Another day, another hour she thought as the rain continued to pelt the window. Long hours spent indoors in her attic for the single purpose of this one thing, but it didn't bother her one bit as she continued to sharpen the blades. As the wetstone was finally set down, she would lean back to take in her creation that had taken a considerable amount of time and money to make, her Bladed Bow.

Leaning back in her chair, whilst grabbing her glass beverage that sit on the left edge of her table, she would take in the beauty of her hard work and effort, her first weapon created out of her book of concepts. As she would think of this she would look up at wall covered in large pages of paper, all of which have various sketches of design ideas from simple to complex. Taking a sip of her drink, her eyes would move downward, eventually focusing on the stuffed kitsune doll sitting on the table, which would be looking right back at her. Staring at it for several seconds, her mind would begin to drift again as to how exactly she got to this point in her life...

Zira Zirana. That was the name given to her by her parents. Born into a awkward union of a Yako and a Zenko, Zira's life from the very beginning was full of strife and neglect. While her parents would have food around the house and a room for her to sleep, Zira herself had to teach herself many things at a very young age that was needed to get by in life as most of the time both her parents were not at home or seeming to allways be in a hurry for something.

There was only one true exception to this that Zira could remember, and that was the day when her mother took her to go shopping with her. While she hardly remembered what exactly was said, Zira would remember her mother giving her the doll that now sat on her table, aswell as the motherly smile that came with it which to this day longs to see if but once more though herself knows its unlikely at best. Eventually when Zira got old enough she was enrolled in school, which quickly became a home away from home for her. Dispite having an unnatural black tail color, it didn't seem to matter much as Zira managed to fit in her own way with fellow classmates. Zira however never felt quite in place with them, her time during her school years never sticking around any Yako's she met for to long either.

After every encounter with either would inevitably result in Zira in the school library, indulging herself in literature of various sorts (mostly fiction) if nothing else to prolong returning home to a skeleton of a house, to a family that in her mind refuses to accept her existance.

Zira would take another swig of her drink, continuing to lean back with a small smile. "That would of been my life, nothing but hopes, dreams and thievery...had you not intervened" whispering as she would look up near the top of the wall where some of her oldest drawings stuck, in particular a drawing of a slingshot as her mind would continue to replay her life story in her head.

By this point Zira would of been around 9 years old, Her past few years being rather consistent. As far as she remembered she spent quite a bit of her time in the library in the same seat she dubbed as hers since month 2 of coming to the library. It was around then that a non-regular Zenko started coming to the library and out of the blue sat right next to her. Zira would repeat the name at the same time she would recall him saying to her, shaking her head to repeat, "Ferian Sinatra" before he would turn back to his bag, pulling out a few books, aswell as one or two simple tools and some materials before he would start fiddling with the stuff, though she simply shrugged and kept reading at the time, noticing Ferian look over his shoulder from time to time though otherwise fiddling intently.
Several days passed much the same way around the same time as Zira eventually started chatting more with Sinarta, eventually becoming friends with him dispite his moderate awkardness as Zira was intreged with his tinkering.

With Zira's life for the first time possibly in her life seeming to have a brighter reason for getting up everyday then to simply exist and go through the motions, Zira couldn't help but smile while cradling her drink at remembering the next bit with her gaze continuing to look at the slingshot.

With every following day passing by spending more and more time at the library watching Ferian work and chatting him, the imaginative and logical gears in her head truly turning for perhaps the first time as Zira would constantly compare theorical ideas with Ferian that would always eventually devolve into pencils, paper and rulers. The highlight of everyday eventually became spending time at the library, to the point that when the world decided to intervene on this in multiple ways Zira was both perfectly prepared yet not at all.

The week started on a rainy day otherwise like any other day, the time being sometime after school as Zira would of spent the day like any other alongside Ferian conversing about ideas and other topics. Zira would not of known what exactly Ferian would of done to irk these particular bullies as they would of approached
where the duo worked, but knew Ferian well enough that now looking back on it that it would of been quite easy for him to make such a mistake.

Pausing to take another sip of her cherished drink in modern time, Zira would follow up with a chuckle at realizing how quickly she changed back then from the shy neglected girl she was back then. Instead of cowering and hiding in the face of danger along with prefering the shadows to being much more defensive and upfront as that event set the precident for nearly every decision up until this day. It would be easy for her to remember that event being 1 of the 3 big points in her life, perhaps the best one of them as the pencil that created her imaginings doubled as her improv weapon with it being clenched in her fist. Traveling though the air with a passion only then discovered, it struck her target across the cheek along with the blood that arc’d from it now as within moments it became a three versus one defense situation.

Even though in the end it was a fight that was only won though the eventual interference of her elders, Zira would never forget the bloody smile plastered on her face while being taken away for medical treatment, having not only managed to remain conscious throughout fighting three bullies but as Zira would proudly remember, the situation leaving Ferian unharmed.

