CHAPTER 283: SACRED VOWS ( 283 )

Kyouko’s white shiromuku caught the light, shimmering like freshly fallen snow. Every movement she made was slow, elegant, and full of grace, each step full of dignity and femininity.

Beside her, Kitayama stood tall and serious in his montsuki haori and hakama. His face was calm and unreadable, but his arm was steady and supportive as he helped his daughter through the final steps.

Haruki watched her from under the great torii gate of the shrine. His heart was steady but deep, feeling both nervous and hopeful. He wore a simple, muted kimono in shades of gray and black, with the crest of the Nakagawa family embroidered on it.

His eyes were only for her.

A soft bell rang.

The shrine maiden stepped forward. She was dressed in pure white robes that seemed to flow like clouds with each step she took. In her hands, she held the ōnusa—the sacred wand made of white paper streamers used for purification. Behind her, the kannushi, dressed in garments full of tradition and purpose, followed.

As Kyouko and Haruki reached the front of the honden, the sacred inner shrine, the purification ceremony began.

The priest raised the ōnusa high and, with practiced grace, gently waved it over Haruki first, then over Kyouko, and finally over their parents standing just behind them. The sound of the streamers rustling was soft and rhythmic, like the wind passing through leaves. With each wave, the air seemed to grow still.

No words were spoken.

It was a silent act, purifying their hearts, bodies, and intentions.

Kyouko kept her eyes lowered. Her fingers were clasped in front of her waist, and the soft sleeves of her shiromuku brushed her sides like the wings of a crane.

Nearby, Hanako had tears shining in her eyes.

And Kitayama, as stern as ever, gave a small, subtle nod.

Behind them, the guests quietly bowed as the final sweep of the ōnusa passed over everyone.

Then.

The priest stepped aside.

The way was now open.

The shrine maiden signaled with a gentle gesture.

It was time.

With a steady, rhythmic movement, Kyouko and Haruki stepped forward together.

The soft chime of the kagura suzu bells faded into silence.

Now, standing before the sacred altar, Haruki and Kyouko faced ahead. Behind them, their families stood quietly and respectfully.

The kannushi stepped forward again, holding a white folded scroll.

The atmosphere grew still.

A faint breeze stirred the edges of Kyouko’s sleeve, but she stayed perfectly still. Her hands rested lightly in front of her, fingertips brushing the embroidered hem of her kimono. Her eyes were lowered, filled with calm and serenity, and her breathing was quiet.

Haruki turned his gaze toward her, just for a moment.

And his chest felt tight.

She was breathtaking.

Even without heavy makeup or an elaborate hairstyle, even without words. Just the way she stood... the soft smile on her lips as her eyes lifted just enough to meet his.

Inside... the world slowed down and felt full.

She is so beautiful...

Especially today.

He looked forward again just as the priest began to chant.

The norito...the sacred prayer was spoken in old, traditional words. A timeless language, recited rhythmically, resonating deep within the chest.

This wasn’t just a blessing for their marriage.

It was a call to the kami—the divine spirits—to witness their union. To protect it. To honor it.

Haruki closed his eyes for a moment, letting the chant wash over him.

Kyouko stood so still beside him, like a crane caught in a single breath of wind—graceful, timeless.

The priest’s voice continued, steady and unwavering.

He spoke of harmony.

Of devotion.

Of the sacred bond of two lives becoming one.

Outside the shrine, the faint sounds of nature could be heard, the wind through pine trees, the soft rustling of clothing as the guests shifted their posture, and far away, the gentle sound of waves breaking on Okinawa’s distant shore.

But here, inside the sacred space of the shrine...

There was only the voice of prayer.

And the silent promise blooming between them.

The priest carefully placed the sakazuki, three lacquered sake cups on a tray carried by the shrine maiden.

She knelt gracefully between them and offered the tray first to Haruki. A hush fell over the room.

Haruki turned slightly, facing Kyouko.

She lifted her eyes to meet his.

Even now, even after everything—after their passionate nights, stolen mornings, the laughter and quiet sighs they shared, his heart skipped a beat.

The bride before him didn’t feel like the same woman he had already held so many times.

She seemed different.

Sacred.

Like this moment was rewriting their story into something new.

Something eternal.

Kyouko’s gentle hands lifted the smallest cup first.

Haruki watched her every move.

How she tilted the cup softly to her lips.

How her eyelashes lowered, serene and calm.

No hurry.

No hesitation.

As if this was her quiet vow, not spoken aloud, but expressed through every motion.

Then, the shrine maiden offered the same cup to Haruki.

He accepted it with both hands, as tradition dictated. But as he lifted it, he caught a glimpse of Kyouko’s expression.

She was smiling softly, gracefully, her eyes never leaving him.

Even though he had seen her naked under the moonlight, even though her voice had cried his name many times in pleasure...

Today, she was something else entirely.

He felt her warmth linger on the cup, as if her presence was woven into the lacquer itself.

By the time they reached the final cup—the largest one—he felt breathless.

As if this simple act was far more intimate than any touch they had ever shared.

When passing the cup, Kyouko’s fingers brushed his slightly.

So soft.

So familiar.

And yet...

Even now, she enchanted him.

Will she be like this during our honeymoon too?

Will she smile so gently when I take her in my arms again?

The shrine maiden stepped forward once more, carrying two carefully prepared tamagushi—branches of sacred sakaki decorated with strips of white paper, symbols of purity and devotion.

Kyouko stepped forward first.

She bowed deeply toward the altar, holding the offering in both hands.

Every movement she made was slow, deliberate, and full of reverence.

Haruki couldn’t take his eyes off her.

The way her shiromuku sleeves swayed.

The quiet grace of her steps.

The peaceful aura that seemed to flow from her presence.

She knelt before the altar and lifted the tamagushi, bowing her head once more.

At that moment, Haruki’s chest tightened.

Inside his mind:

This isn’t just the woman I’ve made love to. This isn’t just the woman I’ve held trembling in the dark after my touch.

This is her heart.

The one that waited. That endured.

This is the Kyouko who once stood silently while others took everything from her...

...and still found the strength to smile.

And now, that same woman is offering herself again.

She chose me.

( End Of Chapter )