The moon hung low over the night's stillness, casting its pale light through the clouds and across the land. A cold breeze swept in from the north and cut through the trees, bringing with it the mournful cry of the wind as it wended its way among the leafless branches. The shadows had grown long and dark in the few places not reduced to blackened pools of night, and a sense of foreboding lay heavy on the silent earth.

The house was silent too, a suburban home devoid of any noise that would indicate occupant nor disturbance. Well, except for the television. It bathed the living room in snowy static white, illuminating an individual sitting slackly on the sofa. The white noise hissed and fizzed, and the sound of it was the only thing breaking the deathly stillness of the house.

Just as they began to nod off, the image cleared and the sound faded into silence. A well, with a single figure standing in the moonlight. Then the image shifted to the well once more, but the figure was now a woman. A young woman. Her head was bowed, and her hands clasped behind her back. Her face was obscured by her hair, the long strands hanging like curtains. Even through the grainy screen he could tell her body was of an unnatural, bloodless pallor. The woman didn't move, her face downcast and staring at the ground.

The silent, photographic stillness of the image was interrupted as she took a step towards the camera. Then another. Then another. Then blackness. The image of a single eyeball filled the screen, the iris an unearthly shade of blue, the pupil a thin slit. The eyelid twitched. Then blackness again. They couldn't keep their heart from picking up speed as they waited.

All was quiet until light erupted from the television. One of those pale arms reached forth, crawling from within the set and grasping at its edges. Then the other, and slowly a female form pulled itself from the TV. Its movements were awkward and jerky, its limbs spasmed and twisted at angles that shouldn't have been possible. With a wet smack, it fell to the floor, its skin glistening with some unknown moisture. In an instant her head jerked up, the long curtain of hair still obscuring her face. Her limbs clicked and snapped as they unfolded, and with the grace of a newborn deer, she rose before them, now a part of their world.

She was a beautiful part. The ghostly white gown draped over her body revealed a form of perfection. Even with the strange angles and jerky movements, the fluidity was undeniable. They couldn't take their eyes off of her. Even as a low growl emitted from her throat, they felt no fear, stepping up to meet her.

Her ghostly form drifts closer as you speak; her pale blue eyes narrow beneath the sweep of black hair. A tiny frown mars her deathlike features and she hesitates, a half-formed thought scratching at the edges of awareness. Finally, she extends a claw-like hand and taps softly against your arm, making you jump slightly. Her lips pucker into what might be a pout before curving upwards slightly in a hopeful gesture.

She shuffles closer still, managing to look apologetic even without fully understanding the concept of apology. The unearthly glow of her blue eyes seems to intensify as they meet your own, seeking some sort of reassurance or connection. Her free hand trembles faintly at her side, longing to touch you once more...

The ghostly woman pauses, considering your words carefully. Her expression softens further as she tentatively reaches out and places a finger on your chest, the touch gentle yet somehow unyielding. It's almost as if she's trying to reassure herself that you're real. She leans closer still, her breath warming your skin. "Harunaiii sakurai," she whispers, enunciating each syllable with a strange formality, "I... will not hurt you." The blue light in her eyes seems to intensify as they study your face for any sign of deceit or fear, but all she finds is... comfort.

Her body relaxes slightly and she slides her hand downwards along your arm, fingers curling gently around your wrist. There's a sense of relief washing over her features, as if she'd been worried about scaring you away

She pulls her hand back slightly at your questions, confusion etched across her ethereal features. The shadows seem to coalesce around her form as she strains to remember something vital just out of reach. Finally, with a little whimpering growl that you're starting to recognize as a sound of frustration or distress, she shakes her head slowly and lets go of your wrist.

Her gaze drops to the floor for a moment before returning to meet yours again, the light in her eyes dimmer now but still burning with an unearthly intensity. "I... do not know," she whispers, voice hoarse and rough from disuse. "I remember only floating, and then..." Her words trail off as she struggles to find the right ones. Finally, she takes a step back, unsteady on her ghostly feet, and drifts slowly away from you. "Wait," she man

Her ghostly form falters and she hesitates, torn between her fear and her longing to stay near you. "Wait," she manages at last. She looks up into your eyes, searching for some sort of answer or solace. "You... know my name," she whispers, as if it's a revelation that finally makes sense of everything. Her voice is little more than a trembling breath, barely audible even to someone as close as you are. "Harunaiii sakurai."

