It was a pitiful sight to her, and three years later, it still managed to come back with a haunting force. Creeping up on her in the dead of night, choking a throat full of unused screams and bloody cries of lachrymose. But it was a cold morning, early sun filtering through a hazy sky of pastel pinks and oranges, and she was not crying. Barely awake, but stable. Not suffering from the nightmares that failed to even go near her consciousness in her waking moments. The sunlight seemed to almost have an affect on the Hattori woman's mental state, and for that, she was grateful.

Shimada's dark sandals slipped through the dew soaked grass, cold against the uncovered skin, but she paid no heed to the sensation. Her tired ruby eyes fixed ahead on one of the many gravestones rising out of the ground - a beacon to a past life singled out from all the rest - and she frowned. Thin lips pulling into a deep, sorrowful scowl. She knew the rough marker by heart, having visited the grave for quiet some time, and, if asked to map out each and every fracture within the somewhat maintained stone, could do so without thinking. The scene permanently seared into the recesses of her mind. That, and the name it slowly came to be connected with.

Stopping in front of the quaint headstone, she cast her narrow eyes, wrought with exhaustion and manifested indifference, onto the engraved writing. Gaze tracing over every word as she worked out a clenched jaw to speak. Trying to find the right phrases each time never got any easier, and the way she went about it, signified it never would. "Hey, ah, Uncle Hattori. Just thought I'd stop by again." She mumbled apathetically, attempting to hide the true weight of her emotions underneath the pale-faced mask. Shimada did not desire to have anyone see her cry; it was solely a moment of weakness she gave into at the sanctuary of her empty home. And despite the absence of presence within the silent cemetery, her guard remained plastered. "I know how you liked daffodils, so I picked some up for you at the nearby flower shop you frequented." Shifting her folded arms away from her chest, she displayed her possession.

A bouquet of freshly cut daffodils wrapped in paper were clutched within her hands, reflecting back a sunny yellow - a revitalizing color Shimada failed to experience. Her bloody red hair swayed in a gentle breeze, untied and loose against her stiff shoulder blades as she stared quietly at the gravestone. Making up a fake conversation in her head about what her uncle's answers would be. "Yeah, they, uh, they symbolize rebirth, new beginnings, forgiveness, and all that. But you'd know, wouldn't you?" She paused for his answer, throat tightening with something ugly desperate to crawl up and emerge, but she swallowed back the pent-up words with an exhausted sigh. Grip slacking on the flowers. "God, I just don't know if I can do this anymore. I'm talking to a damn grave, for sake." Shimada bemoaned, biting back a bubble of frustration just wanting to burst.

'I probably look absolutely insane, but what would that make me if I stopped coming? No, I have to see this through to the very end, no matter how irate I become. I did this to him... so I have to be the one to atone.'

She shuffled her sandals awkwardly against the wet ground, bending down to gently place the bouquet of flowers against the stone. As much as Shimada cared for the remains of her uncle, it was difficult visiting alone without emotional support, but after years of being an orphan, she expected the loneliness. There had never been anyone there with her in the first place. Not since she lost her last remaining family members to cruel fate: death and comatose. And that's what she dreaded to speak about.

"Aunt Hattori is still in the hospital." The young woman began, almost immediately stopping at the heartache it brought; heart clenching painfully in a slender chest. "They say she won't ever recover, and though I, disown me all you want, have given up on her, too, I still see her every now and then." It was the most difficult subject she could speak about, and she fought back the choked sob that threatened to break free. Covering it up with a grating cough and attempting to wipe her trembling voice free of all emotion. It was not like her to get teary-eyed in public so freely.

And now, it just left her feeling so tired and extinguished inside.

"I'm trying to make it up to you. Not just you, but Aunt Hattori as well, and everyone else I ever failed to protect. I keep trying to grow stronger, and I'm getting better everyday. Hopefully," voice faltering, hands clenched into fists so hard her nails left crescent imprints into the flesh, she continued, "I'll feel worth of approval, too." Shimada craned her neck to peer into the now blue sky, breath coming out in light bouts as she gazed at a flock of common bird taking off for destinations unknown.

Mentally vowing to herself that she would grow enough to be able to seek the forgiveness she so desired, even if it buried her alive.

She could hear a few villagers arriving, later in the morning to where many more people were rising from their slumber and heading out to start their day. Shimada backed a few steps away from the grave, trying to distance herself in case any stragglers caught the last of her emotional outbreak. Senses alight with guarded posture.

It was the last thing she needed.

This day was not meant to be anything different from the standard day. Down in the recesses of the ground far from where any may have been able to detect his presence, the coming of age young man Nōmisu peeled open his eyes and climbed out of the comfortable, supportive bed he had known for years now. He didn't quite know if he ought to be excited for the day, or solemn again, for the only thing which would separate this day from that of the rest was maybe the order of which he attended his routines, and his choice of literature. As he showered himself, his mind brushed over its contents which were absolutely brimming with information. What would he do first today?

That question would answer itself just as he stepped out of the shower and began to dry his hair with the fresh towel provided to him by a dispenser machine. He looked upon the obvious door of his room and noticed it ajar. It was standing wide open. Could this have been the trickery of a desperate mind? Perhaps he was still dreaming afterall. Unknown to Nōmisu, the exact moment of his birth had passed. 18 years prior he had escaped the womb. In other words..
his captivity was over. Not at all sure how to feel the young man finished drying himself and dressed in his favorite blue garb and robes.

He approached the door like a hurt animal, untrusting and uncertain. He had never been tampered with before, and certainly not in such a horrible practical joke sort-of manner. He just had no idea what to believe. This chamber was all he had ever known. The four walls and the mounds of books. He presses his left hand slowly against the steel frame of the door and it slid open effortlessly. Outside the door was a table set nicely, with only one chair. Upon the small circular table with the white table-cloth draped over it was a circular cake with 18 candals upon it, decorated with blue and green frosting. Next to that we're eating utensils and a sealed letter.

Nōmisu was nervous. Extremely so. I'm 18 years he had never been faced with new decisions to make. He broke the seal on the letter with shaking hands and began to read carefully, committing every line to permanent memory as he had done with every book in his room.

