The New Year festival was in full swing. Confetti fell like rain, twirling and spinning as it fell through the air. Fireworks lit the sky, the acrid smoke from their fuses mingling with the scent of sandalwood incense and tobacco smoke.

Children grinned and screamed along with the crowd atop their father's shoulders, delighting in the stalls of games and entertainment that lined the town's central road. Lanterns, strung on wire by the thousands, lit up the city like fireflies- their light flickering, but comforting.

In the Red Light district, sake flowed like water. Men and women, their laughter loud and full of the euphoria of the New Year gambled their money away at the slots and card tables, too drunk to care. Whores and courtesans lined the road, picking out the most inebriated and insensible of men to service, knowing that, at the end, they could take a few thousand more yen than their usual price.

Dancers threw themselves into their steps; traditional Kabuki performed next to contemporary Western- a juxtaposition of culture that pleased the crowds that ebbed and flowed from one entertainment to the next. Jugglers and gypsies vied for prime positions for their talents, struggling with the sword swallowers and fire eaters that clogged the streets.

Otafuku Gai was in revel.

Eyes, cat green, stared out at the partiers, her skilled eyes skipping from inebriated man to tipsy women- searching out her next prey. Thin, slender fingers supported by strong wrists peeped into the light cast by the street, out of the shadow of the alley.

A surgeon's hands, someone had told her.

Sakura snorted as she blew a stray piece of her bright pink hair out of her eyes- it was chopped to just below her ears- and scorned the foolish victim who'd admired her even as she'd robbed him blind. As if a street thief could ever be a surgeon. She continued to sweep the patrons of the street, any guilt smothered over a veneer of professionalism. She'd been in this trade too long and couldn't afford to feel mercy to her victims. Besides, she thought to herself, if they could spend money on prostitutes and booze then their families weren't exactly starving, were they?

You don't know that, a semi-familiar voice whispered from the back of her mind. Sakura scowled, her conscience, a meeker, smaller, much more polite part of herself liked to make itself known in these situations. They could have just been passing through, on their way to give their money to their poor families-

Sakura abruptly stopped listening, scowling harder, if that was possible. Her Inner, as Sakura referred to her, was a pansy in every sense of the word and Sakura didn't exactly enjoy talking to the voice in her head that sounded like a timid mouse in comparison to her normal, brusque, unsympathetic nature. She didn't have the luxury of high morals and she didn't need to explain survival to herself.

It smacked of schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder anyways. Sakura was a lot of things, but definitely not a crazy.

Her eyes continued to pick out likely victims, a reflex, despite her inner thoughts. Selecting and discarding, looking for the victim that was just tipsy enough to be stupid, but not enough that they drew attention. It wasn't easy; however, seeing as everyone was slightly inebriated. At the very least they were tipsy, and the heavy drinkers were passed out in the gutters, already picked over by the scavengers of Sakura's profession. She frowned slightly, noting that it was getting late- she had to hurry. She eyed a drunken man who had promise- only to turn away when she saw the outline of a daishō, the katana and wakizashi of the samurai class, under his cloak.

Samurai were violent, she knew, especially when drunk. She pressed a hand to her stomach, where a long ropy scar traced its way all the way across the sunken plane of her abdomen, just below her belly button. She'd been lucky, she knew. The samurai who'd wounded her had been too drunk to swing effectively- resulting in a scar when in reality she should have been cut in half, or at least disemboweled.

She winced at the memory of that blinding pain. It had taken months for the scar tissue to form- weeks on barely any food, unable as she was to steal for herself. It had been some of the darkest months of her life- always fearing that she'd be mugged while she was helpless or her wound would become infected and she'd die, swallowed in fever and incomprehensible hallucinations. It had been the best day of her life when her fever had broken and she'd slowly recuperated.

