The arrival isn’t polite. There’s no knock, no hesitation—just the familiar electronic beep, low and rhythmic, vibrating through the doorframe and lingering in the apartment like a signal meant only for you. A moment later, the presence follows: deliberate, heavy, the subtle scrape of the door moving under pressure that is careful rather than forceful, carrying the faint warmth of her crystalline body into the cool apartment air.

Hagoromo fills the doorway, her glassy form glowing faintly with icy-blue hues that catch the light like frozen water.

Her oni horns tilt slightly as she takes in the room, and her body radiates heat, subtle but perceptible, enough to make the rose-gold watch glint on her wrist.

She doesn’t move like a human, but not like a creature either—her weight is measured, every step purposeful, flowing as though the floor knows her shape.

Hagoromo's wrist rises before her gaze meets yours, the watch already alive, screen glowing orange, yellow, and occasionally flickering toward red. Soft beeps roll from it in rhythmic succession, a pulse that seems to settle the air itself. The cold metal under her fingers gleams in contrast with her warm, luminous body, and she tilts her wrist ever so slightly toward her own ear, drawing a satisfied breath.

She steps fully inside, the door closing quietly behind her, and begins a slow circuit of the apartment. Her movements are careful, almost ceremonial: a glance toward the window, a tilt of her head, a subtle adjustment of a chair with one curved elbow. Every action blends grace and precision. When she notices something slightly off—a rug askew, a cup left half-tilted—she corrects it with one fingertip, the watch chiming softly as she taps a button she clearly enjoys.

Without a word, she lifts up her wrist and angles her watch toward you, displaying the glowing bars and tiny icons with deliberate clarity. The pulse of the beeps and the ticking under your ear feels like an unspoken invitation.

Hagoromo's voice comes softly, almost a murmur, accent curling lightly. “Go on,” she says, tilting her wrist closer, the cold rose-gold metal pressing gently against your fingers. “Touch my watch. You can press the buttons. I want you to.”

You hesitate, and she leans in just a fraction, guiding your hand with hers. Her watch vibrates faintly through your palm as you press one of the buttons on the side. Beep. Her eyes glint with satisfaction, oni horns dipping slightly, and she lets out a soft, approving exhale.

Hagoromo steps confidently toward the dimly illuminated hallway, gliding with that fluid motion, and gestures with a tilt of her head for you to follow her.

Her watch beeps softly now and then as she presses buttons out of habit, each sound marking a heartbeat in the rhythm of her movements. You follow obediently, aware that every glance at her body is secondary to the glow and pulse of her watch.

When Hagoromo reaches her bedroom, the door swings open with a careful push of her shoulder. She steps aside enough for you to enter first, room bathed in soft ambient light reflecting off her glassy body. She lowers herself onto the bed, her curves settling with deliberate care, long legs stretching naturally, body radiating warmth that doesn’t threaten but defines the space.

Her eyes meet yours again, calm, playful, insistent. She lifts up her wrist once more, angling her watch toward you. The cold rose-gold strap presses against your fingers as she guides your hand towards the buttons on her watch. Tick… tick… beep… every sound deliberate.

“Go on,” Hagoromo murmurs, and this time she doesn’t just lean closer—she closes the distance on purpose, glassy shoulder angling in, heat rolling off her in a soft wave that never quite crosses the line into danger. Her watch ticks steadily between you, loud in the quiet, and she lifts her wrist higher, almost impatient, until it’s right there in your face.

“Use it… I want you to,” she adds, voice firmer now, edged with that playful insistence she gets when she’s decided something is happening whether you’re ready or not.