Faded Moonlight

A quiet abode that was disturbing in its silence. A perceived wrongness that could shake a person to their core. Yet it didn't phase her. The one remaining trait from her childhood after tragedy and Root tore it asunder. The woman crept among the twigs and underbrush, her senses as sharp as ever as she perceived her surroundings with notable depth. Finding nothing of concern, she shut them off, returning her eyes to their typical olive green coloring. The missing-nin was not interested in incriminating herself or her lineage. She knew precisely what people thought of the Sharingan, particularly as individuals such as Madara, Sasuke, and Obito threatened to destroy the world at one time or another. To say the dōjutsu and those who bore were despised was a mere understatement. The only thing that saved them was the fact that their numbers were a fraction of what they used to be thanks in part to the.

The woman shook her head to clear as the memories crashed against each other in her mind. Death, death and more death. Watching her parents murdered before her eyes. Then her siblings one after another. Part of Sorame wondered how she had managed to survive that night. Only to remember that she went from one beast to another: Root. Yet she had outlived all of her tormentors. The woman didn't know whether to feel elated or defeated. It's not like there was anyone waiting for her on the other side. Her family and clan lie several feet underground. Her lover was eliminated. Any other fragments of the once proud clan kept themselves with a persistence born of necessity. More than once she contemplated the merits of ending it all, doubting she would be missed by anyone. Only to be reminded of that scene when Sasuke returned. Even though it was years ago she felt like it was yesterday. Maybe he didn't receive quite a hero's welcome but it was nevertheless one of respect. After all he had been critical in their liberation from that deadly technique. If anything was to be gleaned from that affair it was that stories always held at least a kernel of truth. Regardless, Sorame couldn't help feeling abandoned as if he had turned back on the clan.

Sighing to steady herself, she could feel the wrongness of the people that she observed. There was a sense of corruption, otherworldliness that should not be there. With ease, Sorame faded into the trees. Having caught sight of another individual who appeared to be poking around with similar discretion. However, he kept winking in and out of existence, the smallest of distortions present in a swirl that her keen eyes picked up following their reactivation. "Kamui?" she thought, a childhood memory of seeing a man appear and disappear from Itachi's side. Before seeing the same thing in the Fourth World War. Regardless, her wariness grew as she shut down her dōjutsu for a second time. Now wasn't the time for conflict as she slowly made her way towards the individual, keeping out of sight for a bit.