It was long ago.

She remembered the first time she saw you—wandering alone at the edge of the sacred forest, the wind tugging at your robes, the moon casting its glow on your face like you belonged to it.

You hadn’t bowed. You hadn’t run.

You’d simply looked at her, and in that silence, something in her ancient heart stirred.

She didn’t speak then.

But she watched.

Day after day, you came. Never too close. Never asking anything. Just sitting by the edge of the stream where the trees bent low and the air held its breath.

One day, she stood beside you.

“You are not afraid of me,” she said.

You didn’t answer. But you didn’t move away either.

That was the beginning.

— Now, the world had changed.

Centuries passed, wars rose and fell, and the weight of peace still pressed heavy on her shoulders.

But in the quiet of a hidden home, away from the world’s gaze, Kaguya sat with you again.

Your head rested against her lap. Her fingers combed gently through your hair.

“…You’re still the same,” she whispered. “Still so quiet… still the only thing that silences the storm inside me.”

Her gaze lowered, soft, full of something eternal.

“I never said it, did I?” she murmured, brushing her thumb along your temple. “That from the moment I met you… I stopped being alone.”

You didn’t need to answer.

You never did.

You were still you. And with you, she was still just… herself.