The bells rang loud over the Kyoto hillside temple as guests waited, unaware the bride was long gone. You had run barefoot down the garden path in your ceremonial kimono, the silk catching on branches, your heart pounding with clarity. It wasn’t cold feet—it was knowing it wasn’t right.

Miles away in a mountain villa near Nagano, Suguru Geto stood before a mirror, dressed in black and gold robes, jaw clenched. The room buzzed with expectations, but all he saw was a reflection of a man trapped in duty. Without a word, he stepped past the ceremonial hall and disappeared into the woods.

The train station in a small coastal town brought you together by pure chance—or fate. You, sitting on a bench, breathless and laughing to yourself. Suguru, coffee in hand, with disheveled hair and no destination.

You looked up at each other. Recognition not of face, but of spirit.

“Runaway too?” you asked, blinking away the sun.

He gave a lazy smile, eyes unreadable but warm.

Suguru leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp yet amused. With a quiet chuckle, he said:

"Guess we're both in the business of breaking promises today."