anwhile, at the shrine.
Within the shrine’s inner courtyard, the ceremonial staff moved quietly, finalizing arrangents. White banners fluttered gently under the soft wind, and the sun filtered through the trees in golden beams.
Haruki sat upright in the designated waiting area beside the main hall, already dressed in formal montsuki and hakama. His posture was composed, but his fingers, resting lightly on his knees, betrayed a faint tension.
Yamashita Yosuke, standing nearby with his arms crossed and a relaxed smile on his face, turned slightly toward him.
"Nervous, Haruki-kun?"
Haruki exhaled lightly, then gave an honest smile.
"To be honest? No, not nervous... just—excited, Mr. Yamashita."
Yamashita chuckled.
"Well, that’s better. Nervous grooms tend to forget how to walk down the aisle. But you... you look steady. Like soone who’s been waiting for this day a long ti."
Haruki’s eyes softened, his gaze lifting toward the entrance of the shrine grounds.
"I have."
From behind them, Mrs. Himari let out a soft, amused laugh as she adjusted the scarf over her shoulders. She looked between the two n with gentle eyes.
"Just make sure you don’t cry, Haruki-kun. The children are watching," she teased.
Haruki gave a soft grin. "No promises."
At a nearby bench, several of the older orphans, now young adults, were arriving one by one, quietly bowing in greeting to the shrine staff. So waved discreetly at Haruki, and he nodded back with a smile.
Yamashita’s voice ca again, a little quieter this ti. "It’s a good day for a wedding. The sky is clear... and your path ahead looks even clearer."
Haruki bowed slightly in gratitude. "Thank you... for everything."
Yamashita simply nodded, his expression unreadable, but content.
Soon, one of the shrine maidens stepped forward respectfully.
"We have received word—the bride has departed and will arrive shortly."
Haruki’s heart gave a quiet jolt.
He stood.
He smoothed his hakama.
And with a breath that steadied both body and soul, he turned toward the torii gate.
Haruki’s gaze swept the courtyard once more.
Just beyond the stone pathway, standing near a cluster of camphor trees, he noticed a familiar figure in a dark formal suit—Kenji.
The man was leaning casually against one of the wooden rails, arms crossed, a wide smirk tugging at his lips the mont their eyes t.
Haruki exhaled in amusent, shaking his head slightly.
From across the courtyard, Kenji lifted his brows and gave a subtle hand signal—sothing teasing, clearly ant to provoke a reaction.
Haruki raised a brow in return, then casually signaled back with a calm flick of his fingers. A silent ssage only two n on the verge of becoming family might understand.
Across the space, Kenji chuckled quietly, lifting a hand in a mock salute before standing straighter, slipping both hands into his pockets.
Haruki allowed himself a quiet smile, the brief exchange lightening the tension in his chest.
Then Haruki saw it.
A line of sleek, black vans.
Seven, maybe eight of them, slowly approached the shrine’s entrance.
Their polished surfaces reflected the soft morning light, tinted windows hiding the presence within, but Haruki already knew.
His heart skipped.
They had arrived.
The lead van ca to a smooth stop. Its door slid open.
And there she was.
Kyouko stepped down gracefully, her white shiromuku glowing softly against the daylight. The traditional silk folds frad her figure with quiet dignity, while the trailing hem fluttered gently as she moved.
Behind her, Hanako descended with calm poise, and Kitayama followed, adjusting his formal montsuki with his usual gruff precision. A few more relatives followed, helping Keiko with a box of ceremonial gifts.
Haruki watched without blinking.
His bride had arrived.
Kyouko had just stepped out of the van, her white zori sandals softly touching the gravel path.
And then she saw him.
Haruki, standing just ahead near the entrance of the shrine, dressed in formal montsuki and hakama, sunlight falling gently on his shoulders. Their eyes t across the quiet courtyard.
Kyouko’s heart fluttered. A bright spark lit in her chest, her lips parting slightly in delight as if to call out to him.
But before she could take even one step forward, a quick slap landed on the back of her hand.
"Don’t be too excited," Hanako hissed in a low tone, her expression composed but her eyes narrowing.
"Mou~ Mother!" Kyouko whispered back, flustered.
Hanako simply rolled her eyes with a sigh, then smoothed out the sleeve of Kyouko’s shiromuku as if nothing happened.
Kitayama, standing just beside them, grunted. "Don’t show that eagerness in front of others," he said, voice low, lips barely moving.
"But...~"
"No buts," he cut her off, tone gruff, teeth slightly gritted. "You’re not a child anymore, Kyouko."
"Be as usual—your graceful, serene self," Hanako said gently, adjusting the edge of Kyouko’s sleeve with a quiet mother’s care.
Kyouko nodded, sighing softly. "Mm... alright~"
Her breath steadied, her back straightened. The montary excitent faded beneath a practiced calm. She brought her hands together gently, the long sleeves of her shiromuku brushing against her sides.
"Now," Hanako said with a smile, "walk slowly with your father. Everyone is watching."
"Mm... okay."
Kyouko turned to Kitayama, who offered his arm in silence. She slid her hand around it.
Then they began to walk.
Step by step, Kyouko moved with quiet elegance, her head slightly lowered, eyes soft beneath her lashes. The hem of her pure white kimono glided over the gravel, a whisper of fabric and grace, each footfall as poised as the woman she had beco.
And beside her, Kitayama walked with quiet pride.
Every step Kyouko took stirred a wave of excitent inside her chest, a warmth rising from her stomach to her cheeks.
Inside her mind.
I just want to run to him... to Haruki... and hug him tight. Just once, before all this formality begins.
But she couldn’t. Not now.
The wedding ceremony, though prepared in just a week, had been executed flawlessly, thanks to the Takahashi Group, Hanako’s tireless guidance, and her family help.
She couldn’t afford to ruin it with a single impulsive move.
This wasn’t just any day. It was her day.
Her special day.
The first ti she would be truly married, not in na, not in pretense, but in heart, soul, and sacred bond.
And it would also be her last.
Her final wedding.
The one where her past would be left behind, quietly buried without bitterness.
Where the pain, the years of neglect, the broken vows... all would be washed away in the sanctity of the shrine.
And from this day onward, her life would begin anew.
A new Chapter.
One written not in regret, but in love.
With Haruki.
( End Of Chapter )
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