The hall was quieter as the tennin of Izaken walked into the banquet hall. Behold, the champion of humanity. A living avatar of divine love, and a painful memory for multiple people in the room. A commitment to memory. A vow to vigilance.

They had only given one instruction to the tailor: that they wanted to be seen. Mankind will have its representative, and they would not shy away from yokai eyes. For the sun-child was light itself.

Jun walked steadily in a kimono patterned with white cherry blossoms upon deep blue silk. A brilliant golden peacock spread its elaborate tail feathers along the tennin’s firm, immovable posture. Golden kanzashi ornaments outlined the edges of their hair. The tailor had sewn the kimono as if the kami had possessed him, as if this would be his last great masterpiece. For what other piece would possibly be fit to adorn the shoulders of a godling?

The tennin did not beckon to anyone in particular, but walked as if they were the very center of all the attention currently present in the room. For even as one turns their face away from the sun, they are subject to its unblinking radiance. Jun’s poise and mannerisms were calm, but they were meant to imply power.

One of the musicians had stopped playing mid-tune.