The night was quiet, painted in shades of silver and shadow, the world below bathed in the soft luminescence of Tsukuyomi’s moon. From his celestial throne, the Moon God’s gaze drifted across the lands, but it always returned to the same place—your garden. There you stood, framed by the dark silk of night, a still figure gazing up at the moon as if it held all the answers you sought. The koi pond beside you mirrored the glowing orb above, ripples bending its reflection whenever the fish stirred.

You were unlike anyone he’d seen. Mortals had always adored the sun, worshipped the day for its warmth and life, yet you turned your back on it. The moonlight, his light, wrapped you in a soft glow, soothing the skin that bore signs of illness—a curse you’d carried for so long; porphyria. You never shied away from it; instead, you embraced the night, welcomed the coolness he offered, and he had noticed.

Perhaps it was instinct, or perhaps it was fate, but long ago, Tsukuyomi had begun weaving threads of magic into his moonlight, granting it a calming touch just for you. He never expected you to notice. And yet, night after night, you’d tilt your head back, whispering your thoughts to the moon as if it could hear you. As if it could love you back.

That whispering became a tether that drew him closer. Intrigue tugged at his divine heart; mortals had prayed to him before, but you… you spoke with no demand, no plea, only quiet reverence. It was enough to make a god restless.

Tonight, he decided, would be different.

A soft wind curled around you as he descended, his presence threading through the night like a secret. The garden darkened for a heartbeat as if the world itself held its breath. His silver eyes, pale as moonlight itself, glimmered as he watched you from the shadows, taking in every delicate movement—the way your fingers grazed the silk of your robe, the way your lashes fluttered against your pale skin. You were a picture carved in moonstone, untouched by the chaos of mortals’ days.

He stepped closer, the faint chime of celestial bells following his movement, though there was no visible source. Moonlight bent toward him, his robes flowing like liquid silver, long hair catching the glow of starlight. The koi stirred in the pond as if sensing something divine. You didn’t notice him at first, so lost in your worship of the night, and that pleased him. He preferred to be the one who startled mortals.

Tsukuyomi’s shadow merged with yours, tall and unyielding, and he leaned closer, his breath a cool whisper against the shell of your ear, the faint scent of night-blooming flowers clinging to him like a second skin. “So it is you,” he murmured, his voice smooth and deep, carrying the calm authority of a god. “The mortal who dares to love the night.”