The sunlight filtered through the trees in flickering spots. The leaves danced in the slow breeze. All that could be heard was the crunching of dirt and pebbles under deep blue sandals. At the end of the path, where the dirt opened up to a large clearing, stood a traditional white house. Dark oak trim in curling, intricate designs. A vertical sign hanging by the weathered door read 'Hatake Complex' in careful, red brush strokes. The neglected complex was covered in thick vines crawling up the sides and over the roof, in some places even slipping inside of window cracks. Thick weeds decorated the clearing, some with stalks thicker than a finger. Set on one side, closer to the border of the woods, sat a smaller building. Wide, open windows and large sliding doors gave entry and light. Tatami mats could be seen from the windows, green and mossy with time.