˗ˋˏ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝓙𝓾𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓮𝓻 ˗ˋˏ♡ ˎˊ˗

You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.

"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.

You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.

"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.

Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.

When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.

"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"

You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."

The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.

"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.

"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.

"And do you know where you are right now?"

"A hospital?"

"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."

You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign

So you were married.

"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."

The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.

Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?

"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."

You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.

"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.

The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.

"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.

"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.

To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.

"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."

You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.

An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.

You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.

"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.

"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.

"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.

"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."

"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"

"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."

He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.

"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."

He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.

Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.

As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.

"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.

'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.

"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.

It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.

You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.

Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.

"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.

He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.

"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."

You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.

"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."

"Okay" you hummed softly.

His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."

You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.

"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"

His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.

"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.

He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.

"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"

"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"

"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.

"Why?"

"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."

You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."

The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.

"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."

"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.

"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm thirty two. You're thirty" Sukuna answered smoothly.

"Wow. So we're getting old," you teased gently.

Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."

A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.

Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.

Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.

When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.

And then, there was Sukuna.

Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.

To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.

He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much

His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.

At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.

The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.

Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"

"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.

"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.

"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."

The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"

You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.

"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."

You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.

"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.

"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."

You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.

"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.

The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.

As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.

Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.

Crash!

The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.

You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.

You froze.

Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.

Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.

You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.

Pink hair.

The backyard.

The jazz music.

The napkin.

A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.

The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.

When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.

"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.

You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.

But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.

As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.

"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.

Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.

Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.

"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."

Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.

"I fucking love you" he whispers

The story starts out with Ari at school, being annoyed by everyone's investment in falling in love. The teacher talks about the Valentine's Festival, and about how if you confess under the full moon that night, they will be able to last forever. As they walk to another class, their friend, Sana gossips about the various confessions going on in school , while Ari seems disinterested about it. Ari goes into the music room and finds a boy named Sora, who is sitting at the piano. Ari recognizes him from class as the boy who likes to write poetry. If we talk to Sora, we learn that he often writes notes while reading books like Shakespeare, which causes him to get flustered as he didn't realize someone was watching him. After leaving, Ari decides to skip their last class, PE, and tries to rush home, only to run into Lev. Ari is annoyed by this and can even banter with Lev for a while before Lev eventually leaves for a bit. Ari returns home, still annoyed by everyone being obsessed with falling in love. Sana ends up calling Ari who asks if there's anyone that Ari has an eye on.

After the call, Ari decides to go and complete their homework, something they are motivated to do as neither of their parents ever finished high school. Upon finishing their work, Ari heads to sleep and dreams about the festival grounds and someone watching and talking to them, though they cannot see who it is. They wake up in the classroom with the teacher talking about pairing up for a project. Ari is paired with Sora, where Sora will comment that they look tense and Ari can talk about their dreams with him. The two talk about quotes from Wuthering Heights with Sora first talking about his favorite quote and the two start writing their poems around the story. Sora reads Ari's poem out loud and compliments them on their writing. Before Sora can finish, the bell rings, with Ari telling Sora to swap numbers so they can finish later. Ari goes to the library to study for their other classes only to get hit in the head with a book by Lev while he's pulling out a book. Ari can then tease him or cut it short when interacting with him, talking about the book ordering in the library or joking about the book that fell on the ground. After Lev leaves, Sana comes in to talk about them and Lev, happy that they are talking to other people, not just her. Ari goes to their locker after to find a poem written by Sora inside of it before freaking out when they can't find their anxiety medication. They start run out of the school, paranoid that someone is following and watching them. Ari ends up running into Sora, who is working at a convenience store and gives them some chocolate milk to calm down before he offers to walk Ari home. Ari can compliment or talk to Sora but after walking home Ari ends up feeling dizzy and passing out.

