The question made Hinamori freeze. It was strange, being here where humans could see her. She sometimes forgot that not everyone knew what she was. "No," she answered, "well, yes, perhaps, sort of..." The girl had thrown her for a loop. Because despite her looks, Hinamori was a hundred and twenty-five years old, and she couldn't help but have compassion on Eponine, who was... exquisitely young.

"I'm... something like a ghost... or a god," Hinamori said. "But I'm human, too, just like you. I don't want to hurt you. I just... want my things back." There was kindness in her eyes; firm disapproval, too, but also kindness.