Shinobi Isekai!

Misgivings

((The image is fanart by the amazing @ziv-art on tumblr!!))

The prisoner was surprisingly cooperative. Aside from a token resistance at the very beginning, she followed orders without complaint and even ran alongside her captors, easily keeping up with the hard pace they set. It was suspicious.

When confronted, she simply smiled, her eyes closing into crescent moons above her mask.

"How much do you guys know about me?"

How typical. Answering a question with a question. It was a standard tactic used by shinobi of all nations and specializations, meant to establish and maintain dominance over the exchange of information. As if anyone trained under Orochimaru-sama would fall for such an obvious—

"Not much, actually," Kidomaru said, falling for his prisoner's guileless smile. "But we don't need to. Orochimaru-sama wants you, and that's enough for us."

Indeed. Orochimaru-sama's reasons for wanting her were none of their concern. What he wanted, they supplied.

She hummed, those eyes of hers half hiding behind heavy lids as she regarded the group. "How old are you?"

Kidomaru, apparently their chosen spokesperson, laughed loudly at the unexpected question. "Why? Trying to feel out your rank in the group? Let me tell you, Orochimaru-sama may have stolen you from your village, but that doesn't make you special."

"I'm trying to decide whether or not I'm allowed to pity you."

"What did you say?"

The entire group came to an abrupt stop, the four younger Oto nin surrounding the Konoha kunoichi. Kimimaro sighed and stopped, as well. They were making better time than anticipated, but that was no reason to stop outright. He watched from his position, just out of sight in the canopy above the rest, as Kidomaru snarled at the passive girl. She was up to something.

"We don't need your pity," Tayuya spat, face as red as her hair in her rage.

The target of her anger stood still, a bastion of calm in the face of her captors' bristling outrage. She looked at the other kunoichi with a deadpan expression, the sheer disinterest that look conveyed not at all lessened by the mask covering most of her face.

"Of course, you don't; no one ever does. You might deserve it, though, and I'm trying to make up my mind."

It was actually rather impressive. With only a single phrase, she'd managed to derail the entire escort. Though she was technically their prisoner and at a serious disadvantage given her recent injury, she was the one in control of their interactions. An eleven year old girl who was effectively no longer a shinobi was dictating the conversation even when completely surrounded by opponents who were older, stronger, and more experienced than she was.

"You see," she continued, not at all affected by the mounting tension in the air. "If you're younger than twenty, then you're children. And if you're children, then I can't really blame you for anything, can I? It's not your fault that the only consistent adult in your lives has manipulated you into doing these things, after all, and you've all got the curse seals so even if you were adults there'd be some wiggle room since he's literally inside your heads. It's a grey area I don't usually occupy and it's unnerving."

Sakon scoffed, his brother echoing the sound with greater volume. "What are you talking about? We serve Orochimaru-sama willingly! He hasn't made us do anything!"

"Hasn't he?" The girl cocked her head, sunlight catching the copper highlights in her brown hair. "It's not like you chose to be with him, right? He probably showed up out of nowhere when you were at your lowest, or needed saving, right? A rock in the middle of a storm who sheltered you from the horrors of the world and asked nothing in return—until he did. And those things hurt, didn't they? But you owed him, didn't you? He'd fed you, clothed you, trained you—of course, you would do these things for him, it was the least you could do, right? And now, you can't say no, even if you want to, even if what he's asking for is your entire existence, like my dear cousin up there."