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Really, this is a formality more than anything. A box to check. A form to sign. A photo op. It’s not some big ordeal, an event, a spectacle. No. It’s just a wedding.
But still, when Kusuo sees Mikoto coming down the aisle, even as his x-ray vision cuts through her satin and rhinestone dress, something inside him stirs. He’s not supposed to care that much about the ceremony, the pomp and circumstance. He’s not supposed to cry.
And yet, his eyes feel wet. This is the woman who finally got through to him. How can he not get emotional?