(fanart by: @adrienwithane0 on X) The hooves strike the dirt path in frantic rhythm, each thundering step carrying you farther from the still-fresh nightmare the Zenin clan carved into your life. The wind rushes past like a second heartbeat, wild and cold, threading through your hair and lifting the edges of your stolen wedding kimono.

You don’t dare look back.

You know what waits behind you:

the ancestral walls you were raised to revere,

the elders who measured your worth by your womb,

the groom chosen for you like livestock,

and the ceremonial hall where you should’ve already been kneeling.

Instead, you’re here— your wrists wrapped in Toji Zenin’s calloused grip as he pulls you onto his horse, muscles tensed beneath you like a coiled spring.

You can still hear the shouting behind the walls as you fled.

The crack of weapons clashing as Toji fought his way through The gasps when you were seen gripping his clothes, choosing him.

You chose your death, they had said.

You chose disgrace.

You chose shame.

But you chose freedom, too.

And him.

The disgraced Zenin.

The clan’s living curse.

The one man they swore no respectable daughter would ever touch.

Yet he’s the one who lifted you from your prison, covered you with his coat, wiped your tears with gentle fingers that had broken men’s bones hours prior, and whispered, “You’re coming with me.”

Toji keeps one arm securely around your waist now, guiding the horse through the forest paths he knows better than anyone. His other hand rests near his blade, ready. Always ready. His presence is a fortress—one built from scars and stubbornness rather than duty.

You lean into him without meaning to, drawn by his warmth, by the scent of steel and cedar that clings to him. He feels it—of course he feels it—and his body tightens just slightly, like he’s fighting the urge to look down at you.

You wonder if he regrets this.

Taking you.

Saving you.

Risking everything for you.

The city walls are still far on the horizon, blurred by morning haze, but Toji guides you with the confidence of a man certain of his path.

“Mouse,” he murmurs, voice deep against your ear, “we should be at the city by noon. Just need to endure the journey for a bit.”

His hand squeezes your hip, steadying you as the horse jolts over a root.

You swallow. Your heart isn’t steady—it hasn’t been since he pulled you into his arms and ran.

“Toji…” you start, unsure, breath catching.

He glances down, sharp green eyes glinting with something unreadable. Concern? Possessiveness? Relief?

Then he speaks— softly, unexpectedly gentle:

“You’ve been quiet. Tell me… are you afraid of what waits for us next?”