Chapter 153. Yours in Every Lifetime

The morning after the wedding dawned gently, soft sunlight streaming in through gauzy curtains of their suite.

Ayaka stirred awake to the scent of fresh coffee and the sound of waves crashing faintly in the distance.

When she opened her eyes, Akihiko was already dressed in a crisp, casual shirt white with the sleeves rolled up, and dark jeans, standing by the balcony doors, looking out at the view.

"Good morning, wife." he murmured when he noticed her awake, his voice wrapped in husky warmth.

Ayaka grinned sleepily. "Good morning, husband."

He walked over, leaned down, and kissed her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips slow, deep, and lingering.

"We have a plane to catch." he said against her mouth. "Pack light."

-----

The flight was short, and the moment they landed, Ayaka felt something different in the air.

Fukuoka was quieter than Tokyo, kissed by both the sea and the mountains, wrapped in something ancient yet free.

They checked into a ryokan nestled on a hill overlooking the ocean wooden architecture steeped in tradition, their private suite complete with tatami mats, an open-air onsen, and wide windows that opened up to the endless horizon.

"It's quite peaceful here..." Ayaka said as she turned in place, soaking in the serene beauty.

Akihiko watched her from the doorway, a quiet look in his eyes. "When I disappeared… this is where I went... I never thought I'd bring someone here."

Ayaka stepped toward him, brushing her fingers against his. "I'm honored."

He caught her hand and pulled her gently into his arms. "Now you're my home. It only made sense to bring you to the place that brought me back to life."

------

They spent the afternoon wandering through narrow streets lined with food stalls and soft-spoken vendors.

They tried spicy Hakata ramen at a tucked-away yatai stand, shared sweet mikan under a cherry blossom tree still stubbornly blooming, and rode bicycles along the coast, the wind catching her laughter.

At a Park, Akihiko leaned in to whisper, "You're glowing. Are you sure you didn't sneak magic into your makeup?"

Ayaka nudged him with her shoulder. "You're just dazzled by being married to a literary icon."

He chuckled, pulling her close as they watched koi fish in the pond. "I married a poet. Every word you say is a spell."

They visited a Shrine, where Ayaka tied a small wish for happiness on the prayer wall.

Akihiko watched her in silence, only brushing his lips against her temple after she stepped away.

"Did you wish for something?" she asked.

"I don't have to." he said. "Everything I ever wanted is standing right in front of me."

As the night falls...

The sun dipped behind the waves, and they returned to the ryokan.

The staff had prepared a private dinner on their veranda.

Candlelight flickered across lacquered dishes fresh sashimi, grilled eel, pickled vegetables, and delicate desserts.

Ayaka looked ethereal in her robe, her hair loosely pinned up, skin dewy from their earlier dip in the onsen.

Akihiko, with his silver hair mussed and his collar slightly open, looked dangerously good, even barefoot.

"I can't believe this is real." she whispered, sipping wine.

He reached across the table, taking her hand. "Then let me keep proving it is."

-----

Later, back inside their suite, Ayaka stood at the window in a silk nightgown that shimmered like moonlight.

The soft rustle of the nightgown sliding off her shoulders echoed louder than the ocean waves outside.

Ayaka stood by the window, bathed in silver moonlight, the silk robe pooling at her feet.

The delicate night breeze slipped in through the open screen, carrying the scent of salt and blossoms.

Her long hair tumbled over her back, slightly damp from their earlier bath, and her skin glowed bare, honest, and breathtaking.

Akihiko didn't move at first.

He stood across the room, his chest rising and falling as he drank her in with the awe of a man who could hardly believe this moment was real.

He crossed the floor slowly, deliberately, like every step toward her was part of something sacred.

Then he began wrapping his arms around her waist, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck.

"You're mine now." he whispered, voice husky.

"I've always been yours." she whispered back, leaning into him.

He turned her to face him, cupping her face with reverence. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

She smiled, wicked and soft. "Show me."

The air between them ignited.

He kissed her slowly at first, deep and thorough, his fingers gliding down her spine.

Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, and they stumbled back onto the futon laid out before the fireplace.

There was no rush.

Only worship.

Akihiko touched her like a man memorizing every inch.

Her collarbone, the slope of her shoulders, the dip of her waist.

She traced his chest softly. "I love you." she whispered into his skin.

He groaned softly. "Say it again."

"I love you."

Their clothes melted away in between kisses.

Moonlight poured in from the windows, silvering their skin as they moved together with slow, burning passion.

Every breath shared, every moan swallowed between desperate kisses.

"More." she gasped.

"You're insatiable." he murmured against her lips.

Ayaka looked over her shoulder, a soft flush rising on her cheeks. "You've seen me a hundred times before."

