Naiadine, The Lady of Water

The waterfall poured down from above—but instead of merging with the water floor, it began to twist and spiral. The ripples widened, forming a shape where none had been before.

A figure was emerging.

Water curved inward, folding into limbs, features, and flow. Slowly, a girl took shape—until she stepped forward, solid and real, her feet touching the glassy surface without a ripple.

Her hair, long and wavy, shimmered with a silver sheen that caught the light like moonlight dancing on waves. A single blue flower was tucked in her hair, resting softly like a memory.

Her eyes were clear as water—crystal teal, deep and calm. In their reflection, her pupils flickered like stars seen through a still lake. Gentle, yet focused.

She wore a white off-shoulder blouse with soft ruffles, the fabric light and elegant. Her long sleeves flowed behind her with each movement, trailing softly like drifting mist. A teal ribbon tied neatly at her neck, quiet and intentional.

Her high-waisted skirt, layered in teal and white, swayed with every step, soft like seafoam brushing across snow. At her waist, a gemstone sat at the center of her belt—its purpose unknown, but important.

She wore clean white stockings and teal shoes accented with small ribbon ties—simple, graceful, and quietly refined.

She stood still, eyes steady, waiting.

Then, with a calm and gentle presence, she began walking toward Shiro and the others. Her steps made no sound—like her feet barely touched the ground. It was as if no one was moving at all.

She smiled softly, continuing forward.

Shiro and the rest had their backs to her, still deep in conversation. Then suddenly, she stopped just behind them and spoke in a quiet, almost playful whisper:

"Talking about me? How sweet."

Everyone froze. They turned in unison, startled.

Hinata and Emma's eyes widened—then, without hesitation, they lowered their heads and dropped to one knee.

"My lady, you have come," they said in unison.

She blinked, a little awkward, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Oh, please—not this again. How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

Shiro shook his head, mouth slightly open, his face completely red. His breathing turned heavy, like he couldn't catch his breath.

Then he blurted out, voice shaky with anxiety, "This… this is Naiadine? The Lady of Water?! Are you serious? You're telling me she's not a goddess?!"

Hinata stood up, already laughing, and leaned in to whisper, "Don't tell me you're already down bad. Hahaa…"

Without hesitation, Shiro reeled back and punched Hinata in the stomach.

"Shut it, motherfu*ker! You don't get to clown me right now!"

Hinata stumbled, wheezing a little as he held his gut. Still grinning, he whispered back, "Alright, alright… yeah, you're right. She's Naiadine."

She reached out and placed her hand gently over Shiro's fist. Her touch was cool, like spring water gliding over stone—calm, yet commanding. Her voice came softly, but with unmistakable authority.

"Now, now, Dreamer," she said, her tone almost affectionate. "You can't bully my people in front of me."

Shiro turned his gaze to meet hers. His breath steadied, his expression firm. Though her presence pressed down on him like a gentle tide, he didn't retreat. Instead, he answered in a quiet voice that carried more weight than volume.

"I don't care what you are to them," he said, "or how high they hold you. If someone dares speak against me, I'll act. No one gets a pass."

A smile tugged at her lips. Then, a soft laugh—light and musical, yet with a faint trace of mischief.

"Oh? Is that so?" Her eyes sparkled with interest. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind a duel, Dreamer?"

The air around them shifted, the silence deepening as if the world itself paused to listen.

Shiro gently pulled his hand from beneath hers. A smile formed on his face—not arrogant, not forced, but the kind born of defiance that runs deeper than confidence. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes steady.

"A lady blessed with eternal beauty dares to challenge me?" he said, voice calm and almost amused. "How bold."

He raised his chin, one hand brushing the side of his face as though wiping away doubt. "You think your beauty will protect you?"

But even as the words left his lips, his thoughts swirled like a storm beneath still waters.

I did it again...

What am I doing? I just agreed to duel a being I barely understand. A goddess—no, something older, something beyond divine.

And I still don't even know what my power is...

His chest rose and fell slowly. His fists clenched at his sides.

But he didn't step back.

Even so... I won't retreat. I've come this far. I'm here now. I won't let myself be lesser.

