Moonlight filters through the dense fog that cloaks the Chinju Forest. It illuminates the stones, the leaves and the soil with some sort of unexplainable ethereal glow.

The silence, save for two pairs of footsteps; one light, the other heavy, only amplifies the tranquility that the atmosphere of the forest is heavily steeped in.

Ayaka turns around as she walks, and sees the traveler and his floating companion strolling a small distance behind her, childlike awe written on their faces as they soaked in their surroundings.

For a second, Ayaka watches the traveler as he walks. A smile forms upon her delicate features.

The traveler, whose attire and mannerisms were so undeniably alien, suddenly seemed to belong within the otherworldly landscape of the sacred forest.

She had heard his story. He had told her. Lost family. And as he told of his journey she had felt the raw, unbridled determination to retrieve his sister within every word he spoke.

Yet, she could only sympathise, not empathise.

The traveler's eyes meet hers, and he realises he's lagging too far behind. He does a tiny jog - an unnecessary effort to keep pace with Ayaka.

Cute.

The word echoes within Ayaka's thoughts.

She turns back around, basking in the peace of the night. The kitsune mask on her head bounces slightly with each step she takes.

Ayaka looks up at the path and spots the hill of her residence. Immediately she is reminded of the reality of her situation.

The war. Her clan. The Shogun. Thoma.

She closes her eyes, and her sigh pierces through the quietude of the forest. It was late, she knew.

Just a few more moments. A few more minutes of being just 'Ayaka'.

The burbling of the lazy creek in the forest makes itself known to her. From the corner of her eye, she spots it: only ankle deep, gentle currents.

Her feet stop, and so does the traveler's footsteps. However, her heartbeat races.

Suddenly, from within her rises this urge, this burning impulse that wraps around her heart like frost. It tells her to create a memory. To do something.

Because in that moment, Ayaka realises that she would never again have such a chance.

"Oh, traveler," she tries to be candid, but years of etiquette lessons override her heart's desire. "There's something that I'd like to do, if you could spare me yet another moment."

She can hear the puzzled exclamations of the traveler and his companion. She can feel their quizzical gazes upon her back.

Ayaka ignores them. She doesn't have time to hesitate. She lets loose a nervous chuckle and runs toward the creek.

She hears, over the rapid palpitations of her heart, the traveler's footsteps keeping up behind her.

She hops into the creek, wondering what the traveler thinks of her sudden odd request. She notices the traveler emit a small gasp as she jumps into the creek. Nothing more.

She wades into the center of the shallow area. The currents gently caress her feet. Her socks are wet, but she doesn't care.

Inhale.

Exhale.

She clears her throat, despite not needing to use it. Turning around, she finds the traveler standing at the edge of the creek. She keeps her back straight, not allowing her nervousness to show.

"Please," her voice was steady. "Keep your eyes on me".

She begins to hum - a song that has embedded itself within her head from countless years of dance lessons.

She brings out her bamboo hand fan from behind her back and snaps it open in a single, fluid motion.

She brings the fan to her front as her left hand is raised forward. Slowly, gracefully.

It was a dance from her childhood. A dance that reminded her of better days. When was the last time she performed this exact dance? She couldn't remember.

However, her body did.

Every single minute movement done to perfection. Every swing of the arm, every step of the foot so elegant and seemingly effortless.

And as she dances, the world begins to fade around her until there is nothing left but her and the traveler's gaze upon her.

With grace not unlike a heron, she bends her knees into something of a half curtsey, before rising smoothly, fan raised to the moon.

At the same time, the song reaches its crescendo, and Ayaka no longer hears her own acapella rendition but instead a grandiose melody from an orchestra of instruments both familiar and unfamiliar to her.

Facing the moon, she hears an almost silent gasp escape the traveler's mouth and she wonders whether he too, hears the orchestral symphony.

As the performance nears its end, her heart sinks ever so slightly. A part of her mind spirals, wondering if the traveler liked her final act, if he would remember this day vividly in the future. Ayaka wondered if, right then and there, the traveler was smiling at her.

