Two Days Before the Wedding — Kyoto Shrine Grounds
The shrine was being prepared in full bloom.Fresh flowers were being arranged. Lanterns cleaned and rehung. Tatami laid out in neat perfection for the ceremony hall.
The families had gathered for a private pre-wedding walkthrough.
Aika walked ahead with Suzu and her mother, discussing ceremonial details with the head shrine maiden. Her kimono was a soft pastel with plum blossoms. Her voice was gentle, her expression as composed as always.
Renjiro followed behind, surrounded by a few junior attendants and his assistant, half-listening, half-looking at Aika's back as she moved with grace and distance.
And then—she turned slightly to adjust her sleeve, and caught him watching her.
Their eyes met for a split second.
She smiled.
A soft, almost shy smile.
And something in Renjiro… twitched.
That Evening — Dinner at the Hayama Estate
A private meal had been arranged for the core family members. Not formal, just relaxed.
Aika sat across from Renjiro. Between them: sukiyaki bubbling quietly, laughter from Suzu, light teasing from Hiroto.
And something changed.
Without thinking, Renjiro reached across the table and gently poured more tea into Aika's cup.
She blinked, a little surprised. "Thank you," she said softly.
He didn't answer—just nodded and looked away.
Later, when someone asked Aika about her favorite wedding tradition, Renjiro spoke before she could.
"She likes the paper crane folding. She used to practice it during school breaks when we were kids."
Everyone looked at him.
Even Aika.
He realized too late what he'd said — how easily it had come out. How familiar it sounded.
"You remember that?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
He shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. "You did it all the time. Hard to forget."
And she smiled again. Soft. Warm.
Something in her chest flickered. Maybe…
Maybe he was beginning to care.
Later That Night — Renjiro's Private Room
He stood at the balcony, drink in hand, looking over the dim hills of Kyoto.
He couldn't stop thinking about how she smiled at him.
Not for the cameras. Not for the family.
For him.
And worse — how natural it felt to respond.
To pour her tea. To remember things she liked. To care.
"No," he said aloud, shaking his head.
"I still hate this. I still hate her."
But the words were hollow.
He didn't feel hate. Not like before.
He felt… something he couldn't name. And that terrified him more.
Because the closer she seemed to step away, the more he found himself stepping toward her.
And that meant something had changed.
In him.
Kyoto – Hayama Estate Grounds, 1 Day Before the Wedding
Preparations moved like a silent orchestra.
The shrine courtyard was transformed — lanterns floated in shallow ponds, pathways lined with fresh white sakura branches air-flown from the north. Tatami was re-laid every three hours to avoid even the slightest wrinkle. Screens were hand-painted by a Kyoto master, their gold-leaf blossoms glinting beneath the paper lanterns.
Floor managers, dressed in black formal suits with white gloves and earpieces, moved in coordinated rhythm across the estate.
Every hour was scheduled:
Guest arrival rehearsals.
Staff rotations.
Ceremony route simulations.
Security coordination.
Floral temperature checks.
Assistants whispered, checked clipboards, and bowed to each other with precision. Stylists from Milan, flown in just for the second day, had already arrived. Private chefs from Kyoto and Tokyo prepped exclusive kaiseki and French-Japanese fusion menus for both events.
This wasn't a wedding.
It was a display of dynasty.
Inside — The Tatami Suite
Aika stood in front of the mirror in a softly lit room, wearing her ceremonial under-robe. The final adjustments were being made to her traditional wedding kimono — a stunning piece commissioned two years ago, originally as a family heirloom, now repurposed for her wedding.
Pure white silk, handwoven by a legendary textile master in Nara.Cranes in flight, embroidered with platinum-thread and mother-of-pearl.A phoenix—hidden at the hem, stitched in moonlight-gray, only visible in motion.
Her mother, Keiko Tachibana, and Mrs. Eri Hayama stood nearby, giving instructions to the kimono dressing specialists.
"Sash should sit lower—no creases.""Fan placement must match the crest.""The veil folds must match the old family photographs."
They were elegant, commanding. Every servant listened without question.
But it was Aika who raised her hand gently.
"I'll fix the collar myself. I want the lines to follow my grandmother's original drape."
The room fell silent for a second. Then the specialists stepped aside with bows.
Aika stepped forward.
And the collar fell perfectly under her fingers.
Her mother watched her. And for the first time in days, smiled with quiet pride.
Private Garden – Afternoon
In a secluded courtyard wrapped with flowering wisteria, Aika sat beneath a parasol with someone few in the Hayama estate recognized — a woman in a dark silk blazer, effortlessly modern, warm-eyed.
Yuki Kisaragi, Aika's best friend from university.
They shared tea in quiet comfort.
"I still can't believe you're actually going through with this," Yuki said gently, her tone not judgmental—just honest.
Aika smiled faintly. "I said I would. So I will."
Yuki sighed. "You haven't changed. Still graceful even when drowning."
Aika looked down at her teacup. "He's… not cruel. Not directly. But it's like I'm invisible unless we're in front of others. Sometimes I wonder if he even remembers I'm real."
"Then why do this?"
Aika answered without hesitation.
"Because I made a promise. And because one day, he might remember the difference between a bride and a burden."
Yuki reached across the table and squeezed her hand.
"And if he doesn't?"
Aika's voice was steady.
"Then at least I'll walk forward knowing I gave everything without losing myself."
Later — Interior Suite, Hidden Room
Only a few knew about the second dress.
Aika's mother. Her seamstress. Suzu. And her brother, Daiki.
It hung in a sealed dressing room behind a false panel—protected, untouched.
Unlike the traditional kimono, the modern wedding gown was designed and constructed by Aika herself over the last six months — built in silence, under midnight light, after meetings, away from eyes.
It was a soft ivory sheath, minimal but flawless in structure.
Draped organza at the shoulders like water.
Embroidered wild plum blossoms scattered down one side in whisper-pink thread.
A tiny hand-stitched detail at the inner lining — the Tachibana crest, hidden over her heart.
It wasn't for approval. It wasn't for power.
It was hers.
And when the second day came — the public wedding reception — she would walk in wearing it.
And no one, not even Renjiro, would know until she stepped out.
Meanwhile — Renjiro's Perspective, Courtyard Balcony
Renjiro stood at the edge of the west wing balcony, watching Aika in the garden below. She was speaking to a woman — someone he didn't recognize. They laughed softly over tea.
She looked… different.
Light. Calm. Separate.
And it unnerved him.
Suzu stepped up beside him. "She's glowing today."
He didn't answer.
"You used to hate her for being too perfect," Suzu added, smiling gently. "Now you look at her like she's no longer yours."
"She's not," Renjiro said too quickly.
Suzu looked at him. "Then why does it bother you?"
He didn't respond.
Because he didn't know.