exodus.

[luneth]

What I perceived to be reality was merely a mirage; within the dark depths of my dwelling, as midnight's obsidian shadows befell even the tiniest of the Hidden Cloud's rocky crevices, the vision of my sealed oculi would be encompassed by the horrors of the doomed night past. It was a nightmare that had plagued my sleep ceaselessly, sequential to the tragic events, and one that, no matter my attempts to force my subconscious from it, remained at the fore of my thoughts. Succumbed deep within my bittersweet dormancy, it was all so vivid.

I could see a more wild, vehement version of myself, almost an idea, lying half-asleep within the data headquarters, startled by the sudden scuttling of footsteps and unusual commotion coming from the floor below; I could actually feel the same apprehension I felt that night as I watched their heads come into view from above the stairwell, their panting and the rapid succession in the upward shuffle of their plodding sandals signifying their haste in relaying the news of intruders. In sequence was the dreadful sensation, the knotted pit in my stomach that accompanied my rushing exit from the building, the summoning of Ai and Irebun, and our whipping through the dense clouds, aimed dead-on for Eiichiro's tower.

Everything else was a blur, even when reflecting in a conscious state, though notwithstanding, the emotions and horror remained all too real. My lord's death had taken place less than a minute following my arrival, which had been stifled by the thing aflight on the upper of a being identical to my own. The last sight envisioned before my jerking arousal would be my leige's still, lifeless body, pictured from a panoramic view of the proceedings, by my sorrow-filled, forlorn eyes as Ai soared beyond his secreted ash and from the bloodied scene.

♒ ♒ ♒

Tears flooded my eyes as their view warped from the netherworld and into the pitch-darkness of my room. Even a week aft the incident, it still hurt – the thought that I could never again speak to him, mirthfully view his happy-go-lucky expression, or even worse, that I hadn't been able to save him. I was a guilt-ridden, depressed mess, a disorderly clutter of my former emotionless self. I couldn't attempt to remedy this, or scald myself, however – the intensity of my lament had forcefully dampened any sense of self-awareness. Yet, in the eyes of some, I was sure my feelings were justified; the only shinobi I'd been able to call a friend, even trust, within years had been murdered in front of me. It was one of the many reasons I'd been such a recluse in the past, not only unwanting of companionship, but abhorring it, and viewing my predicament, I couldn't help but question whether my prior field of thought had actually been correct.

I didn't want to believe so, though it nonetheless was instilled within my conscious as the hours passed, and I sat awake on my bed, contemplating my past, present, and the actions I'd planned to take once sun had risen, even as the rays of morning light first pryed through my window and into my bedroom, contrasting the dark I was more than accustomed to.

My gaze was directed at the sack of possessions sitting at my door – extra weaponry, a select few garments, and an even more miniscule amount of food – provisions for a trip I wasn't sure if I'd ever come back from, the same leave I'd forewarned the Yondaime Raikage of. Normally, in a more uncaring and level state, I may have foregone any form of warning altogether, regardlessly disapproving the composition of an actual letter, though my current brooding nature had, for a reason unbeknownst to myself, broken past any reluctance and forced the ink from its quill.

Well aware of and impelled by the reasoning addressed on the parchment, I rose with a single, fleeting glance out from the window beside my bed, moving to prepare for that of mine which was inevitable – exodus. I quickened my common routine, a hurried bathing and the adornment of clothing being all that kept me within the structure now synonymous with the feelings and emotions that had, up until now, been completely alien. I'd spent more than four years within this apartment, yet there would be no sentimental last-looks or tears shed in its missing. With a slight sense of enmity, I'd eventually fasten shut the bag, and pass the exit's threshold.

[luneth]

Enduring the flashes of memories derived even from the morning air's scent was almost impossible, unbearable, and more than all else, saddening. Sorrow, grief, regret, even caring – they were all so foreign to me, I hated them, yet they permeated from the the sights and smells of Kumogakure's every corner. Simply evading them was an insurmountable task – I had to escape; not from a certain district, or region, but the village's entirety. Candidly, there was too much here, too much time spent, pleasant time spent, and with this sudden turn for the worst, everything that was once positive had been stained with negative emotion in a way that, should my gaze chance upon any of it, not only would I be reminded of the good times, but as well the fact that the person I had shared a substantial measure of these memories with was no longer here, and neither was the happiness that had once occupied my essence and expression.

It not only heightened my anguish, but as well a growing distaste, repugnance, even loathing of the village and anything it had to offer. It was the cause for my sudden halt, despite having not fully descended from the steps leading from my apartment door, and my eye's gentle closing. I'd take several deep breaths in a manner taught long ago by the Hyūga, serving to calm me down and keep my emotions in check, in fear that my frustration with the soiling of everything I'd worked for in the past few years would force me to act in a way I'd later regret.

Infinitesimal splashes of aqua were scattered along my hair and the marginal quant of my face exposed before I reopened my eyes, signifying rain, a customary form of weather in this region. It playfully consorted with my flowing top and refined gait, which finally strode from the stairway as it happened, commencing a rather lengthy trip. I found it odd and quite awkward, passing the occasional Cloud shinobi, or moreover, the sense of negligence and unaffiliation my mental was acknowledging as I did so. From my perspective, our dynamic, the relationship between the village and I, had changed even as soon as the morning following the attack.

Day in and day out, I lived for Eiichiro and his cause, not necessarily those of the villagers, fellow shinobi, or even the high council, though they commonly coincided; regardless, it was almost as if my allegiance had resided with him as an inidividual, rather than the Hidden Cloud as a whole. Evidence of this theory was being witnessed in my traipse through the downpour and past my shinobi peers; it was as if my only real tie to the village itself had been through Eiichiro, and with his death, and his own ties undone, so would mine be, and just as he was dead to the village, so too would I be dead to them, and they to me. It was the way I saw it, atleast; allowing me to continue without regret or any affliction in my pace's press towards an end.

It would have been the stereotypical thing for me to do, to shed a tear, or more, as the rain poured and my fog-obscured vision befell the mournful expressions of the innocent civilians and disheartened ninja that were crowded throughout the village's epicentre, of which my reach was imminent; nevertheless, I felt I had cried, lamented, sat for hours brooding, and walked the streets with a downcast countenance for long enough. I would never forget Eiichiro, and surely would feel austere pain from the wounds afflicted by his passing for a long time to come, yet there was no point in continuously dwelling on the idea. I was a ninja, a clouded mind or an attitude occupied by despair were enough to end my life, the likelihood of this increased tenfold now that I was leaving the comfort and supposed safety of a hidden village.

There was a certain mindset I had to adopt, one of a clandestine, pitiless nature – its start was displayed in my eschewal of the main route, avoiding the crowd as I instead began to incise through backroads and the furrowed, shadowy alleyways just escaping light, focused on nothing more than my escape, leaving the foresaken village for a destination I was still uncertain.

It didn't take a lasting amount of time to reach the Cloud's gates following my choice on an abbreviated route, and succedent of an impassive look and the display of an official mission scroll, I was depart from the village. Of course, my hitai-ate remained visible, however I'd no longer consider myself a shinobi of Cloud – I was free, with the whole of the shinobi world ahead of me. I wouldn't once look back on the ruined front of Kumogakure, my pace forward heightened in speed. There was much still in the air, plenty left to ponder, fatal choices impatiently awaiting an answer, and all of which, at the present, I existed uncertain of. The only charge I had now was an idea on my direction beyond Kaminari, though even so, the way would be harsh, deafening, and I hadn't an idea where the path would ultimately end.

---

exit kumogakure.

[Yox]

+20 very nice!