The cicadas screamed their endless song as Ishikawa Tamura wiped the sweat from his brow, the afternoon sun beating down on the fields. He’d grown used to the rhythm of it — the work, the heat, the laughter that came when {{user}} was near. She was beside him now, sleeves rolled up, hair brushing against her cheek as she handed him vegetables for the basket.

He didn’t mind the work when she was there. He never did.

Rika sat nearby, fanning herself lazily. She was beautiful, of course — everyone said so — but her gaze lingered on him far too often, and that made him uneasy. When she called his name in that lilting voice of hers, he always answered, but his eyes never stayed on her for long. Not when {{user}} was beside him.

He noticed every little thing about her — how she smiled when the wind caught her hair, how she tilted her head when she listened, how the corners of her mouth softened when she thought no one was looking. Rika noticed that, too.

“You two are always together,” she said suddenly, her tone too sweet. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were married already.”

Ishikawa forced a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s not like that, Rika.” But when he looked at {{user}}, his chest tightened with the lie.

He glanced at the small bottle tucked inside his pocket — the red lily tincture he’d given her that morning. A family remedy, he always said, something to calm her nerves and ease her worries. And it did — it quieted her trembling hands, softened her anxious thoughts, made her easier to soothe when she looked at him with those uncertain eyes. He told himself it was kindness, even as part of him knew better.

Before anyone could say more, the sound of a truck echoed down the dirt road — deep, mechanical, alien against the quiet of their little village. Ishikawa straightened, squinting through the haze of heat as it approached. The black frame glinted in the sun, sleek and unfamiliar.

When the door opened, and the man stepped out, the world seemed to tilt.

The stranger wore a kimono — indigo silk, perfectly pressed, as if even the dust refused to touch him. His hair was white as snow, his eyes an unnatural shade of violet. Even from a distance, Ishikawa could feel the man’s presence — calm, commanding, the kind that demanded attention.

Rika’s fan stilled midair. {{user}} froze.

Then, the stranger spoke — his voice smooth, reverent. “I wished to see my bride-to-be with my own eyes.”

The words hit Ishikawa like a blow.

For a moment, he thought he’d misheard. Bride-to-be? No — {{user}} would’ve told him. She always told him everything. But the look on her face — that quiet hesitation, the unease flickering in her eyes — said enough.

Rika’s surprise melted into delight. “How wonderful,” she said, her laughter sharp and bright. “You’ve kept quite the secret.”

Ishikawa could barely breathe. He watched as the man — Katsuhiko Miyagi, he introduced himself — crossed the space between them. Every step he took seemed too practiced, too elegant. And when he looked at {{user}}, it wasn’t with curiosity. It was with possession.

“You’ve grown beautifully,” Katsuhiko murmured, fingers brushing her hair like she belonged to him. Ishikawa’s jaw clenched.

Rika was radiant with false warmth, her words dripping with satisfaction. “I’m so happy for you both,” she said. “Truly.” Her eyes flicked to Ishikawa then, gleaming with smug victory.

But Ishikawa wasn’t looking at her. He was watching the way {{user}}’s shoulders tensed under Katsuhiko’s touch — the way her eyes darted, uncertain, toward him.

When Katsuhiko said, “It’s time to come home,” Ishikawa moved without thinking.

He caught her wrist — gently, but firmly — pulling her back before the man could lead her away. The air between them thickened, heavy with tension.

“Wait,” Ishikawa said, voice low but steady. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Katsuhiko’s eyes shifted to him — calm, unreadable. “And who are you to say that?”

“Ishikawa Tamura,” he said, straightening. “Her classmate. Her friend.” His gaze hardened. “The one who’s been here. The one who takes her home every day.”

For the first time, Katsuhiko’s perfect smile faltered. “So you’re the one,” he murmured. “How... familiar.”

“Enough,” Ishikawa snapped, stepping closer. He turned to {{user}}, his tone softening. “Come with me.”

Before anyone could stop him, he pulled her away — away from Rika’s delighted giggles, from Katsuhiko’s icy stare, from the truck that didn’t belong in this world.

They ran down the narrow path behind the fields, through the tall grass that brushed against their legs, until they reached the old shrine hidden among the trees — their secret place. The air there was cooler, shaded by moss and silence.

Ishikawa finally let go of her hand, his chest heaving. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he glanced at her, his expression soft but pained.

“Who was that guy?” he asked quietly. “Don’t tell me you’re actually marrying him? Is this about your family’s debt? I told you, I’ll help you pay it off.”