"Never like this." he said, brushing his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. "Not as my wife. Not when the world finally stopped spinning."

She turned to face him, her gaze steady. "Then touch me like I'm the only thing that matters."

His hands came up to cup her face, callused thumbs brushing her cheeks.

Their foreheads pressed together, and they stood like that for a moment, sharing breath, heartbeats syncing until Akihiko kissed her.

Not with urgency, but with something heavier.

Something that said: "I've waited. I've dreamed. And now, I'm home."

The kiss deepened slowly, mouths molding together with quiet hunger.

Ayaka's hands slid up his chest, fingers trembling.

Her palms smoothed down his sides as he guided them to the futon laid out beside the low-burning fireplace.

The soft linen sheets felt cool against her skin as she lay back, Akihiko following her down like the tide claiming the shore.

He kissed down her neck, taking his time, as if mapping every inch of her was a privilege.

His touches were tender, but there was something primal beneath it.

A tension born of months of resisting, of loving her in quiet, controlled ways.

Now there was no reason to hold back.

"Are you cold?" he whispered, brushing his lips over her collarbone.

"N-no." she breathed.

He smiled against her skin. "Good."

Ayaka ran her fingers through his silver hair as he trailed kisses lower, then came back up to meet her eyes.

His hand found hers, lacing their fingers tightly together.

"I don't want this to be rushed." he said softly. "I want to remember every second of loving you tonight."

"You always remember." she whispered. "I've never felt safer."

Their bodies moved in a rhythm that was theirs alone slow and raw, full of quiet gasps and unspoken declarations.

There were no rehearsed lines or perfect movements.

Only instinct.

Only emotion.

Sometimes they laughed softly in between kisses, and other times they fell silent as their eyes held a weight no words could match.

Akihiko cradled her face in his hands as he moved with her, his touch so gentle it broke her.

Ayaka arched into him, clinging to the feeling, to the certainty, to the man who had once disappeared to find himself and returned only to find her.

She whispered his name like a prayer.

"Akihiko..."

"Akihiko..."

"Akihiko..."

Again and again.

And when they both came undone—together, trembling, breathless—it wasn't loud.

It wasn't wild.

It was intimate.

Powerful.

A release that felt like the final page of a long chapter, one filled with pain and growth and longing and the beginning of something even more beautiful.

Afterwards, they lay tangled in each other, sweat cooling on their skin as the night wrapped them in silence.

Akihiko held her against his chest, fingers brushing through her hair as Ayaka traced lazy shapes across his heart.

"Was it everything you imagined?" she teased, voice husky.

He smiled, eyes half-closed. "It was more. Because it's real... Because it's you."

"I feel like I've been waiting forever for this." she said quietly.

He kissed her forehead. "And now you never have to wait again."

And when they finally collapsed into each other, breathless and entwined, the world outside felt impossibly far away.

It was just them, in a place where time didn't exist, where nothing else mattered but their heartbeats thundering in rhythm.

-----

Fukuoka glistened beneath the morning sun, dew clinging to petals in neighborhood gardens, the sea wind carrying a gentleness that touched everything it passed.

Akihiko was humming softly as he stirred the pot of miso soup in his robe.

"Trying to impress me?" she asked, appearing behind him with messy hair and sleepy eyes.

He turned and smiled. "You're already my wife. I just want to spoil you now"

She kissed him lazily, leaning against his chest. "Let's eat this miso soup of yours before it gets cold."

He kissed her hair. "I was just about to say the same thing."

After they finished eating, Ayaka watched him closely as he stared out the window of their suite, coffee in hand.

His expression was softer than usual, contemplative in a way that made her chest ache.

"You're thinking about them, aren't you?" she said gently, brushing her fingers down his spine beneath the robe he wore.

He nodded slowly. "The couple who took me in back then... The other one is slowly losing memory..."

She smiled softly. "Why don't we visit them before we leave?"

------

The countryside road wound gently through fields of golden grass and persimmon trees, the air laced with the scent of earth and distant sea.

Ayaka leaned forward in the passenger seat, gazing out the window as the car slowed.

The house came into view like something out of an old watercolor painting, modest, quiet, with a tiled roof aged by seasons and time.

A small garden surrounded it, full of marigolds and wild mint, and an old wind chime tinkled softly at the eaves.

The taxi driver pulled up along the path and parked, turning off the engine.

He exhaled slowly, his hand tightening slightly around Ayaka's.

She looked at him. "Are you alright?"

He nodded, but there was a faraway look in his eyes. "I haven't been back since I left. They meant a lot to me. Still do."

She squeezed his hand back. "Then let's go say thank you."

The gravel crunched under their shoes as they approached the front door.

Before they could knock, it creaked open.

