A chilling frosty wind blew glittering shards of glass through the night air; a glimmer of a broken past. Souls lost to brimstone reflected along the many mirrors of glass, echoing out their agony. They glittered like stars along the sand; beauty in the most unlikely place, drenched in the light of the moon. Few dared to linger in the night, too many haunted by the glassing. Accounts of wispy ghosts, haunted voices of agony, and burnt corpses turning up kept many away from the ruins of suna. The glassing meant many different things to many different people. Liberation. Freedom. Sorrow. Loss. Destruction. Fear. An end. A beginning. For her...it meant closure.

Her first memories were of shining sun. The harsh shining sun that burned her skin. Sand stung her skin. Her hands were tough from picking through the debris in the slums. Her feet were cut up from running barefoot through the street, fleeing with her stolen goods. She clothed herself in old rags, tarps, and whatever she could steal. She remembered the sweet perfume her mother wore, luring flies with glittering jewels and pockets weighted with coin to her web. She remembered the musky acidic smell of her father. The smell clung to him like he clung to the bottles he drowned himself in after work. She remembered rubbing mud, grease, and dye through her green locks of hair in an attempt to blend in. Or how her mother admonished her for listening to sheep and told her that her hair was like her eyes, sparkling pools of emerald, richer than any noble. She was so smart for her age, smarter than the idiots who chose to roll over and die than live. So many lost their way in the slums. Drugs. Slaves. Prostitution. Theft. So many people were consumed in the darkness of the slums. Their homes were of cloth, mud brick, and leftover metal. The rich slept in white stones and porcelain. Their stomachs went hungry until their bodies ate themselves and left them dry in the sun, only to be looted and consumed by sand. The rich gorged themselves till they were bursting at the seams and any food they threw out were guarded so not even street rats could consume because even that was too good for them. So many women, men, and children went missing, their bodies lost to the trade or turned up raped and mutilated and no one cared.  A noble's child skinned his knee and the nearest poor bastard would be whipped for somehow tripping him.

So yes, it was good it all burned. It was because no one cared what happened to the poor that so many were lost. She was lucky to survive and escape. She did not dare return to suna. She knew she would just be made a prison dog, let out only to bite back pest and put in a cage. Or perhaps to be made a plaything and put into one of the brothels with the illusion that she could earn her freedom before dying in a drug-induced haze to a nobleman's ire. No, it was better for her to run, to flee from her memories, into the gates of iwa. Better to work for them or anyone else than for suna.

And yet here she was, sitting along one of the mass gravesites alone with a single rocky mound at her feet. An empty grave for the memory of her mother. She was no longer a child yet she missed her. And for one day, for one night, she will let herself drown in memories. Her hair silver and blue turned green in her memories of a different time.

620~

Forced out of the memories, she felt herself freeze feeling eyes on her. Typically her lack of presence made her unremarkable and her years of espionage allowed her to blend seamlessly into the background. She hated being the center of attention or rather any attention she did manipulate and want to have. Usually, she would never leave herself out in the open unless she needed an alibi. Tonight she picked a spot out of the way on the outskirts of the mass graves and some charred buildings. It was around one or two in the morning so typical stragglers would have been gone. The random impulse decision grave she made whilst in a mess of anxiety and tears after the initial panic attack of returning to the hellhole suna was once her team of anbu made it past the border was now proving to be a dumb decision. Just as the tears streaking her cheeks stopped, her heart began to pound and pound like a drum of a thunderous war. Making decisions whilst distressed? Shitty idea for a shitty place for a shitty person like her who has a lot of people happy to take off her head. And when she felt herself go dizzy with fear with her breath escaping her, the various screaming voices in her head stilled and she felt herself go on autopilot. Doing just as the genjutsu using manipulative fucking...breathe..just as the doctor said to calm down, asses, and worry about shit latter. She took the moment to manipulate her chakra and disappear using the coveted ability of the Yuurei, Art of the Unseen, to completely blend with her surroundings and disappear. In this state, she was practically undetectable. She already made no sound with her movements, left no footprints, had no shadow and now her chakra and appearance seemed to no longer exist. It...it would be so easy to just turn around kill whoever was out there watching her. To erase any trace of her. She can easily hide the body with the nifty perks of being an ANBU and just as easy to find somebody to sell the person to, alive or dead in whole or pieces. It was just as easy to run, flee as if she was merely a figment of the imagination. But....fuck it she doesn't feel like taking off heads right now. So she simply turned around and dashed right behind the figure. Close but not too close only being a meter away. She had her X gloves on and if the person turned out to be hostile, a term she is inclined to use very loosely, she could just snap their neck and be done with it. She made her voice monotone but not hostile then spoke "Who are you? If you just visiting, then we have no quarrel as I am doing the same"....and just for added measure "If you are here to grave rob, however...you'll be joining the rest here as a new member"

1126~

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