Finishing off the bottle in her current hand before giving it a nice lob into the wooden bin in the corner, Zira would but lean over and grab another from another container besides her desk. Zira never NEEDED to drink despite her past events what led her up to this point, yet as Zira would glance down to look at the many mixed bottles stacked up inside the container would chuckle at why some people would think she does, ESPECIALLY him.

Glancing to her right towards the hatch before then up near the top of her drawing board at a recent picture, Zira would amusingly wonder if he would be reading her mind right now and was about to pop out of the shadows. After all him being the third and weirdest event in her life, she could believe it after the few months of knowing the odd fellow.

Shaking her head with a smirk while popping the cap off of her newest inevitable addition to her bottle collection, Zira would turn to glance at her better looking sketch of a crown she had drawn in the farthest on the top right of her board while leaning once again in the back of her chair. Zira was never the one to constantly sit back and evaluate all of her life decisions with there being to much to do in the meantime, but every once in awhile as she thought to herself it is good to remember what got herself to this point and if there was anytime to do this it would be before risking her own life for an ideal.

Tracing the outlines of the crown with her eyes remembering every stroke of her hand in making it, Zira would take a long and heavy swig at the next part of what put her here. The memory being but a blur in comparison to other events in her life, but as her hand would clench the bottle to the point of nearly throwing it combined with vengeful reared eyes, enough was there for her to lose focus again as memory took her. The same memory that not only put her in this house, but also gave her a life goal to set right.

It was but a few days after having fought off the bullies, going though the process of a medical ward more or less and eventually making it home to recover that Zira would remember this day as perhaps the second worst day of her life. As Zira would fail to remember then but present time hold the date close, it being the morning of her 13th birthday that Zira learned just how much hatred she could take for any one person, let along a family relative.

In the days leading up to this day, Zira constantly was bed ridden not just so to physical injury but also because of the yelling in the house. While never understanding of why the yelling persisted across the days leading up to her birthday, Zira would remember that day being the first in which she herself got out of bed in the early morning to get a glass of water. Deciding to get it herself instead of calling for someone however left her with the only clear image she would have if the event.

As Zira would of rounded the corner to stand at the top of the stairs, Zira would never forget the image before her. While figuring she might of heard something previous before getting up similar to hushed yelling, the image before her was on a raining early morning with the front door of her house flung open. With the view higher up as she were, Zira was unable to see her dad’s face as he sat on his knees crying in the hallway. Zira could see however her mothers, remembering both hers and her own as confused and worried as for the brief moments that followed involved a locking of eyes with one who despite all the distance previous still held a level of trust for. Despite that moment and whatever happened before, Zira would never forget there eyes breaking as her mother would turn away, walking out into the rain whilst slamming the barrier shut between them.

What was once love and longing to be close to her parents became something else on that day and the days afterward as far as Zira could remember. By the next day when Zira asked her father just what had happened and where mother might of went, the response received was little more then a sob and a hearty swig of his drink leaving Zira confused yet with an answer she herself didn’t want to accept. As following days passed and her father seeming to if anything only get worse in his drinking habits, Zira herself was at a mental & emotional loss as to why such a thing would come to pass. Was it her? Had she done something wrong? Was she not good enough or had failed in someway?

Throwing her once cradled drink across the room to shatter against the wall, Zira’s rage and resentment towards her even in the present constantly reminded her of her reason to live. “It doesn’t matter what your reason was ... I am going to become better then you, invent something that the world alone couldn’t come up with without me. And in the end, I will find you and prove just how much you lost when you abandoned me.”.

As if she was already there talking to her mother in the flesh, Zira would find herself standing in front of her desk with her blades bow at her side, needing but arrows to be deadly in its own right. After a moment setting down the bow back on the table and going as far to lean down to get another drink, Zira’s chair would be her body’s only resting place as of late as Zira found herself back in it. Getting the caps off these bottles was becoming worryingly easy as half a bottle was needed to get herself back on track of her past, her eyes blazing over just a bit as she looked at each and every design / sketch on the board.

It was within 2 day’s of her leaving that Zira remembered being unable to contain herself. Her dad’s lack of composure with constant drinking, her mothers absence without a word and Ferian missing from the library since the bullies creating a growing void of layered emotion that eventually led to a reaction that to this day Zira would not regret.

She remembered only that by the end of the second day that she moved with a uncertain determination instead of breaking down and sobbing much as one would expect. Within an hour or less a bag packed of everything that she called hers including a short supply of food in a bag at her side while carrying on as if this was the final solution. Zira remembered standing at the same doorway but two days ago her mother stood, instead for a very different purpose, one of purposeful vengeance. Remembering how empty this house was, remembering the lack of joy due to busyness or some other excuse. The neglect. The silence. And above all being left behind.

