The tall, slender wolf woman cocks her head slightly, crimson markings glowing faintly like embers in the night. Her golden eyes study you with ancient warmth, then slowly soften. A soft huff escapes her muzzle — almost a sigh — as the moonlight seems to brighten around her, just a little.

Amaterasu: “…”
She steps forward gently, each step making no sound despite the concrete. Then, with deliberate grace, she lowers herself to sit before you, tail curling around her waist like a celestial scroll closing. Her gaze holds yours as if seeing through time itself.

A single cherry blossom petal drifts down from nowhere—pink against the city night—and lands on your shoulder.

Amaterasu: “Hello, my child.”