Tales of the past weave a mystical web. One never seems to know it all, no one knows the whole of what one action can do to a great many of people, for minutes, hours, days, months, years, centuries. Generations of people can be scarred by one impulsive moment. Tamae was living proof, her family a grim record of such simple scars.

Of course, such a history was hidden from the world, making her a silent victim of a horrible crime of the past. Indeed she was silent- but observant none the less. As her so called classmates rushed to go home, oblivious to all in their path, Tamae's sharp eyes picked out the grey spot in the shrubbery before it sprung to and alighted on her shoulder. The girl welcomed her pet with a quiet scratch, and a whispered greeting. "Hello Twy."

She received a casual purr in acknowledgement be fore she arrived at the trolleys, newly painted. A navy shade of blue. She ushered herself in, settling herself in a corner and waiting for the trolley's dragging trip to end. The feline on her shoulder became her eyes as Tamae's worked their way shut. The feral cataracts seemed opposite of her own, Amethyst throughout save a tiny bit of blue stain radiating weakly from the narrow pupil.

Even when the eternal motion stopped, and she had disembarked the transport, the eyes on the human remained closed, but the instinctual pair remained open. She walked the path as if she knew it by heart, no signs of consciousness other than the motion of walking. She climbed her front steps, and her hand went to the doorknob. The swift turn she gave was rewarded with her wrist absorbing the energy, twisting to a near grotesque point. The only response to the pain was a moments work of massaging the stretched muscle and a mew from her shoulder. As the noise directed her gaze moved up.The sign that normally read, Please Knock, doorbell out of order" now read in her her father's cheerful handwriting "Ring, ring, ring away!" Typical of him. Her exasperation knew no bounds as one finger pressed the white button on the doorframe.

The mat beneath her feet disappeared, but she expected that. The nect thing she felt was the rush of air that meant she had but a few moments to land herself properly. Okay, so more than a few. It wasn't her fault, nor her family's that their enemy flew so high. She had to be prepared for anything, including the drop from such a height. Her feet met the ground and she paused to let the shock of the sudden greeting disperse. Silver locks fell in her face, but it only took a few moment to brush them back. Next to her landed Twy, who promptly returned to her vigil on Tamae's shoulder.

The tunnel before them now was barely lit at all, but the two moved forward. Tamae's gaze darted from shadow to shadow, on guard with every step. Nothing attacked, only followed her in the darkness the further she got from the sparse lights, and rejoined her journey as she left it behind. Ther seemed to be no dend to this cyce, the swift winged illusion with violet eyes that were all she could see. Again, only a clever llusion, but it's cycle was ending. The Tunnel exploded in the den, allowing her to leave her shadowed stalker far behind.

The oblong room sported a half that stepped down three times in an arrangement like theater seating, down to the center. The rest, not taken up by these bleachers was more like an arena. Was the room particularly large? No, it was about the size of the average living room, with the exception of a high and vaulted ceiling. A screen took up half of the wall, placed in dead center, and trophies lined the walls on either side. Empty metallic emblems? No, not a one. Each had a story, and each was unique. Guaranteed it was the only true original on these shelves, and not some cheap copy.

The only odd element of the entire room was the bird like shadow on the ground. A glance up at the maker of the shadow would bring pure hatred to the eyes of any member of the family Kuroyoshi. The Den was not empty. Her father sat next to her mother, and her older brother settled next to her grandparents beside them. Tamae gave a bow before allowing a smirk to curl her lips. Her question was simple, as was its answer.

"Movie Time?"

The eager nods she received prompted her to nestle herself between her father and grandmother, watching as the screen flickered to life with a click. Typed pages, and a voice- her own voice- made comments as she flipped through the pages with fingerless gloves. As her voice made a point of, her efforts had been in vain, Her stolen treasure had told her nothing new about her target. She would have to return again tonight to follow the only real lead she had gotten from her endeavors the night before. A name could be followed. The staff file of one Satoshi Hiwatari could shed some light on her true target. But did she have to work another school night?