearance. Speculation. Scandal. Photos of us climbing over the back wall of the temple. Blurry, but unmistakably us.
Izumi's father hadn't spoken to the media. But the student council group chat was exploding with messages. Kenta had messaged me over a dozen times. Even Kaori had left a voicemail: "Are you crazy? You'll get expelled! No—killed! Call me!"
I turned the phone off.
"I should go back," Izumi said, standing by the window.
"No."
"I just mean—to face it."
"You don't owe them anything right now," I replied. "You gave them everything until yesterday."
She sat beside me again, curling into the quiet.
"Do you think people will hate me for this?"
I shrugged. "Some might. But the people who matter… will understand."
"I wish I had your certainty."
I smiled. "I fake it well."
We found shelter at an old inn outside the city—owned by Kaori's aunt, who promised not to say a word.
She handed Izumi a hairdryer and some oversized yukatas. "I don't know what you two did, but the fire in her eyes reminds me of when I ran off with my first love. No regrets, right?"
Izumi blushed. I just bowed, murmuring thanks.
That evening, under paper lanterns in the garden, we ate simple miso soup and rice.
"I wish this could be our life," Izumi said, watching the koi in the pond.
"It can be."
"But we can't hide forever."
I nodded. "Then we'll face it. Together."
She turned toward me. "Even if it means getting expelled?"
"I never really liked school anyway."
She smiled—genuine this time.
And then, for the first time, she leaned in.
Soft. Delicate. Unsure.
Her lips brushed mine like a question rather than an answer.
And I answered it, gently but certainly.
In that moment, the world disappeared.
There was no wedding. No obligation. No past. No future.
Only now.
But reality was patient—it waited until morning.
My phone buzzed again.
This time, it was a message from the school board.
"Your status as a student is under review. Please report for a hearing."
And beneath that, one from Izumi's father:
"We need to talk. Privately."
I showed her.
She didn't flinch.
"Let's go," she said.
"Are you sure?"
"I ran away once. Now I need to speak for myself."
The school auditorium was filled with whispers.
We sat across from the chairman, the board, and her father.
"Izumi," her father began, his voice calm but stern. "You've made quite a mess."
"I made a choice," she responded evenly. "To live my own life."
"A life built on what? A boy you've known for months?"
"I've known him longer than you think," she said softly.
He narrowed his eyes.
Ryou stepped forward, surprising everyone.
"I know I'm not someone you'd ever have chosen for her. But I'm not here to ask for permission. Only understanding."
The board members murmured.
Izumi's father sighed. "So be it."
He reached into his coat—and pulled out a signed withdrawal letter.
"For now," he said, "you're suspended. Both of you. But not expelled."
A gasp from the teachers.
He met his daughter's eyes.
"I can't stop you from falling, Izumi. But I can hope you know what follows."
She stood, bowed slightly.
"I do."
And she took my hand as we walked out together.
Outside, the sky was impossibly clear.
Summer was leaving, and autumn waited with golden patience.
"What now?" I asked.
Izumi smiled, brushing her hair behind her ear.
"We fall a little more."
And with that, the chapter of certainty ended.
What follows the fall… is everything we've yet to become.
> AUTHOR — CrimsonBorN / Step
Twitter / X account: ANC_CrimsonBorN