Not exactly a place for a lone kid of thirteen years but it was easily the only place where people averted their eyes from the yokai and acted as if they hadn't seen her. A poor sort of comfort for the demon otherwise being gaped and pointed at, fled from or otherwise shunned and harassed. Yes, as long as the grimancer would not be able to uphold a more humane disguise the chances were slim she'd have an agreeable life. Unfortunately, remaining at the clan's compound was not an option as the clan expected her to mingle in and learn from Kumogakure, her new 'home'. Not quite what she had in mind but since she was generally left to fend for herself out here, the girl tended to pass her time by prying on those of weaker will to keep herself occupied and find the keys towards the deeper layers of the mind.
Wearing a simple grey shirt-dress and a pair of sandals, the white hair of the yokai draped over her upper back like a tattered cloak, strands being blown in random directions as the wind felt like teasing her. Her hair would do little to hide the two protruding black horns that betrayed her demonic ancestry, only the black pools for eyes she had possibly being described as them being a darker shade of grey or blue or what-have-you by the mortal minds attempting to reconcile the demon with their poor yet acceptable reality. Dressed like this, her sole comfort was that she wouldn't stand out too much in the equally shabby looking surroundings of Kabukicho.