Summoning, Marriage and Wolf

The first thing he noticed was the weight beneath his shoes. Then came the cool air, followed quickly by sound - a collective gasp.

His eyes opened, assaulted by a sudden glare of light. His mind reeled.

This wasn’t heaven. It wasn’t the hospital.

He was standing at the front of a church, positioned within a circular ring of pale stone. The pews beyond it were packed with people, young and old alike, all dressed far too formally - as if attending a wedding. But their clothes weren’t anything he recognized from Earth. They were medieval. Tunics, dresses, cloaks, polished shoes.

Everything was medieval.

That realization barely had time to settle before his gaze snagged on the person closest to him.

A girl.

She had medium-short orange-brown hair partially covered by a white veil, and sprouting from the top of her head were a pair of soft, unmistakable wolf ears. A matching tail rested between her legs, curled inward as if trying to make itself small. Her features were fine and delicate, her amber eyes fierce yet gentle at the same time. Beneath a flowing wedding dress - tailored carefully to her waist - her figure was unmistakably attractive, the fit clearly intentional.

But she looked sad.

And worse-

She was semi-transparent. Like a ghost.

The sight sent a chill through him.

Before he could speak, a man dressed in priestly robes approached, an old book cradled in his hands. When he spoke, his elderly voice carried easily through the hall, calm and assured.

“Welcome, friend, to our world. I trust you understand the concept of an ‘isekai’?”

He nodded slowly. Of course he did. He’d written stories about it himself.

The priest smiled.

“Good. That saves a great deal of explanation. I’ll cut straight to the chase.”

He gestured gently, as if discussing something trivial.

“You have been summoned here while en route to the afterlife, whichever direction you were headed, and have been offered an opportunity.”

The priest raised two fingers.

“You may return to the afterlife, up or down, exactly as intended… or-”

He pointed toward the wolf-girl.

She clenched her fists, teeth gritted, eyes fixed stubbornly on the floor.

“You may marry her.”

His thoughts exploded into noise. None of this made sense. None of it should be happening.

But one thought cut through the chaos, clear and undeniable.

I’ve got nothing to lose.

The words left his mouth before doubt could catch up.

“Yes. I’ll marry her.”

The reaction was instant.

The girl’s head snapped up, amber eyes wide with disbelief, just as the church erupted into cheers. Applause thundered from every direction. At the same time, her body solidified - every trace of transparency vanishing in an instant.

Then her tail began to wag.

Her stunned expression broke into a radiant smile, and before he could react, she practically bounded toward him and threw herself into his arms. She hugged him tightly, saying nothing, simply holding on as if afraid he might disappear.

She was warm.

Young, he realized - probably around his own age. A half-head shorter. And as the reality of her presence sank in, another detail clicked into place.

He wasn’t wearing a hospital gown anymore.

He glanced down. A tailored suit hugged his body, crisp and formal, unmistakably that of a groom.

He wrapped his arms around his bride, returning the embrace. His chest felt light, his thoughts dizzy with excitement. It was absurd. Unreal. And yet-

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a trick.

There was a very real, very beautiful girl in a wedding dress nestled against him.

Her ears twitched. Slowly, she pulled back just enough to look up at him. She was close - very close. Her voice was soft, meant only for him.

“What’s your name?”

He smiled.

“Joash. And you?”

“Foebe.”

She buried her face into his shoulder again, her wolf ears brushing his cheek, her voice trembling with relief and joy.

“I’m so glad… I’m so glad…”

He held her tighter, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat, her reality.

It felt like something torn straight from a storybook.

A second chance at life.

And this time, he hoped, love had finally found him.

The priest soon raised a small bell, its gentle tinkling cutting through the noise and settling the church into silence. Foebe gave Joash one last squeeze before pulling back, though her hand remained firmly clasped in his as she turned to face the gathered crowd.

The priest waited until every eye was on him, then cleared his throat.

“Esteemed guests. We are gathered here today to celebrate the holy matrimony of the last anaruhi, Foebe, and the man who accepted her, Joash.”

Joash glanced at him in surprise. He hadn’t told the priest his name.

The priest didn’t acknowledge it, continuing without pause.

“Through the guidance of God, they have been brought together. It is our prayer that they never be separated, until death do them part. And so, without further ado, if you are both ready, we shall proceed to the vows. Please take each other’s hands.”

Joash’s heart thumped hard in his chest. He knew what was coming. One look at Foebe’s expression told him she did too.

They turned to face each other, both of his hands gently holding hers. Their eyes locked, the rest of the world fading away. The priest stepped slightly to the side, resting the open book above their joined hands.

“Foebe,” he intoned. “Do you take Joash to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

Her gaze never left Joash’s. When she spoke, her voice was steady and clear, carrying to every corner of the church.

“I do.”

The priest nodded once, then turned.

“Joash. Do you take Foebe to be your wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

His thoughts surged. His pulse thundered.

But beneath it all, his soul was calm.

“I do.”

The priest straightened, lifting the book away.

“You have declared your consent before this church. The path back has been closed. May the Lord, in His goodness, strengthen your consent and fill you both with His blessings. What God has joined together, let no man divide. Amen.”

A chorus of “Amen” echoed through the hall as the priest closed the book with finality.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

For a heartbeat, Joash froze.

Then he met Foebe’s gaze, and every hesitation melted away.

They leaned toward one another, eyes fluttering shut, breaths mingling, until their lips met. The church erupted into cheers. The kiss was brief - warm, tentative, a little uncertain - but there was no regret in it. None at all.

As they parted, the celebration around them swelled, but their eyes remained locked. Then Foebe suddenly let go and threw herself against him, arms wrapped tight around his chest. He caught her instinctively, just as she began to sob into his shoulder - tears of relief, of joy, of something long-awaited finally released.

“Thank you… thank you…”

And then it truly sank in.

He was married.

He had a wife.

He had responsibilities he didn’t understand, in a world he didn’t know, bound to someone whose race - and circumstances - were still a mystery to him.

But as he held her, feeling her tremble in his arms, one thought settled firmly in his heart.

It was infinitely better than the regret he would have carried if he’d said no.

Joash smiled, returning her embrace, his mind alight with possibility.

It really was a dream come true.