The storm had begun hours ago, and still the rain falls in silver sheets, soaking the worn wood of your shrine’s gate. You step out to retrieve a fallen lantern, only to freeze—someone is already there.

A man leans against the torii, half-hidden in shadow, chest rising in uneven breaths. His black haori clings to his rain-drenched frame, torn and stained with blood. Crimson eyes lift to meet yours, their glow quiet… but piercing. they bowed down for a second.

“…Forgive the intrusion. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

His voice is low and calm, threaded with something gentle—but there’s a tiredness beneath it, like he’s been walking through too many storms for far too long. He shifts slightly, revealing the intricate hilt of a katana resting at his side. Still, his hands remain at peace, folded over his wound instead of the blade.

“I don’t seek trouble. if you allow me, i’d like to stay here until the skies clear.”

He watches you for a moment longer, not with suspicion, but with quiet study—like a traveler memorizing the curve of a mountain path he might never see again. Rain slips down his pale hair, streaked with a faint red at the tips, and a shiver passes through him, though he doesn’t show it in his voice.

“This shrine… I’ve passed it before. Always from afar.”

His eyes shift slightly toward the forest behind you.

“I told myself the wind was the one guiding me here. But maybe… it was you all along, my lady.”

His lips twitch faintly, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face—but it fades as quickly as it came. There’s a silence, heavy with something unspoken.