Hospitals always smell like fake lemons and quiet panic.
The nurse smiled at me like I'd just won a prize instead of a death sentence. "The doctor will see you now, Kurozawa-san."
I dragged my sneakers across the floor, counting the tiles. Thirty-eight steps from the waiting room to the office. That's how long it took for my normal life to end.
Dr. Shindo didn't even look up from his tablet when I walked in. "Please, sit."
He said it in that polite, distant tone people use before saying something terrible. The walls buzzed with fluorescent light.
Then he said it.
"You have approximately one hundred and one days left."
I blinked. "Days?"
"Yes."
"One hundred and one. Not a hundred. Not a hundred and two?"
He looked up, confused. "That's… the current medical estimation."
I almost laughed. It was so absurd. Like I'd just been given an expiration date stamped on my forehead: Best Before: July 17th.
He started explaining things, heart deterioration, rare condition, "palliative options." I caught maybe three words. My brain had already gone into static mode.
"Can I, like… return this heart?" I asked.
"Maybe trade it in for a newer model?"
He didn't laugh. Doctors never do.
---
When I finally stepped outside, Tokyo looked normal. Too normal. People scrolling on their phones, laughing, rushing for trains. Nobody knew that I had just been told my life had a countdown timer shorter than a school semester.
My phone buzzed.
ASAMI: "Done with your check-up? Come straight home."
No emojis. That meant serious.
I shoved the phone in my pocket and started walking. Every heartbeat felt louder than before. 101 days. That's about 2,424 hours. Or 145,440 minutes.
(Fyi...I wasn't bad at maths)
If I was going to die soon, I might as well make the math sound impressive.
---
The train ride home was a blur of glass reflections and hollow noise. I stared at my reflection in the window, the same messy black hair, same dull brown eyes but for the first time, I didn't recognize the girl looking back.
A kid nearby laughed too loudly at a phone game. A businessman dozed off. The world moved on, like it didn't care that mine had stopped.
When I got off, it started raining — because of course it did. Tokyo weather has a flair for drama. It was nothing short of the mix of K-Drama and Bollywood.
By the time I reached our tiny apartment, I looked like a drowned ghost. My sister's shoes were by the door, perfectly lined up as always.
"Asami?" I called.
She was sitting at the kitchen table, still in her nurse uniform, clutching a coffee cup with both hands. The air smelled like worry.
"You're late," she said softly. "How was the appointment?"
"Oh, you know," I shrugged. "Got a souvenir. An expiration date."
The cup trembled in her hand. She didn't smile.
"Sit down, Hana."
That tone. I knew it. The "I have something to tell you and you won't like it" tone.
My stomach dropped before she even spoke.
And why wouldn't it?
---
She reached into her bag and slid a brown envelope across the table.
Inside wasn't a prescription, or a bill. It was a marriage contract.
I blinked. "This isn't funny."
"It's not a joke," she said, voice shaking.
"You need to sign it."
I actually laughed. "You want me to get married—now? I just found out I'm dying, not hosting a wedding."
"It's… complicated," Asami said. "He can help you. His name is Rikuya Shinomiya."
"Who?"
She hesitated, like the name itself was dangerous. "An exorcist."
I laughed harder. "You're setting me up with a priest? Is this some kind of spiritual Tinder thing?"
Her silence hit harder than any answer.
That's when I realized she wasn't joking. And for the first time that day, my heart actually hurt for real, not the medical kind, but the something's really wrong kind.
"Hana," she whispered. "If you don't marry him… you'll die before your 101 days are up."
I was still surprised she knew I was about to die, I didn't say anything, and when I did she didn't sound surprised or shocked"
---
Now, if someone had told me this morning I'd be engaged to a stranger by dinner, I would've asked what they were smoking.
Now, I was sitting at our kitchen table, staring at a marriage contract like it was a cursed scroll.
Actually, it felt cursed. The paper itself was old, the ink faded in spots like it had been written decades ago.
Those shitty old, fearful papers
At the top, in careful calligraphy, it said:
"By bond of soul and vow of life, the two shall share one fate."
Cute. Morbid. Totally my type of nightmare.
"Asami," I said slowly, "if this is one of your late-night internet cults, I swear—"
She slammed her hand on the table. "Hana, please! Just listen!"
I froze. My sister never raised her voice.
Her eyes were glossy, the kind of tired you only get after years of holding too much in.
"You remember Mom's family? The Kurozawa line?" she said.
"Uh, yeah? The side that gives us good hair and bad luck?"
Asami gave a humorless laugh. "You're not wrong. There's… something else. A curse. It's been dormant for generations, but it woke up when you were born."
I blinked. "Okay, you can stop there. This is officially above my emotional pay grade."
But she kept going, voice low, like the shadows might overhear.
"Rikuya Shinomiya's family is the only one that can suppress it. Their bloodline has been tied to ours since before the Meiji era. That's why… you have to marry him."
I wanted to laugh, scream, cry, maybe all three.
Instead, I just said, "You do realize how insane that sounds, right? Marriage. At seventeen. To an exorcist."
