Look at them, blissfully unaware of the watchful eyes that constantly insured that they had a conflict free place to eat, sleep, and do whatever platonic activities their minds had set upon for each individual day. The life of the seen unseen was bittersweet and psychologically demanding, a life of secrets and seclusion for those who opted to become Anbu. While they were on the same tier as Guardians, those within Anbu were much more in Kanki's eyes, they experienced much more. No one knew their face, some purposely altered their appearances to become ghost and even more there were more than a few Anbu agents whom had families that were under the assumption they had died. Disappearing from records and personal relations, the life of the eternal stalker and hunter and in his mind, the true Black Ops of the Village.
Kanki leaned his backside against the structures physical wall, a pillar that was constructed to support the physical spectacle that was the Terrace's glass sections which allowed anyone who had access the ability to peer over the village. It was a place Kanki frequented and although named after the Guardian ranks, it was not uncommon for an Anbu Agent to use such a place as a stress reliever or to receive mental assurance. He watched, the village though cloaked in the darkness remained somewhat illuminated thanks to primitive lighting technology and the time tested flame wicks of lanterns and candles. Citizens moved through the streets, though the number who undertook to the cobblestone pathways were far from the bustling traffic that followed the rays of the sun. He was in a strange position, a youth whom grew up far outside the reaches of this countries eyes upon the frozen plains of ice and snow, yet here he stood serving as their protector from any and all dangers.
"Only a matter of time...that's what I keep telling myself.", was what he spoke in a voice that was deeper than his natural one. Muffled and miscued by the mere mechanics of wearing a mask that enclosed his entire facial appearance.
His appearance was not uncommon given his rank, a blank marking-less mask with a black cloak that completely made finding out details about his body type and buildup impossible. The sleeves dangled freely, a trained eye understanding that sleeve that had the arms pulled in would not dangle flat in such a way. His body naturally caused the glass around him to frost up slightly, the enclosed spaces internal temperature far lower than the outsides. Remaining motionless even to natural muscle movements such as blinks or swallows, his body did not respond. He was a statue in the shadow of the room, solemnly contemplating his purpose, his plans, and his end game.