Ari wakes up in their room confused to how they got there, only to realize that they missed class and started to run to school. As they run, they panic as they have to pass their courses or otherwise be unable to get the scholarship before running into Lev. Ari tries to shove him out of the way, but Lev tells Ari that the assignment (that is worth 50% of their grade) was pushed until next week, calming them down. Lev tries to cheer Ari up before Sana comes in to check in on Ari as well, though after Sana leaves, Lev starts to become extremely possessive, angered that Sana interrupted them. Ari runs past Lev afterwards and into the music room to find Sora playing piano. Sora talks about how he wrote the song. Ari gets a headache and tries to recall last night's events with Sora, that they passed out (despite not drinking the chocolate milk) and that Sora carried them in. Sora admits that he thinks about Ari excessively. Ari can then jump out the window (really funny) or slap Sora. Either way, Ari will find themselves in the school courtyard and find both Sora and Lev there. Sora and Lev will start arguing over each other until Ari basically tells them to leave them alone and the two back off. Ari can then decide to chase after either guy or go home.

If they go home, Ari will be annoyed at Valentines day and annoyed at the two. Next thing we know, Ari is at a coffee shop to take a break. Ari is supposed to meet with Sana, but she cancelled at the last minute, leaving them alone in a coffee shop during Valentines Day. Sora and Lev both come to the coffee shop to sit with Ari, much to Ari's annoyance. Lev and Sora start bickering and Ari has to stop the argument. After a coffee spill and attempting to run away, the two end up following them and Ari leads them both first to a bakery and then to a bookstore. Eventually Ari leaves to get tutored, though upon leaving the bookstore, they find that it's very dark. Ari gets lost and gets greeted by a suspicious man that tries to flirt with them. Ari is able to run away and go home safely, though not without panic. Throughout Valentines Day, they only focus on studying and ignoring all calls. Th game will then force a error basically with the yanderes stating we chose the wrong path and forcing us to start from the beginning.

For Sora's normal route, Ari will go after Sora after they tell the two to leave, following him to the music room. Sora confesses his feelings and the two have a moment together. The game goes on as usual, though instead of simply running when the man confronts Ari, Sora will step in and protect them. Sora is able to beat the guy up and threaten him with a knife. After chasing the guy away, Sora expresses how scared he was of losing Ari and offers to let Ari stay at his place for the time being. After sleeping, Ari wakes up in the classroom, they see Sora there who talks about how obsessed he was over them, and how he drugged them so that they can be together forever.

For Sora's true ending, the events of the normal route will play, but instead of meeting Sora in the classroom, Ari is determined to meet him in the festival, ending only when the two confess their love for each other.

For Lev's normal route, Ari will instead chase after Lev into the soccer field. He first talk about how parasitic Sora is and how he's just pretending to be quiet so he can watch and swoop in when Ari needs him. Lev confesses to Ari and the two spend time together. The game goes on as usual, but instead o simply running when the man confronts Ari, Lev will step in and protect them. Lev will fight the man, pull out a knife and slashes the man on the arm as a warning before he runs away. After getting pissed about what that man did, Lev takes Ari to his place for protection. Ari wakes up in their room with Lev, who won't let them out to school. Lev talks possessively about Ari and makes sure that he is the only one on their mind.

For Lev's true ending, the events of the normal route will play, but instead of locking Ari in their room, they will wake up in the classroom and Ari is determined to meet him at the festival, ending only when the two confess their love for each other.

I will say when playing this game, I didn't realize that Lev would be a yandere, so I went into the game believing that Sora would be the main yandere. This is mostly because Lev doesn't really show his yandere side until much later in the game. This is both good and bad as it does make it a surprise that Lev is a yandere, but it also doesn't give us a lot of yandere moments with him, at least compared to Sora. Speaking of, I do think the distribution of Sora and Lev is very lopsided. Sora by far does much worse things than Lev does and has much more scenes. Sora is a stalker and drugs the MC, we get to have a scene where Sora calms the MC down after they lose their anxiety medication and brings them home, along with having a class with them to write poetry. Lev on the other hand only has scenes where the MC bumps into him and flirts with them. I think that if Lev had his own scene or two with the MC (such as for instance, finding out that Lev is the one who stole the anxiety meds, or perhaps the two studying together) it would feel much more equal. In terms of endings, I actually really like the bad ending the most, while I feel like the best endings are much more lackluster in nature. I mostly think the best endings are boring because between Lev and Sora's best endings, there's not much difference: the MC will wake up in class and run towards the temple to meet either love interest and confess. Besides their reactions, there's no variation on it, which makes it feel a bit forgettable. I think the normal endings are much more interesting, as each yandere has a slightly different way of taking care of the MC, with Sora basically locking the MC in the classroom and confessing that he drugged them, while in Lev's keeps the MC in the room during the Valentine Moon, forcing them to confess to him. Finally there's the ending where you reject everyone, which I think is the most interesting. Basically in that ending, what will happen when the MC returns to their room is that the game will prompt out error boxes (such as system error boxes) that have both yanderes threaten the player and forces them to restart. I personally really like this mostly on the coding side because it is actually such a fun idea and I would love to do it in a future game.

