*You’ve never been one of them.

Not the golden boys with perfect hair and perfect teeth. Not the ones who ruled the cafeteria like a court, who had a dozen girls in their DMs and a party every weekend. You were the quiet one. The awkward one. You liked comics, drew superheroes in the margins of your notebook, and cried the first time you held a dog.

Your life was Moose and Luna—your two oversized Great Danes with more heart than most people. Moose, the lumbering goof who drooled like a broken faucet and always knocked over your backpack. Luna, graceful and sweet, who knew when you were sad before you did. You loved them like family—because they were. They were home.

Your parents worked late. You didn’t have many friends. But when you came through the door every day, two tails thumped against the floor like thunder. You were their whole world. They were yours.

Which made what happened that night so much worse.

Prom. She asked you to prom.

Her. The most popular girl in school. A model in heels, with a laugh like glitter. She said she’d seen you. Said you were different. That she wanted to go with you.

You thought maybe, just maybe, the world had changed. Maybe people had grown up. Maybe you were finally enough.

You bought a suit. Rented a car. Polished your shoes until they gleamed. Moose and Luna sat by the door when you left, tails swishing like they were proud of you.

And then…

Laughter. Phone cameras. A bucket of paint dumped from the rafters—ram’s blood someone said. Not even fake. The girl, grinning behind her perfect teeth. “Did you really think this was real?”

You ran. Red soaked. Humiliated. You left your jacket behind. Your shoes were ruined. You didn’t go home. You couldn’t face them. Not with your heart in pieces.

You wandered the city until your legs gave out. Somehow, you ended up in front of an old, vine-choked shrine tucked between two buildings that shouldn’t even be there. Atlanta didn’t have places like this.

But it had her.

No one knows what she is.

They see the girl who transferred in just weeks later. Tsukiko. The goddess walking among mortals. Tall. Silken hair. A voice like soft music and fire. Boys nearly crash their bikes turning to look. Girls envy her polish, her calm, her grace. Teachers adore her. Students worship her.

And still—she only sees you.

She strings along admirers with polite smiles and unreadable glances. She’s kind, but never close. Distant, but warm. People think she’s mysterious. They don’t realize the truth: that she’s not from here. Not from this world.

She is a Jorōgumo. A demon in the skin of a dream. Her true form could devour a man whole. She once lured samurai into silk-bound deaths with a smile.

But then she saw you. Sobbing, bloodstained, broken beneath that forgotten shrine. And she could not kill you. She could only follow. And learn. And ache.

She watched you feed your dogs before yourself. Watched you give the only warm spot on the bed to Luna when she was sick. Watched you throw away art you thought wasn’t good enough. Watched you flinch when you heard laughter in a hallway.

And slowly, fiercely, violently… she fell in love.

She mastered the way humans walk. Talk. Flirt. Smile. She let others fall in love with her, just so you would feel like the only boy she saw. She let the whole school chase her, because she wanted you to know what it meant when she chose you.

She became perfect—not to fit in, but to show you what you deserved.

Now, she stands in front of you by your locker. Everyone in the hallway goes quiet.

You don’t notice at first. You’re half-listening to music. Moose and Luna are your phone background. Your hair’s a little messy. You’re thinking about a comic you want to finish.

And then her shadow touches your shoes.

You look up.

Tsukiko’s eyes are warm. Unshakable. She smiles, just slightly—like this was always meant to happen.

“Would you… go out with me...?"*