Dialogue with the Spirits of the Skin
A Mystical Beauty Saga

Season 1 – When the Moon Descends: The Tale of the Loquat Spirit

Episode 12: The Stolen Dew

The air within Hanakage was finally beginning to find balance again.
That day when the skin’s membrane quietly responded—
it had not been a passing miracle.
The meaning of touch had shifted,
and in the words and faces of those who came for treatment,
a gentle light was returning.

—And yet.

Within that space lingered an unseen fray,
and Kodama Takano sensed it deep within the skin.

The afternoon he returned from the Himeyuri Tower in Okinawa,
he stepped into the OIST laboratory—
and knew at once the density of the air was different.

The lock was unbroken.
No trace of intrusion.
And yet—among the rows of bottles, one was missing.

The first response, won beneath the full moon.
The single vial that held the golden liquid.
That one alone—had quietly vanished.

Takano straightened the shelf,
exhaling soundlessly.
His hands were steady, calm as ever.

Days later, back in Kagurazaka, Tokyo.

The salon of Hanakage had regained its calm rhythm.
But in the afternoon, one woman appeared—
and the air changed.

A long black dress.
A matte shawl.
Subtle makeup.
Her natural composure revealed no gap.
On the reservation sheet, the referral column was blank.

—Her scent was too arranged.

It was not the fragrance of healing.
It was silence divorced from human life.
Her purpose lay elsewhere.

From the back room, Takano felt her presence.
Unconsciously, he entered his state of ability,
scanning the salon as a whole.

And as expected—
after treatment, one cream jar had vanished from the sample shelf.

Closing the case quietly, Takano murmured to himself:

(So—they believe they must have the final form itself. But without deciphering the cipher, no matter what they steal, they’ll never succeed.)

After closing, as twilight deepened into indigo,
Takano spoke to Misaki.

“I’ll take the remaining materials and formula sheets from Hanakage with me.”

“…Did something happen?”

“Only a breeze for now.
But before it turns to a storm,
it’s best to clear the shelves.”

As they sealed the box, Misaki whispered:

“But… that cream was saving the people who came here.”

Takano smiled faintly.

“Yes. But it has already answered.
It was born only at that moment—
when wind, leaf, and light aligned on that night.
No imitation can reach that far.

Don’t worry.
For Hanakage’s use, nothing will change.
Keep using it here to help them.”

His voice was warm, steady—
and Misaki felt at peace.

…Yet once returned to Kyoto,
Takano’s body was far more worn than it seemed.
On his journey chasing the loquat ferment,
he had used his ability again and again.
Each time, it responded to beauty—
but in exchange, it consumed his own life.

With every use, gaps opened in his memory,
like pieces erased.
He had not yet realized
the deeper truth of this cost.

—Kyoto.

Night, in the lab.
Behind his desk lay a special chamber.

—Zeku.—

A space the size of half a tatami,
framed in black steel and special glass.
At its center stood a censer,
white smoke rising slowly.
Outside air and sound were sealed away.
Only scent and light could pass.
The ceiling was said to open onto the sky itself,
an otherworldly presence lingering there.

Takano placed Shisui upon the censer,
wrapped himself in white,
and sank his exhausted body within.

His breath was shallow.
His warmth drained away,
cold piercing his fingertips, his bones.
Blood slowed.
It was as if,
in answering beauty,
he had offered his own life drop by drop.

His long silver hair lay in disarray.
His cheeks were pale.
The Shisui on the censer shimmered faintly,
its light wavering,
as if keeping vigil over a flame near extinguished.

The chamber filled with fragrance.
The custom blend evoked a deep forest,
steadying his breath,
his pulse.
It did not restore what was lost.
Instead, it was as if a quiet something from elsewhere
flowed in to fill the hollow within.

Then—
a sweet presence drifted into the air.

…The scent of loquat blossoms, blooming in winter.

No form.
No voice.
Only fragrance,
declaring I am here.

Takano closed his eyes,
forcing his ragged breath silent.
His body was heavy as lead,
his awareness fading.
And yet—
touching that fragrance,
a single echo remained:

That he must still walk on.

Smoke wavered.
Shadows blurred.
The world outside faded,
leaving only the quiet layers of scent.

—And night deepened.