Nickan watched, powerless in his observer's role, as Sengoku and Enora made love. He had witnessed such intimacy before through Sengoku's eyes, but it never became easier. He was merely a passenger in this tale, forced to experience everything through the dragon lord's perspective and felt his good conscience falling apart.
Morning came with soft light filtering through ornate windows. Sengoku stirred on the bed, reaching across the sheets to find only emptiness where Enora had been. He dressed quickly and made his way toward the dining hall, guided by the scent of fresh bread and roasted meats.
As expected, Enora sat at the long table beside her father, King Enor. Her eyes brightened at the sight of Sengoku entering the hall.
"Honey, come!" Enora called out, motioning to the empty chair beside her. "I was hungry but you were sleeping, so I made the first move. Sorry for that."
Sengoku smiled as he approached the table. "No worries! Hunger first and foremost."
King Enor's boisterous laugh echoed through the hall. "Son-in-law, your humor is top notch."
"Many others also said that before," Sengoku replied with a polite nod. "Thanks, father-in-law."
The king gestured broadly toward the feast laid out before them. "Sit down, the food is hot and warm. Eat it before it gets cold."
Sengoku took his place beside Enora and filled his plate. The royal kitchens had outdone themselves with a spread of succulent meats, fresh fruit, and baked delicacies. As he ate, Enora finished her meal, delicately dabbing her mouth with a cloth before standing.
"I'll be in the garden," she announced, her fingers lightly brushing Sengoku's shoulder as she passed.
"Okay," Sengoku replied between mouthfuls. "I'll be there once I finish eating."
He completed his meal with purposeful efficiency, nodding respectfully to King Enor before following his new bride's path. The palace gardens sprawled in vibrant color beyond the stone corridors, a masterpiece of cultivated beauty.
Sengoku found Enora among the flowerbeds, her slender fingers caressing petals while she bent to inhale their fragrance. She wore a simple dress today, but it did nothing to diminish her regal bearing.
He approached quietly, watching her for a moment before speaking. "What are you doing, love?"
Enora turned, her smile radiant in the morning light. "Just smelling some flowers. They are so full of fragrance."
Sengoku reached past her to pluck a deep red rose from the bush. He brought it to his nose, savoring its scent before carefully positioning it at her right ear, securing it among her golden strands.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace. Her eyes held a question as she looked up at him. "Do you mind if I ask you for something?"
"Anything you wish," Sengoku replied without hesitation.
"Can you fully transform for me?" Enora asked, a hint of eagerness in her voice.
Sengoku hesitated internally. The request was demanding, especially in the open garden.
Within him, Nickan recognized the familiar pattern—Sengoku never could deny a woman's request. It was his one unyielding principle.
"For you," Sengoku agreed, stepping back to give himself space.
The transformation began slowly. First came the hardening of his skin as scales emerged like coins pressed up from beneath. They glistened emerald and gold in the sunlight, spreading across his arms and chest in overlapping patterns. His fingers elongated, nails hardening into dark talons that curved with deadly elegance.
Bones shifted beneath muscle with audible cracks as his posture changed, spine extending to accommodate the tail that now swept the garden path behind him. His face stretched, features rearranging as his jaw protruded and teeth sharpened into precise points. Last came the wings, unfurling from his back in a majestic display, thin membranes stretching between elongated fingers of bone.
Where a man had stood moments before, now a dragonoid being towered, magnificent and terrible in his transformed glory.
Enora's eyes widened, her lips parted in wonder. "You look superb! My dream has come true."
Nickan thought that the princess Enora's dream was strange indeed and wanted to call her an oddball, but through Sengoku's mouth came only: "I'm honored."
With surprising gentleness for his formidable appearance, Sengoku extended his arms and drew Enora into a light embrace. His powerful wings beat once, twice, and they lifted from the ground, rising above the garden.
Enora laughed with delight, her expression beaming like an excited child as they hovered above the palace grounds. Her joy was short-lived, however, as commotion rose from below.
King Enor had emerged into the garden with his six wives, all looking upward with varying expressions of concern.
"Bring her down, Sengoku!" the king called. "The townspeople will get scared of your form!"
Sengoku acknowledged the wisdom in this warning and descended carefully, setting Enora gently on her feet before him. King Enor rushed forward, concern etched across his features as he examined his daughter for any sign of injury from contact with Sengoku's scaled body.
Enora, recognizing her father's worry, spoke before he could question her. "I'm not hurt. I'm instead happy."
Relief washed over the king's face, his shoulders relaxing visibly.
Sengoku remained in his transformed state, towering over the gathered royal family. His voice rumbled deeper in this form as he addressed his new bride. "Enora, I like your name, but to match with the names of my wives, I'll call you Enzu."
She nodded, accepting this with surprising readiness. "Fine, you can call me Enzu."
The other wives, who had kept a respectful distance, smiled at this development. Nickan could sense their approval through Sengoku's awareness of them.
"Enzu!" Sengoku called, testing the name.
"What?" she responded, looking up at his draconic features without fear.
"I love you!" Sengoku declared, the words strange and powerful from his transformed mouth.
Enzu's cheeks colored with a delicate blush that spread down her neck.
And then, without warning, the connection severed. The time of reliving had ended.
Nickan found himself blinking up at his own ceiling, back in his perfectly normal self and his own bedroom. The fantasy world of dragons and princesses vanished like morning mist, leaving only the insistent beeping of his phone to anchor him to reality.
His phone screen lit up repeatedly with incoming messages, all from Airi. She had been sending texts for some time, growing increasingly concerned by his lack of response, asking if she needed to come check on him.
Nickan grabbed the phone and typed quickly: "Don't worry, I was sleeping." He tossed the mobile aside, not waiting for her reply.
His mind still swam with images of Sengoku's transformation, the scales that had covered his body, the joy on Enzu's face. Despite his return to reality, those visions remained vivid. He had to capture them before they faded.
Nickan reached for his notebook and began writing furiously, documenting everything he had experienced through Sengoku's eyes. The words flowed easily, his fingers racing to keep pace with his memories. He wrote without pausing for hours, lost in the act of transcription.
When the clock struck twelve, Nickan finally set down his pen. His hand ached pleasantly from the effort, but satisfaction washed over him at having preserved another chapter of this bizarre yet captivating story.
He stood and stretched, his body stiff from sitting so long. His stomach growled, reminding him that unlike Sengoku, he had not enjoyed a royal breakfast. Nickan made his way to the kitchen and prepared a simple bowl of ramen, eating without really tasting it, his mind still half in that other world.
After eating, exhaustion finally caught up with him. He cleaned his bowl, returned to his bedroom, and collapsed onto his bed. As sleep began to claim him, Nickan's last coherent thought was the hope that he would live to see another day—not just in his own life, but in the continued story of Sengoku and his dragon-heart.
Tomorrow morning, perhaps, he would once again relive the tale of Sengoku the dragon, adding another chapter of this strange saga to his notebook for his own that had become his current obsession.