Heist:

Shinako tied her hair back with a black sash, like a shadow falling over a shadow. The rest of her garments were deep blues and greens, to match the hues of the Konohagakure forest at night. The day at the office had been quiet and slow, filled with clandestine looks from her coworkers at the dark bruise Shinako had not bothered to conceal. If looking closely enough, one could see the outlines of Commander Wori’s fist where the knuckles had stricken her. The woman’s cold eyes gave the mark one more stern appraisal before she turned away from the mirror.

As was her wont before leaving on her less-than-savory endeavors as of late, Shinako checked and double-checked all of her equipment. This time, however, she carefully unwrapped the linen cloth from around the cleverly oiled blades of the weapons in her kit. Such a configuration would necessitate more precise movements, in order to conceal errant sounds, but would make accessing the Kunai and Shuriken much easier. Of course, Shinako hoped that she would not have to harm anyone in pursuit of her goal, but there were wrongs that needed righting. That night, Shinako would take back something which had been stolen from her.

The woman stood, feeling her shadow lengthening as the sunset approached. The Nara were strongest in the twilight, when the sun’s position over the horizon threw the world’s silhouette in long lines. Shinako flexed her nervous hands, feeling the corresponding motion in her shadow, where it lay across the floor. She felt wild and powerful, sensations that continued to intoxicate her, keeping her resolve from fading. Sometimes, on nights when the world cried out for justice to stop, the only solution was to press forward and exact a pound of flesh.

Shinako left by the front door, locking the heavy wooden portal behind her and throwing the jangling keys into the bushes. In truth, she hadn’t needed them in years, having long since mastered the art of opening the doors and windows of the home from the inside with Ninjutsu. Still, there was something comforting about having them; about owning them. Shinako averted her eyes, so as not to allow the soft feelings of nostalgia for her childhood home to invade the cool zone of clarity she would need to construct for the coming task.

The woman turned away from the door and scanned the countryside around the house, mentally revising her plan once more. With the information she had gathered, it would still be no small task to execute, but she felt more than ready put the gears in motion. Normally Shinako would think through a schedule or strategy on the way into town, but that night she planned on using a much faster method of travel. She found her mind passing over what was not quite a prayer; to her ancestors, and the spirits of the forest that surrounded this place. She called upon the name of the wind, with a flurry of grass and leaves.

500/1,500 (B-Rank Mission)

Shinako decided against it, and returned home. There would be other chances.