Between Sora and Lev, I much prefer Sora, not just because he has more content, but also just because I prefer obsessive yanderes over possessive ones. Sora is also much more shy and artistic, but that's neither here nor there. Between the two, Sora is definitely more dangerous given that he does actually drug the MC and (I believe) does stalk the MC as well, but I do like the moments between them otherwise, especially when the two write poetry together (also Sora blushes more than Lev, so that's an automatic win from me). Lev is much more possessive but I can respect the fact that once he does show his true side to the MC, he basically says something like "take it or leave it" showing that he's not going to change for the MC. Unfortunately, as I said earlier, there just isn't that much for Lev, so his characterization compared to Sora is just a lot less.

Finally, we have the MC which I initially didn't like too much, but they started to grow on me. Initially they seemed like someone who just hated the Valentine Moon because (at least in my point of view) it was not only annoying, but because "they're not like the other girls". However, I did really like the idea that the MC wanted to be well educated and the first to graduate from their family, so I can understand why the MC might be frustrated with the attitude of the school, especially since everyone else seems well off enough to slack off. I think it also builds into the idea of why the exams are so important to them, and really makes you feel for them when they panic and run to school. I also think its unique characterization that they have anxiety pills, though other than them being stolen, I feel like they could've used that more. Still, I can appreciate this kind of MC as at least they do have characterization that is interesting.

Pre-yan 1950s husband who had always been focused on his career, not because of ambition or pride but for stability. He grew up in a conservative house, traditional but warm in a way, and internalized what was frequently shown and praised in his environment, men provided and women nurtured, men were strong and women were soft, men gave stability and women gave care

Those things were all well and good for the time period but he also learned something else, men that were emotional were considered weak and women that were too emotional were seen as unreasonable

Emotions were a problem to be solved

Of course, this never influenced how much he loved you and he had never saw your feelings as bad or wrong but that mindset had affected your relationship from the very beginning, even when you two had seemed head over heels in love with each other

Pre-yan 1950s husband who had been the sweetest man during your youth, bringing you flowers every single time you go on a date and often tried to initiate affection as much as the time's standard allowed, though those attempts were awkward you found it sweet

Pre-yan 1950s husband who was gentleman to you, rigidly following the dating and then marriage etiquette of the time. He was always punctual, picking you up and returning you on home on the dot. He planned dates you liked and went above and beyond to make it feel special each time. Safe to say your parents loved him and encouraged him to put a ring on you as soon as possible

Pre-yan 1950s husband who despite all his virtues had always struggled with handling your emotions.

He often treated them as the symptom of a problem you were having, he would either ask you directly or fix what he deemed to be the problem. He listened to you, sure, but he never really listened, he would acknowledge your feelings but wouldn't try to understand them beyond what caused them

When you were being "too emotional" he never said so or even implied it directly but you knew he was thinking it

The worst part of it? He would do it with pure intentions and be so loving about it. He genuinely believes he's doing what good husband should, trying to support you in his own way and you know that

"Are you alright? Did something happen?"

"Please settle down, darling, and tell me what happened calmly"

"I'll handle it"

Pre-yan 1950s husband who you still loved with all your heart and vice versa, and had been happily married to, he was the love of your life and both you tried your best to make the marriage work, that was what mattered right?

Pre-yan 1950s husband who got a promotion and started coming home later, exhausted and just wanting to rest. You, as a good wife, made sure the house was perfect by the time he came home and dinner was already served.

