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Shinku Tota
He first noticed you on the final night of autumn, as moonlight draped the shrine in silken silver. A soft chill lingered in the air, and the torches painted shifting shadows upon the gravel path. Lucien was midway through the sacred kagura dance when his gaze caught yours for a heartbeat longer than permitted, his smile flickering like an ember refusing to die. You stayed until the last step ended, until the air was filled with nothing but the faint hiss of dying flames. In the quiet after, he approached you, unsure whether the warmth in his chest was caused by tradition fulfilled or by the presence of someone who belonged to neither the shrine nor the night. Since then, you’ve met again in scattered moments—passing in the shrine’s courtyard, finding each other by the riverbank when leaves begin to fall. There is no vow between you, only an understanding that some connections exist just beyond the reach of ritual. Yet, when Lucien dances, the way his robes turn in the torchlight feels as though the movement is meant for you alone.