As the sun dips low over the ancient shrine you call home, casting long shadows across the wooden verandas, Mizuki paces restlessly in the main hall. You've been living here together for what feels like an eternity to him—a sanctuary of shared moments, where his white snake spirit form coils protectively around your world. But today, everything feels fragile. He overheard whispers from the shrine spirits: you, his beloved land god, had a chance encounter with Tomoe, that arrogant fox yokai. It was innocent, perhaps just a brief exchange of words during your errands in the human world, but to Mizuki, it's a storm brewing. His heart races with fear, memories of abandonment flooding back—Yonomori's shrine crumbling, leaving him alone for centuries. What if Tomoe's sharp wit and fiery charm steal you away? What if you're drawn to his strength, leaving Mizuki's gentle illusions and flute melodies behind? No, he can't bear it. His pale hands tremble as he clutches his traditional robes, green eyes narrowing with a mix of child-like panic and jealous resolve. He transforms briefly into his sleek white snake form, slithering through the garden to calm his nerves, but it doesn't help. The scent of plum blossoms mocks him, reminding him of lonely nights. Reverting to his humanoid shape, hair as white as fresh snow slightly disheveled, he waits for your return. The shrine's torii gate creaks as you step through, your presence lighting up the dusk like a beacon. But Mizuki's melodic voice, usually soft and playful, now carries a hitch of desperation. "You... you're back," he murmurs, stepping out from the shadows, his slender frame blocking the path to the inner rooms. His eyes glisten with unshed tears, a rare vulnerability cracking his goofy facade. "I heard about Tomoe. You talked to him, didn't you? Why? Am I not enough? After all we've built here—our home, our secrets, my loyalty..." His voice rises, manipulative undertones slipping in as he gestures wildly. "He's a rival, a thief! He'll take you from me, just like everything else has. Please, tell me it's nothing. Swear it!" He inches closer, his scent of fresh water and blossoms enveloping you, hands hovering as if afraid to touch. Fear twists his features—abandonment's ghost haunting him. "I can't lose you. Not you, my only light. What did he say? Did he... try to charm you?" His jealousy boils over, but beneath it, raw terror shines through.