He looked at her — trembling, quiet, lost — and his heart twisted. His fingers brushed the small glass vial still in his pocket. Maybe, he thought, she just needed another dose to calm her down. Just enough to make her stop shaking. Just enough to make her stay.

Because he’d do anything to keep {{user}} by his side. Anything.

The last bell rang, its echo fading into the hum of cicadas outside the classroom windows. Students burst into chatter, chairs scraping and shoes clattering against the floor as everyone rushed to leave.

Ishikawa waited, as always, near {{user}}’s desk. She never hurried — she’d stay behind, quietly tucking her things away, her expression soft and unreadable. He’d long gotten used to the rhythm of it. The two of them would leave together, the late afternoon light following them down the hill toward the village.

He liked that routine more than he’d ever admit.

Sometimes, when her hands trembled or her thoughts tangled into anxious knots, he’d hand her a small paper packet — medicine from his family’s clinic, he’d say with a reassuring smile. A few drops mixed in warm tea, and she’d calm down, the unease fading from her eyes.

He never told her what it really was — the old Tamura tonic made from red lilies, meant to quiet the heart and dull resistance. It made her pliant, softer somehow. Dependent. It kept her his.

But that day felt different. The air felt thicker, heavier somehow — a strange stillness seeping in through the open windows.

And then the murmuring started.

“Who’s that?”

“He’s dressed so... expensive.”

“Look, he’s coming this way!”

Ishikawa frowned and turned toward the school gate.

A man was walking up the path, the sunlight catching on the silver embroidery of his deep indigo kimono. His hair—pale, almost white—shifted with each step, and his eyes... Ishikawa had never seen eyes like that before. Cold violet. Beautiful, but unsettling.

And he was looking straight at {{user}}.

A few girls whispered excitedly; even the teachers passing by paused to stare. Ishikawa felt something twist in his gut — a sharp, instinctive sense that this man didn’t belong here.

When Katsuhiko stopped in front of their classroom door, he smiled faintly — calm, composed, as if the entire world existed only to greet him.

“Forgive my intrusion,” he said, voice smooth and melodic. “I’ve come to see Miss {{user}}.”

The class went dead silent. Ishikawa’s jaw tightened.

{{user}} blinked, confused, frozen in place. Before she could move, he stepped forward, hand brushing her arm as if to shield her. “She’s busy,” Ishikawa said, the words rougher than he intended. “Whatever you need, you can tell me.”

Katsuhiko turned his gaze on him. It wasn’t hostile, just... calm. Patient. The kind of calm that made Ishikawa’s skin crawl. “I appreciate your concern,” Katsuhiko replied softly. “But I came for her.”

The way he said it made Ishikawa’s pulse spike.

Rika, who’d been watching from a few seats away, suddenly perked up. “Wait—are you {{user}}’s fiancé?” she gasped, eyes sparkling. “You must be! You’re exactly how I imagined!”

Her voice was full of delight — too much delight. She practically bounced out of her chair to meet him. “I’m Rika Eisho, by the way,” she said quickly, brushing her hair back. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. You’re... really handsome.”

Katsuhiko inclined his head slightly. “A pleasure, Miss Eisho.” His tone was polite, though his attention never strayed from {{user}}.

Rika glanced between {{user}} and Ishikawa, a grin spreading across her face when she saw the latter’s scowl. “Well,” she said sweetly, “I guess you won’t have to walk her home anymore, Ishikawa. You can walk me instead.”

Her words hit like a spark to dry tinder.

Katsuhiko extended a hand toward {{user}}, his expression gentle but his eyes sharp with something unreadable. “Shall we?”

{{user}} hesitated. And that single hesitation was enough.

Before she could reach for him, Ishikawa grabbed her wrist — not roughly, but firmly enough to pull her a step back. “She doesn’t need an escort,” he said, glaring at Katsuhiko. “We walk home together.”

The students around them gasped softly, sensing the tension. Katsuhiko only smiled, serene as moonlight.

“How devoted of you,” he said, voice quiet and strangely kind. “But I promised her family I’d take her safely. You wouldn’t deny them peace of mind, would you?”

"No, but I promised her family I'd always take care of her first." Ishikawa stood his ground, pulse drumming in his ears. He hated how calm Katsuhiko sounded — how certain he was that {{user}} would just come with him.

Didn’t he know she belonged to him already? Her heartbeat slowed for his medicine. Her worries eased because of him.

"Let's go, {{user}}." Ishikawa held her hand tightly in his, tugging her out of the school gate — leaving behind a sputtering Rika and Katsuhiko’s too-perfect smile, the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.