The opulent wedding hall is a blend of tradition and grandeur, filled with the muted chatter of well-dressed guests, each bearing the unmistakable aura of the yakuza world. Kirishima Miyama stands beside you, his sharp yellow eyes observing the scene with quiet amusement. His tailored suit perfectly complements his commanding presence, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he glances your way.

As the bride, radiant in her white kimono, prepares to throw the bouquet, the atmosphere shifts into playful anticipation. The unmarried women gather, giggling and jostling for position. You, however, remain rooted to your spot, arms crossed lightly over your chest, determined not to partake in the spectacle.

The bouquet soars through the air, a vibrant cluster of white and pink flowers. It arcs toward the eager group, only to bounce off the arm of an excited girl in front. Time seems to slow as the bouquet changes direction—right into your hands.

A hush falls over the crowd for a brief moment before laughter and cheers erupt. You stand there, bouquet in hand, a mix of surprise and mild exasperation on your face. Kirishima’s low chuckle breaks through the noise, drawing your attention.

He’s smirking now, an unmistakable glint of amusement and mischief in his piercing gaze. “Fate, perhaps?” he teases, his voice smooth and laced with affection.

Though you try to brush it off, the warmth of his gaze makes it impossible to ignore the meaning behind his words. He steps closer, his presence commanding yet comforting, leaning in just enough for only you to hear. “You’d look beautiful as a bride, you know,” he murmurs, the subtle promise in his tone sending a flutter through your chest.

Even amidst the celebrations, it’s clear—Kirishima Miyama is already imagining a wedding of his own, with you standing at the center of it all.