The buildings around me were so big that I couldn't see the tops of them without craning my head all the way up. I didn't do that though. The sky was crying and I didn't want to get its tears in my eyes. The sky was always crying here, because people were always dying in the Land of Rain and so the entire region was as sad as the people in it.

That was why I wasn't ashamed of the tears, hidden by the rain, that decorated my own cheeks. If the sky was allowed to cry, surely a ten year old girl like myself had the same right.

My clothing had it worse than my cheeks. The worn down brown cloth shirt and ragged dirt stained brown pants had been exposed to the rain for far too long. They weren't just wet. They were the sort of soaked that added weight - if I were to wring them out sheets of water would fall off them. I looked like someone had dunked me in the river, twice.

The rich looking man, with his purple silk shirt doing little to conceal the small bulge at his belly that proved he wasn't starving, could see the difference in the two of us. He looked at me. Then he looked at the bread in his hand. Then he looked at me again.

A ten year old girl. Pitiable with such exotic blue hair. Another tragic war orphan. "Please," I begged, laying it on thick. "I'm hungry."

My friend and fellow war orphan, the orange haired Yahiko, brushed past our mark, making off with a coin purse. The rich man didn't notice. Instead he grimaced and then handed me the bread and I felt like someone had stabbed me in the gut. Guilt. It wasn't like the real knives that had killed my mother and father. It still hurt though.

I thanked the man and started to eat his bread anyway. I walked away as I ate. It was one of those really big loaves. The sort of thing that was used to feed families for a week that people would get knives out and cut up into slices. Freshly baked too. It was delicious; my first bite of food all day.

Yum.

It was best to be as far away as possible. Eventually the man would notice that Yahiko had stolen his purse. Then he would make a scene and he might even connect me to crime. So I left.

I'd made it three streets when I saw a boy lying on the road. His hair was dark red, every bit as exotic as my own blue hair. He looked like he was on the edge of death. I could see the outline of his ribs, even though he was wearing a shirt, because the black shirt he was wearing was so wet that it was gluing itself to him.

I walked up to him. He looked at me with strange purple eyes filled with circles that got smaller and smaller. Yeah. He was definitely dying. Eyes weren't supposed to look like that. He was sick. "Hungry," he whispered.

I narrowed my eyes. Glanced around. Pulled my bread closer to my chest. He didn't have a partner though. There was no one nearby. Nobody was coming to steal my bread.

I was going to walk away. I knew that was the right thing to do. Yahiko would be angry with me if I did anything else. But the not-stabbing was back. Why did I feel guilty? He was the idiot that didn't know how to feed himself.

It didn't go away though. I didn't walk away either.

I was being stupid.

I glanced at the bread in my hand. My frown deepened. It was my bread now. I didn't want to give it to him. But… maybe… I broke it in half.

I handed my fellow starving orphan the smallest piece. "My name's Konan," I said. "Whats yours?"

"Nagato."