Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/489265.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Naruto
  Character:
      Umino_Iruka
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Prostitution
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-08-18 Words: 993
****** Doll ******
by panda_shi
Summary
     Iruka on a mission where he is sold and trained to cater to high
     class customers - this is his first service. And it's a reminder of
     what shame a shinobi is forced to bear.
Notes
     Initially written as a writing sample for the LJRP game Guys & Dolls.
     I was reading it while clearing out my HD and figured oh, might as
     well tweak it into something.
You're still trying to get over that, the idea of getting sold, the idea of
leaving your old self behind and emerging as someone else once you've stepped a
foot past Konoha's gates -- your first assignment in a while now that summer
has come and the Academy is closed for the break.">
Iruka is not sure what to make of the fact that he is being assisted in getting
the obi tied right and that an equally patterned hakama is being eased on to
his shoulder. A dark red yukata, with white camellias printed at the bottom and
a checkered obi, black hakama with cranes and camellia buds to go with it,
black zouris to top it all off along with a white hair tie. His hair, they said
is to be done up in a half ponytail, because his buyers tonight has asked for a
performance and they want it pretty. So pretty in fact that apparently, Iruka
isn't going to be alone. There is going to be someone with him and he isn't
even going to be sucking someone's cock or kissing someone's wet pussy.
No, his first job, his first task is to fuck another fellow victim in this
entire mess. Another person apparently sold.
(You're still trying to get over that, the idea of getting sold, the idea of
leaving your old self behind and emerging as someone else once you've stepped a
foot past Konoha's gates -- your first assignment in a while now that summer
has come and the Academy is closed for the break. You are never good - never
have been - at dividing your mind in half, where one is human and the other is
not, the latter being you seeing yourself as a tool, an object to be used in
even the most humanly degrading manner.
Like being sold and bought. Like a pound of flesh up for display, garnished.
Beautiful.
Ripe. )
But Iruka waits patiently once he's ready, shifting a little bit at the lack of
a fundoshi under all the fabrics that makes him feel like a porcelain doll,
waiting to be told to come out. Waiting like a prisoner and trying to ward the
itch on his back from where he had been whipped a week ago, all part of the
cover, all part of selling a cover, all part of the job. Whipped and now the
scabs has peeled and healed, white lines crossing his back, like a sea of
thorns. He bites the urge to reach back and scratch the bit under his right
shoulder-blade, where the tip of the whip had licked him several times and
where it is the most raw, all because he had tried to speak. To ask for not
even a full cup of water. To see if these people are capable of compassion. If
some of these captors are worth something.
(Because even the most cruel, the coldest, the seemingly inhumane are
redeemable. Humans are strange creatures like that, seemingly able to show
compassion as thin as a hairline. Iruka believes in this, has to believe.
Someone whose life is dedicated in teaching prepubescent children where to
strike for a quick kill and how to hold a blade or how to turn their
surrounding into a weapon has to believe that while one is shaping monsters,
they are still human. That these vessels that are really just tools at the end
of the day are not just pounds of flesh to be used and discarded, forgotten,
even if their names are etched in stone later.
It's the truth.
It's also the greatest lie.)
It makes him seethe, makes him want to set the entire house on goddamn fire.
They're inhuman.
(But they're also only human. Cause and effect. That's how it is. SOmething has
caused them to behave this way, to do this. To treat people like this.)
His thought process is cut off though when the door opens and him getting the
command to get up, it's time.
Iruka stands, mindful and like a well trained mute doll, tight lipped and a
frown on his face -- don't frown, smile, don't put such face, or you won't get
your bonus, don't be displeasing or I'll have you taken care of, is what they
say in hushed tones against his ear, under a curve of the sweetest smile - as
he walks down the polished corridors towards the room where he is to perform.
He wonders if he shouldn't have had that congee earlier. Because Iruka is
pretty sure he feels utterly disgusted and sick just thinking of the existence
of this people, at how it might have been one of the younger jounins or
chuunins, those who had been his former students that might have been wrapped
in silk and bent into submission and used like an animal.
It bites him hard, the reality and realization.
And when he sees the group of people with power in high places who are supposed
to die in a fortnight lounging in the L shaped arranged of the cushions under
the open paper screen windows, when he sees the center where he is to perform,
when he sees how young the victim he is supposed to fuck and entertain his
targets with (so young, that she can't be barely fourteen!), Iruka feels his
knees shake and his stomach go cold and his knuckles whiten.
But he smiles instead, kneels to the ground and holds his hand for the young
girl to hold him in his embrace and gently peel the silk off her quivering
frame.
(You try not to cry for her sake. You hide your pain behind a smile so gentle,
even when you watch wide gray eyes water slightly, and painted crimson lips
press against yours.
You try not to feel sick.
You try to be strong.
The mission always comes first, after all.)
Umino Iruka does not exist.
(Cannot exist.)
But the chuunin shinobi, 011450, does.
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