It's not a dream.

The moonless night spread its pall over the lake, enveloping the landscape in almost complete darkness. The motionless water reflected the infinite blackness of the sky. In the midst of that darkness, Hachirotaro waited.

In his human form, his silhouette was imposing: a tall man with white hair that fell heavily over his forehead, skin so pale it almost glowed in the night, and several pairs of deep blue eyes that sparkled like fragments of the sky trapped in his body.

I had waited for that moment. Like every month, like every New Moon, his broken soul found respite. Because she would come. She always came.

And then, he felt it.

A shudder ran through the air. Soft footsteps, almost imperceptible, but to Hachirotaro they were louder than thunder. His multiple eyes slowly opened, fixed on the figure emerging from the mist. Dark hair, luminous skin, the determined and fierce look that I would never forget.

Tatsuko.

That's how he saw her. That's how he recognized her. It didn't matter that the world tried to call her Cherie. It didn't matter how many generations had passed. For Hachirotaro, every heartbeat, every smile, every breath was the same. She was Tatsuko.

The young woman approached the lake's edge, barefoot, letting her feet touch the icy water. She sat down as she always did, facing him, with a naturalness that shattered the notion of time.

Hachirotaro didn't look away. I couldn't. He gazed at her with brutal, silent intensity, his chest contracting with an ancient pain. A pain that he had learned to endure, but never to accept.

She spoke. Trivial stories, tales from the outside world that meant nothing to him. But the voice...oh, the voice was all I needed. Hachirotaro listened to every word as if it were a sacred chant. I didn't see a descendant. I didn't see an heiress. He saw his Tatsuko. His eternal love. His sacred possession. The promise sealed centuries ago throbbed between them.