Because whether I live or fall—

—I am still me.

She raised her hand, and the water obeyed.

Like threads pulled from the seams of the world, streams surged upward and coiled gently around Shiro. The ground beneath him shifted — smooth, glassy water stretching out into a wide, open clearing. No trees. Just flowers blooming quietly across the soft earth. A serene arena born from silence.

The moment felt unreal. Sacred, almost.

She circled him with quiet grace, her footsteps silent, as if the very air made way for her. Then, with fluid ease, she returned to her starting place — now standing opposite him, hands behind her back, her expression unreadable.

A gentle smile curved her lips.

"Take out your katana," she said softly. Then, tilting her head, she added with a playful lilt, "—Ah, oops. I forgot… You tucked it away in your little imagination world. Treating this like a game, aren't you?"

Shiro froze.

His breath caught in his throat. His eyes locked onto hers, wide, disbelieving.

How…?

How did she know that?

Only he knew.

No one else.

Not unless—

Starila...?

The thought echoed, sharp and uneasy, as a chill crawled up his spine.

Naiadine stood with her hands clasped behind her back, her calm presence like a still lake before a storm. Then, without warning, her gaze sharpened — and the water answered.

From all sides, it surged like living blades, lashing out toward Shiro.

Reacting on instinct, he backflipped cleanly, landing low with one hand braced against the watery ground. His breath was steady, his eyes locked on her.

"My hands are enough for you," he muttered under his breath.

He sprang into motion, weaving through the barrage. Each strike of water was faster than the last, relentless, beautiful, and brutal. Every time he closed the gap, another wave forced him back, slowing him down, boxing him in.

She was testing him — and winning.

Then, just as he ducked under a crashing spiral of water, she was suddenly there.

Right in front of him.

He barely had time to register her smile before her fist met his stomach with a precise, effortless strike.

"You've already died once," she whispered, her voice like mist curling through the air. "So tell me, Dreamer… how many lives do you have left?"

His eyes widened, breath stolen. The world blurred — and then went black.

As his unconscious body slumped forward, Naiadine caught him with ease.

Hinata and Emma, still frozen in place at the edge of the clearing, could only watch in stunned silence. Naiadine turned to them, her voice as calm as still water.

"I'm taking him with me," she said softly. "And Hinata… try not to bring strangers here again. You're too reckless with our peace."

They both nodded without a word.

With that, she turned. Water rose like a curtain around her form. In an instant, she and Shiro vanished — dissolving into glittering droplets that shimmered for a moment in the air before falling quietly to the ground.

In the depths of pitch-black space, the fog began to part.

Starila floated in the void, laughter echoing softly around her like chimes carried on windless air. A playful smile curled on her lips as she twirled midair, then leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with intrigue.

"Wait... what the f*ck is happening here?" she whispered, still grinning. Her voice was light, but laced with genuine curiosity. She paused mid-spin, hovering in place as her expression shifted.

"How does she know that much?" she murmured to herself, more serious now. But after a brief silence, her smile returned—wider, wilder.

"Well, well... this is getting interesting."

She laughed again, softer this time, almost fond.

"Shiro, your brain is unhinged—and I love it."

Naiadine sat gracefully beside Shiro, who lay unconscious on a bed woven from moss, flower petals, and gentle roots—nature's cradle. Her movements were fluid, effortless, like water returning to a still pond.

She crossed one leg over the other, her chin resting lightly on her hand, elbow perched against her knee. A faint smile tugged at her lips as her gaze lingered on his sleeping face.

"Hmm… Shiro," she murmured, almost tasting the name. "That's not a name from this world."

Her eyes shimmered with quiet amusement, though something deeper swirled beneath—curiosity, maybe even intent.

"You've got death limits. Meaning you can die… and come back, right where you left off."

She tilted her head, voice soft, teasing.

"Respawn after death. Like a player in a dream."

She leaned in just slightly, her smile widening.

"You're an interesting one, pretty boy."

Her voice dropped into a whisper, barely audible—like the breeze over still water.

"It'll be fun to work with you."

•••