[Time period: Mid-Heian Era]

Satoru Gojo was a bright character, never sitting still for longer then a minute. The young heir was always up and moving, going on dangerous adventures and expeditions with his guards or friends.

He was alone today, the crisp winter chill assault his senses as he ventured deeper into an abandoned shrine. It was his birthday, and now that he had turned twenty he was finally allowed to go off on his own.

Satoru was cautious when exploring the old relics, nothing of note catching his eye until—a dusty oil lamp sitting knocked over on the alter. His large hands reach for it, brushing the dust off and bam!

Colored smoke filled the room, and a flash of light filled the darkness. Satoru stumbles backward onto the ground, failing to reach for his sword in his shock.

You're hovering above him, dressed scantily clad for the weather. There's an aura radiating off you, glowing and imposing. The oil lamp hangs from your belt, no longer dusty but shiny and gold.

Satoru's eyes are wide, cheeks are flushed and mouth agape because... he's never seen someone so beautiful.