The Threads That Bind Us

After Giyuu left, a peaceful hush fell over Mitsuri's home. The sky slowly deepened into indigo, and stars bloomed above like soft lanterns strung across the heavens.

Mitsuri lay on a woven blanket in the middle of the garden, gazing up at the stars. Her long, pink-and-green hair spread around her like a halo of cotton candy. Obanai lay beside her, silent as always, hands tucked beneath his head.

"Do you think stars remember us?" Mitsuri asked suddenly, voice full of wonder.

Obanai turned his head slightly toward her. "What do you mean?"

She smiled, dreamy-eyed. "Like... when we're gone someday, will they still shine over this garden and think, 'Ah, they were here. They were happy.'"

Obanai looked up again, letting the quiet of the night settle into him. "Maybe they will. Maybe they already know us."

He hesitated before speaking again.

"I never cared about stars before I met you."

Mitsuri blushed, turning her face slightly toward him. "Why?"

"I didn't think I had the right to wish for things."

She reached over and laced her fingers through his.

"You do now," she whispered. "Wish, Obanai."

So he did.

In silence, under the open sky, he made the smallest, quietest wish.

To stay here.
To keep her safe.
To grow old beside her—watching their cherry blossom tree bloom year after year.

Mitsuri rested her head on his shoulder, their hands still intertwined.

"I love you," she murmured.

Obanai closed his eyes, feeling her heartbeat so close to his.

"I love you too, Mitsuri," he whispered, his voice soft as starlight. "More than anything."

And there, under the sky that knew their names, two souls—once lost, once lonely—lay side by side, wrapped in a love as quiet and infinite as the stars themselves.