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Five years after the shroud fell and the nightmares were banished, Kilahito had found its rhythm once more. A brighter rhythm, filled with festivals and songs echoing through hion-lit streets. Painter walked hand-in-hand with Yumi, the woman who had once seemed more spirit than human to him. Now, she was warmth, softness, laughter beside him.
She had come to love the city as he did. And though she no longer bore the title of yoki-hijo, she remained a person of rituals. She always folded her clothes with meticulous care, always prepared tea with a silent reverence. But today, her rituals were playful ones: tugging him toward each attraction at the carnival as if she might float away if he did not anchor her.
“Look! They have the ring toss!” Yumi exclaimed.
Nikaro smiled, unable to resist. Her hair, long and shimmering, often tied up in a delicate knot, danced behind her as she skipped. He followed, paying the small entry fee as she picked up three rings, her fingers nimble as always.
He watched her miss the first toss, then the second. On the third, she paused, biting her lip in concentration. The ring arced in a perfect parabola, landing around the narrow bottle neck. She gasped in delight and turned to him, her eyes wide with triumph.
He clapped, genuinely amazed, though he'd long known her precise touch. The stall owner handed her a small plush spirit in blue and red felt. She hugged it to her chest as if it were a living thing.
“Look, Nikaro! It’s adorable!”
"It almost rivals you,” he teased.
She flushed and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Rival me? Impossible.”
They continued, sharing sweet rice cakes from a paper cone, wandering through rows of shimmering lanterns and mirrored halls. In one corner, an artist painted portraits in quick, broad strokes. Yumi paused to watch, entranced, as if seeing an echo of Nikaro’s old life.
When she turned back to him, her eyes softened, a shy smile curving her lips. “Do you ever miss it? Painting like that?
Nikaro’s heart warmed at her gentle curiosity. “A little,” he admitted, his voice soft. “But I’d rather capture the way you shine in every moment we share.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head, her hair sliding forward like a silk curtain. He took her hand again, feeling her fingers warm against his own. Even after five years, each touch felt like the first.
They arrived at the Ferris wheel as dusk painted the city in indigo and coral hues. The hion lines overhead glowed, casting moving shadows over the carnival stalls. They bought two tickets and got into the small, enclosed carriage.
As the wheel started to rise, Yumi pressed close to the window, eyes wide as she surveyed the glowing veins of the city below. The city hummed with life, and the gentle rocking of their carriage felt like being cradled by the star itself.
“It's always so beautiful from up here,” she breathed. “Like floating with the lilies in the sky gardens.”
He nodded but could barely hear her over the thundering of his heart. With trembling fingers, he slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out a small, moon-silver ring.
She turned, curious, and gasped as he held it out, his hands shaking.
“Yumi,” he whispered, “you’ve shown me more light than all the hion lines in this city. You’ve taught me to see beauty and to believe I was worthy of it again. I can’t imagine a day without you at my side. Will you... will you marry me?”
For a moment, she was so still he feared he had lost her. Then her eyes welled with tears, and she flung herself into his arms.
“Yes!” she cried against his shoulder. “Yes, Nikaro! Always, yes!”
He slipped the ring onto her finger, and she admired it as if it were a tiny spirit gift. Then she leaned forward and kissed him, softly at first, but soon her hands framed his face, and the world outside the carriage disappeared. He kissed her back with all the wonder and gratitude he could never find words for.
As the cabin began its slow descent, she curled into him, her head resting under his chin. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, savoring her warmth.
“Home?” he asked softly when they stepped off the ride.
She nodded, her face hidden against his chest. He kept her close as they walked back, the carnival sounds echoing behind them like distant festival drums.
They entered their apartment, which was significantly larger than the one they had woken up in together five years ago. The apartment still smelled of morning tea. Yumi removed her shoes at the door, her every motion gentle, graceful. Then she turned, her eyes shining, her cheeks pink from the evening chill and the joy of the proposal.
Nikaro stepped forward, unable to stop himself. He kissed her again, deeper this time, a hungry edge to it born of the night’s emotions. Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling him closer and he felt her body melt against his, warm and pliant. They moved together, stumbling slightly, laughing between kisses, their hands fumbling with buttons and sashes in their eagerness.
When they reached their futon, she paused, looking into his eyes with searching vulnerability. In that look, he saw the girl who, after remembering the terrible moment of his life, had asked him if they could go to a carnival to cheer him up. He caressed her cheek, his voice trembling. “Are you sure?”
She smiled softly, eyes bright with tears and devotion. “Nikaro... yes.”
Their lips met again, fervent and consuming, as he gently lowered her to the futon. His hands roamed her body with reverence, peeling away her silken dress to reveal the soft curves beneath. Her skin was warm, glowing faintly in the dim light filtering through the window and he traced the lines of her collarbone, her waist, with trembling fingers. She gasped softly as his lips followed, brushing kisses down her neck, across the swell of her breasts, tasting the salt and sweetness of her.
Yumi’s hands were no less eager, tugging his shirt free, her fingers exploring the planes of his chest, the taut muscles of his back. She pulled him closer, her nails grazing his skin, sending shivers through him. Their kisses grew desperate, tongues entwining, breaths mingling in sharp, needy gasps. She arched beneath him, her legs parting to cradle his hips, and he felt the heat of her against him, an invitation that set his blood ablaze.
He paused, gazing into her eyes, seeking permission once more. Her nod was small but certain, her hands guiding him, urging him closer. He entered her slowly, reverently, savoring the way her body welcomed him, tight and warm. She moaned softly, her fingers digging into his shoulders as they found a rhythm, their bodies moving in a primal, perfect harmony. Each thrust was a confession, each sigh a vow, their connection deepening with every shared breath.
Yumi’s gasps grew sharper, her hips rising to meet his, urging him deeper, faster. He obliged, his hands gripping her thighs, his lips capturing hers in a bruising kiss. The world narrowed to the heat of their bodies, the slick slide of skin, the crescendo of their shared pleasure. She cried out his name, her voice breaking as she shuddered beneath him, her release pulling him over the edge. He followed her, a low groan escaping his lips as waves of ecstasy crashed through him, leaving them both trembling and breathless.
When at last they lay spent and entwined, she curled against his chest, her long hair a dark veil across his skin.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice barely more than a breath.
She sighed, her fingers tracing invisible characters on his chest. “I love you, Nikaro.”
“I love you too,” he murmured, holding her closer as sleep came over them, the carnival’s echoes fading into the hush of the night.