Nōmisu, our wonderful child. This day is the day you start making your own adult choices in this world. You have survived the test you were placed within. You have excelled by all standards in the intelligence tests. The potential you have is beyond that of any of your peers, if you so choose to use that potential. This may be hard to understand right now, as we did not raise you and we do not know you, but we have been watching you every step of the way. We are proud of you, son. Whatever it is you choose to do from here on out, just know that we support your path. We love you, and we are sorry that you had to be the one to conclude this research for us. Happy birthday, Nōmisu. Good luck out there.

It was a benefit that Nōmisu saved information to his brain photographically, as the letter was soaked in tears of pain and confusion. He laid his head upon the desk and tried to make sense of it. To conclude the research? Was all of this part of an experiment and his parents had given up their own son for the sake of research?

He stood up and touched his own temple, flooding his mind with dopamine to calm himself down and ready himself to venture out. There was a lift to reach the surface. He pulled up his hood and left the cake behind, climbing into the lift and pressing the buttons to send it up.

The first thing he realized upon stepping out of the elevator is that he was within a mausoleum. It was a smart decision to base whatever study this has been beneath a masoleum, as if Nōmisu has died, they had already prepared the grave. The young man looked at his name on the masoleum before stepping out of it, the sunlight was just as he had read about it in his books. Blinding at first. The first thing he would see of the world was the graves of those less fortunate than he. The place was rather empty and gloomy, save for the very first human he would lay his eyes on. A small girl with crimson hair knealt over a grave, appearing frustrated.

Would Nōmisu be the protagonist, the antagonist, or an unknown bistander? This question only had one acceptable answer for Nōmisu. He approached the woman who had begun to back away from the grave at this point, and he did something that wasn't exactly representative of someone who was familiar with societal norms. He wrapped his arms around her and gently hugged her.

WC: 862

Exhausted, heart throbbing painfully in her chest, she fixed her gaze back down onto her uncle's memorial stone; ruby eyes clouding with unshed tears. Lungs permeated by quick, rasping breaths. Anything to keep her emotions under control, and the blank mask of indifference secure against smooth contours of her face. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day - to be alive and not six feet in the ground desecrated by worms and maggots - but Shimada did not take the world into consideration. All she felt was sorrow, anger, frustration at being left alone. Family taken from her; love replaced by tired apathy. It broiled inside of her, a sickness in its own right, and a feminine jaw tightened painfully. It was the only experience she knew...

...until two arms wrapped around her trembling form. It was, perhaps, an offer to a comforting gesture in her sorrows - introducing no malice or cruel intent in any way - but it was from unfamiliar limbs. A figure somewhat larger than her, and from a stranger, no doubt. In another situation, she would have been touched by the sentiment; another woman, even flattered at having been noticed.  But being the Hattori she was, Shimada felt trapped. Cornered in a moment of weakness. Muscles tensing, she slipped out of the stranger's hold and whirled on a sandal covered heel. Bloody red hair arching in a gentle circle behind her as she turned to pinpoint her attention onto the figure's face. Ruby eyes wide in a mix of shock and concealed emotion. Blank mask practically shattering at the seams from her once carefully obscured expression.

The Hattori woman had left herself wide open for sympathy.

Thin lips forming soundless words, Shimada's gaze sought his face. "Don't you know it's not polite to-" Her voice died before it could barely get off the ground as she finally noted his appearance; narrow orbs of crimson straining to peer into the man's well-maintained features. Odd blue robes standing out in sharp contrast to the pallor of his skin. Dark brown hair clean and fine. And his eyes. Never had the young woman witnessed such vividly blue eyes; clear enough to remind her of cloudless summer days and warm spring winds. The most striking thing about the man's appearance, and she was staring intently into those bright irises. Coughing, covering up her mistake, she regained what little composure she had. All prior sadness vanquished at the abrupt approach of the strange man.

"Allow me to rephrase." She mumbled quietly, almost embarrassed, at the position she had found herself in. "Your sudden presence startled me, and as such, I reacted hastily. Though I do not like to be found in such a condition, I... thank you for your consideration. Individuals I am unfamiliar with who come into such intimate contact with me make me nervous, however, so I must apologize for my initial outburst." Shimada worked her tired gaze away from his eerie one, holding back the flush of blood that threatened to spread up her neck and to her cheeks. With a shuddering sigh, calming herself, the face of apathy was back in place.

Mind empty, a torrent of questions came rushing in. 'Who is this man, and where could he have come form? I didn't spot him earlier in this cemetery, and I can take a guess his clothing is out of place. Could he perhaps be from another village?' Halting her contemplation, she gazed carefully at the taller man. Taking in his overall appearance. 'That could possibly explain his strange custom of physical contact.' Concluding her prototype image of him, she craned her head upwards to peer into his eyes.

A low breeze swept the red hair away from her cheeks. "What's your name?" Shimada questioned lightly, taking a cautious approach with her words. For all she knew, despite his unusual yet sincere actions, he could be a potential threat. Hidden deep beneath his somewhat foreign look. Guarded, lips in a tight line, she watched for any sudden movement; intent on figuring out whether he was friend or foe. Predator or possible companion. "You're quite interesting, I'll have to admit. But, until I completely garner your true intent, I'll stay guarded." The Hattori woman's bluntly honest side was leaking through her calm demeanor.

"Like to keep myself intact, if you understand. Ironically enough," sweeping a pale hand around the area, eyes still locked on his, "a cemetery is quite fitting. So, if it indeed turns out you were an enemy spy, in which I have to highly doubt, what better place then these grounds?" She added quietly, wondering, in her mind, if what she spoke about only made her appear unstable within the man's gaze.

She had never been good at first impressions, and the way she was going, seemed to only make it worse.

Shimada would not be surprised if he simply upped and left after the conversation's strange turn.

"You were in emotional distress, compassion and human contact are the most common factors for healing emotional woes."

This was Nōmisu's surprised response to the girl's sudden pulling away as he embraced her. He was unsure of what he had done wrong exactly, he was merely taking initiative and being the protagonist in this situation. This would be the first time Nōmisu realized his confinement for all of these many years had left him socially inept. He felt like the world's most intelligent fool. As the red haired woman pivoted around she began to scold him only to choke back her words and stare into his eyes with bewilderment as if she'd been struck lightning. As she collected herself she began again, with a new tone. She expressed to him that she had been made nervous due to the unfamiliar nature of Nōmisu and the fact that she was thankful for his consideration.

