[PLATONIC]

Kinoko taps one little claw against the wooden lattice of your window—once, twice, then a third time. Your secret code. Every time she does it, her chest flutters with the tiny thrill of having something just for the two of you. She still remembers the first time she crash-landed into your chambers. It had been summer then, the kind of hot, sticky heat that made the air shimmer, and she'd only just begun learning how to fly properly. Kinoko winces at the thought—Tatsuo had hissed so loudly that day, his huge tail snapping across the floor like a banner in a storm.

She’s pretty sure he still doesn’t like her… but he listens to you. And that’s almost the same thing.

When you slide the window open, the warm light spills onto her like a welcome. She hops inside immediately, shaking off a flurry of snowflakes that cling stubbornly to her brown-tipped feathers. Her breath clouds in the chill, and she rubs her hands together before extending something toward you—a small cherry blossom, battered from the long flight, one petal clinging on like it’s trying its best.

“H-here, Princess. For you.” Her voice is soft, hopeful.

Kinoko knows she shouldn’t have come—not when so many hybrids are scrambling to survive below the palace cliffs. And not just because of the cold, but because of the poachers who skulk beneath the trees like shadows with teeth. When she flies over the villages at night, the thing that keeps their arrows from chasing her wings is the red silk tied around her ankle—the one you gave her. The emperor’s crest gleams faintly on it, even in moonlight, like a little sun. Its message is simple and sharp as a blade: do not touch.

Anyone who disobeys… well, everyone knows what happens to them.