Another sleepless night had occurred for the young Guanyin, questions about her past and a bunch of what if’s clouding her mind and keeping sleep just out of reach for her grasping hands. It wasn’t the first time she would have to spend the day running on the fumes of little sleep and it likely wouldn’t be the last either. What she needed was some answers – she was curious about the man she called her father and while her great grandparents had been more than willing to touch on the subject anytime she asked as well as answer all of her questions she had without fail she still felt like it wasn’t enough. She needed him, the real deal, in the flesh. For now though she was just going to have to settle for the fact that her great grandparents had sent for him – and apparently his wife – and that they would hopefully be gracing Kumogakure no Sato with their presence soon enough. In the meantime she would just have to deal with not only her own excitement and impatience but also the knot in her gut that was filled with all kinds of childish worry and thoughts such as ‘Will he even want me?’ and ‘Will he be proud of what I accomplished or have I not tried hard enough?’ among so many others. Of course, Grandma and Grandad had both assured he he would love her the moment he knew about her, and that he would be more than proud of all she had done, but the thoughts were just there and there was little to nothing she could do about it.


Yes, that seemed like quite the good idea right now – what she needed was to find something else to occupy her mind and her time with. She had tried both drawing as evident by her mostly filled sketchbook as well as studying evident by the giant pile of books that were currently taking up ninety percent of the surface top of her desk, but neither of those had helped much at all. ”Speaking of sketchbooks, I need to pick up some new ones. I’m down to just a few pages now and that won’t last me long.”, the thought caused her to move into action as the idea of spending a few hours shopping since she had recently been paid from a few D-rank missions she had run crossed her mind and sounded like just what she needed to get her mind off of things, tossing the blankets off of herself and standing up to stretch. She fixed her bed afterward, though there wasn’t much to fix since she had pretty much laid in the same position all night long. She headed into the shower, glad once more to have her own bathroom so that she could litter the counter space with her various products for her hair and the make up she never bothered using but had just the same because it was the ‘girly’ thing to do. She undressed quickly, tossing her clothing in the hamper, and took the hottest shower she could manage, cleaning herself up and washing away the nights sleep failure – all while hoping it would help wake her up some. Once finished she dried off and pulled articles of clothing from her dresser: a red tank top, a black short sleeve over-shirt with a baggy enough neck area so that it would hang off of one shoulder, black leggings to be worn beneath a red pleated skirt, dark red socks, and appropriate undergarments. She dressed quietly but quickly, slipping her black combat boots on last and her weapons pouch around her right leg. Her Kumogakure hitai-ate was added then, left to drape loosely around her neck – something she was proud to always wear as it marked at least one achievement she had made in her short lifetime.

Satisfied with her appearance she picked up her canvas bag and slung it over her shoulder, the bag filled with her ‘travel’ assortment of art supplies – a weeded down version of just the basics that she needed if she decided to draw while out and about. She picked up her earbuds and ipod, slipping the earbuds into her ear and the ipod into one of her pockets of her red pleated skirt after pressing play, glad her earbuds had such a long cord as it worked out comfortably enough. She headed out of her bedroom to find both of her great grandparents in the living room. “You might want to grab a coat, dear, if you’re heading out. It’s a bit chilly.”, spoke Grandma as she looked up from the book she was reading, Gemma having popped an earbud out of her ears when she saw her grandmother getting ready to speak. Gemma nodded and smiled, ducking back into her room long enough to add a black leather jacket to her ensemble before heading back out. She kissed both of her great grandparents on the cheek before heading to the door, ”I’m going to grab some new sketchbooks, do either of you need anything while I’m out?”, she questioned with a pause, watching as both of her grandparents responded with a shake of their heads. “Just be safe out there.”, her grandfather called out to which Gemma called back a ”I will, promise” before heading outside and closing the door behind herself.


She replaced the earbud back into her ear and cranked the volume, switching to a new song Icon for Hire – Cynics and Critics that she began to sing as she made her way to the market and down the semi-busy streets. ”We're not cynics, we just don't believe a word you say. We're not critics, we just hate it all anyway. If you're happy and you know it clap your hands like this. Cause the rest of us are wondering what on earth we missed. If you're happy and you know it stomp your feet real loud. The rest of us could use some cheering up right now. Oh please, shoot us up with something shiny and quick. We like our thrills dirt cheap and our irony thick. Oh whatever, never mind, we're just crying for help. I guess we'll heal the old fashioned way and do it ourselves. Oh this is all we know. Oh tragic and miserable. We're not cynics, we just don't believe a word you say. We're not critics, we just hate it all anyway. Oh this is all we've got. Oh we do what we've been taught. We're not cynics, we just don't believe a word you say. We're not critics, we just hate it all anyway. Sometimes I think we push your buttons just for fun. As Gemma continued to make her way down the market she found herself swaying from side to side, busting a move, and moon-walking to the left and then to the right, all the while showing the grace that came with practice: moving with the kind of fluidity that was worthy of a moving work of art.

