Morning came with the smell of wisteria and rain.
The mist outside the window glowed faint gold as the sun fought to rise through it.
I woke slowly, the silence around me heavy and gentle at the same time. The air was still warm from the night before. Muichiro was sitting by the window again, his hair loose, sword resting across his knees.
He glanced over his shoulder when I stirred. "You're awake."
"Barely," I murmured, sitting up.
"Good." His tone was quiet, almost relieved. "You slept through the bells."
"They rang?"
"Once," he said. "Not twice."
I looked down at my wrist. The silver mark glowed faintly in the morning light. It didn't burn or fade—it just shimmered like a calm pulse under my skin.
Muichiro studied it too, then looked at his own wrist. "Still matching."
"Does that mean it worked?"
"Yes." His voice was soft, steady. "The bond held."
I smiled faintly. "So we're really married now."
He turned his gaze to the window again. "We were last night. The ceremony only caught up."
The words made my chest warm. I wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
After a moment, I asked, "Do you regret it?"
Muichiro shook his head. "No."
"Not even a little?"
He looked back at me then—eyes clear and bright, softer than fog but just as deep. "I don't regret anything that keeps you alive."
For a second, I couldn't breathe. The way he said it wasn't dramatic or poetic—it was simple truth.
He stood and tied his uniform sash, moving with that same quiet precision that made him seem both human and not. "We should eat. The Master will want to see us."
I nodded, forcing my thoughts to settle.
The dining room was silent when we arrived. Only Shinobu and Sanemi were there—an odd pair. Shinobu sat with her usual calm smile, while Sanemi leaned back with his arms crossed, looking like he'd already been scolded twice.
When we entered, both of them looked up.
"Well," Sanemi said, eyes flicking from Muichiro to me, "you two look alive. Guess the whole 'seal the bond' thing wasn't just superstition."
Shinobu gave him a warning glance. "Be polite, Sanemi."
He shrugged. "I said they look alive. That's polite enough."
Muichiro ignored him and sat across from Shinobu. "Any new signs?"
Shinobu poured tea calmly. "The mist around the west wall is gone. The marks faded before dawn."
"So it worked," I said.
"Maybe," she replied. "Or maybe it's just resting."
Sanemi grinned. "You really know how to ruin breakfast, Shinobu."
She smiled sweetly. "You ruin it fine on your own."
I tried not to laugh, hiding it behind my cup.
Muichiro glanced my way—just once—and I saw the faintest trace of something near a smile on his lips.
After we ate, the Master summoned us to the garden. He stood beneath the wisteria trees, sunlight breaking weakly through the clouds.
"You did well," he said. "The bond has changed the air. The house feels… quieter."
Shinobu bowed. "For now, at least."
Ubuyashiki turned to me. "Do you feel any change?"
I hesitated. "It's like… I can hear the mist. But not with my ears."
He nodded. "Good. The bond opens both of you to what lies beyond the senses. You'll need that soon."
"Why?" Muichiro asked.
"Because the Archivist's warning hasn't finished," the Master said softly. "You've stopped the curse, but not what caused it."
"The ledger," Muichiro murmured.
"Yes," Ubuyashiki replied. "The old debt remains. The shadow that wanted her won't give up easily."
Sanemi crossed his arms. "Then we hunt it."
"You can't," the Master said. "It's not something you can kill. It must be understood—and sealed."
Shinobu's eyes glinted. "So another journey."
Ubuyashiki nodded. "Tomorrow at dawn, the two of you will travel to the northern shrine. That's where the bells were forged. The answer is there."
He turned to me again. "Stay together. The mist listens better when it hears both your hearts."
I bowed my head. "We will."
Muichiro's voice was calm but sure. "I'll protect her."
Ubuyashiki smiled faintly. "I know you will. But remember, protection is not the same as distance."
Muichiro didn't answer, but I saw the truth land in his eyes.
After we ate, the Master summoned us to the garden. He stood beneath the wisteria trees, sunlight breaking weakly through the clouds.
"You did well," he said. "The bond has changed the air. The house feels… quieter."
Shinobu bowed. "For now, at least."
Ubuyashiki turned to me. "Do you feel any change?"
I hesitated. "It's like… I can hear the mist. But not with my ears."
He nodded. "Good. The bond opens both of you to what lies beyond the senses. You'll need that soon."
"Why?" Muichiro asked.
"Because the Archivist's warning hasn't finished," the Master said softly. "You've stopped the curse, but not what caused it."
"The ledger," Muichiro murmured.
"Yes," Ubuyashiki replied. "The old debt remains. The shadow that wanted her won't give up easily."
Sanemi crossed his arms. "Then we hunt it."
"You can't," the Master said. "It's not something you can kill. It must be understood—and sealed."
Shinobu's eyes glinted. "So another journey."
Ubuyashiki nodded. "Tomorrow at dawn, the two of you will travel to the northern shrine. That's where the bells were forged. The answer is there."
He turned to me again. "Stay together. The mist listens better when it hears both your hearts."
I bowed my head. "We will."
Muichiro's voice was calm but sure. "I'll protect her."
Ubuyashiki smiled faintly. "I know you will. But remember, protection is not the same as distance."
Muichiro didn't answer, but I saw the truth land in his eyes.
That night, we packed for the road.
The air outside felt different—lighter, but not safer.
As I folded a travel cloak, Muichiro spoke quietly from the doorway. "You don't have to come if you're afraid."
"I'm not," I said.
"You should be."
"Then so should you."
He blinked once, then gave a small, tired laugh. "Maybe I am."
I walked over and handed him his cloak. Our fingers brushed, just enough to make my heart catch.
"Last night," I said. "It felt like something changed."
"It did."
"Between us, I mean."
He looked at me for a long moment. "Yes. But don't say it yet."
"Why?"
"Because when you do, the bells might listen."
He turned away to open the door. "And I want that moment to belong to us first."
Later, I sat by the window, watching the mist drift across the moonlight.
The silver mark on my wrist gleamed faintly, pulsing with a quiet rhythm that matched my heartbeat.
I didn't know if it was magic, fate, or something in between—but I knew it felt alive.
Outside, Muichiro stood beneath the trees again, his white haori catching the faint glow of lantern light. When he looked up toward me, our eyes met through the quiet.
For once, he smiled—small and real.
And somewhere, far to the north, a single bell rang once in the dark.
Only once.
But it was enough.