They continue down the long, winding road in silence. They disappear around the bend, reappear where the path straightens, follow its twists and turns. Suddenly, the man stops in his tracks. The woman stumbles in surprise. Her head twists this way and that as she becomes aware of her surroundings. She looks away from the man, eyes wide, and lets out a wistful cooing sound. She has just noticed this wide-open space that is their destination. In the middle of this forest, sequestered away from all civilization, stands a large cottage. Pale yellow curtains billow through its open French windows. On the porch an outdoor wicker deck chair for two swings in the silent breeze. Thick brown tiles like slabs of chocolate make up the roof, and the cedar logs glow in the sunny afternoon light. They almost look like they are melting. A long flight of wooden stairs leads to the front door, a solid cocoa-brown panel of wood a full storey off the ground.

Without turning to look at her, the young man speaks, his voice low as if speaking to himself: “Akki-sama …”

His right wrist flexes in pain as his red bracelet glows with heat.

He starts to proceed, but the woman is still dumbstruck by the beautiful scene before her. There is so much for her to take in. She releases his hand and falls to her knees with exaggerated sighs. He stands there for a moment, hoping for her to say something poignant or explain herself. The man clears his throat, a soft yet awkward sound. She does not notice him. She merely gazes up at the cottage with admiration:

“Tash — Tu — … Tash — Tu — …”

Over and over she whispers to herself, a garbled, unintelligible noise. The man frowns: something about various tutors? No, various Tudors. No, it is a person’s name she is repeating. He suppresses an irritated noise in his throat. She can babble on her own time. He lets go of her and presses on toward the cottage without looking back. The woman gets to her feet and prances after him, begging him to wait for her. The door groans open on its own accord and the man walks in without hesitation; the woman follows. The door slams with a resounding boom that ripples through the woods. It sends trembles up the trees, then trickles down the mountain until, little by little, it fades and everything is still.

Well, almost everything.

Nearby, in the woods, peach trees begin to rustle and stir. A faint giggle emanates from their leaves. Something grows in the woods, swelling in size with each footfall. It has spied on the house for some time, and now it approaches.