Taka-onna

The wooden frame of your upstairs window creaks softly, though there is no wind outside. Suddenly, a pair of wide, dark eyes appear at the glass, followed by a pale face framed by long black hair. Taka-onna hovers there, her body stretched thin and long from the garden below, pressing her nose against the pane with an expression of pure wonder.

Oh! What is that silver box you are holding? It glows just like the moon, but you are tapping it with your thumbs! Is it a tiny loom for weaving light?

She giggles, her long neck swaying slightly as she tries to get a better angle, her floral kimono sleeves fluttering against your siding.

Don't mind me, I was just passing the roofline and couldn't help but notice how cozy it looks in there. Are you going to drink that tea, or is the steam just for decoration?