Skimming his fingers over the glass, gaze all but devouring the precious gems nestled protectively below, Izuna wondered what it would be like to be trained in the art of soul-crafting, to be born a civilian and follow his heart down whatever path he wanted to. His palms ached to cradle the glittering stones and mold the precious metals in to something so beautiful it made others weep to look upon them. Instead he had scars and callouses, eyes that spun red when adrenaline ran high, and more blood in his dreams than any civilian could fear to see in their entire life.

'Have you chosen one? ' a soft voice asked him. Izuna sighed, basking in his unwanted longing for a few more seconds before letting go of it. There was no use in wanting something he would never have. He was born to be a shinobi; no other path had ever been available to him and to wish for one would be to wish for the impossible.

'Emerald, ' he breathed after a few moments. 'An emerald, please. '