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She remembers the first time her secret space was occupied by another.
It's a little clearing, right next to Konoha's walls, in a clump of trees too small to be called woods but large enough to hide several buildings with ease. Hisano often goes there when she wants to be alone, traipsing next to cliffs and around a waterfall for half an hour until she arrives. The smell of water and rich soil, the sound of the waterfall and the soft, constant chirping of birds provide a sense of unique, flowing ease that soothes her soul like an icepack on a feverish neck.
No one else knows this spot, she assumes, except for some chuunin that happened to see her there once several years ago. She was planting some orchid seeds at that time, and they all curiously peeked at her while she squatted and dug with her hands. They never grew though, so she didn't try again.
This is the first time someone else has been here before herself. Hisano carries a picnic basket, filled with an assortment of fruit, her favourite caramelised apples, a few spare pastries with more excess powdered sugar than graceful and several blankets. The shop was getting a bit stressful so her mother allowed her to take a day off which led to her treating herself to a solitary, calm picnic. Hisano allows herself to relax as she begins to settle down, laying the blankets down and putting the basket on top.
"Hm?" she notices something gleaming in the grass. Curiosity fills her as she dusts herself off and heads towards it. It's a black, shiny knife, the ones that ninja use. Kunai, was it?
Picking it up, she studies it, flipping and turning it around in her soft hands.
"Ow!" A thin red line begins to appear on her palm. She smacks her own forehead. "Duh, it's sharp," she tells herself, "it's a kunai."
She spots another lying nearby and skips towards it, picking it up as well. There's bits of wood flecks on it, so she assumes these were used for training rather than for combat.
Hisano's eyes trail up the tree trunk and starts when she sees two figures peeking down at her. It's an ANBU boy and a young jōnin with a mess of black hair and thick eyelashes. Obviously she had interrupted them, but Hisano crosses her arms.
"Hello," she says cautiously.
Their faces turn a little, and the sunlight filtering through the trees casts mottled shadows onto them. The breeze smells sweet and the chorus of little birds gives her an indication that neither has moved in a while. She clumsily fumbles with the kunai again, drawing their attention to the awkward way she is holding them by the hoops.
"This is my spot," she says stubbornly.
All the boy in the fox mask does is incline his head in an apologetic way before flickering away. The jōnin remains, however, an amused smile stretched across his handsome face. She blinks in confusion.