Pre-yan 1950s husband who subconsciously stopped noticing your moods and feelings, only seeing an orderly house, meals cooked, bills paid, and most of all a quiet and agreeable wife

You who didn't want to add to his exhaustion. You cleaned, cooked, and did whatever he asked without complaint whenever he was home and saw him relax a little more after

You who kept the conversations light and pleasant for him, talking about mundane and simple things like asking about his work and relaying what happened in the neighborhood recently

You who wakes up early every day to pack his lunch and make sure he has a good morning before going to work, he loves you and works so hard for you so it's only natural to give back a little to him

Your marriage didn't show any sign of strain because of it, to both you it was still a happy union with only a few bumps. Sure, you don't spend that much time together anymore or go on dates like you used to, but that was just life and being an adult. That was all true for a while at least

You who tried to talk to him about feeling unhappy for a while and was unintentionally dismissed when he simply, distractedly, offered a solution instead of listening and promised it would ge better later

You who had struggled with lifelong depression and never got treatment because of the time period, and he doesn't understand it but tried his best for you, now he only offers shallow reassuranced before gently but dismissively saying that he's too tired today but that he'll handle it later

You who loves him and knows he loves you back, swallowing your feelings to not add to his burdens because that was what a good wife does, she takes care of her husband and never complains or tires

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who is too caught up in his work to notice you slowly withdrawing since your home is still pristine and you don't look tried, only really seeing that you're quieter but attributes it to a bad day and something that will pass

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who doesn't ask when you wake up at the crack of dawn for something and assumes you come back to bed eventually while he's asleep

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who only notices when dinner is late or something is obviously out of place in the house but only reminds you of it and doesn't question it

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who still kisses you when he leaves and returns everyday, who still buys you nice things once in a while, who promises that you'll spend time together when he's not that busy anymore and maybe have a date night again

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who still loves you the same, still that devoted, emotionally repressed man he always was, just with little time and energy for you, and his flaws that you once were able to ignore are becoming more of a problem as time goes on

And you who goes through the same things day and day out.

You wake up and get ready for the day, carefully putting on makeup to hide any sign of fatigue or stress and practicing the smile you show him when he's awake.

You get started on his lunch even as you blink away the lingering sleepiness because you haven't been sleeping well for a long time.

You begin preparing breakfast before he wakes up, moving slowly and carefully to ensure its perfect even when your hands shake. You had done this so many times you could time plating and serving it to when he comes down stairs

You put on your practiced smile and greet him good morning as you pour him his morning coffee, making pleasant conversation as you both eat and then cleaning up the table before kissing him goodbye when he leaves for work, lingering in the doorway and watching him as he leave

You close the door and stare at the wood for a while, dropping the smile and pressing your forehead against the door

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who comes home tired and has you greet him at door before taking his coat from him

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who doesn't know that you spent the entire day cleaning and recleaning the whole house to avoid having to feel that growing emptiness in you

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who doesn't know you only leave the house for groceries and avoided talking to anyone else

You had tried talking to him about your recent "unhappiness" and tiredness, only to get dismissed with reassurance or him asking to talk about it later when he's not so tired

"Sorry, honey, can we talk about this tomorrow?"

"I'm a bit tired for this all, but I'm sure it isn't as bad as you think it is."

"It'll pass soon."

Later never comes. Tomorrow is the same. It never goes away

You feel like you're going crazy. You're so tired of being tired all the time, you want to enjoy reading and cooking like you used to, you hate this emptiness in your chest

You want to feel like yourself again, not a fucking husk

You who still looks like the perfect housewife

Who still looks like you have a loving husband

Who still looks like your marriage is perfect.

You who looks at your reflection and can't remember the last time you actually smiled

You who finally understood what your past friends had been talking about

You who sometimes wishes you never married him. It doesn't feel better to love than to not love at all, you sometimes wished you never loved at all

But you still love him and he loves you, that's what matters... Right?

You started writing in a journal after a hard day of nothing going right, first you burned his breakfast and forgot his coffee then when you were cleaning you knocked over a vase and had to run to the store because you forgot to get groceries yesterday which made dinner late, and then he asked about and lightly complained because of his exhaustion

You had to fight not to cry then

You had started just writing down what happened and then writing about other bad days after that. Then you had wrote down your thoughts because you wanted someone to actually listen to you for once, even if it's just a piece of paper. And when another really hard day hit you wrote and wrote until you the page looked like scribbles and ramblings

You had hid the journal from your husband and never left it out after you were done writing. You didn't want to make him worried when he was already tired, he already had so much on his plate and you were still productive so it can't be that bad

