I'd lost all sense of time during my rather melancholy stay at the hospital, but I wasn't about to complain— the fact that nobody had hounded me the entire time had been an enormous blessing.

Now— seven weeks later, I was informed— as I adjusted the thick band that held my braid together, I proceeded to exit the claustrophobia that was my room; however, a muffled heartbeat stopped directly in front of me, blocking my attempts to head for the apartment which had so graciously been assigned to me.

"The ANBU will not hesitate to kill you." A woman's voice. By the way her domineering pulse coursed throughout her body, I could tell she was a woman of extreme power— not to be trifled with. "As long as I'm alive, Konoha shall remain safe."

In other words, if my memories tainted my seemingly innocent appearance, I was done for. I tilted my head respectfully in her direction.

"I understand. Thank you for allowing me to remain in your village, ma'am." I had a feeling this woman would most likely be the last person I'd truly interact with for a very long time, so I silently prayed for her name, even though I was in absolutely no position to; I'd been given plenty already.

She gave a light harrumph. "You will address me as Lady Tsunade, or Lady Hokage."

I nodded. "Yes, Lady Tsunade."

Without further ado, the Hokage walked away. Strangely, the sound of her heartbeat became much stronger. Was she wearing something on her front to keep the noise at a bare minimum until she turned away? I pushed the thought aside, tracing the eerily clean walls of the hallways before bumping my palm against an icy knob.

Had I been anyone else, I would've squinted at the sun's cheerful greeting— but, of course, I was Keiden, and I only knew the sun was at its highest because my forehead had started to burn. It felt so good, being outside again; it was as if cotton had been pulled out of my nostrils, my ears: the sweet tang of dozens of species of flowers danced around me, while an entertaining caw-caw tapped against my eardrums.

Not quite wanting to search for my new apartment yet, I decided to go sight-seeing— no pun intended. The chatter of civilians swirled tantalizingly through the air, and I couldn't help but turn on my heel and make my way toward the casual sounds. I didn't want to be rude, so I kept my direct focus away from specific conversations, listening instead to the collective babble that seemed to buoy my muscles along clouds of delicious-smelling soups and breads.

I must've stumbled into a marketplace, I thought happily. I fingered the small envelope that was tucked into my back pocket, containing just enough money for me to live comfortably for a while. Though the man in the hospital who'd handed me this token had muttered something about "keeping your nose clean," I'd accepted it with as much gratitude as I could muster. So far, everyone I'd ever talked to had seemed cold toward me— but that was to be expected. I could easily become a threat.

I spent a few more hours in the presumed marketplace— judging by the way the sun whisked down my skin— taking in all the wonderful scents and sounds and textures, before finally convincing myself that it was time to head home.

Home. . . I kinda like the sound of that. . .

Then I realized I didn't exactly know where "home" was. Sure, I'd been given directions beforehand, but they were too vague to really amount to anything. I hadn't asked for specificity at the time, either; I didn't want to become more of a burden than I already was.

My fingertips paused at a bench, and I sat quietly, concentrating on the instructions. There was something about one-thousand meters. . . the hospital. . . bricks. . .

I mentally slapped myself— the apartment, made of bricks, was one-thousand meters from the hospital. But was it one-thousand meters north? East? Underground? Above ground? Oh, great. . . now I really felt like an imbecile. I had no idea what the name of the apartment was, let alone that of the landlord. And how would I look, stopping random passerby and asking them where I could find a brick apartment that was one-thousand meters from the hospital? Even in my head it sounded stupid.

I had enough sense to memorize the path I'd taken in this part of the village; I'd simply retrace my steps back to the hospital and work from there, even if it took all night. With a sigh, I stood again, not even needing my hands this time to promptly send myself back to the gates of Konoha's hospital.

"Come on. . . think. . ." I growled at myself, sniffing angrily. "How can I find—?" I paused, sniffing again. That's it! I know what brick smells like!

I collected myself once more, lifting my nose into the air like some eager puppy, but I didn't care; I was ready to test this hypothesis. Breathing in deeply through my nostrils, I thought about the shale-like clay, hardened into little blocks with tiny bubbles at every turn. Soon enough, the slightly earthy scent tickled the skin above my lips, and I knew I'd struck gold. Not wasting another moment, I picked up my pace and followed the trail, calculating the distance to make absolutely sure.

Nine-hundred ninety-eight. . . nine-hundred ninety-nine. . . one-thousand!

The smell was at its strongest here, and my heart jumped with joy. That hadn't been so difficult; all I had to do now was locate the front door and show the landlord my key. I pressed my palms against those heavenly bricks, shuffling along until my fingernails scrabbled against something smooth. Grinning, I knocked.

The door gave an exhausted groan, and a squelchy pulse greeted me.

"Whaddyou want?" The voice was gruff, annoyed.

Feeling brave, I replied, "Arrangements have been made for me to stay here. I have a key— see?" I held out the cool hunk of metal, just a few inches from my face; I didn't want to poke this man's eye out or anything.

"Humph. . . room 302. . . yeah, get in here."

"Thank you, sir." I stuffed the key back into my pocket, feeling around for the doorframe and stepping into the pleasantly warm foyer.

The moment before the landlord shut the door behind me, a sound had me frozen in my tracks— this sound I could pinpoint from anywhere, amongst any crowd. It surprised me that such a noise had ended up here, of all places. . . but I had to mentally kick myself again for not considering the fact that somebody had probably been assigned to follow me. But why did it have to be. . .?

Buh-dummm, buh-dummm, buh-dummm. . .