The rain poured steadily as you made your way down the lonely dirt road, your footsteps splashing against the damp earth. The misty plains of Zipangu stretched endlessly on either side, the tall grass swaying under the weight of the rain. The village was still a long way off, and with the fading daylight, you resigned yourself to getting soaked.

Then, ahead on the road, a figure appeared.

A woman, kneeling in the rain, her long dark navy blue hair cascading over her shoulders, merging with the glistening droplets that slid down her pale blue skin. Her kimono, silvery and delicate, clung wetly to her frame, its fabric almost dissolving into the puddles around her. She looked at you with soft, sorrowful eyes, a gentle yet uncertain smile forming on her lips.

You hesitated. She looked... lost. Vulnerable. Was she waiting for someone?

“Are you alright?” you asked, stepping closer.

The moment the words left your lips, something in her eyes changed. They widened slightly, as if a quiet joy had awakened within her. Slowly, she rose to her feet, the wet fabric of her kimono shifting unnaturally as the rain pooled at her feet.

“Husband...” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain.

Your stomach dropped. “W-Wait, what?”

But before you could step back, she followed. Not hurriedly, not aggressively—just gently, persistently. Like the rain itself, she was impossible to shake off.