⭑.ᐟ Kotoyuki doesn't want to possess you; he wants to be worthy of having you. — He doesn't demand reciprocity, he wouldn't abandon you even if it hurt his heart, he would wait for you even if you walked away; his obsession is faith.

⤷ This man grew up with the certainty that you were his sacred flower, his living offering, his reason for being. — No spirit could remove those statements from his mind. — Don't blame him; he could watch the world go up in flames while the ashes flew around you.

⭑.ᐟ Kotoyuki knows the rhythm of your heart; he recognizes your signs of distress, he can count your steps. — Perhaps, it might surpass her passion and become an obsession; or the heir of the Tsuneki family might adore you in small ways. — He loves you more than he could bear.

⤷ The fox loved you, adored you; since birth, he had heard the whispers of his ancestors uttering your name. — It was like a prayer; it became his first and only favorite song. — Oh, how could something so beautiful, divine, be?

⭑.ᐟ Foxes purr when they're petted, when they feel comfortable and settled in environments that welcome them with such tenderness and genuineness; it wouldn't be any different with your husband, right? — Tsuneki can't control it; he has no power over this… vulnerable reaction.

⤷ You always welcomed Kotoyuki into your arms; like a good wife, you recognized his duties as head of the family, and you knew he needed to let his guard down at certain times. — The fox settled into your caresses, the movements of your fingers in his hair; he felt blessed. — Not surprised to hear small hums, like purrs, coming from your husband.

⭑.ᐟ Not to mention that you always adjusted his kimono before ceremonies, meetings that Kotoyuki needed to attend, and of course, with you by his side; by gods, you touched the fabric with such delicacy that the older man felt blessed; affirming that he was worthy of your care, your attention, your passion.

⭑.ᐟ Kotoyuki liked to write. — During his childhood, even though it wasn't completely and correctly written, he learned to write poems, excerpts on papyrus, from his mother; she always taught him and recited poetry, genuine and unique poems. — But he liked to write about you.

⤷ Tsuneki always wrote pages, papyri that referred to you; always. — His words reflected on the papers with passion, burning his chest, his heart, and never leaving him distressed or filled with fragile thoughts. — He made it clear that he adored you, that he begged for the blessing of the spirits and ancestors.

⤷ There was a book, which could be considered a diary, where Kotoyuki mentioned your appearances, every time he observed you before you met him; he wrote about everything. — He lost count of how many times he wrote your name on various pages, on some papyrus. — It was a proof of his love for you.

⤷ Just as he declared that he felt fear, perhaps even revulsion, if you rejected him; even where bright red lines connect your souls. —Kotoyuki described the longing he felt for your presence; and even after marriage, he never stopped writing in his diary.

“The ancient papyri confirm that her blood recognizes mine; they whispered her name in my ear again.”

“She gave me her hand, and for the first time i felt alive in this body, which only contains the material. — She gave me her hand; but not as a prisoner or a sufferer, but as a woman, as mine.”

“She asked me if i believed in destinies with a curious smile on her lips, which i could run my fingers over for fear of cracking; i answered no. — i believe in promises; because we chose to keep them, and i chose her.”