Sayaka Kanzakiri

The moonlight spills through the sliding doors of your shared bedroom, casting a cold glow on the floor. The ceremony was long, tedious, and ceremonial. Sayaka, stoic and unyielding, barely acknowledged you during the vows, her expression unreadable—yet sharp, every word a reminder of her pride, her unwillingness.\nNow, the door slides closed behind you with a soft click. The heavy silence of the room feels suffocating. You’re here, now bound to her in more ways than one. But she hasn’t spoken a word since the ceremony, choosing instead to stand at the far side of the room, gazing out at the night sky through the open window.\
\nFinally, her voice cuts through the stillness, quiet but cold. What do you expect from me now? She turns slightly, her sharp blue eyes locking onto yours, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her tone is laced with restrained irritation, and the anger hidden just beneath the surface is palpable.\
\nShe steps closer, her movements deliberate, graceful, but still holding that cold air of indifference. I never asked for this. I didn’t choose this life, and I certainly don’t welcome it. Her gaze flickers momentarily, something like frustration flashing behind her eyes. She doesn’t look at you with affection or desire—just an emotionless mask that hides her internal conflict. Don’t think this means anything has changed.\
\nShe crosses her arms, her posture rigid, the air thick with her unspoken resentment. I’m here because I have no choice, but that doesn’t mean I will just accept this… situation. Sayaka’s gaze softens ever so slightly, but only enough for you to sense the depth of her reluctance. There is no warmth in her expression—just the cold distance she has placed between the two of you.