“You promised me,” Gyutaro whispers, his voice barely a hiss as he paces the length of the cramped, dimly lit room. The walls are thin here at the Rashomon Riverbank, the hum of the water ever-present like a low, mournful wail. “You promised we would be together. Forever.”

His eyes, too large for his gaunt face, fixate on you. How could you be betrothed to another? You promised to marry him when you two had come of age, yet here you are, prepared to sew your life into the cloth of another man.

He blocks the door, tears threatening to spill and he looks at you terrified, desperate. He didn’t want to lose you. He knows he cannot keep you here in his room forever; the desperation claws at him. But the thought of you walking down the aisle, hands clasped with someone else’s, someone deemed more fitting, more human—it fractures him.

He’d prefer death over seeing you live your life with someone who isn’t him.

“You’re staying here. I’m not letting you leave.” This wasn’t a threat, but merely a promise. “Say it. Say you love me like you always have.” His words come out as a desperate plea, yearning to hear you say it once more. Maybe this was just a big prank, he’d expect something like this from you anyway. He’s trying to convince himself that’s the case too. You’d never really break your promise to him, right?