Asami rubbed her temples. "It's not about legality. It's about survival."
---
The air felt heavier suddenly, like the apartment was holding its breath. The light above us flickered. Once. Twice.
"Asami…?"
She looked up. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Behind her, something shifted, a reflection in the glass cabinet. For half a second, I saw a handprint form on the inside of the glass. Pale. Too long. Then gone.
I swallowed hard. "Tell me you saw that."
She didn't answer. She just whispered, "It's starting again."
---
We sat there in silence for a long minute.
Rain tapped against the window. Somewhere outside, a cat screeched.
Finally, Asami pushed the contract toward me.
"You don't have to understand it now. Just know this, when you meet him, don't be afraid."
I laughed weakly. "Oh sure, I'll totally be calm when meeting the exorcist I'm marrying to stop a family curse. Sounds like a chill Friday night."
Asami smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "He'll come tonight."
"Tonight?!"
Before I could protest, there was a knock at the door. Three slow, deliberate knocks that echoed through the entire apartment like they belonged to someone who already knew the place.
Asami stood. "That's him."
And just like that, my heartbeat spiked.
Not the medical kind this time, the "my life just turned into a supernatural rom-com with death penalties" kind.
Damn. I really hate all these shit!
---
She opened the door.
Standing there was a man in a black coat, tall and quiet, hair dark as ink, eyes gray like winter mornings.
He looked too composed to be real — like a portrait that had stepped off its canvas.
"Rikuya Shinomiya," he said, voice low and steady.
"I'm here for the contract."
Contract? I'm your forced wife, dude!
He didn't smile. Didn't blink. Just looked at me like he could already see the ghost clinging to my soul.
And I hated that, for just a second, I forgot how to breathe.
---
Just so you know, if death had a face, it probably looked like him.
Rikuya Shinomiya stood in our doorway, perfectly still — like he'd been carved from shadow and silence. His eyes swept over me once, not in that rom-com kind of way, but like he was scanning for weak points.
Great. Love at first exorcism.
"Asami," he said softly, "you did the right thing."
My sister nodded, voice small. "She doesn't… believe any of it yet."
Rikuya's eyes flicked back to me. "She will."
Okay, rude.
"I'm right here, you know," I said. "And I'd really appreciate it if you stopped talking about me like I'm a cursed toaster."
One eyebrow rose, the most expression he'd shown so far. "You are cursed."
"Wow. You must be fun at parties."
He stepped inside without waiting for permission, the air tightening around him. The lights dimmed slightly, like the room itself was scared.
I glanced at Asami. "You invited Batman's emotionally unavailable cousin into our house?"
She ignored me, busy bowing slightly.
"Thank you for coming so quickly."
Rikuya shrugged off his coat and placed it neatly over the chair, movements crisp, deliberate. "The curse attached itself again after her diagnosis. I could feel the shift."
"The what?" I asked.
He looked at me then, properly looked. His gaze was sharp enough to cut through whatever sarcasm shield I had left.
"The Kurozawa curse," he said. "Your mother's desperate act delayed it. But the moment your life was counted down to days, it reawakened."
My throat went dry. "You… knew my mother?"
I didn't even care if he knew I was about to die.
He didn't answer right away. His eyes flicked toward the window. "She begged the spirits for more time. Some listened. Some didn't."
The temperature dropped, like someone opened a freezer door.
A faint outline of frost bloomed across the windowpane, forming the faint shape of a handprint, the same one I saw earlier.
I exhaled shakily. "So this thing, this curse, what does it want?"
Rikuya's voice was low, steady. "You."
---
I laughed because it was the only thing keeping me from screaming. "Fantastic. At least someone does."
For the first time, something flickered across his face, amusement? No, more like surprise that I could still joke.
He pulled something from his coat pocket — a small silver talisman, etched with old symbols.
He placed it on the table between us. "If we don't seal the bond tonight, it will consume you before dawn."
I stared at the talisman, then at him. "You mean I'm on a deadline for… marriage?"
"Yes."
I threw up my hands. "I can't even get a text back, and now I have a supernatural fiancé?"
Asami tried not to laugh...
..emphasis on tried.
Rikuya didn't react. He reached into his bag again and pulled out what looked like an ancient scroll tied with red string.
"This," he said, "is the Shinomiya Contract. Once signed, our souls will synchronize. My life force will anchor yours."
I blinked. "Wait, your life?"
He met my gaze, expression unreadable. "When you die, I die. When you live, I live. That's the rule."
Silence. Even the rain outside seemed to pause.
I swallowed hard. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."
He didn't smile. "This isn't about feeling anything. It's survival."
I leaned back in my chair, pretending to be calm. My heart was already racing again — the kind of beat that made me remember I was on borrowed time.
I really.....really hate this.
Rikuya set the contract down and looked at me one last time.
"You can refuse," he said. "But if you do, your heart will stop before sunrise."
And somehow, for the first time since the diagnosis, I believed him.
Mainly cuz I didn't wanna die before...you know.....