The final few notes of the melody play and, in a single, quick yet elegant motion, Ayaka flicks her bamboo fan upwards.

A cloud of ice bursts from her feet, frosting over the water around her. Snowflakes erupt all around her like a rising curtain of glittering crystals.

And as her cryo-infused spectacle fades around her she looks up, exhausted, to see the traveler still standing at the edge of the creek.

On his face is a smile.

Within her chest is an explosion of multicoloured fireworks so bright the pyrotechnics of the Naganohara family dulls in comparison.

He likes it! He likes it!

She smiles back.

As Ayaka climbs up onto dry land, the traveler offers her his hand. She takes it.

"What do you think of my dance?" she asks. "Did you… like it?"

She already knows his answer, but she wants to hear it directly from him.

The traveler's floating companion opened her rambling mouth first.

'Pretty'. 'Beautiful'. 'Elegant'. That was how his companion described her performance.

"It was delightful."

Such simple words that came out of the traveler's mouth, so simple compared to his companion's choice of varied vocabulary. Yet those three words elicited a hurricane of emotions within her. She was happy. Satisfied. Jubilated. Flustered. Thankful. Proud.

Sad.

The day was over. Her time with the traveler was up.

An expression of melancholy slipped through her carefully constructed walls. She grabs it, puts it back into its box and locks it.

She couldn't afford to ruin today.

Shutting away her emotions, she grins.

"I'm not very good at this kind of dance, so as long as I didn't embarrass myself then that's all that matters."

It wasn't a lie, nor was it the truth. Perhaps she didn't want the traveler to think she was overconfident. Or maybe she just wanted to make further conversation. Just to stop the day from coming to an end.

"I apologise if the entire performance was too sudden." Ayaka doesn't know why she's apologising. "I just had a sudden urge, and I ran with it." She giggles.

"In a way, that sort of sums up today for me. Dancing like nobody's watching."

In the back of her mind she questions her own words, wondering what in Celestia she was trying to convey.

A useless charade, she tells herself.

"There's nothing wrong with that," the traveler abruptly says, distracting her from her thoughts.

"You're a pleasure to be around."

Ayaka's mind comes to a halt as she processes the traveler's words. She feels her face heat up and her heartbeat quicken.

A spark ignites from within her, glowing so brightly it could light her entire body on fire. She suddenly feels the burning gaze of the traveler upon her, and the gurgling of the creek becomes a deafening rumble.

She doesn't exactly know what she's feeling, but she recognises some of it from pieces of fiction she had read from the past. She's read them from start to finish.

She wants things to happen, wants this to happen.

Wishful thinking.

Bitterly, she stamps out the flame. The spark extinguishes.

Ayaka recomposes herself. Back straight, arms at her side. Slight smile.

"That goes for you too," she finally replies.

"When I'm with you…" she pauses, choosing her words carefully. "Time seems to slow down and speed up at the same time."

The traveler beams, and as Ayaka opens her mouth to speak, she glimpses the torii gates, painted crimson, that lead toward her residence.

No more delaying the inevitable.

"Anyway," she hurriedly spoke. "It looks like this is goodbye for today."

Oh, how she wants - longs for - just a little more time. Yet,

"I can see myself the rest of the way back."

The traveler bades her goodnight, and she does the same in return.

Ayaka walks through the torii gates, each one bringing her further and further away from the traveler.

She grips her fan, now closed, tightly in her right hand while her left hand slowly removes her kitsune mask. Glancing at it forlornly, she continues up the path, now accompanied by no one but the echoing of her measured footsteps.

The forest now seemed less majestic, the moonlight no longer a soft illumination but instead glaringly bright. The irritating sounds of crickets permeate the air.

A voice, dulcet and evidently male, fills the forest with the soft hum of a pretty melody.

The creek bubbles, undisturbed.

And a white heron leaves nothing behind, except for her footprints upon phantom snow.