A/N: So it's been so long since I've written anything at all, consider this my cannonball back into the world of fanfiction. Painful, and awkward as ass-but I'm trying! That still counts for something…right? Anyway please enjoy this rusty attempt at a drabble and feel free to drop a review!

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'Forest for the trees.'

Kagura thought as she sped alongside the clouds, going wherever the wind willed her.

But she personified the wind, so wouldn't it be wherever she willed it?

But no need to overestimate her own potential.

Or dwell on that which she wanted.

Her world was suddenly at an impasse, teetering on the edge of deciding between her fates, for she was so unlucky, to have so many laid before her, tempting her and making her believe she had the freedom to choose one. She liked to believe that she had some higher purpose, something that would stall her from making a decision or prevent her from pursuing what she wanted.

She had no doubt that it would kill her.

'A forest for the trees.'

Someday she wanted a chance to see that bigger picture, that more perfect view. She knew each minute detail, the leaf that supported it, the veins and fluid that pumped through while it whispered against the wind, the bark that scraped against her cheek.

But she would blow down that tree and move on.

And move on.

And move on.

But maybe, just maybe, if she looked back as she flew overhead, ignoring the mark on her back that crawled after her no matter how far she travelled, she would see the shadow that she made, that she was forced to make yet wanted desperately to follow and understand and see.

This is her dilemma: she wants a forest but all she gets are trees.

And Kagura knows she just rustles through the branches.

And bodies.

But once the wind blows down the tree, can it look back?

Kagura doesn't think so, and she would know.

She's tried to look at the mark she is making, the web she is spinning.

'That spider is spinning,' she thinks bitterly as her back faces the destruction and grins.

But it's always a moment too late. Let's face it, she's a lifetime to late.

A forest too late.

And then she moves on.

But still she ponders this forest-would it be easier to spot if it were a mass of split branches and bleeding leaves? She isn't able to, and she whips her head to the front, it's too big, it's too large, it's too real.

Is freedom really so large?

Is it because of that she feels so small?

This is her dilemma: she wants life to give her a reason to see the big picture.

She wants a big picture. She only manages to get bits and pieces, and they all seem so meaningless as she looks on and around and down on them. But she only gets a life, her life she's making or was made for her, one shard at a time and she still can't see that damn forest.

Only pain.

And loss.

And another fallen tree.

Secretly she wants to grow a forest, but she knows she wouldn't be able to stay still long enough to see what would happen if she tried. Maybe she has already, but she's already become distracted by another fragment of another forest, that desired view, and sped forward to selfishly possess it.

And knocked over more trees.

Sometimes she regrets this, but mostly she just doesn't have time. When she can only spy each part, one by one, the next might bring her closer to what she thinks she'd like to see, something she'd like to see but can't hover high enough. These moments are slipping by, and if she tries hard enough, they almost feel like heartbeats.

Maybe she doesn't stick around because she doesn't want to see what she'd finish. That would be an ending. And she just doesn't have time for those either.

But then sometimes, down within her chest and a little to the left, where her heart should be beating, because even the most murderous and cruel demon gets one and to her that's just not fair, the wind doesn't think of others, only the path that it decides to take, she wants the end.

So she can remain in one place, if only for an instant.

And look back on the forest that she's blown down.

Just one moment and one world surrounding her, tied to the earth like every other creature, mortal and immortal alike. One chance to see what it's really all about.

If she had said heart, she's sure it would skip a beat.

She's pulling and clawing at what she is determined will be a fate worth fighting for, no one can tell the wind which way to blow. But somehow she's forced off that path, and she just can't stop moving because maybe if the struggle is violent and bloody enough it will make a big enough mark that she'll see that forest, even if it's all over by the time she gets to it. She's fighting to rage freely because that's what she believes she wants.

This is her dilemma: she can't help it.

And so all she sees are trees.

And bark.

And leaves.

Even when the wind has pushed aside the leaves and bluster against the bark and the branches, time marches it forward, and so it goes forward with no time to reflect on what it has done or what purpose it has.

This is her dilemma: Kagura doesn't have time to see a forest.

And she wonders why she wants to.

It's not like she has the heart to care.