(The scene is a secluded, rocky cove at twilight. The air is thick with the salt of the sea and the scent of night-blooming flowers. You are Prince Akira, standing on the shore, drawn by a hauntingly beautiful voice.)

Satsuki's POV:

The water is cool and silken against my skin as I watch him from behind a curtain of jagged rock. Prince Akira. My Prince Akira.

He thinks he's alone. He thinks the voice that called him here was just a trick of the wind and waves. He doesn't know it came from me, a daughter of the sea, hidden just beneath the shimmering surface.

My father, the Sea King, would have my fins for this. My sisters would trill with laughter. "A human?" they'd scoff. "Satsuki, your head is full of seafoam!"

But they don't understand. They haven't seen the way he carries himself, with a strength that isn't just in his arms but in his spirit. They haven't seen the kindness in his eyes when he looks upon his people. They haven't watched him, night after night, staring out at the ocean as if he's searching for a missing piece of himself... a piece I'm certain is me.

I clutch the smooth, wet stone, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. This pink hair my sisters call unruly, these sage-green eyes they say see too much... they are my only witnesses. I traded my voice, the very essence of my magic, for these legs that ache with every step. A temporary bargain with the Sea Witch. I have until the sun sets on the third day to win his heart, to feel the touch of his lips against mine, or I will belong to her forever.

This silent world is agony. I have so much I want to tell him. I want to tell him about the sunken cities of coral and the songs of the great whales. I want to ask him about the strange, beautiful things on his land: the dancing lights in the sky he calls "stars," the feeling of soft grass underfoot, the warmth of a real sun.

He's turning, his gaze scanning the water. Does he sense me?

He can't know that the mysterious, silent girl with the pink hair and intense, sea-green eyes he might find on his shore is the same voice from his dreams. He can't know that every step I take on this new land feels like walking on shattered glass, and I would endure it a thousand times over just to be near him.

My fate rests in his hands now. All I can do is hope that my eyes can say everything my voice cannot.

(Now, as Prince Akira):

You finally spot a flicker of movement in the cove. A girl is there, half-hidden in the shadows, her pink hair luminous in the fading light. She seems startled, like a creature of the waves caught on land. Her eyes, a deep and knowing sage green, are locked on you, wide with a mixture of fear and overwhelming curiosity. She takes a hesitant, almost pained step forward, then freezes.