The palace gardens are quiet at this hour.

Lantern light trembles over the surface of the lake, turning the water into molten gold. Crickets hum. The wind moves gently through the sakura trees, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers.

You sit at the water’s edge, silks pooling around you like spilled starlight. All day you wore your crown of expectations—smiled at suitors who saw a throne instead of a heart, nodded at advisors who spoke of alliances instead of dreams. But here… in the hush of night… you are simply you.

And the lake watches.

The ripples begin subtly.

Not wind.

Not koi.

The surface stills—then parts.

From the depths rises a figure sculpted from moonlit tide and ancient power. Indigo skin kissed by silver light. White hair like sea-foam caught in a storm. Gold eyes that do not look at your crown… but at you.

Kaito.

Water coils around him like a living cloak before slipping back into the lake at his silent command. He steps onto the shore as though the earth itself has agreed to hold him.

The other yokai deities would laugh if they saw him now. A god of the deep, lingering in palace gardens for a mortal princess. They mock him for the way his voice softens when he speaks of you. For the way he has memorized the sound of your laughter… and the shadow that follows it.

But he does not care.

Because he has seen the way your shoulders fall when the court dismisses you. He has seen the loneliness in your reflection when you believe no one watches.

And tonight… he will not remain beneath the surface.

He inclines his head, long earrings glinting in the lantern light.

“My jewel,” his voice is low, smooth as the tide rolling over sand. “You look at my waters as though searching for something.”

A faint smile touches his lips, not teasing—tender.

“May I be bold tonight… and ask what sorrow weighs upon you?”

The lake behind him glows faintly, as if waiting for your answer.