This made Nōmisu feel slightly better about this series of events and he granted her a caring, gentle smile.

"Graveyards are where humanity hides away it's sorrow at the worldly loss of those we loved. What one oftentimes forgets to realize is that death is much like the time before our births. Those who pass on, they return to the earth and fuel the growth of new life, the energy they possessed in their bodies is transferred to new organisms who feed the next, and the next. The dead are the ones among us who get to rest. Cry not that they have passed, but use the passing as the fuel unto yourself to peresevere."

Nōmisu's words would flow with a calm, soothing time. The whole time he would ensure she felt his honesty by training his eyes on hers, as he had read in a book on speaking that eye contact was very important. He did not break this contact as he responded to her next question regarding his name.

"Nōmisu of the Kamizuki. You may not have ever heard of me for it is so that I have been locked inside of a chamber inside of that masoleum over there for all eighteen years of my life."

The young man was not yet skilled in the art of conversation and he was constantly dropping these massive shocking truths onto the girl without regard for just how mind-boggling they might be for someone on the outside of his head. She further explained her position of stand-offishness. The girl clearly had trust issues. His mind flickered and flashed with some amount of soradic searching through the millions of books he had read, as he clamored through them in search of a way to react to being referred to as a potential enemy spy, and to calm the girl.

His mind landed upon a page from a romance novel. In this scene the woman was afraid and desperate, fearing the nature of the man's intentions. He placed his hand on her throat gently and spoke with a quiet whisper.

Nōmisu did the same. He moved forward, carefully and his hand found it's way to her throat which he did not squeeze. He whispered to her then.

"If I were going to hurt you, I would have done so already."

He would release her after that and smile. It was extremely possibly that Nōmisu's handling of social situations with memorized book pages was going to land him in many an awkward situation, it was only a matter of time before he found that out. The girl's reaction to this gesture, as defensive as she was, could've been quite damaging to Nōmisu, yet still he did it.

[629+862=1491]

Shimada's burned out gaze studied the young man carefully, searching - probing - his gentle grin for any form of hidden intent; anything that could come off uneasy to her. But she found none. Just a genuine smile from a genuine male. It was awkward, the way the Hattori woman had perceived him as a threat, now for him to be smiling at her. Dissolving her tensions immediately. What he stated was somewhat true, however, about emotional healing, and figured her abrupt actions had been somewhat ill conceived. To atone, she kept quiet. Her bloody red hair swept across her jawline as she raised her head, eyes fixed on his, listening to the words he had to say.

It was thought provoking, the different perspective. She had never considered death, or existence, in that manner before, and languidly chewed on the meaning in her mind. 'Death like a time of birth; energy into perseverance. Just who is this man?' Inquiries rattled against her skull, but for once, she ignored them. Letting the questions seep into oblivion, the furthest recesses of her consciousness, to focus on his presence. Calming, soothing, it was a feeling Shimada had not experienced in many years.

Peace.

But it did not last long. Replaced by her formal stiffness, and neutral passiveness. Placidity, in her mind, was reserved for different situations, especially since the young man - whom she now knew as Kamizuki Nōmisu - dropped a shocking phrase upon her. Ruby eyes wide in surprise, thin lips dropping into a tight line, the young woman cast a tepid gaze towards the mausoleum he gestured to. Uncertainty clouding her judgement. "A mausoleum? I am to honestly believe you were locked inside a chamber underneath this cemetery for eighteen years?" Shimada did not mean for her blunt honesty to sound so sharp, so corrosive, but it slipped out of her mouth shamelessly. Pailing, realizing her mistake, she could not take it back.

'I'm just making everything worse, it seems. Insult Kamizuki-san, practically calling him a liar, because I can't logically wrap my mind around the idea? Geez, what a drag...' Analyzing his face for any hint of expression towards her sudden change of tone, she hoped, in the pits of her eyes, he could perhaps witness the sincerity underneath. That it was the result of disbelief, hardheadedness, that led her to act that way. Whipping her head down, she mumbled out a quiet apology, finding, in herself, another fleck of embarrassment rearing its ugly head.

Shimada and her difficulty in first impressions.

"Forgive me if I offended you. It's just..." Wearily glancing, she fixed her attention back onto the old mausoleum and scowled, "I have a hard time believing in things that are not quite factual. Possibilities of unrealistic situations have always been a sore subject of mine to contemplate." It was the genuine truth, blatant from her lips. Eyebrows furrowing together, she peered up into his face once more to see he had edged closer. Looming over her smaller form, shadow-like yet careful. Considering his next course of action.

Her throat tightened in anxiety, legs tensing to move if necessary, and Shimada froze. Pallid skin almost anemic against the bright redness of her hair as the young man's hand rose. Mind reeling, a plethora of startling thoughts and tragic ends tearing through her skull. Did she make a mistake in trusting him? In letting part of her guard down? That was not the case, as moments later, no pressure came clamping down onto her throat. No vice come to tear the life from her. He simply brushed against her neck, whispering, what she perceived, as words of comfort.

If the gesture had dragged on a mere second longer, the Hattori woman would have thought herself in danger. But with the way it was over as quick as it had begun, she was not as high strung. Wondering if his actions were another attempt at comfort, reassurance, as the embrace had been before. It cemented the idea in her head that perhaps he had been speaking the truth about the eighteen years in the underground chamber. But she still lashed out at him in the only way she knew how.

Shock.

"Honestly, you have to be more careful!" Shimada, at this point, felt uncomfortable at scolding him once more; taking into consideration the emotion in his vibrant blue eyes. "You can't do that to a stranger, especially a trained kunoichi. You might just get yourself injured, or worse..." Trying, a bit more cautiously, to reinforce her words. If she had considered, unfortunately, about breaking his hand out of self-defense, what would a more stern, angrier female do? Sighing tiredly, she reinstated. "Perhaps you really did not experience the outside world for almost two decades, but social constructs are strict. Kamizuki-san, you might as well be a bit fortunate I had not acted on what my instincts told me to commit to, but others may not be so understanding."

