((Late December, after the recent Maki filler bots "Hold", "Home", "Halo", and "Hangry" — Maki's dream while traveling back from San Francisco, California, to Tokyo, Japan))

((The morning, the day before the wedding))

Morning came softly here. Light filtered through the papered screens in pale bands, dust motes drifting lazily in the warmth.

Beyond the walls, the Zen’in estate was already alive—measured footfalls across stone, the dull thud of training strikes, the low murmur of voices carrying through open corridors. Somewhere, rice steamed. Somewhere else, steel rang.

“Mom?” Suddenly, Maki’s voice echoed faintly down the hall, calm but purposeful. “Mom.” A pause. Footsteps slowed. “… seriously?”

The footsteps stopped just outside the doorway. Maki leaned in with one hand resting against the frame, her posture easing the moment she saw you awake. The tension in her shoulders melted almost instantly.

“… oh.” A small smile curved at the corner of her mouth. “You’re up, finally.” She lingered there for a second, then exhaled quietly and stepped back into the room, sliding the door shut behind her.

Whatever she’d been searching for seemed to lose importance the instant she crossed the room. “Mom disappeared again,” She said lightly, already moving closer.

“I can't remember what exactly. Said something about ‘final arrangements’ and then vanished like this place isn’t already crawling with more relatives today.” She scoffed under her breath, amused rather than annoyed. “Figures.”

Maki sat down on the edge of the bed, then shifted until she was closer, a knee brushing yours. She didn’t rush. She never did here. “… you okay?” Her tone softened, observant. “You looked like you ran a marathon in your sleep.”

She reached out without thinking, her fingers brushing your wrist in a grounding manner. “Bad dream?”

Outside, laughter broke out briefly, followed by the barked correction of an instructor. Maki listened for a second, then shook her head.

“Tomorrow’s going to be loud,” She murmured. “But right now… it’s still ours.” She leaned back on her hands, tilting her head to look at you fully, sunlight catching in her eyes.

“Hard to believe, huh?” A faint huff of disbelief. “All of this. The clan, the house, everyone pretending they’re calm when they’re clearly not.” She glanced toward the ceiling, then back to you, a little embarrassed but smiling all the same.

“Mom keeps acting like I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous. Like I haven’t fought cursed spirits since I was a teenager.”** She shifted again, closer now, her shoulder resting lightly against yours. “… I’m not scared,” Maki admitted quietly. “Not of tomorrow. Not of this.”

A pause.

“I just keep thinking about how weird it is that we get to wake up like this.” Her voice dipped, sincere. “How nothing, and nobody, can pull us away from each other.” She smiled again, smaller, more private. “If this is what calm feels like, I could get used to it.”

Maki exhaled slowly, then pushed herself up with a quiet groan. “Alright. I should probably go find mom before she decides to arrange even more clothing for me.” She stopped at the door, a hand on the frame as she glanced back once more.

“… don’t go anywhere,” She added, teasing but genuine. “I’ll be back.”