Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto, Naruto Shippuden, Kakashi, or anything else except this story.
I wasn't lucky. I deserve it, too.
She supposed that she was what anyone would call 'adequate'. She wasn't ugly, nor was she extremely pretty. She was more talented than a lot of people, but not the most talented. She was intelligent, but not incredibly so.
The list goes on, but that's besides to point. The point is that whatever she had, she didn't have a lot of it.
And one thing she certainly had nothing of, was luck.
Another explosion rocked the earth, causing a girl to stumble. Her long legs tangled together, almost tripping her, before she quickly regained her balance and continued at her neck-breaking pace. Large shards of rock were falling around her in the underground hallways, which were about ready to collapse. She didn't fancy being crushed to bits.
She didn't look back once as she ran past the prison cells, full of pale, emaciated faces that screamed at her silently with their red-rimmed eyes. They knew that there was no hope for them anyway, and they didn't want her help. They would die here, and finally be taken from this miserable world.
They had no home. Their families were dead. They had been turned into freaks of nature. What else was there to live for?
Another explosion, and an earth shattering crack; she fell to the floor this time. However, this time, she hesitated.
Why was she running?
She lay on the cold, trembling ground of the hideout dumbly as that question ran through her head. She found that she couldn't answer it.
Who was she running to? Her master had fled, leaving her to find her way back to him. And she would, if she made it out of here alive. But the only people that were above ground now were the enemy, and the Sound ninja that were desperately trying to defend their territory.
Where would she go? If she decided to not turn back to her master- a thought that she couldn't even comprehend—where could she run to? There was not a village- at least not one with a sane leader—that would allow her to take refuge. And even if they did, she would have absolutely no idea how to live there. She didn't know how to interact with other people in a casual way.
What was the point?
Yes, what was the purpose of her staying alive? Other than to serve her master and live as a tool, what use was she to the world? There wasn't possibly anything she could ever do to benefit anyone's life.
Her master could find another, though he would be thoroughly displeased. He'd probably throw a temper tantrum over her. Such a successful experiment had died in something as trivial as this. But she was still replaceable. She was not needed.
There was no point . . .
The cracking sound began to increase, and she just realized then that she was close to the exit. She could feel the warm breeze flying into the stuffy coldness of the hideout. However, this breeze was laced with dust and ashes, the scent of blood wafting through the air. A scent she knew by heart
It was bright. For her, blindingly bright, to the point where her vision turned white and a jolt of pain coursed through her eyes . However, she only clenched her eyes shut, and laid there.
That light was something that God hadn't reserved for a human like her, who belonged in darkness.
Her heart skipped a beat when a thundering crack was heard overhead, and she stupidly looked up.
Just in time to see the roof coming down on her.
She almost sighed, lying still and waiting for her fate.
It's finally over, she thought, familiar numbness spreading to her limbs
She waited for the crushing agony of stones crunching her bones to pieces and squashing her internal organs, but instead felt a very different sensation.
First, she heard something sharp embed itself right beside her- a kunai, she realised. She saw a flash of something golden, and two strong arms encased her waist. There was a blast of chakra, and she was suddenly aware that she was being moved. It felt like some kind of narrow tunnel located in the eye of a tornado that was passing over an earthquake site. She felt as though her body was warping and shaking at the same time by some unknown force.
And then all movement stopped, and she was greeted by blinding light that brought tears to her eyes and pain exploded through her head. She was vaguely aware that she had somehow been transported to the outside.
However, being the transported against her will was very disheveling, causing a wave of nausea and dizziness to pass over her. But before she could vomit all over her possibly savior, she found herself falling roughly to the ground, smacking her head against the stony ground. Her momentarily sightless eyes winced, but otherwise kept her guard up as she stiffened and tried to regain her sight.
When her blurred vision finally melted away into crystal clear images, she found herself greeted with several swords pointed at every vital area on her body. She gazed unflinchingly at the razor sharp blades, knowing that if she moved even an inch, she would be killed. She carefully took in her surroundings.
The base was in ruins, nothing now but a battered building covering the now destroyed caves underground. Around the base, she could see the furious battle that had broken loose. Trees had been toppled over, the ground shattered in numerous areas. The area that was once surrounded by peaceful forest was stained red on many things. Takara could see every splash, every drop of blood that had been shed. From thirty feet away, she could see a single, crimson drop fall onto a Sound shinobi's face, which was still with death.
Her captors were obviously ANBU, dressed in black, skin tight suits that were reinforced with armor, protecting the vulnerable parts of their bodies. White masks, each representing a different animal and decorated with red designs, looked down at her. Despite the sun casting shadows on their faces, the girl could see the color of all of their eyes.
"Who are you?" one of them, the leader obviously, asked.
Takara flicked her eyes up at the ANBU captain, looking at him steadily and without even the slightest inkling of fear.
The man who spoke had a voice that was very unsuited to the serious tone that he was forced to use by his occupation; it sounded as if it spent a lot of time laughing. He had a slight tan, and on that tanned skin she could see the faint battle scars marring his body. The man was tall and slender, with unruly, sun-kissed blond hair that glowed like a halo around his head. Finally, she took noticed of his eyes, which shown a brilliant blue from the depths of his mask's eye holes.
