Two weeks after Mika's barn-shaking surrender, Kai's phone buzzed while he was repairing a fence.
It was the hospital in the city.
"Mr. Kai? About your mother's account… the entire outstanding balance of 4,870,000 yen has been paid in full this morning. An anonymous donor also covered three months of future treatment and rehabilitation. She's being moved to a private room today."
Kai dropped the hammer. His knees nearly buckled.
He knew exactly who the "anonymous donor" was.
That evening, Sayuri showed up at his farmhouse just after sunset, wearing a simple white blouse and jeans that hugged her impossible curves. She looked nervous—chewing her bottom lip, clutching a thick envelope.
"I couldn't let you carry that alone anymore," she said quietly, stepping inside. "I've been saving for years. Kenji gives me an allowance he never checks. It's just sitting there while he spends everything on his mistresses in Tokyo."
Kai stared at her, throat tight.
"Sayuri… that's almost five million yen."
She shrugged, eyes shining. "My mother died of cancer when I was fifteen because we couldn't afford the treatment. I swore I'd never let someone I love go through that."
Someone I love.
The words hung in the humid air between them.
Kai crossed the room in two strides, cupped her face, and kissed her like she was oxygen. Slow, deep, grateful. When they broke apart, both of them had tears on their cheeks.
"Your mom gets better because of this," Sayuri whispered. "And you… you get to breathe again."
Three days later, Kai took the bus to the city for the first time since moving to Hanami.
His mother looked like a different woman—color in her cheeks, sitting up in bed, laughing at something on the TV. When she saw him, she opened her arms.
"They told me a miracle happened," she said, hugging him tight. "Some angel paid for everything."
Kai just held her and smiled.
Back in Hanami that night, Sayuri was waiting for him on his porch, barefoot in one of his shirts and nothing else. Moonlight painted silver streaks in her hair and turned her bare thighs luminous.
"I talked to the hospital," she said softly. "Your mom's cancer is in full remission. The new treatment worked faster than they expected. She'll be home by next month."
Kai pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck.
"I don't know how to thank you," he murmured against her skin.
Sayuri took his hand and led him inside, straight to the bedroom.
"Then don't thank me with words."
They undressed each other slowly, reverently—no rush, no desperation this time. Just love.
She pushed him gently onto the futon and straddled him, those glorious J-cup breasts swaying as she guided him inside her bare. No condom. Never again.
They moved together like they'd been lovers for decades—slow rolls of hips, soft gasps, whispered "I love yous" every time he bottomed out. Sayuri rode him tenderly, hands braced on his chest, tears falling onto his skin because she finally felt like she was saving someone the way she'd never been able to save her own mother.
When she came, it was quiet and shattering, her pussy fluttering around him in long, milking waves.
Kai followed right after, filling her so deeply some leaked out even before he was done.
Afterward, they lay tangled together, her head on his chest, his fingers tracing the curve of her back.
"I'm leaving him," Sayuri said into the darkness. "The divorce papers are already with a lawyer in the city. The store, the house—half of everything is mine anyway. I don't need it. I just need you."
Kai kissed her forehead.
"Then stay here. With me. Forever."
She looked up at him, eyes bright even in the dim room.
"Forever sounds perfect."
Outside, the rice fields whispered in the wind.
Inside, two people who had once been drowning found solid ground in each other's arms.
And somewhere in the city, a mother slept peacefully for the first time in years—healthy, safe, and loved—because the woman in her son's bed had decided love was worth more than money ever could be.