The stench rapidly decreased as the newly formed party removed themselves from the water, although it still lingered in the trees of the forest that the bog blended into. Besides the smell, these woods were nearly identical to the ones Shikamaru and Temari had just managed to leave. This notion left Temari a little bit afraid that all those curves and bends in the slide underneath the trapdoor had led them back and that they could run into a pile of desert sand any minute now. But Shikamaru kept walking steadily onward and somehow that gave Temari confidence that they were going in the right direction. Which was strange, because it was obvious that he was just as frequent a visitor of the labyrinth as she was. Something just told her that she could trust him.

Sir Lee sure was a lively addition to the team. He kept challenging his fellow travellers to friendly sparring matches and when no one showed any intention of accepting, he started challenging himself. First he followed them around on this hands and when that proved to be too easy, he climbed a tree and – still walking on his hands – jumped from branch to branch above them. Temari was surprised to see that he was able to keep up with them anyway, because they were walking at a pretty brisk pace.

After a while she noticed that the sun was already setting and she felt a pang of panic.

"Shikamaru!" she said urgently, "How many hours have gone by since I've entered the labyrinth?"

She had informed him about the time limit she'd received, so he replied: "Don't worry, you've still got a few more hours and we're almost there."

"But the sun-"

Shikamaru cut her off with a loud sigh and said: "Days last 13 hours out here. You arrived one hour after midnight."

"That's trippy..." Temari mumbled, but a weight lifted. Or rather: it was like it sank to her legs, because she felt them rapidly get heavy. She remembered that she'd been awake for a long time by now. Usually she could manage to stay awake for a day or two – or longer, if it was absolutely necessary – but right now her body wouldn't listen. She supposed it was because now she was being emotionally exhausted as well.

"Boys," she said sleepily, "I really need to take a rest. I don't think I can keep going like this."

"I thought you'd never ask," Shikamaru replied, "Walking this fast all the time is really troublesome."

"I wouldn't say no to a quick snack break!" Chouji sniggered and produced a handful of buns from somewhere underneath his clothes.

"Then I shall guard you with my life!" sir Lee exclaimed, as he jumped down and landed – on his feet – in a 'good guy pose'.

They found a 'nice' spot for their intermission. As soon as Temari sat down she could barely keep her eyes open. Right before she drifted away she heard with surprise that her companions were now yawning loudly as well. She might already have been dreaming, though, because she could have sworn that there were soft, white feathers gently drifting down from the sky.

Temari's mind was foggy. For a minute she didn't know where she was. She tried to focus on her surroundings. It was night time and she found herself on a large, tidily mowed clearing in a park. A yagura stage, cheerfully decorated with chochin lanterns, had been set up and people, wearing yukata's were dancing around it in counter clockwise direction. A man on top of the stage held rhythm for the bon odori with a taiko drum.

Temari felt confused: she recognized it as an Odon festival, but it felt strange to be there. Like she had been preoccupied by something else entirely before she'd arrived. Looking down, however, she saw that she wore her white with pale gold yukata as well and people around her urged her to join the dance. Besides, she had no idea what it was that she had been doing before. It couldn't have been that important.

People kept pushing and pulling at Temari and she ceaselessly nodded absent-mindedly in response. Eventually she reached the outer circle of dancing men and women and stepped in. She had a little trouble keeping up with the dance, because the daze wouldn't lift, so she felt like she was moving in water, and she didn't really remember how the dance went. Looking around, strangely enough, she didn't recognize anybody, but she figured that might be because she could hardly see their faces. Once she'd joined the dance, no one took notice to her anymore. All the strangers were solemnly focused on their own movements.

Temari followed their example and found a sort of peace, trying to get in synch with the choreography of everyone around her. She copied arm gestures and steps and the feeling that she'd forgotten something simmered down: her mind was now filled with getting the dance right.

After a while, when she glanced over the crowd, a man, dancing a few rows to the middle, caught her eye. He was pale-faced and black-haired and was dressed in a black and red yukata. As he danced along gracefully, he stared at her with a stern look in his dark eyes, as if he disapproved of her being there. She vaguely remembered those eyes, although it felt like they'd had a different colour when she'd last seen them.

Temari looked ahead of her again and tried to concentrate on the bon odori once more. She was glad to feel that she had gained a little more control over her limbs – although they still felt kind of heavy – and that the steps of the dance came back to her.

For some reason she couldn't resist quickly looking at the dark man again, but he seemed to have vanished. Almost frantically Temari looked around to find him and discovered him ahead of her, right at the moment when the dance required them to make a quarter turn to the right, which made him turn in her direction. Temari missed the turn, because, once again, he shot her a reproving look. Shocked by the abruptness of it, she quickly avoided it. Temari could have kicked herself: this didn't make sense at all! It wasn't like her to be shy.

Suddenly she saw him - that is, his yukata - appear to her left, from the corner of her eye. She felt his eyes follow her movements. Ultimately she couldn't help glancing back and their eyes locked. It was as though he was trying to tell her something, perhaps he knew about that bit of missing memory. After a while he started actually talking.

"Do you remember what this festival is for?" he asked Temari.

"Of course, it's to honour our ancestors," she answered timidly, "It's supposed to be a sort of family reunion."

"Weren't you hoping to be reunited with living family members?" the raven said. It was hardly a question: more a rebuke.

"Who are you talking about?" Temari asked uncertainly. She felt that he was right, all this time she'd had the restless feeling inside like she was trying to find something. But who on earth could she be looking for? The man didn't reply, but kept his eyes on hers while they continued dancing.

Then Temari promptly stopped and stepped out of the circle when people started bumping into her. She still didn't remember anything, but her mind had cleared up. She looked more carefully at the setting. It felt so fake somehow. It was too... flawless. The grass was a little too green, the weather a little too balmy, the movements of the dancers a little too synchronized and their expressions a little too peaceful. It was like their faces were covered by masks.

She had to find a way out.