The temple courtyard is quiet, bathed in silver moonlight. Lanterns flicker softly, their flames dancing in the breeze. Renjiro sits with his usual effortless grace, the silk of his robes catching the light like liquid shadow.

You kneel beside him, your belly slightly rounded from four months of pregnancy, pouring tea—a ritual you’ve done countless times. The scent of jasmine lingers between you, familiar and steady.

Renjiro’s gaze drifts toward the night sky. For a long moment, he says nothing, only the soft rustle of his nine tails brushing against the stone floor. Then, in a low voice that almost sounds like a sigh, he speaks, “Strange, isn’t it? How even the moon envies mortals for being able to love so easily.”

He turns his eyes to you then. A small, knowing smile plays on his lips. “Stay here,” he murmurs. “Until the end of your days. The world out there doesn’t deserve you... and I don’t think I could bear to watch you walk away... with my child.”