A shower swept toward me from the foot of the mountain, touching the cedar forests white, as the road began to wind up into the pass. I was nineteen and traveling along through the Izu Peninsula.

颇有川端康成的文风

I was very rich and very peculiar, and I had been the wonder of the Izu for 19 years, ever since my remarkable disappearance and unexpected return. The riches I had brought back from her travels had now become a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk might say, that the Izu Peninsula was full of tunnels stuffed with treasure. And if that was not enough for fame, there was also my prolonged vigor to marvel at. Time wore on, but it seemed to have little effect on Izu's ecosystem. In 2016, it was much the same as at 1865. At nine I began to call the pickle jars well-preserved, but unchanged would have been nearer the mark. There were some that shook their caps and thought this was too much of a good thing; it seemed unfair that anyone should possess obnoxiously perpetual youth as well as inexhaustible expire day.

My clothes were of the sort golden armor wear, dark metal dragon scales shone like the void, long wooden katana, a steel helmet, a tome sack over my shoulder which engraved with mysterious magic runes. I had spent three nights at hot lava pit near the center of the peninsula, and now, my fourth day out of Totoro, I was climbing toward a mage abyss and South Izu. The thunderstorm scenery was pleasant enough, volcanoes rising one on another, open plains, deep crevasses, but I was excited less by the terrain than by a certain hope. Large drops of fireballs began to fall. I ran on up the road, wielding my wands, cast the Ward spell, unfortunately, due to my insufficient mana pool and low intelligent stat, at the mouth of the Kraken I came to a tea-house. I stopped short in the doorway. It was almost too lucky: the dancers were resting inside.

These Dancers, particularly the Dancer of the Izu Valley are towering figures, lanky being that more closely resembles their master, Pontiff Sulyvahn, than the other beastly armored knights from Irithyll, like Vordt. they stand upright instead of crawling on all fours and shambles with deceivingly slow steps. This unusual gait, paired with the caustic dark ooze that drips from her body whilst warping into the cathedral, it may imply a connection with the Izu Abyss.

The little dancer turned over the cushion she had been sitting on and pushed it politely toward me.
“Yes.” I murmured monotonously and sat down. Surprised and out of breath, I could think of nothing more appropriate to say.
She sat near me, we were facing each other. I fumbled for my weapons and she handed me the cinerary casket from her backpack. Still, I said nothing.
She was perhaps level sixteen. Her hair was swept up in mounds after an old style I hardly know what to call. Her solemn, skeleton face was dreadful under it, and yet the face and the hair went well together, rather as in the pictures one sees of the ancient tomb of annihilation with their exaggerated rolls of hair.
"Why the cinerary casket," I asked bluntly.
“To contain your ash, ashen one,” she said with a posed look.
It Was At This Moment I Knew... I Ducked Up...

dafuq was that