The Cherry Blossom Festival's vibrant chaos swirled around Arthur Cousland like a storm of pink confetti, the ancient sakura tree at its heart casting long shadows under the holographic twilight. Petals fluttered down, catching in the hair of revelers and dusting the plaza's tiled expanse. Vendors hawked glowing trinkets and steaming skewers, their calls blending with laughter and distant music. Arthur stood amid it all, his tactical coat a stark contrast to the festive attire, the solid weight of his goddesium prosthetic legs grounding him as tensions escalated. Sakura's arm was linked with his, her kimono's intricate embroidery whispering against his sleeve, but her grip tightened at Moran's outburst.
Sakura's dark eyes narrowed, confusion flickering across her composed features. "Moran? What are you doing here? This is hardly the place for Peony Association business."
Moran, her presence as commanding as ever with her sleek dark attire hugging her curves and her eyes flashing with indignation, planted her hands on her hips. "Business? I'm here to oversee this Spring Festival. The Peony Association has claimed responsibility for maintaining order. You know how these events attract the wrong sort—thugs looking to stir trouble or make a quick score."
Sakura blinked, glancing around at the profusion of blooming sakura trees, their branches heavy with delicate flowers that perfumed the air. She gestured expansively. "Spring Festival? This is the Cherry Blossom Festival, Moran. Look around—the trees, the petals, the entire theme. Seimeikai has volunteered to handle it this year. It's all been arranged through the usual channels."
Moran's cheeks flushed slightly, a rare crack in her formidable armor. She waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, damn it. Must've mixed up the dates in all the chaos. The memos get buried under everything else. Fine, oversight mix-up. But that doesn't explain this farce I'm hearing about."
Arthur stepped in, his voice steady amid the growing murmurs from the crowd. "Hold on. What do you mean by 'taking charge' of the festival? I've dealt with underworld logistics before, but this is new."
Sakura sighed, her poise returning as she explained. "Every major event like this, we—the Underworld Queens—negotiate who oversees security and operations. These gatherings draw massive crowds, and with them come opportunists: pickpockets, rival gangs testing boundaries, even upstarts trying to carve out a name in the shadows. It's a delicate balance to keep things civil without Central Government interference. Seimeikai stepped up for this one because... well, it ties into my internal issues. But apparently, the message didn't reach everyone."
Moran crossed her arms, her expression shifting from embarrassment to renewed fury. "Internal issues? You mean this ridiculous marriage ploy? Forget the festival oversight—that was a mistake. But marrying *him*? Arthur, of all people? Without so much as a whisper to your allies?"
Sakura's lips curved into a wry smile, though her eyes remained sharp. "The rumor mill moves faster than I anticipated."
Moran wasn't appeased. She turned her glare on Arthur, her voice rising. "And you! Not a word to me? After everything we've shared—the nights, the battles, the trust? You're just going to tie yourself to Seimeikai like this? What about us? What about the Peony Association's stake in your future?"
Arthur met her gaze, his short beard framing a calm expression, though inwardly he navigated the minefield of his polyamorous entanglements. Moran had been his lover since his mercenary days, a fierce partner. "Moran, it's not what it seems. This is a facade, a one-day thing to help Sakura with her organization's expectations. You know me—I don't make moves without considering everyone involved."
Sakura interjected smoothly, her tone laced with amusement. "Essentially, you're demanding veto power over a sham marriage. How superfluous. Arthur's commitments are his own, and this changes nothing in the grand scheme."
The two women locked eyes, the air thickening with rivalry. Moran's retort was sharp. "Superfluous? This affects alliances, Sakura. Peony doesn't bow to Seimeikai whims. And Arthur, you owe me an explanation—preferably in private."
Before the argument could escalate further, another voice cut through the din, high-pitched and incredulous. "Married? The commander is getting *married*? This can't be real!"
Heads turned as Noise, the radiant pop star of Prima Donna, pushed through the crowd. Her stage outfit sparkled under the lights— a short dress adorned with sequins that caught the falling petals like stars. Her long hair cascaded in waves, and her eyes widened in disbelief as she spotted Arthur and Sakura arm-in-arm. "I must be hallucinating from all the stress. First, those weirdos block me from my scheduled performance, saying the stage is 'reserved,' and now this? Commander, tell me it's a joke!"
Arthur raised an eyebrow, his prosthetic arms subtly shifting as he assessed the new complication. Noise—real name Nana—had been part of his expanding circle, her vibrant energy a counterpoint to the grim realities of their world. Their shared moments had been electric, blending her idol persona with genuine connection. "Noise, it's not—"
But she barreled on, her hands gesturing wildly. "I was invited for a concert, right? To lift spirits after that awful memorial stuff. But these shady types corner me, saying no can do, stage is off-limits. And now, my precious commander is tying the knot out of the blue? With *her*? This day is a nightmare!"
Moran nodded vigorously, finding an unlikely ally. "You said it. Terrible doesn't cover it. First the festival mix-up, now this betrayal. We should storm the stage ourselves—show them what real power looks like."
Noise's eyes lit up. "Oh, I like her! Yeah, let's commiserate over some festival treats and plot our revenge on this whole mess."
Sakura exhaled deeply, rubbing her temple as the situation spiraled. "This is getting absurdly out of hand. But it does highlight one thing: Arthur's value. So many vying for his attention—it's almost flattering." She raised her voice slightly, signaling to the shadows. "Seimeikai! Handle this discreetly. Escort these ladies elsewhere for now."
From the crowd emerged several figures—Sakura's operatives, dressed inconspicuously but moving with purposeful grace. They approached Moran and Noise, polite but firm, guiding them away with murmured apologies about 'festival protocols.' Moran protested, shooting Arthur a look that promised later reckoning, while Noise pouted dramatically, calling back, "Commander, don't forget me in all this!"
Arthur watched them go, concern etching his features. "Sakura, was that necessary? They're not threats. This could escalate rivalries we don't need."
She turned to him, her expression softening just a touch as they resumed their walk toward the tree. "For the duration of our arrangement, you're mine alone, Arthur. No distractions, no interlopers. It's the only way this works. Besides, they'll be fine—my people are professionals. Now, let's focus on the ritual. The kiss under the tree will seal the pretense."
As they moved deeper into the festival, the crowd parted slightly, respecting Sakura's aura.
Now, under the sakura, that memory fueled his resolve. Sakura led him to the tree's base, where couples exchanged vows and kisses, the legend promising eternal bonds.