Fate Wheel | Naruto

𝟗𝟗| "Traitor in our midst"

CHAPTER 99– TRAITOR IN OUR MIDST
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The rat scurried across the floor.

She glanced at her companion, hunger lurking in the dark corners of his eyes. A wild, animalistic, urge to devour anything in sight. It didn't frighten her. She too, felt the hollowness of her stomach create a continuous ache that never left her alone. As days passed since they ran away from the settlement, it grew worse, the hunger, the desire to give in and allow the darkness to consume her being so that she never felt like this again. Why did it matter if she died? She was all skin and bones, a worthless street urchin who didn't even remember the name her parents had given her before their Village was attacked and burnt to the ground by the Hinode.

Those devils are incapable of feeling remorse. They feed on our suffering and bathe in our blood. They never cared about us. She thought, the unhealed wound on her wrist painful as she lifted her hand up and stared at her skeletal fingers. They were calloused and dirty, she'd forgotten when she last felt clean, or if she'd ever been clean. The journey from the plains to the settlement had left her wrists scarred from the harsh shackles. I wish I could—

A scoff escaped her mouth as she closed her eyes. It was futile to finish that sentence off, it was a fool's fantasy to hope the stars would ever grant them an upper hand. A race condemned to the manacles of their blood. Instead, she imagined a world where she was born into luxury. Where she had parents, a comfortable bed to sleep on at night, three meals a day— siblings, even, so that she didn't feel that other ache that desired companionship.

It was an unwritten rule she adopted, to never grow attached. Everything she laid eyes upon was instantly taken away from her. She wasn't like the Hinode, she didn't get to feel continuity. Nothing was ever permanent in this cruel, dark world.

She heard a thud.

Her eyes flew open, staring at the relaxed hand of her companion. She didn't even know his name, but she did feel this deep tugging in her chest. He was from her district, an orphan like she was. His eyes were closed, just like hers had been, only that he wasn't dreaming— he was dead. Death snatched him right before her eyes once again and she couldn't do anything about it, until she noticed the dagger in his other hand and the pool of blood now surrounding his body. He stabbed himself, he lost his will to fight. He allowed that darkness to consume him and for a moment she wondered what it felt like to give in so easily.

Not that she blamed him.

Crawling to his side, she grabbed his hand and unclasped the hold he had on the dagger— the rustic blade now in her possession. It was as if, for the first time ever, she was given a choice. The choice of what to do with this object she took from his cold, dead fingers.

"I wish..." She whispered, her voice hoarse and dry. It had been a long time since she last spoken. "I wish I could... kill them all."

"Why don't you?"

Brown eyes stared at her curiously. A boy, around her age, as roughed up as she was, crouched in front of her balancing his elbows on his knees. Something about his eyes triggered a sense of familiarity. A distant, foggy memory she pushed away as she refused to indulge in the grief of losing something she once cherished.