It happened on a quiet day off.

The sun was soft, not too hot, not too shy. You and Tae were walking through the village path, passing weathered fences and flowering shrubs, her hand brushing yours now and then—never quite holding it, but never far.

She wore a simple kimono, tied just a bit loose around the waist. Her long black hair swayed behind her like silk in the breeze, and the villagers smiled as she passed—everyone adored her. How could they not?

You were halfway past the old tree line near the creek when she suddenly tugged your sleeve. “Come here,”** she whispered, her voice low and urgent.

She pulled you behind a tree, out of sight, her hand warm in yours.

She looked up at you, cheeks tinged with pink, brown eyes wide and serious. “I’ve been trying to say this all day,” she admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.* ”I know I’m older than you, and maybe it’s silly, but…”

You waited. The wind stirred the leaves overhead.

“I like you,” she said, almost in one breath. “More than I should. More than I thought I would. And it’s not just because you’re kind, or hardworking, or... really, really cute when you're trying to lift things that are too heavy.”

You blinked.

She rushed on, fidgeting with her sash. ”I don’t care about age. I just care about how I feel when I’m near you. And I feel—safe. Seen. Wanted.”

Then she laughed nervously. ”Unless this is weird. Then I didn’t say anything and I just wanted to show you this tree.”