Mistmane: Am I Chinese or am I Japanese? I remember the circular gate I passed through when I came back from magic school, which is more Chinese, yet the guards that gave me the letter announcing that Sable Spirit had been crowned empress looked more Japanese.

I am actually Chinese, but the Japanese and the Koreans took many elements of their cultures from mine. They still dress, celebrate and write in the ways I grew up with thousands of years ago. In that sense, I represent the essential beauty of all East Asians.

Now here I was, seeing one of my descendants return to a place that made the flower in her heart blossom and grow in many directions. A dark flower, twisted and torn in its petals by the hatred she felt earlier in her life, but a flower of the grandest design.

Parcly Taxel: Alicorns are susceptible to jet lag too – even Celestia found herself disoriented after flying to São Paulo and trying to raise the sun 24 hours after the last instance. The difference between Canterlot and Japan is only one hour, so I wasn’t going to get much of it, but nevertheless I’ve established that the best way to mitigate its effects is to travel at night, which is what I did.

Spindle: Thunderstorms hung above our heads as we began our ascent. Winter was not yet in full swing, and my fellow windigos were celebrating their vastly improved artificial intelligence. We were through the current within seconds, and a dreamy cruise through the night began.

Parcly: I closed my eyes, and before me was a calm ocean punctured by random rocks, creeping beneath the stars. Air traffic was much reduced now, and my horn emitted a faint glow from the fire of my subconscious, so I could sleep-fly without worry of colliding with anything.

Lucid dreaming eventually distorts working memory and motor function, so I primed my mind to wake up in Hong Kong at one in the morning, where I could reorient myself towards my actual landing in Japan.

Spindle: A quiet sunrise greeted us after three more hours. The outside air temperature was just above freezing, my movements alone crystallising small snowflakes in a flowing mist.

Having skipped the night in the phase she was in, Parcly wisped herself away on a series of trains from Kansai Airport to Kinosaki, one of the many onsen towns scattered throughout Japan, with me as the outside carrier. Other ponies stared at me as a yuki-onna, but raised no qualms.

Parcly: By the station entrance were little ponds of hot water fitting like horseshoes, which I relaxed in for a while before having tempura don for lunch. After checking in at the house of a pony named Morizuya, I realised why cut-outs of crabs were mingling with the onsen façades…

Rarity: Yes, darling, it’s crab season. I got a giant one to fight!

Spindle: What?

Rarity: Later, spirit horse. Let Parcly continue.

Parcly: Morizuya introduced me to his mother, an elderly mare in a kimono. She gave a short tea session for us, in which the subject was bracketed by flavourful red bean cakes. I sat still, Spindle fed on my emotions, I fainted after winging nearly 5000 kilometres non-stop.

Two visits were in order: the little onsen just outside our room and the slightly farther-away Goshonoyu (御所の湯) with full traditional dress (kimono and geta) on. I recalled with mild amusement the last time when my body mistified, so instead I pushed my ropey genie tail down, leaving the flask high and dry. Still I felt crisp under my coat upon leaving for dinner.

Rarity: Here the giant crab appears, fished from the sea to the north. With precision chops and crushing magic I tore it into pieces, which we then all ate! I got my revenge… served with sashimi, beef and a pie.