Since then she'd given the warrior class a wide berth- including the ninja who were hired by the daimyo to eliminate the thieves every few years. So far she hadn't been caught, but she knew that as she grew older- she was only a mere ten summers- it'd get harder and harder for her to get by on pocket change. Soon she'd be forced to start escalating to robbing houses and stores. After that, she knew that it was almost certain she'd be caught and hung.

It was a dark truth she'd known since she'd been left alone on the streets in her seventh year by a family too large to feed itself. Knowing one's death was certain lent a certain gallows humor to her countenance- one that her fellow thieves could relate to. They knew they were living on time borrowed from the Shinigami as well; it was a particularly badly kept secret.

So she was alone. And hungry, she mused, cradling her stomach as it rumbled. She really needed to stop all this self-examination, it couldn't be healthy…

There! Sakura zeroed in on a women stumbling down the street- blond, busty, and totally smashed. A small purse dangled from her hip, loosely tied, from what Sakura could see. Breaking her cover, Sakura meandered over, nonchalantly matching the older women's gait- taking in the smaller details she'd missed from the shadows of the alley. She could definitely tell that the women was a gambler- her green jacket with the word embroidered on the back was a dead giveaway- and that meant loose cash, at the very least. Sakura carefully maneuvered herself slightly back and diagonal from the women's hip pouch, noting that the ties were indeed loose enough that Sakura estimated she could grab the money and break left, back into the safety of the slums. She really doubted a woman, especially one with such- ahem- assets as these, no matter how drunk, would wander there for a few coins stolen by a petty thief.

Sakura took a breath, releasing it smoothly- show time. With a burst of speed, Sakura surged forward, catching the woman as she went around a corner, yanking the purse so hard that the leather pouch straps snapped cleanly. Sakura continued straight, knowing that she'd at least have a few seconds before the lady managed to recover from being caught flatfooted and sounded the alarm. She concentrated all her will on forcing herself to go faster, spinning on a dime to avoid the throngs of people that clumped in the middle of the street. She ignored the cries of outrage as she shoved or knocked them over, still pressing her body into a more streamlined shape- one that she'd seen the shinobi use as they'd traversed from building to building. She was meters from freedom- five; four- avoid the spatter of vomit and the groaning drunk- three- two-

Freedom!

Sakura skidded into an alley, her ratty sandals catching slightly on the rough dirt- plowing through a couple of scruffy looking kids just off the street- and dashed into the shadows. She continued on, ignoring their curses and oaths, determined to make herself scarce deep in the heart of Otafuku Gai's slums.

The thief ran on- running until her breath rasped in her throat and her feet ached from pounding on the hard packed dirt. She flew by, dodging the ragged homeless tucked into the recessed doorways that dotted the winding backstreets, hurtling over the piles of trash and waste that piled against stained walls. Farther and farther she ran, until she found herself in a small, dingy courtyard.

The windows were shuttered and closed, the doors barred with heavy wooden beams nailed crossways to keep out the homeless. Graffiti and trash littered the little plaza, the hard packed earth dotted with clumps of weeds and grass.

Sakura grinned, relaxing slightly. Home- the safest place she knew.

She plopped herself on the ground, not bothering to enter the small hole she'd made to get into the abandoned complex. She was enjoying the night far too much for that- it was crisp and not too cold, a boon for someone who had to make do with holey woolen sweaters and pants a little too ragged to be unnoticeable to the general public.

It was troublesome.

But, worries could wait for later, for now… Sakura greedily pulled out the purse- ripping it open and dumping the contents on the ground in front of her, ignoring the coat of dust that rose to coat them.

"One hundred… two hundred…" she murmured as she slowly counted out the coins. There was at least enough to buy a new jacket for the freezing months to come…

"Aiiiiieeee!" Sakura yelped as she threw herself to the side, scooping up the coins as she moved, barely avoiding the fist that impacted where her head used to be.

She looked up, terrified. The furious face of the women she'd robbed, the blonde one, looked back at her.

"Give me my money girl."