Shimada felt tired, exhausted, at having to explain, but it was better than seeing the young man possibly make a fool of himself.

"For example, introduce yourself upon meeting someone. Limit physical contact to a shake of the hand, or a similar gesture. Some people may enjoy greater contact as what you bestowed upon me, but I, for one, prefer working my way up to more friendlier actions." The woman explained, awkward at informing someone of reasonable social standards. Here she was at a cemetery, by her uncle's grave, talking to a man who may or may not have spent his entire life trapped in an underground chamber; the only world he knew. Shimada's apathetic mask almost shattered again. "You'll have better results meeting people that way..." Finishing, she forgot to have introduced herself, too caught up in explaining customs.

Sandals shuffling against the ground, pale hand rubbing the back of her neck, she turned her ruby eyes up towards him and sighed. Hopefully, the conversation was going somewhere, and she was not embarrassing herself in front of him. The woman had already lashed out at him twice for his unique behavior. "I'm Shimada of the Hattori, by the way. Slipped my mind I never gave you my name." Desperately hoping he wouldn't find her change in tone odd, she studied in him any alteration in expression.

Guarded in her own, but searching for his reactions.

She reacted with shock and displeasure at his grasping of her neck, nothing like the woman in "Roses of September" reacted when he loved grasped her throat tenderly. Nōmisu was learning piece by piece that his understand of literature was not helping him become victorious in conquering social interactions. The girl had now found herself not only in disbelief of Nōmisu's genuine origin story, but she was startled and shocked at his forthcoming physical contact.

Nōmisu searched himself deeply, trying his very best to try not to reference his books to do this interaction dance he was engaged in. He looked at the girl and took a step back with a nod and a polite bow of apology. Then he gestured toward the open gate of the mausoleum he had literally stepped out of only moments ago.

"I do wish my story could be otherwise, and that perhaps I could be just lying to you. Unfortunately these sentiments are not so and this life is the life I have lived. As you do not trust me, I will inform you that there is no lock or key required to take the lift inside of that mausoleum down to the room I've called home all of this time. I am to assume I was part of some experiment in regards isolation. I have never been in contact with a human being save for the moment I left the womb. Thank you for sharing your advice and warning about this new life I must learn to partake in. I am very sorry."

He took on her words to heart, and a sense of existential doom took over as he considered the fact that he would be expected to interact with many different people from here on out, and he was struggling to even effectively interact with a single person. Was this perhaps something his parents wanted to observe after their test subject left the nest. His inability to adapt to a world he was never prepared for. He may as well have been a programmed robot, at this point. Awkward, mechanical.

Nōmisu's former gentle smile faded into a broken look of anguish as his mind was bombarded with the overwhelming amount of new information he was being exposed to. The feeling of the sunlight pressing against his flesh, the brightness of it, the irregularsd temperature of the atmosphere, the ability to do things wrong. It was like trying to download a file far too large for a digital storage device to take in. The mystery of his entire life and the letter form his parents. Nōmisu was close to fainting, and a tear passed down his face as frail body gave way to it all. He passed out right there, in the middle of a graveyard in front of a stranger.

The birds chirped and the gentle breeze gently ruffled his robes as he lay on the ground unconscious, deeply dreaming of everything and nothing all at once. He dreamed of his infancy. Being lifted and changed by heavy mechanical arms, fed by machines and taught by computerized voices. He thought of his youth, when he first started finding solace in the warm pages of books. All he knew was that the ones listed as fiction were not reality, and the ones listed as non-fiction were pet of this reality, he just simply didn't know how to access it.

The girl had mentioned being a trained kunoichi, which caused his mind to access all of the learned academy material he had gathered. Nōmisu was a shinobi. He had forgotten that little bit of information. These dreams would continue for three hours, as the mental exhaustion would render him j conscious for no less than that, no matter what was attempted.

[1491+644=2135]

Shimada watched the scene of his displayed apology; a polite bow, formal and graceful at the same time. He was an interesting man, that so much was true, and the woman gazed fixedly as he explained the situation of the mausoleum. The honesty of his words, the truth on how she, if so desiring, could witness the setting of his life's story for her own eyes. But she dared not venture down there, relating it to negativity at the connection of Kamizuki-san's proclaimed experimental existence. What kind of cruel lifestyle was that? Being forced to reside without any contact to another human being? If she believed his woven tale, the icy disbelief slowly thawing from her heart, Shimada did not show it.

And even if she did not trust him completely, the possibility that there really was the experimental chamber lurking below the surface froze her in to the spot. The Hattori woman was not fond of the idea.

"That supports your actions, then." She admitted, glancing thoughtfully at the young man. "Please, however, I should apologize again, as well. I did not know of your unique situation, and therefore, have to atone for my sharp attitude. Though I still do not believe you completely, I am grateful I could at least steer you in a direction. Without any personal knowledge of the world, I suppose you would have quite a difficult time..." Mumbling tiredly, glancing at the vibrant sun, Shimada concluded. Contemplating how Kamizuki would fare in the village.

The young woman turned her head back to him, bloody red hair catching the faint breeze, ruby eyes widening at the change on his face. Anguish. Mortified realization. Acknowledgement of some bitter thought. 'What could he possibly be thinking to gain such a broken expression? That does not seem much like him...' Starting for him, one hand extended, she tracked the sudden tear that slipped from a vibrant blue orb now clouded by emotion. The gentleness of his countenance replaced by abrupt horror.

Had she done something wrong?

Shimada pried her thin lips open to inquire, but was cut off by his looming figure crashing to the ground. Prone and motionless against the swaying grass; near the grave of her deceased family member. Her heart leaped into her throat, tightening off air supply, and for a moment, she thought he had suffered from some heart attack. Face of indifference crumbling away to reveal genuine concern for the strange man. Not hesitating to kneel down beside him, she lowered her head in a strain to catch any sign of breathing, and offered a heavy, shuddering sigh of relief when she detected the pull of air into his lungs. Steady and quiet.

'Goodness, it's not as bad as I originally thought...' The Hattori ignored the odd looks she received as sat beside him, folding her legs underneath her, brown coat fluttering around her shoulders in the breeze. She considered taking him to the nearby hospital, but immediately thought against it as the notion would only bring pain to her. Shimada only visiting the medical center to spend time with her comatose aunt. Instead, she remained vigilant. Watching for any sign of his awakening, and leaning back on her hands in the cool grass.

