I absolutely adored the smell of the aftereffects of a rainstorm; everything was so clean again, so fresh again. Today seemed like another great day to explore the many wonders Konoha had to behold, but my feet had other plans. Sandal-clad and slightly wet, they dragged me to one of my more familiar haunts: a thick expanse of trees and bushes as far as I could sense. Was it just another forest? A training ground? Either way, I loved it here. There were always new textures to discover, new sounds to commit to memory.

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

One would think this constant thrumming would become excruciatingly irritating, especially since it bounded throughout my brain from the moment I left my apartment in the morning until I fell asleep at night. However, it provided such a profound sense of comfort that I thought nothing of it. I didn't like to think of myself being alone all the time.

It had been a few weeks since he began tailing me, but I knew he had no idea I was aware of his presence. It was actually kind of fun, leading him into new places, only to sit there for hours at a time. I took pride in my mischievous side, forcing him to be confined to one spot all day; I often wondered if he'd go insane from lack of movement, especially when he'd sigh every now and then. Sometimes, I'd coax him to the oddest of locations— the top of a mountain, for example. I'd been bored one day, and I'd decided to give my muscles a much-needed workout by climbing a rock that had, strangely, felt like it had been carved into a giant face. I'd spent quite a bit of time at the top, sensing my tracker where I'd figured the face's nose had been.

This evening, I heard him talking to himself. His voice carried across the breeze like every other noise, but it still stuck with me. He didn't sound very happy, muttering about "needing to train" and "bored out of my wits." I felt a little bad about that— after all, it was my fault to begin with: if I hadn't fallen off the stupid branch in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to go to the hospital. I wouldn't have needed to go to Konoha, period. I didn't want to be a chore, a burden; but the fact that I posed a threat made that little detail null and void.

I decided he'd endured enough torture for one day, so I pushed myself off the still-damp ground and took a moment to sniff out the bricks again. I'd already memorized the trail to my apartment, but it was always nice to be greeted by the homey scent. Soon enough, my feet reached the first step of the narrow stairway in the lobby, my toes tapping against the musty wood. One. . . two. . . three. . .

Fifty-seven. . . fifty-eight. . . fifty-nine. . . sixty.

Cool key met even cooler knob, and I was inside my tiny room once more. The perfect square of this space made things a bit easier in terms of navigation: I'd arranged my meager amount of furniture evenly along each wall, so, if I were standing in the middle of the room, I could find my bed or my stove in a matter of seconds. It felt good to have control over something, even though that something was rather insignificant.

I couldn't resist— I flicked the light on, the instant heat brushing the tips of my ears. Though I'd keep my curtains closed, I knew the light would shine through to the outside world. I liked imagining what he thought of that; a blind person didn't need lights. Maybe he'd finally realize that I'd found him out, that I'd been messing with him all this time. I giggled as I turned the light off again, making my way toward my dresser and changing into a simple tank top and a pair of shorts.

Running my fingers through my hair, I plopped onto my bed, listening to the buh-dummm that never failed to put me to sleep.