Queen Chrysalis: Crackle Cosette, my camera-clicking unicorn form, also fits in nicely with typical city fashion. I helped Parcly take photos of all seven “hells”, which despite their name are not entrances to Tartarus, then fed on the love she expressed for me, beating Spindle to the post. Thus weakened, I dragged her to the tourist magnet of Yufuin (湯布院).
 
Parcly Taxel: When I got back to my senses I saw natural Chrysalis smiling with flush cheeks, delighting in her victory over me. She then gave me a pat on the back as compensation, then took me on a tour of the area.
 
By “tourist magnet” I mean there are a lot of shops selling small souvenirs (clothing, utensils, living room decorations, etc.) and other shops selling small tidbits meant to be eaten while window-shopping. We ourselves had some cheese pudding and beef croquettes. A good proportion of the shops also have tax relief for tourists under the Global Blue programme or otherwise.
 
Chrysalis: At the end of a long, long row of shops lies Kinrin Lake (金鱗湖). It is said that fog envelops its surface in the morning, transforming it into a more beautiful sight than when we arrived closer to noon. An outdoor onsen is close by without any screen to prevent the public from peeking inside, but the sole onsen user at that time didn’t mind.
 
Spindle: On the return walk (back to the train station where we began) we found more blatant tourist traps, including a whole “flower village” selling completely non-Japanese stuff like pink flamingos. Then we had lunch together as a trio of strange creatures (windigo, changeling and genie) in a soba restaurant; Parcly had warm chicken soba.
 
Parcly: With our chance encounter having run its course, I waved Chrysalis goodbye and she disappeared into the crowd as the nearest pony she saw. Then came three hours of galloping on the Kyushu Expressway and a complete cross-section of the island’s interior: tunnels, pylons, forests, hills, scattered houses. Only a couple of stops at rest areas punctuated our long voyage, when I had time to comprehend the hard, hard work that must have been put into this network.
 
Spindle: In the later portions of our time on the expressway there were only the lights of vehicles reflecting off cat’s eyes and direction signs. Otherwise the only light source was the sky, made deep blue by scattering from buildings and street lamps elsewhere. With me as a high-beam lamp, the scene was strikingly similar to the view of a hiker in the woods, always afraid of windigos, other ghosts and ferocious beasts.
 
Finally, after some door knocking in the cold night, we reached a little house in Kirishima (霧島) at half past six. Out to receive us was a bespectacled mare with a frizzly mane, Makemoto, and her daughter Kikugi. She showed us the ins and outs of her very traditional house and gave us recommendations for places to visit.
 
Parcly: One of those recommendations was a steak house about two kilometres out, which we went to for dinner. Once we had got our fill, we returned to Makemoto’s house to finalise our day – shower, chill out and prepare for the next day, which was also going to involve lots of movement.