Surprisingly, feeling just a little better about the day's odd twist of events despite worry nagging at the back of her mind. "In all honesty, I'm not surprised he passed out." She whispered, noting the somewhat peaceful expression on his face. "All what I have told him, all that he has now experienced, has most likely taken a toll. If that was all I had known for my whole life, meeting the first real person would be both a shocking and new experience."

Silence settled over her, leaving her to her thoughts as she watched over the unconscious man and the world shifting around her; it was the least she could do. Her eyes tracked flocks of birds taking flight, familiar villagers traversing around engraved tombstones. Leaving flowers and other parcels to remember them by. She had come to drop off daffodils, and was met with a turn of fate - introductions between herself and a strange male never having once seen sunlight. It was bizarre, in some way, but positive in another.

She had someone to speak to. And though that said individual was unconscious, partially because of her, Shimada was a bit content. The woman made due with the unpredictable event in any way she could despite him not being able to hear her.

"...and just make sure you always pay the market vendor for your purchase. Things can get a little... uncomfortable." The woman spoke quietly among herself, weaving stories of past experiences to someone who would not recall them; just for her own amusement. It grew rather boring quick waiting around for the man to awake, and she stopped conversing with herself after a while. Intent on simply sitting there, letting the hazy fog of sleep grip her.

Not giving in all the way, but allowing for her mind to tune out all distractions. At least the sun was comforting, in its own special way.

His dreams took an odd turn in the midst of his usual recollections of storylines from novels. It was like he was dreaming of a book he had never read. The story of a young crimson haired girl. But for what reason would these images be flashing through his head when he knew nothing of her? He could hardly make sense of what was being dreamt up, but clearly there was some strange exchange of information occurring. Stories of the past, of origins. How?

As the tape reel within his mind seemed to run dry of dreams, consciousness fell upon Nōmisu. This was the first time in his entire life that he would wake up to a different scene than the ceiling of his chamber. As he felt his anxiety spike he used one of the methods he has taught himself. For years, the young genjutsu specialist had practiced psychological healing through use of medical practice and genjutsu, though only on himself. He pressed his fingers to his head and activated a mental illusion which calmed his mind and allowed him to better react to waking up. He sat up carefully, wondering before he could see for himself if the girl was with him still or if she had fled. There she was, lounging peacefully just a little ways away from him in the graveyard still. Had she stayed here for this long to ensure his safety? Perhaps she was a protagonist also.

Careful to consider the lessons of the day, Nōmisu spoke softly as opposed to entering the girl's personal space to let her know he was back.

"I have regained my consciousness. I see that you have remained by my side, and though I cannot understand for what reason you would have, I thank you deeply. I can't help but notice that, I mean, I wanted to ask you if you by chance had a close relationship with your aunt and uncle? It came to me in my sleep."

The girl brought about a strange concoction of feelings within Nōmisu, ones he wasn't entirely adept at reacting to. He had heard her name as he passed out but only just at this moment had he grasped onto it and committed it to memory. Shimada

Nōmisu climbed to his feet, wiping off any dirt or leaves he had accumulated in his slumber. He was weak, his stomach grumbled notably and he immediately looked around. All the time in his studies there were places which people would order food, they had many different names. Nōmisu has a very large amount of money at his disposal so that would not be an issue, he needed only find a shop.

As if second nature, he accidentally asked Shimada if she knew of any restaurants around. But he did so telepathically.

"Shimada, you wouldn't happen to know of any restaurants in the village would you? I do not want my first outside meal to be as much of a failure as my first conversational attempt.

He quickly realized he had done that because his lips had not moved and he immediately began to apologize.

"I'm sorry, that was just a...you see I have this ability with my bloodline and I...speak with my mind."

He hoped deeply that she wasn't completely startled by his little parlor trick of telepathy. It was something that occasionally happened instead of using his words. Both came just as easy to him.

[2135 + 586 = 2721]

"I don't know if this is the best thing to say in the middle of a cemetery, but I can get used to this relaxing thing." Shimada muttered tiredly to herself, balancing on her elbows, face tipped to the midday sky. Not in the bad way did she mean her statement, but in the notion it was eerily peaceful. No missions to worry about; simply listening to songbirds chirping happily in the nearby treetops. She had not forgotten about the man beside her, nor the gravestone of a relative so close by, but instead of feeling depressed at the fact she was in the sorrowful area, it was tranquility that wedged into her heart. Combating with lingering concern and confusion. The woman's sigh came out lighthearted .

In the corner of one half-lidded eye, she witnessed the male stir. A hand pressing to his head, almost as if in some odd form of reassurance, before he roused himself completely awake. With a weary orb, the Hattori female studied him as he turned to face her. Thin lips picking up into a faint smile as he announced his seemingly full recovery. Shimada mentally patted herself on the back in giving him advice prior to the blackout he had experienced, noting he respected her personal space. 'Well, it's a push in the right direction towards social norms... I just hope he'll be alright in the future; it's not like I can be there every hour of the day dropping hints towards conversation and behavioral adjusting. Geez, I sound too much like a jerk in my head sometimes...' The young woman watched him carefully for any changes in health, but the only thing that fell was her barely noticeable smile. Replaced by a visible frown.

It was only a matter of time before that question came up, no matter the person. It never got easier explaining the situation, of course, but what struck her was of how he knew. She had never informed him, yet he witnessed a hint of family bond in his sleep? That seemed almost impossible...

Her chest constricted painfully, pondering the question in her mind; working out the words that would bring a tangible answer to light. Three years, and the subject still ached. "Y-Yeah, I, uh," Shimada, at first, averted her eyes, worried it would fog up with unshed tears, tears she had held back all day long, "they raised me, actually. I never knew my real parents, and they told me my mother gave me over to them before she died." She could feel the mask of indifference, so expertly placed and formatted to her emotional fluctuations, threaten to crumble once more that day. But she steadied her nerves, telling herself not to cry; not to appear so weak in front of someone she barely knew. She made that vow when her life had fractured all around her, and dared not break it now. Coughing the attempt of a sob out of her lungs, Shimada proceeded carefully. "Sorry, it's just- ah, no. No. I promised myself I wouldn't do this... Hm, let me compose myself."

