Shinobi Isekai: Round Two

The Meat Of Things

Fine. If she wanted to take her time with this one thing, he'd allow it. For now.

😈😈😈

Kyou sat in the dirt outside the village walls, dragging a stick along the ground between her spread legs. Her hands were still chubby and her coordination wasn't what she wanted it to be, but at least she could move. The Demon King had taken full advantage of that, placing all manner of sharp objects into her hands and correcting the way she stood every chance he got. Ah, the ninja life.

She wasn't sure where she stood on the whole ninja thing, to be honest. Child soldiers were bad, one hundred percent, but ninja powers? Pretty cool, man.

She could still remember the awe and terror rising up in her like twin beasts when she saw her first fire ball. It was that kid, her cousin, Izuna, and the look of total superiority he'd thrown at her had set her off like nothing else. He was so lucky he was important to the plot, or else she'd...

Nothing.

It was then that her helplessness really set in. In the face of people with magic eyes and giant pet toads, her superior brain was nothing. That brat could kill her so easily, and the only thing stopping him was the barest thread of human decency shinobi life allowed children to keep. If they weren't family, Kyou had no doubt she'd be dead.

He really didn't like her, for some reason. Every time she happened upon him, he glared at her. She had no idea why, considering how smiley he'd been back when she was itty bitty, but she didn't care, either way.

She wanted to breathe fire, dammit!

That meant actually listening to Shuji, though. And, worse, talking to him.

She'd kept her silence this long, and she really didn't want to break it. But fire breathing~.

She huffed, scratching at the ground with her stick until her name stared up at her. A box with an x in it. Real simple. Thank God. So far, it was the only kanji she knew and she balked at the idea of learning more. Shuji had shown it to her on multiple occasions while trying to get her to speak, and it had stuck. She had no idea what it meant, yet, but she would. Eventually.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?"

Ugh.

She looked up at her oldest cousin, Madara—yes, that Madara. His face was a longer, less angry version of Izuna's, his mother's looks clearly taking the reigns in his development. His iconic fluffy hair hung just past his shoulders, as black as her own but with much more volume. His skin was pale, with a smattering of freckles across his face and hands—not something Kishimoto had ever mentioned, but she wasn't complaining. He wore a dark yukata and no sandals, just like her. She was fairly certain her clothing consisted mainly of hand-me-downs from him and Izuna, anyway, so the resemblance wasn't surprising.

He was little and cute now, but she knew what he'd turn into. Still, it was a little jarring to have Mr. End the World in a Blaze of Fire™ look down at her with concern.

When she didn't answer, he squat down in front of her, his arms braced on his knees. "Hey, you're Shuji-san's son, right? He's looking for you, you know."

Ugh. Son. When she'd first realized she was being called a musuko instead of a musume she'd frantically disrobed just in case she'd somehow been reborn as a boy, but nope. Shuji was just a psychopath. Honestly, he was lucky she wasn't a normal kid or he'd be the source of a lot of issues.

Looking at Madara, she held a hand to her mouth and shushed him, channeling her inner Boo from Monsters Inc. His eyebrows rose.

"You know you shouldn't hide from your father. He must be worried."