((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."

She pointed up at Kimimaro's hiding place, not even looking at him or breaking the pace of her increasingly uncomfortable speech.

"I guess I answered my own question," she continued with a shake of her head. "You were raised in a world where you could only rely on one person for survival, and keeping that person happy came with the ultimate reward of not dying, so it only makes sense that you'd be so dedicated to him." She sighed, shaking her head. "It saddens me, that's all. True kindness isn't reciprocal. I wish someone else had been there for you when you needed them, that Orochimaru wasn't the one to come across you at your most vulnerable, but I'm not so naïve as to think that he's the only one who would have approached you with ulterior motives in mind. You're hardly the only children to be taken and used by adult shinobi, after all, and I'm sure Orochimaru was probably a better care taker than most, considering his investment in bodily health, but, still," she did look up, then, eyes trained on Kimimaro despite his camouflage and the genjutsu layered over him. "I can't help but look at you and see what I almost was. How many orphans from Kiri can say they've lived the life I have? How many orphans from Konoha can say it? I have been so incredibly privileged up 'til now and it upsets me because basic human decency shouldn't be so damned rare and you should have had better and I'm just—!"

She cut herself off, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her haori. Kimimaro wasn't the only one sitting in stunned silence as she sniffled. The others were also staring at her with varying degrees of shock, the angry tension gone from the air.

"Wait," Kidomaru began, breaking the silence without his usual confidence. "You're from Kiri?"

She'd only just managed to get her tears under control—she'd cried for them, when was the last time they'd even cried for themselves?—but that question set her sniffling again.

"He didn't even tell you that much? You're out here risking your lives to kidnap the Hokage's daughter and he didn't even tell you that I'm from Kiri? That I'm related to Kimimaro? Look at me," she gestured at her face with her one hand. "It's so obvious! Why would he hold it back when you can figure it out with a single glance?"

Kimimaro bristled instinctively at the implied insult to Orochimaru-sama, but a small part of him also wondered. He was no longer in the running to become the next vessel and it was no secret that his time was short. Kimimaro had received a more thorough briefing than the others before they were sent out on the retrieval mission and was privy to details that his younger comrades were not, but he still hadn't been told that bit.

A voice that sounded comfortingly like Orochimaru-sama's whispered that she might be lying, that she was probably not even from Kiri, let alone related to him. Wasn't he the last Kaguya? How could anyone even distantly related to him have slipped Orochimaru-sama's net? He was so interested in the shikotsumyaku, after all, and, given Kimimaro's deteriorating health, another subject would prove useful, wouldn't it?

The others were exchanging nervous glances, Kidomaru even daring to look up and confirm Kimimaro's location, and all at once he was viscerally aware of what she was doing.

He leapt down from his hiding place—not that he was particularly hidden from her, for whatever reason—landing directly in front of her. Having kept his distance up to that point, as per Orochimaru-sama's orders, he hadn't realized just how small she was, the top of her head just reaching the middle of his chest. She craned her head back to look up at him and he took a proper look at her for the first time.

Her hair was brown, the loose curls just brushing the collar of her green haori. Though her face was mostly covered by the mask which her adoptive father also wore, the black fabric did nothing to hide the sharp point of her chin or the gentle slope of her small nose. Her skin, though nearly as pale as his own, was covered in freckles of various sizes and intensity. There was a dark mole below the outer corner of left eye and from there his gaze met hers and was lost.

There was no light in her eyes. The sunlight filtering in through the canopy above brought out coppery highlights in her hair but left the flat black of her pupilless eyes untouched. Round and slightly upturned, those eyes were adorned by red rings not unlike his own, the very skin tinted from within and emphasizing the tears that still lingered on her long dark lashes. When was the last time he saw markings like those on a face not his own?

For a single, treacherous moment, he believed her. Wanted to believe her. Then, he came to his senses.

Even if she was his kin, she was still something Orochimaru-sama had set his eyes on. She had something he wanted, so Kimimaro would give her to him. It was the least he could do, for failing to be the vessel he was meant to be.

"That's enough," he said, holding her gaze with as much force as he could muster. "Orochimaru-sama tells us what we need to know. If your heritage were of any importance, we would have been told."

At his words, the other Oto nin relaxed. The Konoha kunoichi continued to regard him with those black, black eyes, blinking slowly.

"Do you know the name Sumigawa?"

Kimimaro didn't outwardly react, but his heart jolted in his chest. "Yes."

It was all the answer he would give her, but it was apparently enough, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. Those fathomless eyes closed into a smile, though he could see from where he stood that her mouth was unmoved beneath her mask.

"That's good. Not many people do, anymore."

Indeed. Not many people cared to remember the Kaguya, either.

"We're wasting time," he said to his comrades, turning his back to his cousin. "Orochimaru-sama wants her in his hands as soon as possible, or did you forget?"

He reached back, wrapping a firm hand around the elbow of her crippled arm and pulling her with him. Clearly, she couldn't be trusted near the others. Not that she should have been trusted, at all. He made a note that resistance, from her, might not always be physical.

They were on the move again for only a few minutes, Kimimaro and the prisoner taking point, before she started speaking, again.

"You know, there's something I've always wondered." Her tone sounded genuinely curious, but all kunoichi were trained in the art of deception. "How did the Kaguya end up in the Land of Water, in the first place? I mean, they're one of the five descendent clans, same as the Senju and Uchiha, so why did they go so far away when the others all stuck around the Land of Fire? Sure, the Uzumaki started their own village in the Land of Whirlpools, but that's still in the same general area. What was so interesting that the entire clan just up and crossed an ocean?"

...

He had no idea what she was talking about.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

He didn't respond, didn't even look at her.

"I wonder if Orochimaru knows?" She mused aloud. "That seems like the kind of thing that would interest him. I know he's experimented with the Senju bloodline and literally everyone and their mother is interested in the Uchiha. I was a little out of it after the invasion, so I wasn't able to do anything for Karin before she left, but I imagine he's done work with the Uzumaki before. Has he ever managed to get his hands on a Byakugan? If he did, he'd have the whole set. Every clan descended of Kaguya-hime under his scalpel." She snorted. "Sounds like exactly the sort of thing a completionist like him would enjoy, don't you think?"

He wasn't thinking anything. His mind was blank. Her words meant nothing. Empty gibberish. Mostly.

The name Kaguya-hime, the goddess of the moon that his clan had dedicated every battle to, rang in his ears, bringing up memories half buried of stories and legends from a time when they lived in a land across the sea.

In the hollow of his throat, the cursed seal burned.