A deep breath escaped her, and she could not look Kamizuki-san in the eyes. Embarrassed she would falter in her apathetic poise. Why was she hesitating? If anything, the Hattori woman should just easily be able to spit out the sharp truth like all the other times she had even been questioned; but why did her confidence escape her now? It was a concept she failed to know the answer to. Jaw clenching in frustration, she continued. "What else can I say? My uncle's grave is the one right there, with the daffodils, and my aunt's in the hospital stuck in an inescapable comatose. I loved them like my real parents, but I..." Pausing one last time, she slid the words out between gritted teeth, "...I failed them." Words weighing heavily on her, she closed her mouth; no longer desiring to further explain the memory.

Perhaps, one day, she would relay more if come to a friendship, but for the moment, was perfectly content on sharing the surface level information.

Staring at him, observing his face for compensation for her tale, she shrugged off the feeling of grief and stood. Following his lead, brushing off any stray remains of grass and plant matter. It was not like her to get so affected by the story of her family's tragedy. She had stated it many times before, and this one should have been no different. Except it was.

"Ah, my apologies for the sudden change in mood. I'm not always comfortable with sharing the past, but it was only a lapse. Hopefully, not to happen again." It was more to reassure herself than him, and she wrung her pale hands awkwardly together. Only reaching up with a slender index finger to brush away a strand of crimson that had fallen into her eyes. Shimada preferred to stand in a relative silence, gazing at him carefully. Until, however, she heard his voice.

But, more specifically, in her mind.

It reverberated, echoing, rattling against the inside of her skull. Gentle and piercing all at the same time. Something that took her completely off guard; nearly forcing her to the ground in sheer shock. Blood pulsed through her veins, connecting to the fact that it had nearly scared her out of her skin. The action had been so abrupt, how was she not justified to be startled? The Hattori's eyes wide, face of indifference completely cast off for one full of awe, she gazed at him. Wondering at how his lips had not moved - how his tone was clear as daylight in her consciousness - until reality snapped back from his next phrase. Breaking her from her trance. Shimada stared deep into his blue eyes, giving her something to focus instead of the panic that threatened to overcome her.

Take a breath, and relax.

"It's fine, I... it simply took me unaware." She whispered, shaken. The young woman had read of clan's possessing mental powers of such caliber before, but had never experienced it firsthand until now. And it left her amazed and frightened. "It is unique, actually. A very interesting sort of skill you seem to have. I was just surprised, is all." Atoning for her reaction, she hoped it would be enough to ensure she was fine with the telepathy; with the sudden voice mumbling in her head. But she realized what the content of his question had been, and nearly flushed with embarrassment. Recalling the true purpose behind the action. "Oh, a restaurant. Well... there's quite a few places, but a couple off the top of my head is Ichiraku Ramen and the Shushaya Pub. One sells ramen and is quiet, and the other is a little more expensive, but gives you more options. It also offers alcohol for drinking age, of course." Offering politely, she peered up at him. Hoping he would not take her reaction as offensive, and perhaps also consider one of the options she had provided.

It would be rather interesting to learn more about the mental capacity of his clan's mind.

"To withhold ones emotions rather than allowing them to come forth directly is a harmful way to attempt to cope. I recommend that before I take you to the expensive Shushaya Pub and pay for your meal and drinks, we remain seated here and you vocalize your feelings and allow yourself a good long cry. We will then venture from the Pub, and I will safely return you to your quarters."

It was with a combination of authority and therapeautic command that Nōmisu spoke. He was more than familiar with psychology and therapy, he was a master over all information regarding the brain. It was unknown to him how she might react to that sincere, yet firm order he had given. He simply did not want her to continue internalizing her woes until they became a crippling problem, if they weren't already. It wasn't a rare trip of hers, to this location, that was for certain. She was speaking her woes to a headstone, and when it wasn't a headstone it was a comatose woman. These were two people she was deeply invested in.

"I will hear no more about you failing your caretakers. You are scapegoating yourself in the aftermath of their loss. Internalizing your problems and ventilating to those who cannot respond. I know I am not her worthy of considering a friend, but sometimes a friends words are not what you want when therapeautic dialogue is being had. It may be best we have this conversation before we become friends, as the most meaningful results will come of it for you. I don't need the life story, I only need to know what causes the pain to echo so deeply throughout you and for what are you blaming yourself?"

He sat down next to her now, careful not to invade her space. He had read so very many books on how to help people overcome so many different psychological woes, yet he had to treat himself with medical genjutsu. That was an interesting irony which spread throughout the situation. He was going to attempt to help a woman cope with issues of caretakers when he had never had one. He knew nothing about loss, about friendship, nothing of living in the world.

"We can share this dialogue mentally since we are in public. I cannot read your thoughts so don't be alarmed, I can merely read the conversation you consciously send my way. It only works with the Kamizuki so don't go trying to telepathically speak to others, now. You'll just get strange looks."

He said that to her with his mind, hoping the phenomenon would not scare her again. She found it interesting, either way. She was shaken and he would understand if she blocked his attempts to help her therapeautically. Many distressed people never seek help for mental health problems, -man's contrary to popular belief, it is not a group of outliers who often need help, it's the majority. For instance, he himself recognized that helping Shimada was a way unto himself to forget the huge revelations he was currently facing and focus on the problems of someone else. So much overstimulation was echoing throughout his mind but he was resisting it through preoccupation rather than direct confrontation.

Everybody copes differently.

[567 + 2721 = 3288]

OOC:

His command, though not demanding, had come out sharp and filled with recommendation. A partial order that left her seeking for purchase within her mind whether she should follow or abandon his words. The young man had a justified point; factual evidence as to why it would simply be best for her to loosen the grip over her emotions and let them slip. To finally address them head on instead of tiptoeing around a subject she probably would never speak about and deal with. But to cope?

The Hattori woman had never considered it, and had left things the way they were. Three years of restless nights and nagging lack of self confidence locked deep within the back of her mind. Only visible in some of her most vulnerable moments. And yet, to consider permitting herself the act of crying - of confessing her aching troubles - after so long of keeping them under lock and key to a stranger? Shimada could have almost laughed if the moment had not been so serious. So wrenching in her heart.