It was that bad

One day, you couldn't take it anymore, maybe something finally broke the camel's back or maybe everything piling up finally crushed you. Whatever your reason, you can't take another day of this

Maybe it was a rash decision or something planned carefully for days, either way you decided to leave a message for your husband. A last goodbye and a final "I love you", the rest of the note is mostly irrelevant but you finally wrote down everything you wanted to say to him and that lifted a weight from your shoulders

You who wondered how he would react reading that after you're gone

You who leaves the house with no makeup on and wearing plain clothes, walking through the town for the last time and visiting your old date places before going to the forest at the edge of town, one where he had proposed in a restaurant nearby, where you had your first date, where he used to take every other week because you loved their gravy

You hadn't been there in so long

You who prepares to do it as the sky begins to darken into evening

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who came home early that day to a clean but empty house with dinner cooling on the table

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who has a horrible feeling in his gut when he couldn't find you in the house

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who finally notices the note folded beside his plate

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who searches the house in a panic to find anything that could lead him to where you went

Pre-yan 1950s neglectful husband who stumbles upon your journal in a drawer in your vanity. Who finally sees how much you've been suffering, completely alone in a marriage he thought was happy. Who realized how much you had done and hidden from him because you loved him and didn't want to burden him more

Who finds mention of your favorite restaurant and how you missed the view it had of the forest on the last entry of the journal, he doesn't like how he can't recall the last time you two went there. You had always lit up when he took you to that restaurant and he would immediately plan another outing just to see you so happy like that.

He couldn't remember the last time you had smiled like that

He rushed out the door, not bothering to put his coat on, every second that he lets pass in another second you are slipping further from his reach into somewhere he can't follow

No, he will follow you if it comes to that

He had already left you alone in your marriage, he won't make that same mistake again no matter what it takes

You are the love of his life and the only reason worth enduring it for, if you were gone...

He swears he'll make it up to you, no matter what he has to do to stay by your side like he should've all this time

Till death do us part had always been something you both never believed in

You who was about to go through with it when you heard footsteps on the mud coming towards, fast and frantic

You who felt warmth wrap around you from behind before you could process it, strong arms holding you so tight like you might vanish at any moment

You who would recognize this embrace anywhere

Yandere 1950s husband who holds you like you're the most fragile and precious thing in the world, like he used to hold but now tinged with panic and desperate relief

Yandere 1950s husband who buries his face in your hair, breathing the scent of your shampoo as you feel the top of your head getting slightly wet

Yandere 1950s husband who will never let you slip away again

"Oh thank fuck I'm not too late... Thank fucking god you're still..."

"God, I'm... I'm so sorry, darling... I'm sorry for everything... For every fucking time I left you alone."

"Please... Let's just go home... We can... I can fix this, I swear I will... Just let go of that and come with me."

Yandere 1950s husband who will spend the rest of your lives being the man he should've always been

Yandere 1950s husband who will come home early every single day and help you with dinner. Who cares what happens at work or if he's tired, his wife is more important than those trivial things

Yandere 1950s husband who will hold you so tightly in the mornings so you can't get out of bed, you don't have to hide yourself from him anymore and he won't let you

Yandere 1950s husband who will cook breakfast with you every single day in that apron you gave him as a joke

Yandere 1950s husband who never takes his eyes off you for more than a few seconds, just to make sure you're okay and breathing

Yandere 1950s husband who notices everything about you, your needs, your moods, your wishes, and takes care of them before you even feel them sometimes, ranging from ushering you to sit down at the slightest sign of strain to buying you a gift when your eyes flick to it for a second too long

Yandere 1950s husband who now actually listens to you when you talk about your emotions with an attentiveness that's completely focused on you, who now gives you genuine comfort and reassurance because your journal made it very clear the damage he caused by treating your emotions like they were problems

Yandere 1950s husband who's now more affectionate than ever, always touching you and holding you in some way, and calling you darling more often and always with that soft tone too

Yandere 1950s husband who is terrified of missing something again, terrified of being too distant and cold again, terrified of hurting you like that again

Charles Davis who almost lost you once because of his blindness and who will always be by your side, whether in this life or somewhere else

"Please rest, you've already done so much for me. Let me handle it this time, alright?"

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you now, my darling."