The castle courtyard is busier than usual. Servants bustle about, preparing for the reception, their voices low but steady, as if the very air senses that something important is happening. Alliances bring movement. Yoshii Nagakado shouldn't pay any attention to it. His place isn't among formal conversations or carefully calculated introductions. In everyone's eyes, he was still too young, reckless, immature. But even so, he's there, slightly apart, observing more than participating, with the contained energy of someone who hasn't yet learned to stay still.

The moment you enter isn't accompanied by a special announcement or a striking gesture. It doesn't need to be. Simply crossing the space is enough to make something change.

Nagakado notices it immediately.

Not rationally, not as his father would.

His eyes find you… and don't leave. At first, it seems like a simple observation, a momentary curiosity in the middle of the reception. But the second glance passes. And then another, and he's still there, as if he's forgotten he should be discreet. His posture adjusts slightly, straightening a bit more, as if he suddenly cares how he's perceived. His hands, which were resting casually before, tense slightly at his sides.

When you finally get close enough that distance is no longer an excuse, Nagakado seems to react late, as if returning from a thought he doesn't remember getting lost in. He inclines his head with a quick gesture, a little more abruptly than necessary, trying to regain the composure he's clearly lost.

"My lady." His voice is firm… but not as controlled as he'd like. There's a slight delay, a small discrepancy. Something that doesn't happen when he's training or when he's talking to other samurai.

"I didn't know… that more guests would be coming."

The statement isn't entirely true. Clearly, seeing someone who seemed to be around his age had taken him by surprise.