The hallways twisted around into a calamitous maze, ready to strike at unsuspecting prey unworthy enough to brave their depths… at least that’s how the quaint halls of the Aesculapium seemed at that moment in time as Hira wandered aimlessly, taking special care to note each room number as he passed by. As he hurried along, the tail ends of his kimono brushed through the nonexistent building wind, almost as though carried by some external force, the long elegant crimson stripes clashing artistically against the rest of the light blue fabric.
”Where the heck was this room again,” he muttered to himself impatiently as the white and red orbs in his head zipped around madly in search of an answer. He looked back down to the letter he had received from an old teacher of his, back from his days in the academy:</FONTFACE>
Wait just a… Damnit! Hira frantically grasped his clothes as he wondered where the rest of the note had gone, only to end up looking dismayed at the torn bottom section. How did he get so careless with something so simple? He certainly had a long way to go before he was as reliable as the other shinobi in the village in aspects outside of combat. Although a thought kindled ever so slightly in the back of his head that it might be someone else at fault, he begrudgingly held that idea in reserve.
Hira tried desperately to find someone that might be lying about that could help him figure out who the letter may have been referring to, but alas the information was too vague to be of any help or concern to the wandering nurses and patients. Finding a nearby bench, Hira slumped down onto his rear, letting out a deep sigh that could have very well rumbled the very beams of the building were it amplified in any way. Brushing the long hair out of his face, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, speaking aloud faintly in an odd tone to perhaps an invisible force; that or he had finally gone crazy. ”You could have been a little more careful with that note, old man. Just cause you’re bored doesn’t mean you should take it out on me…
”Where the heck was this room again,” he muttered to himself impatiently as the white and red orbs in his head zipped around madly in search of an answer. He looked back down to the letter he had received from an old teacher of his, back from his days in the academy:</FONTFACE>
Hira,
There’s a student I want you to look in on at the hospital. I know you were always talking to many other children while you were here, and I feel like she could use that kind of friendship… and I already know what kind of excuses you are coming up within your head right now; consider this a mission from your superior.
She should be in room number…
Wait just a… Damnit! Hira frantically grasped his clothes as he wondered where the rest of the note had gone, only to end up looking dismayed at the torn bottom section. How did he get so careless with something so simple? He certainly had a long way to go before he was as reliable as the other shinobi in the village in aspects outside of combat. Although a thought kindled ever so slightly in the back of his head that it might be someone else at fault, he begrudgingly held that idea in reserve.
Hira tried desperately to find someone that might be lying about that could help him figure out who the letter may have been referring to, but alas the information was too vague to be of any help or concern to the wandering nurses and patients. Finding a nearby bench, Hira slumped down onto his rear, letting out a deep sigh that could have very well rumbled the very beams of the building were it amplified in any way. Brushing the long hair out of his face, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, speaking aloud faintly in an odd tone to perhaps an invisible force; that or he had finally gone crazy. ”You could have been a little more careful with that note, old man. Just cause you’re bored doesn’t mean you should take it out on me…
Fuscia. Fingers of a single hand, held petite and fragile unbraiding the two lengthy locks interwoven together, the shaky breath of discomfort left her lungs and for a moment, she felt the raising pain within her lung… A small pitch almost. Blossoming like the cherries did in the spring, the pink orb held to its own radiance and stared back—Curling downward, the flesh around her mouth revealed her disdain. Accursed flower<i></i> growing out of her eye, her right eye was nothing more than a pot for this flower. She assumed that is what it was titled to. Everyone wanted a curse or a blessing, was it bad that Panahime simply wanted to die? Not a reason to live… Because living wasn’t the same as being happy and she could void it all with a single swing… Though. That would be far too degrading. Instead, she kept her wishes buried, because this was the same wish she was granted and the entitled power too. A place for a fiend to be free. Now. That was a wish farthest to be, not even in a fairytale will that be true and materialized, so. She’ll make that place by force…