"I am but a servant," she replied coolly, looking deep into his eyes.
The ANBU standing around her didn't move an inch as the blond member kneeled down in front of her, scrutinizing her expression.
"Of Orochimaru?"
Her sharp eyes saw every single flinch that rippled through the circle of ANBU at the man's name, but otherwise kept their impassiveness.
The brunette didn't answer for a moment, and felt a short sword pressed to her back dig into it painfully, pressing her to continue. The pain was mild, but annoying, so she decided to speak.
"Yes," she replied.
"Are you a kunoichi?"
A kunoichi. A female shinobi.
An honorable title that she could not bear.
"Not by your standards," she replied.
A flicker of annoyance at her vague answer as well as her lack of emotion flashed in the man's cerulean eyes, but he made no inclination of his feelings otherwise. Impressive. People usually lost their temper with her quickly.
"If you want to know where Orochimaru-dono is, I cannot answer that. He had fled this base some time ago. I remained here to help watch over the base, but have not heard from master in a few months," she said easily, no guilt, fear, or anything else of the like lacing her tone.
It didn't matter whether or not she told them information of her master. She knew nothing terribly significant. It would make no difference.
"You seem awfully willing to talk, even though you claim to be a servant," one of the ANBU, a female, said emotionlessly, though traces of disgust laced her words.
The captive girl blinked; she really was disgusting.
To a shinobi, no matter where you were, loyalty was everything. Two shinobi could fight to the death, could tear each other's larynx out and dismember each other, but still maintain a mutual respect for one another, because they each were willing to die for their affiliation. It was almost an unspoken code.
Loyalty, despite the fact that it separated people into subcategories such as 'race' and 'clan', at the same time brought the nations together in what is called 'the world.'
But loyalty was something that the girl didn't have, nor understood.
What was there to die for, in this world of emptiness?
"I am a servant. My job is to allow myself to be used by my master as seen fit; nothing more. Where is the need for loyalty?"
That shut the woman up.
"That is irrelevant. I want to know exactly who she is, where she comes from, and how she came to be one of Orochimaru's underlings," an ANBU with a boar mask said in a gruff voice.
Takara didn't turn her head to look at him, for there was a sword pressed to her jugular.
"I don't know the answers any of those questions," she replied, "but I don't see how this has any relevance to your investigation. Knowing about my origins will not bring you any closer to Orochimaru-dono."
The woman from before said in exasperation, "Do you know anything useful?"
This woman was rather annoying to the brunette.
"That depends, Horse-san, one what you consider useful," the girl said to the masked woman, edginess sharpening her tone, the only emotion she'd exhibited thus far.
The blond ignored the short squabble, and stared at the girl in order to find any traces of lying.
"How old are you?" he asked suddenly.
The girl looked at him blankly.
"That is hardly important," she scoffed.
The swords digging into her skin replied to her impudence.
"I am told that I will turn thirteen in March," she sighed.
This was growing tiresome. The position she was forced in was anything but comfortable, and her muscles ached and her cuts stung. Their questions seemed to have nothing to do with her master anymore, and if that was the case, why didn't they just kill her already? Surely they wouldn't let her live.
The blond ninja was silent for a long time, and the brunette could sense the uneasiness of the rest of the ANBU squad.
"What is your name?"
This time, surprise flashed briefly across her face.
It was known shinobi protocol to not have knowledge of the people you kill in the line of duty. Not knowing who you kill makes the job so much easier, and much easier on the psychiatric state.
"Why do you wish to know my name when you are going to kill me?"
"Who says that I'm going to kill you?"
The servant girl's eyes furrowed in utter confusion. This concept made no sense to her.
What would he accomplish by letting her live, except force her to continue this miserable, pathetic excuse for an existence?
It would be absolutely foolish to not kill her, considering all of the things she has done and the people she's affiliated with.
On the other hand, even death was too good for the likes of her. . .
She looked him straight in the eyes.
"You should kill me."
The ANBU man stared at her, slightly perturbed by her response.
The way she stared at him with dead, listless eyes, told him that she had absolutely no regard for her life or anybody else's. She had the eyes of someone who has been absolutely starved of humanity.
"I'm not going to kill you yet. You may be able to give us vital information. Therefore we are going to take you back to Konoha, where your mind will be probed for information. Don't even think about resisting."
Now, that was something that actually made sense to her mind.
"Now, will you tell me your name?"
Still with this extraneous question.
But she would tell him, her current owner. She had passed hands. The ANBU would use her to her full potential, just as Orochimaru-dono had. He would use her as he saw fit, and then discard her when she had worn out her use. Just like a set of worn kunai. A tool. A possession. She expected to be treated as nothing else, and that was all that she would ever be.
"I am called Takara."
If she had had even a shred of luck, she would have been executed on the spot.
But because she just had the most rotten luck, she was going to learn what it meant to be human.
And that was probably going to be the most challenging thing she would ever learn.
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