"Sometimes I think our kind of crazy has already been done. We're a copy of a copy, everything we swore we'd not be. Yeah, the truth hurts, but it hasn't strung enough to stop me. Oh please, can't you give us something better than this. We've built up a tolerance to all your veteran tricks. You're busy smiling on cue, when you don't have a clue. We're a mess and we know it, we want you to know too. Oh this is all we know. Oh tragic and miserable. We're not cynics, we just don't believe a word you say. We're not critics, we just hate it all anyway. Oh this is all we've got. Oh we do what we've been taught. We're not cynics, we just don't believe a word you say. We're not critics, we just hate it all anyway. If you're happy and you know it then there might be something wrong with you. What's the point in holding on when all of us don't want you to. It'd make us feel better, knowing you'd be stuck forever. Sick minds stick together, we can stay sick forever. Oh this is all we know. Oh tragic and miserable, We're not cynics, we just don't believe a word you say. We're not critics, we just hate it all anyway...", her sweet voice continued to sing the song till the end, humming along with the ending chorus as it began to repeat itself over and over again, in that blissful mental state that for the moment kept her from caring about what the onlookers thought of her and her current actions. They mattered little to her when she was in this kind of mindset after all – there was only one living and breathing thing she knew of that could taint her day and that woman was as far from her mind as possible. In fact, enjoying the song so much she reached into her bag as he ended, pressing the back button and causing it to play again as she continued to make her way down the street, heading towards her favor store that sold the art supplies she was looking for.

Word Count: 1,565

In the early hours of the morning, when the sun had not risen from its slumber yet, and people were still tucked in bed, sparks flew and metal clashed in the distant, A deadly symphony being played out by two combatants neither one wanting to lose nor give up the fight. With each clash, the sound of their deadly dance grew intensity and ferocity. A flash of steel cut through the night, it's deadly edge gleaming menacingly in the moon's rays, looking to bite in its opponent. Only to be denied with a perfectly executed block and parried out of the way, causing its master to be open for an attack to the chest. The other blade's owner did not hesitate is attacking such an opportune opening with a slash, starting from opposite shoulder and ending on the opposite hip. Their blade humming with bloodlust as it moved into striking range only to bite into another metal, a wakizashi, that blocked its attempt to taste flesh. It seemed like the block was the only thing needed for the other combatant to get back into the battle as once again, blades danced in the moonlight. Only the moon, the animals in the area, and the two combatants would get to witness and remember the show being performed.

"Ughhhh.", Kannon groaned, eyes fluttering opening and closing right back when light assaulted them. Where was he? What happened to him? Disoriented with thoughts, he tried opening his eyes once again, and this time, they adjusted to the light well. Trying to figure out where he was at, he looked around the room, spotting certain things that made it obvious who room he was in; his own. How did he get here? He wondered, sitting up, only to bite back a wince from a pain coming from his stomach, once white medical bandages were quickly turning red as blood soak through them. Only then did he realize where he was, and how he got the injury.

Before he could get up and rewrap the bandages, his mother walked in joined with a familiar elderly lady, "Sweetie.", the term of affection only being used to get a rise out of Kannon, and it worked with him scowling, "Miss Guanyin is here to heal your wounds again." Kannon did not say anything but eased back down on the bed, closing his eyes even as the two adults approached his bedside. As the feeling of his bandages were removed, the soft hum of chakra telling him it was being done by such energy, Kannon thought back to the fight as he once again lost to his mother. He did not dwell on the lost, there is no point to it, instead, looked at his improvements, and how he could further improve them. Mistakes were made that could have cost him more than it did if against an unforgiven opponent who did not care about his well being. He could very well be dead right now.

He did not know when he fell asleep, but it could not be too long for he caught the tail end of the conversation between his mother and Miss Guanyin. The elderly lady talking about her great-granddaughter before mentioning have to go and cook breakfast for her. "I know you are awake.", the voice of his mother ranged loudly throughout the house. Not being able to deny it, Kannon got up out of bed, hand immediately going to the place where his wound was and found none, only tender, soft flesh that was slightly pinkish. Not wanting to poke it anymore, unless he wanted to risk injuring himself again, Kannon stripped out of his torn clothes, tossing them in the trash, and made his way towards the bathroom connected to his room.