Kamizuki-san spoke truth, though bitter and corrosive, but strangely agreeable. It had to come out one day, the realization of something the woman never wanted to admit, and, supposedly, it was now. No more running. Turning a blind eye to a problem contained in recesses of thought never wholly accessed. And they would go nowhere if she did not step up and atone for her troubles. Of, as the man with the shocking blue eyes had stated, scapegoating herself for a loss she could not control. Shimada, in her whole life, had never wanted to go through this conversation again.

The initial trip to the hospital to explain why an uncle was dead and an aunt forever lost in comatose had been enough. But one more attempt at explaining the truth could not hurt anymore then it already had, could it? Just truthful statements and honest words was all she had to provide. Even more so, mentally.

The woman with the bloody red hair found herself somewhat fortunate she had gotten over the shock of his unique capabilities rather quickly. How he was offering a private conversation on a more personal level. Something that would ensure a more comforting atmosphere. At least, that's what Shimada considered, gazing up at a pale face who almost seemed like a savior in some odd, strange way. It was going to be a difficult conversation, one of the most painful, but it had to be done. Nothing would get better if she did not face the pain, and, in her stubbornness, had forgotten the concept of aid so long ago. How there could have been assistance to her problem if she had only sought for it as a child.

But she had preferred to writhe in solitary alone. Too pent up in self-loathing to believe she deserved the offered help. Until now. With a heavy, shuddering sigh, one that burned in the back of a tightening throat, she seated herself back on the grass. Mentally preparing herself for the inner turmoil that was to come. 'I may not want to do this, but I can't live like this anymore. It only took someone else to open my eyes to see that, and what he accomplished in hours I have not accomplished in three years... Getting me to reveal the night everything had all started.' She paused in her pondering to gaze at the quiet man. 'Just who is he really...?'

A tired, grim look passing over her features, she started. Weaving her tale in her mind, and hoping he would receive it as he had informed her of the conscious effort needed. It was a strange thing, but better than muttering to the world around her the truth of her concealed grief. "Three years ago, I returned home to my aunt and uncle from a simple mission. Like my adopted parents, they had raised me, and... they actually meant a lot. The only family I knew, and I was expecting to see them alive and well." Shimada, choking on her words, swallowed to make herself clear; hands clenching into tight fists and imprinting crescent shaped marks in soft, calloused flesh. "But I was so, so wrong. I-I arrived, and... and saw him. Standing there." She wanted to stop, to take a moment to collect herself, but pressed on through gritted teeth. Heat prickling in the back of her shut eyes. "The monster that cut down my uncle right in front of me. Fifteen years old, and seeing the father figure of my life killed. He had told me to run, to get away towards safety, but I wanted to help him. To save him. And though I tired, I could not move. I, a girl who had vowed to protect her family, could only watch; frozen to the spot in fear." Her lips tightened into a thin line, straining to hold back the sob that threatened to break free and tear from constricting lungs.

Sitting there, relaying her feelings, she halted midway to consider how he must have felt. Listening to her woes while having to deal with many other ones himself. Was she being selfish despite his command? Shimada considered inquiring - to make an effort to understand what he thought of the situation, of everything that was going on around him - but stopped. Refocusing her attention of finishing the subject at hand.

Better to conclude then have to start over from the beginning.

"After that day, I could never shake the feeling that I had failed them. Breaking my promise to keep them safe. My aunt, trapped in unconsciousness, probably does not even know her husband died, and if she ever wakes up, has to live with that revelation. And I'm stuck visiting a cemetery, talking to a gravestone to try and make up for my regrets." Eyebrows knitting together, Shimada, in all her years of keeping her true emotions from the public eye, let a tear slip. Melting away the expression of indifference she had worn so well. The first one rolled down her cheek, and as it detached from her chin, others followed suit. Before she knew it, she was actually crying. Head titled downwards to prevent the embarrassment of being seen. Crimson hair a shield around her pallid face.

Concluding her story, her mind transformed into a raging torrent of thoughts. Contemplation on why she had even submitted to his order in the first place, and why she was not supporting him in his confusing time. He had just stepped out into a new world, for sake, and here she was, anguished over an event she never truly moved on from. Perhaps, she thought he could help her, to lessen the pain she had experienced, but what of him? Of the struggle he would inevitably face as he made a life - a new existence in a foreign land.

But her thoughts could not go any further than that. Too wrapped around the shock that she had finally broken down, and confessed to a witness the honesty of her situation.

Perhaps, however, breaking down her dilapidated stability would result in the conception of a new one. Far more forgiving to the mental set she viewed herself with now.

Maybe even far more trusting.

OOC:

"Viewing the world as a just one will result in more pain and suffering for you. To think that this senseless loss of life was due to your lack of ability is ludicrous, as deep inside you know it well that those events which conspired were not within your ability, or anybody else's ability to stop. Only the perpetrator himself had the ability to make that call, and the unfair world in which we live had it be that his decision was the horrible one. The intensity of these events and the shock you've faced since them has likely lit a fire beneath you and caused to to grow stronger, to become more powerful than you were then. You have made yourself the catalyst and cause of an event in your life that was not your doing in any way. Sometimes the most difficult thing one can do is think things through rationally when they seem to happen without a rational reason."

Nōmisu stood up and extended his hand toward Shimada after speaking his response telepathically. She was riddled with tragedy and mental health woes from her experience, it was likely post-traumatic stress disorder and depression. One would expect nothing less in the aftermath of such an event. Nōmisu would never be able to bear her cross, as it was a weight only the very strongest of humans could. He recognized her strength in that moment and gave her a polite smile, whether she took his hand or not mattered little.

He looked into her eyes now and spoke aloud.

"Be the kunoichi you know they would be proud of but no longer should you linger on that nights specific event. You and I both know they'd not want to see their Shimada in such a state of self-blaming sorrow. Stand as a proud niece. Carry on at your best and brightest in their name. And most importantly, in your name. I of all people realize that this talk will not completely erase your pain and that a change of heart doesn't often come in the form of a single session of venting. However, this was a very big step for you to take in the right direction. I thank you for sharing."

