Had it been simple weeks or several months now? Time was difficult to gauge at this point. The whispers had already begun, fleeting with every footfall. News spread quickly throughout the country, mysterious ramblings of the ghost. Cloaked in white the figure seemed to simply drift here or there, sometimes disappearing completely. It never spoke, nor interacted with anyone. It simply drifted, further and further north. In some circles the figure became quite popular, discussed in hushed tones in candlelit rooms too dark to make out anyone's face. Every account was eerily specific. A white cloaked figure, about six feet in height, bearing no face whatsoever.
Words are but power individuals spread among the masses. Mir knew this well enough, perhaps that was his intention, or perhaps he was just eccentric enough he cared not to bear marks that could distinguish him from his surroundings. in the snow he was as visible as a star during a thunderstorm. By bleeding all details from his form he left others as blind to who he was as he himself had become.
It took him some time, months in fact to piece together what had happened on the surface. whispers people made when they thought no one was there to listen. Hyougagakure was no more, that much was plain when first Mir tasted fresh air. The ruins were opaque, naught but ice remained of the village he knew so well. Yet the coldest feeling was left from those memories. As if seeing or experiencing a memory through someone else's eyes.
No he learned the few survivors of his village had relocated, deep into the carved out heart of an ancient mountain in the north. A settlement of both Hyoujun and Hyougaans seeking shelter from the ever bitter winds of Seichi. It was a long trek north, he couldn't help but be spotted by individuals from local venue's in his path. Ah well, C'est la vie.
Yamagakure. the village held all the same charms as their old home, but it was frightfully warm. At least warm for Mir. The locals would still get cold, but they would be no worse for wear. Strange, all this was built in the few years I slept. Yet none of it feels foreign. Dodging the Anbu was easy. They changed very little since he last studied them. He was also aided by his bloodline.
Be it destiny or happenstance, Mir witnessed the the game children played that day. Most peculiar of all, he saw someone he had not expected to see so soon. Fate was a concept he still had not made his mind up about. It seemed so fickle and wishy washy. Yet here again he met with Miyuki, he could spot her chakra from among a crowd without hesitation or effort. She was there, every time he awoke. As Yonaka, and now as Mir. If this was not Fate, he wondered if this was to be a grand opportunity. He watched carefully as she walked slowly into the field, eyeing the ball with considerable mental fortitude. She seemed here, and yet everywhere all at once. She was strong, much stronger than he remembered. It was the only true proof he had that time had passed so dramatically.
It was then she did the most odd thing. Something that almost baffled him. She kicked the ball... and laughed. "You continue to surprise me." He allowed his bloodline ability to fade away bringing his physical form back into the electromagnetic spectrum the human eye was capable of detecting. "I wonder, to whom was your laugh directed?" He stood perhaps fifty feet away cloaked in white bearing the faceless mask. Would she recognize his voice, or did she think him dead these many years?