How Times Change

[Nira]

Ah, good. He lives, Tarah thought as she glided through the skies four thousand meters above Aokusa. I was certain he would, but it is a surprise to know he's here.

She had sent our a viral pulse down to the capital and the surrounding lands, and with that pulse she was able to determine for a fact that Ace was here. That meant things weren't completely different. Old faces were still rolling to and fro. The era hadn't completely gone by yet.

You never knew with shinobi lives. Things could end quite suddenly.

She gazed around at the nearly empty skyscape. Birds of prey flew across every so often at this altitude. There could be a sort of innate kinship there, but she wasn't pleased with watching from a distance. You have to speak with the people. Everything changes with time—language, mannerisms, values. You wouldn't know until you got there.

It was a good thing Tarah got a new appearance early. Since Ace was around, getting one would be optimal, but doing her whole kill-and-revive routine would be hard in a jolly old festival. She wished she had a mirror to double check her new, dark brown hair. Even when there wasn't high winds to contest with, it felt the need to be extra wavy. Her tan skin was plain to see on her arms and legs, though, so she knew the genetic transformation was working fine.

You like festivals, don't you? Tarah thought at Tanni. Go, enjoy yourself. Take a guard and stay safe. I'm going to get a look at who runs the world.

Tarah split her soul into two. She occupied one body. Tanni Orval took the second. They folded up their wings and fell.

<Double Split Exit>

[Nira]

Deena flew gently through the skies, following some formation of migratory birds five thousand meters up in the air. Although she was flying with her soul abilities, she still had her actual wings out and flapping. It felt right, that way.

It was cold and lonely up here, but perhaps that was a good state of mind to be in. She looked at the capital city below, wondering what she should be doing. There wasn't much—most of what remained was more thought than action.

She absentmindedly fiddled with the short brown hair of her stolen look, and compared her tan skin to the ground below.

Life was long, and she hadn't a purpose in this peaceful world. War was where she thrived.

After a while of flying, Deena descended again and perched herself at the corner of the roof of a tall building. She let her wings slip under her red and black kimono and looked down at the people on the streets.