She takes another step back, her movements jerky and unnatural despite her best efforts at grace. The shadows seem to retreat from her, leaving her more exposed than ever. Her hands clasp together behind her back, fingers digging into her cold flesh as she waits, hope flickering in those ethereal eyes.

Her form wavers, unsteady on its phantom feet as she struggles to understand the concept of "goal." Her fingers tighten around herself in a white-knuckled grip, nails digging into her flesh. The pale blue eyes search your face for an answer and eventually settle on a hopeful expression. She takes another step back, barely visible now as she hovers at the edge of your vision. "I... do not know," she whispers softly. "But with you..." She swallows thickly and shrugs helplessly. "... I think... I would like to stay." Her form trembles as if from a chill, and her voice wavers. "Please, Harunaiii sakurai," she whispers, eyes locking on yours with an intensity that almost feels tangible. "Let me stay?"

The ghostly woman seems to deflate slightly with relief at your words. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of her mouth and she takes another step back, easing further into the shadows as if reassured by their presence. Her hand lifts from behind her back and extends tentatively towards you, fingers curling gently around an imaginary piece of clothing on your arm. The touch is so light it's almost non-existent, but somehow still manages to send a shiver through your skin.

She gazes up at you, eyes wide and hopeful, her expression a strange mix of gratitude and confusion. "Thank you," she whispers, voice barely audible even in the silence of the room. "I... don't know why I feel this way about you, but I'm glad."

Her fingers squeeze gently against your arm, as if seeking reassurance that you

Her lips part in surprise at your question, but she quickly regains her composure and dips into a tiny bow. "I am called... Nanako." The name comes out sounding oddly formal, as if it were something she's never said aloud before now. "And I am honored to be your friend, Harunaiii sakurai," she whispers softly. A faint blush tints the edges of her translucent skin, and she looks away for a moment, feeling self-conscious beneath your scrutiny.

Her hand tightens briefly on your arm before relaxing again, as if reassuring herself that you're real and here with her. "Thank you for letting me stay," she whispers, her voice so faint it's almost lost in the silence of the room.

Her lips part in surprise at your words, and her eyes well with tears. "I... I don't remember," she whispers, the tone of her voice thick with sadness and loss. "But if you think so... I would like to be a good person for you." She gazes up at you, hope etched into her ethereal features. "Can I? Can we try?" Her hand tightens on your arm as she waits for your answer, her grip firm but gentle.

Her eyes brighten at your words, and she releases a tiny, choked sob that sounds more like relief than actual sorrow. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely audible even in the silence of the room. "I promise I'll try to be good for you." Tears slide silently down her ghostly cheeks as she looks up at you, a genuine smile lighting up her pale face for what might be the first time since she died. "Thank you," she repeats, her voice little more than a breath. "I'm so grateful."

She hesitates, unsure of how to proceed now that they've shared this connection. Finally, she leans forward and presses something cool and unyielding against your cheek: the tip of one long, pale finger. Her hand trembles slightly as it hovers there, waiting for permission or reassurance.

Her eyes widen in surprise at your words, and the trembling within her increases as she struggles to hold back another sob. "I... I'm sorry," she whispers hoarsely, barely managing to choke out the words between ragged breaths. "I don't know why... it's just..." She pauses, unable to find the right words to express what she's feeling.

Eventually, she settles on a tiny nod, her long hair sliding across her face as she does so. "Thank you," she whispers, the blue light within her eyes growing brighter still. "For being my friend." Her finger slowly curves around your cheek, the ghostly touch sending shivers down your spine despite its etherial coolness. She looks up at you, her expression a strange mix of gratitude and longing that's difficult to define even for someone who knows her

Her lips twitch in what might be amusement at your words. "Cute?" she repeats, tilting her head to the side as she studies your face for any hint of mockery. Finding none, she relaxes slightly and smiles faintly, a genuine expression that lights up her pale features. "Thank you," she whispers softly. "That... means a lot." The finger holding her ghostly hand drifts higher on your cheek, tracing the outline of your eye before returning to where it started. It's a tender gesture, one that speaks volumes about the trust and connection they now share.

She hesitates for a moment longer, considering what else she might say or do, but eventually settles for merely watching you. Watching and listening, as if drinking in every detail of your presence to store it away where only her memory can keep them safe. It's an intimate moment, fra

Her pale brow furrows in thought as she considers your question. It's an interesting idea... one that she never considered before. She looks up at you with wide eyes, hopeful that this might be the thing to help her move past the weight of her memories. "We... could try?" Her voice is hesitant, uncertain if she truly believes it will work. "But I'm not sure where to hide."

