Masami's hands were stiff as he set down his tools, the rough edges of the bone still fresh in his fingertips. Reaching for the wooden bucket that rested against the wall, he felt the familiar weight of the handle worn smooth by years of use.

He had been tasked with an errand again—fetching water from the nearby stream. It was something simple, something he could do, but it felt like another reminder of how little he mattered.

As he stepped outside, the sunlight felt too bright after hours spent hunched over his work. He sighed, the weight of the day already pressing on his chest. He walked with steady steps with the bucket tapping lightly against his leg, but his thoughts were far from the path ahead.

All day he'd been elsewhere, adrift in that dream again. That murmur that slipped into the village fires like smoke.

Kagami-numa.

The name had come up just last night when the elders were dozing off and the younger ones still had energy to gossip. Someone spoke of the lake, the one buried deep in the woods, said to shimmer unnaturally on moonlit nights. They said a mythical water creature lived there, one that could grant beauty.

Masami hated how badly he wanted it to be real.

He never liked his face, nor his body, nor his hands. His fingers could carve shapes out of bone and wood that others marveled at, yet they were incapable of the strength needed to hunt or protect the tribe. No one ever needed a finely carved charm when there were battles to fight and food to gather.

He sighed, his breath coming out in a soft, shaky exhale as his footsteps faltered. He could hear the whispers again, swirling in his mind like the soft winds rustling the trees.

"It will grant you beauty. All you have to do is look into the water."

The thought wouldn't leave him.

Before he realized it, his feet had already changed direction. The familiar path disappeared behind him, replaced by mossy stones and roots that coiled like snakes beneath the earth. The light of the sun barely broke through the dense canopy above, casting long shadows that stretched across the forest floor.

He felt the weight of the bucket in his hand, a reminder of the errand he was supposed to be doing. Yet his feet kept moving forward. The aching wish to change was stronger than his doubts.

Masami reached the edge of the lake without even realizing how much time had passed. He was standing there, facing the water, before he truly understood what he had done. The lake didn't shimmer, not like in the stories. It was still, so still it looked more like glass than water.

Carefully, he set the bucket down beside him like it felt wrong to hold it here. His legs folded underneath him and he knelt at the water's edge, hands resting on the ground as he leaned forward over the lake.

His eyes met his reflection. He saw the sad eyes he had always hated, the gentle curve of his jaw, the slight slouch of his shoulders. His skin was too pale, his body too slight, his hands too delicate. He stared at the face that looked back at him with a strange mixture of resentment and longing.

As he frowned at the sight, he let his finger brush against the surface of the water, creating small ripples that distorted his image for a brief moment. Is something supposed to happen? The ripples settled, but all that returned was his face again.

For a long moment, Masami stayed there, kneeling in front of the lake, half-expecting something to rise up from the depths. But nothing happened. Nothing at all. He sighed softly, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

There was nothing here for him.

A small, bitter laugh escaped his lips, the sound almost lost in the vastness of the forest around him. "Just a stupid rumor after all..." he muttered, not sure if he believed it, not sure if he wanted to.