善狐・ZENKO

１章・Chapter 1

Dust particles float under the dim lighting of your modestly-sized bedroom, dancing and circling about before coming to rest onto a grey flak jacket folded neatly on the worn igusa tatami mat placed in the corner of the room. They don't linger for long, however, as a folded black turtleneck soon joins its grey companion piece, sending the particles soaring back up into the air and scattering in opposite directions.

Uniform discarded, the only indication of your ninja status lay on your right shoulderーright for women, left for menーa graceful swirl of red resembling a healthy flame. You absentmindedly scratched at it, memories of its application onto your prepubescent skin sending phantom itches down your arm.

"Itchy, isn't it?" Your squad leader chuckled, observing your furious scratches at the skin around your newly acquired tattoo.

You turned your unamused gaze upwards, and although the both of you were wearing your Anbu-assigned masks, his mirth and your irritation were still conveyed brilliantly.

"Don't disturb it too much," he gently swatted your hand away, "And start getting ready to head out. Your first mission on Team Ro begins right now."

You nodded, willing yourself to ignore the uncomfortable burning sensation emanating from your right shoulder before chasing after your Buntaichō's large stature, his long white cloak swishing with each step.

That had been almost two years ago, and the tattoo had long healed. Turning your gaze away from your shoulder, you instead directed it towards the discarded fox mask which lay in front of you. Its once pristine white porcelain had faded into a slightly off-white from age, yet the bright red markings adorning its features were still vibrant. Unlike the sharp green and red embellishments of your former captain's mask, yours had a red circle on its forehead accompanied by two smaller red dots on the corners of its perennial squinting eyes.

You remembered the appalled look of your grandmother when you had first returned home bearing the mask. A gross imitation of the real thing, she'd scoffed, spitting at the simplistic markings. Naturally, an Anbu's career hinged on anonymity so her displeased gripes with your mask went unheard. However, your current mission demanded you to strip away that very anonymity and reclaim your birthright as the sole heir of the once esteemed Inarinomiya Clan.

Turning to face the mirror, you dipped your makeup brush into a small bowl containing a generous amount of beni before raising it up to your face. For the centre of your forehead: a circle, perfectly proportioned from years of practice. To complete the symbol, a vertical line from the top of the circle to your hairline, with a matching line from the bottom that stretched to the bridge of the nose, tapering off into a fine point.

Reaching down to gather more beni into the bristles of the brush, you shut your left eye to paint a bold red line across the skin, following the curves of the left eyelid. This was repeated with the right, followed by another red line under both eyes, extending from the tips of the tear ducts and over the apple of the cheeks. Lips were stained in the same red, completing the look.

Leaning back onto your heels, you surveyed your handiwork in the mirror. The beni stood out against your skin, ethereal markings painting illusions of elegance onto your features.

Satisfied with the results, you reached over to an adjacent low table and opened the top drawer of your gilt lacquer kodansu to retrieve a small bottle of detergent and a rag, diligently cleaning the makeup brush before tucking it away in a separate drawer.