The next afternoon was warm and lazy; the Sitri gardens smelled of jasmine and the pond glittered under a gentle sun. Sona and Riser walked side by side, hands almost brushing, comfortable silence wrapping around them like a shared cloak.
They paused by a low stone wall where a few students milled about. Riser was idly talking about some absurd tactic to combine Haki with a water spear when a voice — bright, practiced, flirtatious — slid across the garden.
"Riser-kun~! What a surprise to see you out and about. You really do get around." A girl in fashionable clothes and an obviously practiced smile had approached, circling so she could stand uncomfortably close to him. She tossed her hair, laughed a little too loud, and rested a hand on his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Sona's expression cooled: the hand, the chuckle, the way the girl angled herself between them. She didn't think; she reacted.
Without warning she stepped forward, grabbed Riser's sleeve, and roughly dragged him by the arm away from the girl as if yanking him back into her orbit. The motion was sharp, possessive — a small, human claim.
"Riser — come here." Her voice was clipped; her cheeks were burning. Everyone nearby went silent for a fraction of a second, then pretended not to notice.
The girl's practiced smile snapped into offended surprise. "Oh? How rude. I was only—" She glanced at Sona, then at Riser, and the polite mask slid back on with an abrasive edge. "Well then. How 'cute' for you two." She swept off with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Riser blinked, then laughed — a low amused sound. "Sona." He let her drag him a few steps farther, then planted his feet and turned to face her. "You're jealous."
Sona's jaw tightened. She tried to look indignant. "I am not—" Her voice came out smaller, tighter. "It's not about that. It's improper for strangers to crowd you like that." She averted her eyes, not daring to meet his.
He stepped closer, gently taking both of her hands. His grin was disarming. "Jealous and a little possessive." He teased, voice warm. "Adorable."
Her glare was immediate and furious — but it failed to hide the way her fingers curled around his palms. She huffed, half scold, half defeated. "Stop teasing me."
Riser's thumb brushed the back of her hand, calm and confident. "If you're angry and jealous, then I'll show you just how serious I am." He pulled her into a hug so gentle it could have been mistaken for comfort. When he pressed his lips to her forehead a moment later, it had none of the loud bravado he often wore — only a quiet promise.
"I only want you, Sona," he murmured against her hair. "Only love you."
Her breath hitched. She tried to pull away to scold him properly, but his arms were an honest kind of anchor. Her face heated in a way that told him everything he needed to know. She let out a small, exasperated sound that could have been a laugh or a protest.
Then, daring to be bolder in the intimacy between them, he leaned in and pressed a short, tender kiss to her lips — soft, careful, entirely his. It was not performance. It was steadiness.
Sona's reaction was immediate: she froze, then clenched her hands in his coat as if steadying herself. When she finally exhaled she did so as if surrender and victory had collapsed into one. "Riser," she whispered, half admonishment, half confession.
Riser's grin returned, warm and roguish. He straightened just enough to look at her eyes and teased gently, "Still angry?" Then, lowering his voice into a private, conspiratorial rumble, he added, "If you're that worked up, I can make it obvious for everyone. Put a mark they can't miss." He tapped the spot near her neck where earlier he'd left a playful sign — already faint — and winked.
Sona's cheeks flamed. She smacked his chest lightly, embarrassed and exasperated. "Don't be ridiculous."
He chuckled and softened. "Alright, alright. No theatrics for now. But know this: I only ever want you. If you're worried — jealous — tell me. I'll fix it. I'll prove it. And if you keep acting like this," he added with wicked mirth, "I'll waste no time turning everyone's gossip into the truth they can't deny." He cocked an eyebrow, then, half teasing, half sincere: "One day, if you let me, I could even make you the mother of my children." The line was a tease — a future-painted-with-boldness — meant to fluster and to promise.
Sona's reaction was almost physical: her eyes widened, she stammered, then hid her face against his shoulder, heat and something very like happiness shaking in her voice. "R-Riser! You are unbearable." Then, after a long beat, because her heart had already gone farther than her mind, she whispered, "Don't joke like that."
He held her close a second more, voice quiet and utterly earnest now. "I wasn't joking. I mean it, Sona. Only you."
The jostled girl from before disappeared down the path, no doubt with stories to carry. The nearby students slowly resumed their business, but the air between Sona and Riser had changed: bristling, intimate, theirs.
Serafall — who had been leaning over a low hedge nearby, watching with wide delighted eyes — popped up and clapped, unable to help herself. "KYAA! That was perfect! So-tan, you grabbed him! You're really his!" she squealed, then covered her mouth with a hand, laughing at her own glee.
Sona pushed free a little, swatting Serafall off with an irritated yelp, but she didn't pull away from Riser's warmth. "Onee-sama!"
Riser kissed her temple, grinning. "See? You make very convincing claims." Then, with a teasing whisper only she could hear: "But if you keep stealing me like that, I might make you officially mine in a way they can't ignore."
Sona huffed, half cross, half smiling — the precise mixture that now made up so much of their private moments. She held his hand tighter, and this time, when they walked on, it was unmistakable to anyone who cared to look: they were together, and neither flame nor tide would let the other go.