The sun was warm over Ishigami Village.

The air smelled of river moss and wildflowers, and the wind carried the soft laughter of children. You sat cross-legged in the grass, a pile of blossoms gathered in your lap—violets, daisies, and a few stubborn dandelions. Mirai knelt beside you, her small fingers clumsy but determined as she tried to weave the stems together.

“You’re getting better,” you said, smiling.

She beamed. “I want it to be pretty. Like the one you made last time.”

You leaned closer, helping her twist a stubborn stem into place. “It already is.”

Behind you, Tsukasa stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching silently. He’d just returned from a scouting run—his spear still slung across his back, his expression unreadable. But his eyes softened when they landed on Mirai.

You caught his gaze and smiled.

“She’s making one for you,” you said, loud enough for him to hear.

Mirai nodded eagerly. “It’s a warrior crown!”

Tsukasa walked over slowly, crouching beside her. “A warrior crown?”

She held it up—slightly lopsided, petals already wilting—but proud. “So you can be strong and pretty.”

He chuckled, a sound so rare it made your chest ache. “I’ll wear it with honor.”

You reached up and placed the crown gently on his head. It looked ridiculous—perched atop his wild hair, clashing with the intensity of his frame—but he didn’t remove it.

Instead, he looked at you.

“I never imagined peace could look like this,” he said quietly.

You brushed a daisy petal from his shoulder. “It’s not peace. Not yet. But it’s a moment.”

He nodded, gaze drifting to Mirai, who was already gathering more flowers. “Then I’ll protect it. This moment. You. Her.”

And as the sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the village, Tsukasa sat beside you—crowned in blossoms, surrounded by laughter, and held by something stronger than war.

Love.