My other half! Sasukex oc. [Slow updates] (under editing)

Distant memory

Third-Person POV

A dull, stinging heat radiated from the girl's cheek—the mark of her mother's latest palm. The small, black-haired child didn't cry; she didn't even flinch. Instead, she kept her gaze anchored to the wooden floorboards, waiting for the next blow.

What felt like hours to her were mere minutes. The heavy front door creaked open, signaling her father's return from the Hokage's office. He stopped in the entryway, his eyes landing on the small figure standing frozen in the center of the living room, head hung low in practiced submission. For a fleeting second, his expression crumbled with guilt, but he quickly masked it. He couldn't bear to face his wife's wrath.

"Darling, you're finally home!" a young woman called out. Her skin was a beautiful deep brown, contrasted by long, silken black hair. She rushed over to embrace him, and he returned the gesture instantly, almost desperately.

"Why is the brat in here instead of training?" the man asked. His grip on his wife faltered slightly, earning him a sharp, warning stomp on his foot.

"Well, I've decided we should just get rid of her," the woman said, her voice eerily casual. "She's completely useless to us. Besides... we have another child on the way, remember?"

The man flinched. He remembered vividly—the nights she had forced the issue, desperate to conceive a 'worthy' heir. He looked at the girl—his daughter—with a flicker of hollow remorse. He told himself that putting an end to this was a mercy.

"I-I'll take care of it," he stammered. "You shouldn't overexert yourself with a child on the way."

The woman responded with a sharp slap of disapproval. "We'll go together. I don't trust that you have the stomach for the job."

With a cruel grin, she watched as the man grabbed the girl by her hair. Misaki offered no resistance as she was dragged toward the dense forest on the outskirts of the village. The woman walked beside them, chatting idly about their future plans as if they were simply going for a stroll.

After a long trek, the grip on Misaki's hair loosened. She opened her eyes to find herself deep in the woods. At seven years old, she tried to squirm away, but her father's hand tightened into a death grip. He came to a sudden halt and, before she could utter a sound, flung her against a tree.

Misaki groaned as her back hit the trunk. She looked up to see her mother standing over her, a kunai glinting in the dappled sunlight. Pure survival instinct took over; the girl shoved the woman back and scrambled to her feet.

"You little—!" Her mother hissed, clutching her stomach and glaring with murderous intent.

Panicked, the father charged. Misaki's cyan eyes flashed as she swept his legs, causing him to trip, and bolted into the brush. Thorns tore at her skin and branches whipped her face, but the fear of death was a more powerful sting.

Suddenly, a strong hand clamped onto her arm. Misaki let out a raw scream, spinning around to strike her captor, but she was scooped up instead. The man—her father—began to run with her in his arms, moving at a speed she couldn't match. She wailed, kicking against him as she saw the woman chasing them, screaming curses that echoed through the trees.