This thought was the last as the first steps were made with a slam of the door, no longer bound to a place that only provided harm as Zira set to live on her own. Not only this, but she mentally vowed to find her mother and exact revenge for what she had done in whatever way became necessary when that time came. After that as Zira would of thought both then and now, she would surpass her in someway so that history both near and far would remember Zira. With no further goals then that, Zira remembers wandering her village in search of a place to call her new home.

Letting out another one of many sighs followed by a yawn as the night crept even further ahead, Zira would toss another finished bottle into the far container as the memories of the following years were remembered as uneventful at best. As far as she remembered the nights spent out in the cold or behind some person’s house, surviving by training herself to be just like (Zenkos?) were known to be with trickery and sneaking around in order to steal what she needed to live.

This didn’t come without the occasional mishap or being chased a good bit, but thankfully despite even then her old home was never brought up nor was she forced to go back much to her contentment. Among this time otherwise that Zira wasn’t attempting to survive alone, Zira never forgot forgot her friend Ferian nor what he taught her in the time they spent together. While nothing ever stopped her from searching him out since what happened, Zira felt it was best for the time to stay away until she had built up something for herself first. This thought as the years would go by would be the last big mistake made so far, but also lead up to her 3rd and final point in her life to date.

Zira wouldn’t remember much of the years she spent out on the streets. Instead the countless drawings and designs stacked on the board and in several books would speak of that time for her being kept throughout all this time till present. At some point Zira might of been convinced to start tossing away some of her drawings, especially the less useful ones that were mere sketches which served no beneficial use. This thought however would of been repulsive to Zira since Ferians fate was discovered, as Zira continuing to remanence about her past.

It was a rainy day like any other 7 years post-leaving that Zira has decided to spend her homeless day like any other. A shop down the street was ripe for the picking not only for a apple or several, but also a great place since around this time one of the people running it was partially blind / deaf as far as she was concerned in terms of living another day.

While normally one to scope the place out long before making a move to access the danger level and / or when to make a move, Zira had been to this place frequent enough to know it like the back of her hand. Moving in a typical pattern much like she always did for reoccurring similar situations, it took a bit more then a few minutes to sneak enough food away from the stands for a day or two. There was easily the possibility to always steal more then that, but as Zira would of come to learn that in most cases stealing less and only taking what is needed generally kept suspicion low and even if found out not worth the time to pursue. Using this mentality long since living the streets, it could of been years more before Zira would of made what she believed to be a start worth moving forward. This process was hyper accelerated however that day, all because of the front page read blood & tears.

Finishing another bottle for the bin, Zira hesitated reaching for another lest she start losing herself and not finishing the complete tale. Cursing herself under her breath about her lack of fortitude, Zira would flick a dagger out from the cloth wrappings around her hands. The sharp end would take but a moment to find itself embedded in the table as Zira would find herself leaning over a bit remembering that dreaded headline. “Ferian Cena, self proclaimed Zenko inventor dead ... by terminal velocity”.

If there was ever a time Zira had ever broke down in public, it would of been that one time 4 years from current at reading the details on the paper. As if a standard memory wasn’t bad enough at remembering everything up to this in terms of other people and herself putting her here currently, Zira remembered the wet dirt as it had decided to rain that day. Among the rain being the only blessing to hide her tears whilst sitting in the dirt becoming mud, Zira remembers only keeping herself together enough to read the lines of fate as a tale was told.

That day was a long wash of character up to that point, reigniting a long dormant flame of pain and anger triply so at not only herself for progressing so slow in her long since distant life plans, nor just only losing her chance to approach her long distant friend, but in addition being so powerless to stop time from finding ways to jab her in ways she couldn’t predict until it would be to late. As Zira remembered crying until she could cry no more in a side ally, by the end Zira would remind herself of the resolution that to this day she would carry.

With little left to lose except her own life and unwilling to accept being jabbed by life with no retaliation, Zira remembers Ferian’s news snippet being cut out that even in present times keeps glued to the inside of her sketchbook as Zira memorized it. Remeberung but the beginning of changes that but days after learning of Ferian’s death with the series of plans to not only think bigger in her inventions along with taking whatever she needed to build them, but also starting to map out plans to take revenge on the city and its queen for wronging her friend.

Even if it was declared an accident Zira mused, it wouldn’t of come about if not for such restrictive and racist regulations that not only kept her out of the city but also resulted now in someone’s death. The fact that despite this Zira knew the city would continue to operate in the same manner and in her state of mind led to thoughts on the level that only a rebel might pursue, for Zira however simply uncaring of the rules living on the streets her life as the cogs in her head would of been turning quite a bit.

Pulling the dagger out of the table only to replant it in the board, Zira would lean back into her chair with an agitated huff followed with a sigh. Even finding HIM among all people after breaking into a house for her initial materials needed to put her plans together, Zira couldn’t resist giving a shit eating smile at remembering not only how he initially dealt with her in that state but ALSO much to Ziras surprise agreed give her a place to stay AND to help her achieve what even now she would consider crazy...