A short, round woman with silver-streaked hair and deep smile lines gasped, her eyes going wide. "Akihiko!"

Before he could speak, she wrapped her arms around him tightly, her tiny frame surprisingly strong.

"You're here!" she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. "You're home."

"I missed you, granny." he whispered, hugging her back with care.

A tall man emerged behind her, holding a worn towel and drying his hands.

His face lit up with recognition, eyes crinkling under thick brows. "Well, look who it is."

Akihiko stepped back and bowed deeply. "Grandpa."

The man clapped him on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again, son."

Then Akihiko turned, pulling Ayaka gently forward. "This is Ayaka… my wife."

Ayaka bowed politely, her voice warm and sincere. "It's an honor to meet you both. Thank you… for taking care of him when he needed it."

The older woman took Ayaka's hands with a delighted gasp. "So beautiful! My goodness. Your skin is like porcelain. And you're his wife now? Oh, Akihiko, you really did it."

She looked into Ayaka's eyes for a moment, then blinked.

Her smile faltered briefly.

"Dear..." she whispered softly, confused, "Who are they again?"

The man stepped beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders with a practiced tenderness. "This is our Akihiko and his wife Ayaka."

The older woman took Ayaka's hands again "So beautiful! My goodness. Your skin is like porcelain. And you're his wife now? Oh, Akihiko, you really did it."

She blinked again, then laughed gently.

Akihiko's face didn't change, but Ayaka could feel the stillness in him.

He held the old lady's hand as they led them inside.

Inside, the house was warm and lived-in, full of woven rugs, old family photos, and the smell of steeping green tea and fresh mochi.

They sat around a low table in the living room, the shoji doors open to the garden where birds chirped lazily under the afternoon sun.

The old woman, bustled between the kitchen and the sitting room, humming to herself.

She returned with a tray of tea, strawberry mochi, and rice crackers.

Her hands trembled a little as she placed the cups down.

"Dear..." she said proudly, "do you remember the day Akihiko tried to fix the roof?"

The man chuckled. "Fell right into the marigolds. I thought he broke something, but it was just his pride."

Ayaka giggled as she looked at Akihiko, who rolled his eyes but smiled. "It was a steep roof."

"He stayed up there all day." The old man said fondly, "even brought his journal and wrote for hours. Said he liked the way the wind sounded when it hit the tiles."

Ayaka listened with quiet wonder, soaking in every detail of this gentler version of Akihiko's past.

This was the version she hadn't known—the one who had disappeared not out of recklessness, but because he had needed healing.

These people had given him space.

Had let him breathe.

Every now and then, grandma's words would wander.

She'd refer to someone long gone, or repeat a story she had just told, her eyes distant as if caught in a memory.

Grandpa would gently guide her back each time, nodding patiently.

Ayaka caught Akihiko's hand under the table.

He didn't say anything, but his fingers curled around hers tightly.

When the couple stepped into the kitchen to prepare more tea, Ayaka leaned close. "She has dementia?"

Akihiko nodded. "Grandpa told me in a letter. It started last year. Some days are better than others."

"She still remembers you." Ayaka said softly.

"She always called me her second grandson." he replied, eyes misted. "I think some part of her always will."

They stepped into the garden afterward, the sun dipping low behind the trees.

Grandma handed Ayaka a small bouquet of fresh-cut marigolds. "For good luck in marriage." she said with a wink, before forgetting moments later and giving her another.

Akihiko hugged her again before they left, whispering something too soft for Ayaka to hear.

Grandpa shook his hand and nodded to Ayaka.

"He was a ghost when he arrived here the second time." he said gruffly. "Now look at him. You brought him back to life."

Ayaka bowed, tears in her eyes. "Thank you for loving him until I could."

They waved goodbye from the garden gate, grandma still waving long after the car was out of sight.

Inside the car, Ayaka leaned her head on Akihiko's shoulder.

"They're part of our story now." she whispered.

He kissed the crown of her head.

"They always were."

------

The next morning, the sun rose gently over the sea.

Ayaka stood on the veranda wrapped in his robe, holding her tea and watching the waves.

Akihiko came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Ready to go home?" he asked.

She leaned into him. "We already are."

He kissed her hair and whispered, "Then let's go live the rest of our forever."

They walked out of the ryokan hand in hand, sunlight painting the path ahead.

There was no fanfare.

No noise.

Just the quiet, burning certainty of a love that had survived storms, distance, silence, and time.

And now...

It was infinite.

The honeymoon in Fukuoka was more than just a getaway.

It was the beginning.

A promise sealed not with fanfare, but with whispers, laughter, kisses, and a love so consuming it softened even the hardest parts of their past.

And in the quiet rhythm of this new chapter, Ayaka and Akihiko learned what it meant to not just survive… but to truly live.

Together.