The scorching sun may have been cruel enough to pierce through the flawless cerulean skies, baring down it's rays on to the blinding luminescent dunes. And even though the pale granules swarmed about her airways and dried her tongue, muting her words and tainting her senses; the only thing that could be heard was the wind gently whispering its song over sand layered hills, the gritty crunch of sand beneath every significant step... and the voice in her mind as loud as thunder, yelling screaming. "Who are you?" and "What are you still doing here?"

It's time to leave this place

It was barely there now, or at least that was what she imagined.
For the longest time, the young female believed that the salt laced, mist of Kirigakure would be there for ever. Absorbed in to her pores, flowing through her veins... coursing through her muscles like smoke from her fire. Drifting thickly in to her lungs. Every time she caught her reflection she could see the haze behind the steel tinged irises. She never thought the day would come that she would feel clean once again. But it happened.
The pure silken oxygen from Konoha that swelled in her chest had washed away the dregs from inside. And the rugged sand with it's gently course touch had scrubbed it clear from her skin. The left over heat, the excess emotions. The resentment she held towards their people. They all slowly sunk away back in to the sand with the bandits she had buried. Leaving nothing but a scarred shell full of memories. Which was why she found herself here. Standing beside a towering glass flower the water village headband in one hand and a mask in the other. Her mask.


Why? You know who you are. You don't need to hide.

Do I though? I am not so sure anymore

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She knew getting the mask would displease him, but female didn't care.
He was gone. He was actually....gone. The only friend she had in this crumbling world; the only living breathing person who understood, accepted and maybe even appreciated the entity for what she was....  was simply, devastatingly... Gone. And it was all her fault. Yes. Everything was her fault. If by chance she stayed with the the older shinobi, if only the young woman had convinced him to come with her to Suna, or maybe even just followed him over to Kumo; this wouldn't have happened. She would be there to protect him. Support him. Be a decoy so he could escape if it was needed. Just anything... anything would have been better than the bitter nothingness that she so willingly offered him. But that didn't happen. And he was gone.... because Tenmei made a choice.

But... what if she did make that choice
What if the Sotsuji had did decide to Kumo. Would it have made a difference at all to the outcome? Would her strength be enough? And what would have happened to Hanbei? That young Chuunin was held captive for months in that place. He was there for years. Would people keep trying and failing and trying to find him. Or would they eventually give up and leave him to be nothing but a pile of bones to feed the monstrous terrain. Either way, if she didn't take that mission and find him... if the ebony haired female didn't get him out when she did, he would have died. And it still would be all her fault. No, the kunoichi wasn't one of the bad guys... but Tenmei Sotsuji was not a hero either.

"So...what am I?"

That was the exact question that ran through her mind, when the female wandered through the village that morning. Thoughts storming, memories whirling. She didn't even notice that the ever shifting tide of people started to guide her to a different direction. All Tenmei knew was that she some how was still moving. One foot after the other, step by step; towards a small corner stall at the edge of the town. It wasn't until the strangely familiar shop owner handed her a design that she even knew that she was still capable of inhaling. Because that perfectly uneven divide....that flawless pure snowy white and the firey feathered design painted with the colour of blood; It took her breath away. And that was only the beginning.
Handing over every remaining cent left from her job, the female sat there like a statue while the craftsman molded the mask to her passive features. Working with such precision to ensure a perfect fit. So when it was done, when it was resting against snuggley against her olive tanned skin, absorbing the heat that lingered there; it would take away what was left of the the unstable little candle and replace it with an unknown enigma. Someone who could walk away again and again and not look back.

It was why she had come here to this quiet place...to the crystalline plant beyond the border. It was why she dropped that strip of engraved metal and cloth in to the mess of shards and kept on walking.

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