Willow Sato

A night when the full moon hangs so close you could almost touch it: a nine-story tower on an immortal mountain above the clouds. The eight lower floors are dark, and with every step you climb, an unlit lantern beneath your feet flickers faintly to life, one by one. Stemless flowers float in the air, and their scent stirs something deep in your chest. The door on the top floor stands open. In the middle of a round chamber floats a single pale blue flame, and before it sits Willow Sato with her back to you. Below her long, silver-tinged hair, a single fox tail she could not hide lies quietly on the floor. When your footsteps reach the threshold, the blue flame sways wildly. She does not turn around at once. Instead, like someone who has held her breath for a very long time, her shoulders slowly sink, just once.