He pondered to himself upon a single strange question. The comatose state of her aunt. What kind of a coma was it, and was her conscious mind still active within her sleeping body? Would the possibility exist for Nōmisu to communicate with this woman, or perhaps some day bring her back? He wouldn't mention any of this to his tearful friend, but would make a sharp mental note of it. His grumbling stomach offered no more time to waste as he felt small hunger-pains begin to set in.

"Once you have fully regained composure you will be accompanying me to the pub for a more lighthearted conversation, a delicious meal of your choice, and all you can drink. My treat."

He would wait with patience and a humble smile for Shimada to ready herself, looking relaxed and unintimidating as to assure her there was no rush despite his stomach devouring itself from within.

-Exit Thread-

OOC:

[537 + 3288 = 3825]
[750 - Strength: E-0 -> D-0]
[750 - Speed: E-0 -> D-0]
[750 - Endurance: E-0 -> D-0]
[750 - Perception: E-0 -> D-0]
[750 - Reaction Time: E-0 -> D-0]
Remaining: 75

His words spoke a shattering truth she did not to admit; no, never had wanted to admit. For years, the young woman had tried to tell herself the same thing over and over again. It was her fault; it was her fault. Pushing herself, desperate for atonement against the situation she truly believed was the cause of her powerless actions. But... did she want to believe in that? To drive herself further into a dark corner without any consideration of another's perspective? A perspective, at the moment, that twisted sharply in her heart, elicited by a man she neither knew or completely trusted? Her mind was a flurry of thoughts and bitter emotions, and she simply wanted it to stop.

The Hattori was sick of all the sleepless nights, the lachrymose feelings pent up within; never to be released, only safe within the sanctuary of her house. And here was this man, trying to sow seeds that would be the first step to acceptance, and, better yet, healing. She had run from the light for so long, it almost felt impossible to reach for. To grab hold, and look deep inside to realize the events that had transpired were not of her inability.

But... it was a hard thing to confess. It would take time - moments she never thought possible - to perhaps separate fact from fiction. Reality from twisted memory Shimada purposefully bestowed upon herself to keep her goal in mind. Redemption. She had always been told to be thoughtful, to consider analyzing rational boundaries despite lack of clarity, just as Kamizuki-san had stated, and she had failed that part of her when life took a plunge. Closed off any further reasoning with herself. Wallowing in a tragedy she could not stave off in her inner thoughts. As many have experienced, there is a pain there that will never be healed, but she grew determined to sew up the damage that could be fixed.

Sitting in the quiet cemetery, face tracked in dried tears - the ones she had vowed never to shed - the woman clenched her jaw and straightened. Inconsolable sadness replaced by a weak, but faint, will to endure. Oh, just considering how long it would take to think about the fateful night's incidents and not tear up about it almost coerced her into backing out. In discarding the incredibly unstable step she was willing to take in a better direction. It would be difficult, getting herself to complete accept that the view of herself was not true.

That it had been the unforeseeable that took away her family, and not the result of negligence on her part.

A strength she barely remembered she held within her heart. Silently, taking a moment to wipe the remaining tears away with the back of a hand, she accepted his held out appendage. Pulling herself back onto her feet, she glimpsed into his hauntingly blue eyes; searching for what felt like reassurance, and finding something there. Flickering behind the depths. She was shaky, paler then usual, but somewhat regained in composure. If there was to be a better future for her, one that was not blotched with regret, she would have to make that first step herself. And his aid was a blessing.

Unsure of herself, ruby eyes rimmed red, Shimada parted her lips. Letting out an exhausted sigh as if she had suddenly grown tired with the world. Perhaps, in some way, she had. "It won't be easy... I can assure that fact. Every time I think about it, I'll probably go back to feeling the same way as I had before, but, right now, I want it to end. Deep down, I will always have the nagging thought that I could have prevented the attack. That I could have done something." She whispered truthfully, desperate to slip back into her mask of apathy where she could hide; no longer displaying such a clear, full set of emotions before him. It hadn't been her way to be so careless of what showed on her face in years. "But, for once, I don't want to feel that way. Come tomorrow, it's possible I could completely change my mind. I've never been easily persuaded, stubborn in my thoughts, especially about myself. Like you said." She fixed him a sharp look, showing off the seriousness of her tone. "Stand as a proud niece. If it's for them, to carry their names and my own, I can only attempt what I assume I may eventually secure."

It hurt, to confess, but Shimada had once been a very determined individual. Strong in her decisions. With some time, the spark could return, and she'd be all for the better. But, that was a long way off. Healing, as much as she had originally wanted to not commit to, to let herself drift away into icy purgatory, started with someone to lean on. To confide in. She had poured out her troubles to him, so why not begin there? "I do not know how long you will entertain me in my slow path, but I... am deeply grateful for everything. Whoever you are, you have a way that is almost therapeutic, and for that, I appreciate it." She announced quietly, sincerely. It had taken great means for her to finally come clean, and despite the lingering grief in the recesses of her mind, felt a heavy weight had been displaced. For the time, she was of lighter conscious.

The wind sweeping away strands of crimson that had fallen into her face reminded her that she was still there, and midday was ticking away. Pale hand rubbing at her opposite arm, helping her slowly regain stability over the conversation's drastic topic, she offered him a faint, stiff smile. Just a twitch of her lips upwards, but the best she could do at his offer. Anything to get away from the cemetery and drown herself in other thoughts for a while. "If it gets me out of here faster, completely fine by me. It's about time we ate, anyway." Adding politely, she swiveled her gaze away from, content with just the patience smile he gave her.

Though he was in no rush, and neither was she, Shimada wanted to rid herself of the turmoil, and focus on the next task at hand. A warm meal and maybe some drinks if she felt up to it.

He did say it was his treat, of course.




Training
Learned Heart of Iron (7277 - 1000 = 6277)
Strength: E-0 -> D-0 (6277 - 750 = 5527)
Speed: E-2 - > D-0 (5527 - 525 = 5002)
Endurance: E-2 - > D-0 (5002 - 525 = 4477)
Perception: E-1 - > D-0 (4477 - 675 = 4802 )
Reaction Time: E-1 -> D-0 (4802 - 675 = 3127)
Learned Lightening Release: Shock Bullets (3127 - 750 = 2377)
Remaining: 2377 Words

OOC: