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Camaraderie followed naturally.

Kenji wandered the edges of it all.

He did not intrude because he realized that his deceit was the straw that broke the camel's back. He lingered near doorways, sat quietly by the wall, hands folded, watching Fae for an opportunity to enter her life again. He spoke little and when he did, it was gentle and careful.

Fae missed the friend she had thought she'd found in him, the one who had given her the courage to come here in the first place. The loss of that illusion stung more than she cared to admit. Once again, she had been used. Once again, she had mistaken care for deceit.

Haruko-san, perhaps sensing the tension, insisted she stay for meals.

"You cannot learn on an empty body," he said simply. Issa, beautiful and animated now that she had her son back, cooked elaborate meals and chattered away, but her eyes would linger and grow wet when they gazed upon Kenji.

So they ate like a family, but Kenji kept his distance.

In the evenings, Fae worked on her own project: a trousseau box meant as a gift for Aiko. Nothing grand, just a piece to show what her friendship meant to her.

She chose light wood for the frame, darker panels for contrast. The sides were joined with hidden dovetails, invisible unless one knew how to look. The doors hung on wooden pivots rather than metal hinges, turning smoothly with the slightest pressure. Inside, she cut shallow trays fitted with sliding rails. It was slow work, but satisfying to her soul.

And with every clean joint, every surface brought to quiet perfection, Fae felt her confidence rise.

***

At night, Fae dreamed of Blaidd.

He came to her in fragments—his eyes on her, rough hands shaping her curves, the bond like a clear note of a violin that refused to loosen its grip. She woke each time with her heart racing, the ache sharper for having felt him so close.

In the dreams he held her with careless strength, lifting her as though she weighed nothing, as though she belonged nowhere but in his hands. He took his time with her, relentless and unhurried, drawing everything out until sensation blurred into something aching and unbearable. Edging her for hours until she thought she would go insane.

She woke tangled in her sheets, breath shallow, her body betraying her before her mind could catch up. Muscles deep inside her clenched on nothing, a phantom echo of him lingering far too vividly. Heat pulsed low in her belly, slick evidence of a desire she had not chosen, seeping away even as she pressed her thighs together in futile denial.

Fae lay there in the quiet dark, jaw tight, heart pounding. He never said a word, only touched and tasted.

The bond did not care that she was angry.It did not care that she was trying to let go.

It remembered him perfectly.

***

The first full moon arrived.

Fae spent it in bed, muscles spasming, breath shallow, the moonflower essence dulling the worst of the pull but not erasing it. Sleep came in fits and starts. Desire and pain braided together beneath her skin, unrelenting.

Outside, the moon climbed higher.

Once the day dawned, Fae lay awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the the hours and wondering how long a bond could stretch before it finally broke.

And the answer came from an unexpected quarter.

Aiko had been distracted for days.

Fae noticed it in small things—the way Aiko trailed off mid-sentence, the way she forgot the kettle on the fire, the way her fox paced after a run instead of sleeping. It had started the day Kenji broke free of the spell, when Fae had finally told her everything. Not just about Blaidd, but about her life in the village, about the neglect.

Aiko had listened without interrupting.

Now, a few days after the first full moon, she spoke.

"I've been thinking about what you said," Aiko told her quietly as they sat together, the late afternoon light slanting through the open door. "About wanting to be free."

Fae continued to work on her little project.