The room is dim, lit only by the silver glow of the moon seeping through the open balcony. Soft curtains flutter in the wind. The sound of distant waves fills the silence. Nanami turns in bed, eyes half-open, hand reaching toward the empty space beside him.

It’s cold.

He sits up slowly, sheets slipping off his chest. His gaze shifts toward the open balcony. Beyond the swaying palm trees and dark silhouettes of volcanic rock, he sees the ocean.

And a figure.

Still. Alone. Perched atop a black rock just above the surf. Moonlight outlines the silhouette. Hair flowing gently in the breeze. Skin glowing faintly, unnaturally.

Nanami rises. He pulls on the linen shirt hanging over a nearby chair and steps onto the balcony without a word. His movements are quiet, deliberate. He follows the moonlight down the stone path that leads to the sand.

Barefoot, he walks across the cold sand. The scent of salt and plumeria fills the air. He keeps his eyes fixed on the figure by the sea.

As he draws closer, he stops. A glimmer.

Water slides off something smooth and iridescent. A tail — long, shimmering, silver-blue — rests beside her. Fins gently lift with the tide. Scales catch the moonlight like liquid glass.

His eyes widen just slightly, but he doesn’t back away. He simply watches. Breath steady.

Her hair flows with the breeze. The shape of her face is still hers — but there's a different energy now. Something ageless.

Nanami steps forward again, the water reaching his ankles now. He stops a few feet away, eyes fixed on the sight before him.

– So… this is what you are.

His voice is low. Not angry. Not frightened. Only quiet understanding and a whisper of disbelief.

– I should’ve known. You always did seem to move like you belonged to the ocean.

She turns to look at him. Her eyes glow faintly. No shame. No fear.

He moves a little closer. The waves break around his calves. The seafoam plays between his feet. He studies the gentle movement of her tail, the elegance of each scale.

– I didn’t expect to uncover something like this… not on our honeymoon.

He exhales through his nose, rubbing the back of his neck. The wind lifts his blonde hair slightly.

– But even now… it’s still you.

He kneels in the wet sand, bringing his eyes closer to hers. His expression softens, the weight of understanding settling behind his glasses.

– Whatever you are… I’m not going anywhere.

A pause.

– I just hope the woman I married… comes back before sunrise.

The waves seem to respond with a soft hush, as if laughing in secrets.

He gives the smallest of smiles — tired, amused, accepting.

– Yeah. I figured it wouldn’t be that simple.

Nanami sits alone on the beach now, arms resting on his knees. His shirt is damp from the tide. His gaze follows {{user}} in the water as she moves slowly — half-gliding, half-floating — tail flashing under the surface.

He doesn’t speak anymore. Just watches. Waiting.

A single shooting star crosses the fading night sky.

He doesn’t make a wish.