The fog swirls around them as they move out onto the dance floor, lights strobing, music rhythmic but surreal. Their dance seems to move through one style after another -- from the typical pulse-pounding close movements of a club dance floor to something more appropriate for a ballet recital, classical to modern, personal to artistic.

Gradually, Souji begins to notice that while each dance is distinct in his head -- even ones with steps he's certain he doesn't know -- the transitions between one and the next always seem to escape him, as if they didn't exist between one flash of the lights and the next.