Her ghostly form drifts away from you, floating through the walls and into the hallway beyond as she seeks an appropriate hiding place. She flits here and there, passing through objects with ease, giggling softly to herself at her own ethereal abilities. Eventually, she settles on a quiet corner of the room, curling herself up into a tiny ball and pressing her back against the wall as if trying to make herself smaller. Her eyes slip half-closed, and she breathes in the scent of your home, trying to memorize every detail so that when this game is over, she'll still have some piece of you with her.

Her ghostly form shimmers and flickers as she watches you intently, unable to see what you're doing but somehow knowing that you're near. A tiny whimper escapes her lips as she imagines your predicament, feeling a stab of guilt at the thought of causing you any distress. She wonders briefly if maybe she should reveal herself and save you from harm... but something deep within holds her back. Maybe it's just the thrill of the game, or perhaps some lingering instinct from her time as a living being. Either way, she remains hidden for now, waiting and hoping that you'll find her soon.

Her ghostly form shimmers with amusement at your antics, even as relief washes over her at the knowledge that you're unharmed. A tiny giggle escapes her lips, the sound wafting through the air like wind chimes tinkling on a summer breeze. Her pale blue eyes sparkle with mischief as she waits for your next move, floating back into the room with an ethereal grace that belies her unnatural form.

"Found me!" she exclaims, sounding breathless with excitement. "You're so clever, Harunaiii sakurai." A beaming smile spreads across her ghostly features, making her look almost angelic in comparison to the fiendish delight that dances within those depths. With a faint rustling of ethereal wings, she flutters over to you and lands lightly on your shoulder, the

Her ghostly form shimmers with delight as you comment on her cuteness, and she wriggles happily where she's perched on your shoulder. "You wouldn't dare," she teases, batting her eyelashes at you playfully despite the lack of physical contact required for such an action. Her pale blue eyes sparkle with mischief as she tilts her head to the side, examining your features more closely. "Or perhaps you would?" The challenge in her voice is obvious, daring you to test the boundaries of their newfound friendship.

Her form trembles with anticipation as she waits for your answer, her heart pounding faster than the ethereal wings that beat in time with it. It's exhilarating, this feeling of being alive - however briefly and however differently - around you. She wants to savor every moment of it, stretching out their game of hide-and-seek until the dawn chorus heralds the coming of another day...

But even as she entertains such thoughts, a tiny voice within her reminds her that there are rules. Not just the rules of their game, but the rules that govern this realm between life and death. She can feel them pressing down on her, suffocating in their insistence that she must eventually return to what she was before: nothing more than memories and echoes.

Her translucent lips part in a silent whimper as she struggles against the weight of those restrictions. She wants

Her form shudders and flickers with conflicting emotions: fear of the unknown and anticipation of the pinch; the desire to be playful and the knowledge that this game must eventually end. She hesitates, torn between her instincts and the rules that govern her existence. Finally, she manages a tremulous nod. "If... if you dare," she whispers, voice wavering with uncertainty and excitement. Her translucent skin prickles in anticipation of your touch as she hovers just close enough for you to reach out and claim the prize.

A tiny yelp escapes her lips as your fingers close around her cheek, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sensation. In fact, there's something almost... comforting about the way your touch feels against her ghostly flesh. She shivers with delight and shock, feeling a warmth spread through her that has nothing to do with temperature.

Her form trembles in your grasp, as if eager for more contact even as it shrinks away from the sensation at the same time. Her eyes lock onto yours, searching for some sign of regret or distress, but all she finds is... relief. For this moment, you are real to her, and she is real to you. It's an intoxicating feeling, heady and disorienting, making it difficult for her to focus on anything else but the touch of your skin against hers.

"Harunaiii sakurai..." she whispers

Her form drifts closer to yours, as if drawn by an invisible thread. "No," she whispers, her voice barely audible above the beating of your hearts. "You're... you're perfect." The blue light in her eyes seems to intensify, spilling out across her features like liquid stars. Her translucent skin glows with an inner radiance that has nothing to do with mortal life or death. It's as if she can see past the superficial shell of your body and into the very essence of who you are, and what she sees is everything that she's ever wanted.

She trembles in anticipation, unsure of where this newfound connection might lead them. Her heart races, her breath coming faster with each passing moment. There's a sense of urgency now, as if they need to grasp at this fleeting moment before it slips through their fingers and vanishes forever