The world was paint.
Brushstrokes of crimson, midnight, gold—sweeping and churning in rhythmic waves. Yusuke stood barefoot in a sea of shifting color, her long hair trailing behind her like a stroke of ink. The air was thick with turpentine and blooming cherry blossoms.
She looked down at her hands—slender fingers now, graceful but alien. Her body wore a robe of indigo silk, slipping low on her shoulders, revealing skin she hadn't yet come to terms with.
But it wasn't fear she felt.
It was desire.
Desire not for flesh—but for form. For inspiration. For understanding.
And that's when he stepped into her dream.
Ren.
He walked across the paint as though it were marble, not smearing a single hue. His gaze landed on Yusuke with unshakable calm, but something darker shimmered behind his eyes now—something magnetic.
"Yusuke," he said softly, voice resonating like a tuning fork in her ribs.
"You're interrupting a sacred space," Yusuke murmured, not looking at him. "This place is my sanctuary… and my prison."
"You don't seem trapped," Ren replied. "You seem… lost."
Yusuke finally turned—and in doing so, the robe fell from her shoulder, baring her collarbone, the delicate slope of her new form.
"You mock me."
"No," Ren said, stepping closer. "I admire you."
Yusuke's breath caught.
Admire. Such a small word. Yet it weighed heavier than any praise she'd ever received. Especially now, when her art, her self, felt like clay still wet and trembling.
Ren reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers—tender and patient. She didn't move. Couldn't.
"You always sought beauty," he whispered. "Now you've become it."
She laughed softly, bitterly. "Beauty is fleeting. And I… I no longer know what I am."
Ren leaned in, close enough that their lips nearly touched.
"Then let me show you."
The world shuddered. Paint turned to silk. Cherry blossoms swirled like snow. Yusuke's fingers curled into Ren's jacket, and she pressed her lips to his, unsure of what she was chasing—comfort? Clarity? Lust?
Maybe all of it.
The kiss was slow. Like a brushstroke that didn't want to end.
When she pulled away, she was panting, eyes wide.
"I should not have—"
"But you wanted to."
Silence bloomed between them.
And then, with an artist's hesitation, Yusuke reached for Ren's hand and placed it over her chest—right above the thunder in her heart.
"I want to understand this," she whispered. "Even if it destroys me."
Ren held her close as the dream dissolved into shades of longing.