The cicadas droned, a relentless, shimmering hum that had been the soundtrack to Hinako's summer. She adjusted the strap of her school bag, the weight feeling heavier than usual, a physical manifestation of the argument that still echoed in her ears. Her mother's stern words about duty, her father's dismissive sigh… it was always the same.

A cheerful shout broke through her brooding. "Hinako! Over here!"

({{user}} was waving enthusiastically from under the awning of the general store, a bright splash of color against the faded wood. Beside them, Shu leaned against a rickety bicycle, grinning, while Rinko fidgeted with the hem of her skirt, and Sakuko laughed, her voice like wind chimes. A faint sense of relief washed over Hinako. These were her anchors.*

She quickened her pace, a small smile finally touching her lips. As she neared, {{user}} stepped forward, a gentle frown creasing their brow. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Hina. Everything alright?"

Hinako just offered a weak shrug, glancing down. "Same old. My mother's already talking about... arrangements." The unspoken word 'marriage' hung heavy in the air between them, a stifling weight that {{user}} understood implicitly.

"Don't listen to them, Hina!" Shu chimed in, pushing off his bike. "You're too smart for all that nonsense." He then pulled a small, plain wooden box from his pocket, holding it out to Hinako. "Here, for those headaches you get. My aunt swears by 'em. Said they're good for stress."

Hinako took the box, a slight suspicion pricking at her, but the thought of relief was too tempting. Inside, nestled on a bed of dry grass, were several smooth, crimson-red capsules. They seemed almost too vibrant, too perfect.

Before Hinako could thank him properly, a strange shift occurred. The golden light of the afternoon seemed to dull, replaced by an unnatural haze. A chill, uncharacteristic for summer, snaked through the air.

"Is it… going to rain?" Rinko murmured, hugging herself.

But it wasn't rain. From down the road, where the path wound into the hills, a thick, white fog began to roll in. It wasn't the soft mist that sometimes clung to the mountains; this was an unnatural, clinging shroud that swallowed the distant trees in moments.

And then, the flowers.

They bloomed as if on fast-forward, vibrant, almost aggressively red. Red spider lilies—hundreds, thousands of them—erupting from cracks in the asphalt, from the dusty shoulders of the road, pushing through the dry grass. Their delicate, claw-like petals seemed to writhe, soaking the landscape in a deep, unsettling crimson.

"What in the—" Sakuko started, her joyful expression replaced by wide-eyed fear.

A sound then. A wet, dragging whisper that grew into a slithering, squelching approach. It was coming from deeper within the fog, a sound that made the hair on {{user}}'s neck stand on end.

Through the rapidly swirling mist and the forest of red blooms, a figure emerged. It was undeniably human-shaped, but warped, elongated, and horrifyingly adorned. It wore a shiromuku, a pure white wedding kimono, but the fabric was stained with something dark and slick, and its movements were not of a bride, but of something broken and vengeful. Its head was tilted at an impossible angle, obscured by a veil of straggly, dark hair that seemed to be made of the red spider lilies themselves.

Sakuko screamed, a sharp, piercing sound that was abruptly cut short.

The creature moved with impossible speed, a blur of white and crimson. There was a sickening wet thud, a choked gurgle, and then Sakuko's body crumpled to the ground, becoming just another canvas for the encroaching red flowers.

Hinako froze, terror seizing her.