Picture a hat. It is a purple witch's hat, very floppy, with four triangles rather than a brim. A single white band borders it.

Picture the head wearing it. It has long, long black hair; maybe five feet in length; all of it somehow well kept. It has fair skin and a kind smile, but the most striking feature is the eyes, which seem to be like mirrors but often give hints of other colors or shapes.

Picture below the head a very long purple coat. There are no legs and arms coming from it, however. It flows along, purple bordered by red. The fabric is consistent until about four feet down from the head, at which point it splits evenly into six coattail shapes for a further two feet. At the end of each coattail is a half a yin-yang; two are black, two white, two gray.

The only thing about the coat that suggests a body might exist is the chest, which is of modest size. This is offset by the other thing, or things; two detached, free-floating red gloves, made of that soft cloth with a large cuff expected by upperclass people. They seem to be controlled by the thing with the long coat and existence-questionable body.

Imagine the voice. It is soft, very quiet, like the whisper of silk. If silk could whisper. Which it very well could. Umbrellas have been known to talk.

Imagine the movement. It floats forward serenely, ignoring things like gravity and friction. The gloves are always hanging behind, open-palmed and towards the ground behind the figure, as if it were running with its arms behind it like a plane of some kind. The upper part of the coat seems somewhat still, as if there's something solid underneath it, but the base of the coattails rustle gently in the wind, and the coattails themselves billow and stream out behind the figure. The hair, too, seems blown by this invisible wind.

This being is indeed alive and sentient, and it… Or perhaps she… has just found a new home. And, happy day, it seems almost entirely inhabited by females.

Males are usually not very imaginative, so a lack is preferable.

Upon attempting to enter, however, it finds that there is a border. This is a little perturbing, but it is confident it can pass. It very carefully studies the border for a little while…

And finds an easy loophole. With an ethereal sound, somewhere between a cackle and a scream, the figure changes.

It does not change its body or mind or attribute; it merely adjusts its dimensional recognition. In some places, it is a mystery. But it finds that it could be, by laws of the magic that has been around since the beginning of time, recognized as a youkai.

Yes… A dream youkai. Or something like that.

And, now recognizing the figure as a youkai, the border opens…

Forest Of Magic, Kirisame Residence

A single white glove appears, seemingly from nowhere, and probes the area. It finds that the place is an absolute mess. On the other hand, there's nobody home, which is much preferable. So the youkai pulls herself through into existence, and looks around.

There are various potions, reagents, books, and Shinki knows what else scattered in no particular manner. Even the "Nearest clear surface" method had been discarded for the "Nearest empty spot of air" method.

There was a lot of raw magic in the air. The youkai suspected that the merest spell would cause a chain reaction. So perhaps-

"Ah, home sweet home, ze!"

Ah. That could be a problem.

The youkai wastes no time in hiding itself within a book. Books are like written dreams; portals into other dimensions. Terribly easy for the right kind of youkai to hide in.

This book was apparently tutorial on summoning, for the youkai now found itself inside a classroom with a few simpler summoned monsters, and a teacher. Ghostly versions of past people who had learned from the book were the youkai's classmates.

"You! Tesganmu!"

The youkai was startled. But then, teachers always know your name, or at least the one you gave them. But they'd know a name, one way or the other. So it raised one disembodied glove, quickly scanned the chalkboard, and answered.

"Although normally low-level summons, fairies actually have many ranks that alter them, and higher ones require more powerful magic or reagents." A perfect classroom answer; only as much information as required to pass. Satisifed, the ghostly teacher returned his attention to the chalkboard. The only problem with this is that normally the answer came from outside the book, and this ghostly scene played without incident. Now, the answer would be in the pages…

The dream youkai decided now would be a good time to leave. Time passed slowly in books…

A single white glove appeared again and probed around. Nothing was found, so the youkai pulled itself out and promptly escaped the house through the chimney. It emerged in quite a nice forest, but it had no idea where to go; everywhere was trees. Inevitably, the youkai decided it would have to try its luck with the resident of the disastrous home, whoever that may be.

In the meantime it read a few of the books, toyed with some of the gadgets, and made a half-hearted attempt at cleaning it up a little bit. This was obviously a pointless attempt, but it tried anyway. It had now learned that its opponent was a magician of some kind, but from the looks of it, possibly not a very potent one. This is almost always preferable; a desperate human is dangerous. A desperate magician blows himself up, most of the time.

The youkai didn't have to wait very long; a witch soon burst in on a broom stick, dumped several books on the floor, and landed in her chair with a book; all in the same movement. Five seconds passed before the two saw eachother clearly.

"Hey, who're you, ze!?"

The witch pulled out a little octagonal thing that practically vibrated with raw magic.

The youkai reflected that this might have been a bad idea.