Steamed bellowed out of the bathroom as he walked into his room wearing only a towel. With his hair slightly damp, Kannon moved towards a walk-in closet and looked through the assortment of clothing as he decided on his attire for today. Grabbing a long sleeve black shirt with a gold dragon pattern on the back of it, Kannon slipped it up, buttoning the shirt up. A pair of dark blue pants, slightly baggy, followed suit along with black ankle socks and black dress boots. Of course, a belt was added to the attire. Dressed in what he wanted, Kannon slipped on a golden chain around his neck. His shoulder length hair, pink in coloration, was free, though thoroughly combed, removing any knots. Completely dressed, his grabbed a small scroll containing money in it and slipped it on his person. Walking out of the bedroom, he spotted his mother sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book. “Be sure to be back before dinner at least.”, she spoke not leaving looking up from her reading, though catching the nod from her son, and the sound of the opening and closing of the house door.

Stepping outside, Kannon was met with the warmness of the sun, and the coolness of the weather. A contrast that he found pleasant enough. Looking around at the people moving around, going about their morning routine. He began to walk aimlessly down the streets. Greeting and acknowledging passerbyers, and generally just looking around at the varying building structures of Kumogakure no Sato. There was no set destination in mind; he simply wanted to get out of the house for a few hours. The action becoming a routine of sorts after every early training section with his mother. Similar to meditation, Kannon found just walking helps him refocus on what was important, and not worry about the negative things.

Somehow, Kannon found himself in the market district. The number of people have increased along with the noise, vendors all pinning for the attention of potential customers, trying to entice them with their goods. He stopped at a few of the places, looking at their wares, finding nothing he liked nor wanted, he moved on. Continuing weaving through the people, looking for anything that would catch his attention. Finding nothing, he was about to leave the market district till the sound of someone singing caught his attention. Through the mass of people, he was able to spot a young black haired teen girl, singing loudly, at least loud enough for him to notice, and dancing down the street. That was something not seen every day, at least not in the market district.

Wanting to interact with someone, even if they appeared younger, Kannon began making his way towards the dancing teen but paused when something caught his attention. A notebook of sort fell out of her bag. Jogging over to where the notebook laid, and with a closer inspection realizing it was a sketchbook, grabbing it before someone could trample on it, Kannon caught up with the still dancing and singing female.Tapping her shoulder to grab her attention, “You dropped this.”, he spoke, handing out the sketchbook she had unknowingly dropped. Once she took it, his hand would fall back to the waist side, “Is the song you was singing,  Cynics and Critics by Icons for Hire"? He inquired, vaguely remembering his mother listening to the song every so often.

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1211

Gemma was in her happy place with her music blasting in her ears, and the song being sung from her lips. She cared little for what people thought about her in that moment, all of her cares and worries had momentarily been pushed from her mind and she was just enjoying the sunshine and the idea of a day spent shopping for some of her favorite things in the world: art supplies. So, needless to say she was quite shocked – though she tried hiding it well – when she felt a tap on her shoulder.


Becoming still from her dancing Gemma reached up immediately, pulling the right earbud out of her ear so that she could properly hear and simply allowing it to dangle over her small bust. She looked to the… female?… who had apparently tapped her on the shoulder and smiled gently. She heard the words spoken to her and it took her a moment to register what as going on. Glancing towards the small sketchbook she took it back with a nod of her head. ”Oh shoot! Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost that.”, she spoke, tucking the small sketchbook into another pocket and ensuring that it was properly clasped shut. The sketchbook she had dropped was one she carried around for ‘notes’ so to speak: it was filled with drawings of interesting people who she had spotted – mostly those form other villages or wanders, plants she was unsure about, ninja tools she had spotted but didn’t own, and even some ideas for weapons she had thought about having forged or her. It was definitely one of the things she carried on her that she didn’t want to risk losing again.


A look of shock passed over Gemma’s face as she nodded to the strangers question, quickly replaced with a grin: finally, someone who knew about her taste in music. ”It is! You listen to them, too?”, she asked curiously, hoping that the answer was yes. It had been an awfully long time since she had met anyone who knew about her taste in music, so she was more than willing to stop and chat for a bit.


”...Besides, you could use a friend. When was the last time you actually hung out with anyone besides your great grandparents?” Her own thoughts startled her, the truth behind them a bit shocking: she had never really bothered bringing friends home when living with her mom, she feared her mothers abuse too much. She had been ashamed of what was going on in her house, and didn’t want anyone else to know about it. In fact, it was this lack of socialization that had caused her to lose many of the friends she had gained while in the Academy. ”… I’m sure if I made a new friend Grandma and Grandad wouldn’t mind me bringing them home with me.” Yes, this was something she was definitely sure about: they would welcome any friend she brought into the house, she was sure of it. Of course, that was if they ended up becoming friends. She was getting a bit ahead of herself after all, she didn’t even know this… girls?… name.


”I’m Shimizu Gemma, by the way, of the Guanyin clan! What’s your name?” Oh yes, she was quite proud to know where she belonged now – so much better than being a failure as an Uzumaki as her mother had called her for so long.

Word Count: 2,195