Chapter 4 Meeting The Darker Side Of The Red Light District

I do not own Naruto. Trigger warnings for dark themes of a sexual nature, gore, violence, and mentions of paedophilia. Maybe cannibalism?

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Ryuishi leaves the alley when it is dark and the red lanterns of the akasen district are just beginning to be lit. Their red glow spreads out and blurs in the gloomy mist, painting the early evening crimson. Already she can spot men and women emerging, prowling the streets for a customer or a partner. If her previous actions with the brats hadn't been so profitable, she would regret coming out at all. She is young and passably pretty, and nights in the red light district can be very, very dangerous.

This is exactly why I need to plan, she thinks to herself, keeping her eyes on the ground. This is what comes to fruition when you don't plan out every detail when you act so rash. You end up in the red light district, in Kiri, at night, where every fetish is fed and morals are nowhere to be found. What if somebody tries to buy her? What if somebody doesn't even try? She might not be a blushing virgin, but this body is. What if some Matron decides she's running low on daughters and wants to restock her stables?

Where the fuck is her brothel?

She can't even begin to explain where she is about every other building, because the district is a sprawling maze without any sense of order. It's entirely too much like London, with alleyways spreading out in every direction and streets winding back on themselves. It's probably to confuse intruders, but all it seems to do is confuse natives who haven't memorized these pathways for their entire lives. It's not like maps exist, as helpful as they would be. That would just be begging for an organized attack. Not that a Kumo nin could even fit on half of these streets, as narrow as they are. Maybe she should ask one of the nicer looking women? No, that's risky as hell, nobody likes an akasenko.

The name makes her want to snort bitterly. Child of the red line, whore's child, harlot's brood. Like the job her mom chose was a bad one. Whoring was the world's oldest profession, and it had few masters. Keiko chose to work her way up, and the place she had now, even after having a child, was nothing short of respectable. Respectable, because Keiko chose this path and walked it willingly. But respectable or not, Ryuishi is wearing a child's body, and she has no want to become a prostitute… ever. Her gut is churning and she wants to vomit, wants to make a joke, but nothing right now is funny.

She'll admit it, she's scared.

Her feet move a bit faster, tearing her eyes away from the ground in a move that is equal parts bold and desperate. She needs to find the brothel before somebody tries to take her. Nobody notices me, she prays, I am nothing, nobody. I am silent. I am the quiet of the grave. I am a single raindrop in the river. Ryuishi prays the prayers that Cat Frank's mother once taught her in the panic of her head.

I am nothing, I am nobody, I am the quiet of the grave. I am a raindrop in the river, and a river in the sea. Please, please, let those that passed and shared my blood protect and guard me. She chants it again and again inside her head, her knuckles white as her hands grip tightly together. Her footsteps are brisk and even, her face serene and eyes pointed down at the hands clasped firmly together in front of her. Her mind is screaming.

The sound of her steps is soon drowned out by the noise of many more. The streets are beginning to fill up, and she can feel curious, appraising eyes on her. Ryuishi wants to rip those eyes out of their observing faces with her tiny fucking hands and mash them in her palms. How dare they! She looks just like a kid! Her body is barely out of toddlerhood!

She can scream and rage and cry all she wants, but this is Kiri. She knows that as long as it doesn't upset the power balance or further destroy the economy, anything goes. Kids are dying on the streets and civilians are being murdered in their homes. Nobody cares. It's a world full of child soldiers and physics-destroying superpowers. Demons walk the motherfucking earth, and murders rise from the goddamned dead. Nobody in power cares unless it directly affects them.

She suddenly wishes she had more than ninja wire and scraps on her. She would punch a baby in the fucking face for her old tactical knife. Or pepper spray, or anything else really at this point. This isn't LA or Chicago, and she is not a woman grown-up who can without fear, be comfortable in the knowledge she can protect herself. She is wearing a hilariously weak body, which is unsuited for combat. She suddenly wishes that she hadn't spent her time networking, and instead had focused on training up her body. Sure, it would be hard to go unnoticed, but she doubts she already has anyway. Being a full-grown adult is hard to hide. She is sure that Keiko has noticed, and knows for sure that Kagami Okaa-sama has.

(Originally, she didn't care if she stood out. Then she figured out which period she was in, and where she was at. They were already wiping out clans, and prodigies were regarded with wary and hateful eyes. You did not stand above your cast in Kiri, lest you be cut down.)

If she lives through tonight, she is going to train her body into a weapon, so it won't matter if she is unarmed.

Ahe spots little feet passing by hers and looks up briefly to catch the dead gaze of the boy who can't be more than thirteen, walking with an older woman. Her panicked musing is shattered. His drugged gaze catches hers, and for a single second, she can read his pity, his despair.

All of her humour and bitter apathy bleed out of her.

Rage blooms hot in her heart and she grits her jaw tight, clenching her hands so tightly together with her that nubby nails bite into her skin. Ryuishi wants to draw him away, to take every child in this shitty village and clutch them tightly. She wants to hold them and watch this whole fucking city burn to the ground, to rejoice in the screams of the uncaring adults and bask in the wailing of its leaders. She wishes for the power to wrap the ocean around her like a second skin and ride it here, to wash this place clean and watch the ugly, disgusting monsters be swallowed up by the unrelenting salt water and brine. She wants the wind to tear them down, and the earth to swallow them up. She wants to break things, to burn them, to burn the ashes, and to wash all that remains away into the sea.

The boy offers her a comforting smile that breaks her heart and continues to walk away, his arm clutched tight in the talon of a filthy predator of a woman. Cold loathing consumes her, and the ocean inside her soul rages, a storm of guilt and hate and sorrow.

She keeps walking. She is only four.

Ahe hasn't even made it a full block away when a callused hand is suddenly pulling on her arm. She shouldn't have stopped, should have been more aware of her surroundings. Ryuishi wants to run, but the hand is too tight. She looks up at the nameless assaulter and sees his disgusting green eyes and unbrushed brown hair. In another time, in another place, his five o'clock shadow would have been considered roguish and handsome. His hair would have been charmingly tousled. Now, in her eyes, all she can see is a vile piece of trash. He is a pretty piece of garbage wearing false skin, someone who looks like he isn't capable of what she knows he is.

"Now, aren't you a pretty little doll. Are you one of Mama Hui's young little flowers?" he asks in a firm voice.

His words make her hate him.

"I am not for sale," she spits out coldly. If he will not respect her, perhaps he will respect the law of the akasen.

He laughs and runs a grubby paw across her nicely coiffed hair. Ryuishi should not have hoped. Her spine stiffens and she watches as his eyes go dark, his expression suddenly predatory. Plans are running fast pace through her head, and her gut sinks into her sandals. His arm is suddenly as tight as a bulldog's mouth on her arm. Her mind freezes on a single form of escape. She has to plan, she has to act.

"Well, it's better to ask for forgiveness instead of permission, right?"

And then he is dragging her, even as she tries to squirm free. She tries to yell for help. She gets a few glances, but his placid, consolatory smile send turns them away. They think she is just nervous, or perhaps she is a runaway, or maybe that this is just an act. She hates them too. She digs her heel in, but he is so much stronger than her. Suddenly all her fears are validated.

"Mama Hui will understand. After all, I am her best customer. I just want a taste, and then I'll walk you right back, okay? Come on little daisy, it'll be alright," he coos, pulling her into an alleyway between two shadier brothels. It is dark, and the air smells like stale sweat and leftovers and booze. She hates him so much, so so much.

He pushes her onto the ground and grasps her hands in his, smiling all the while. Ryuishi tries to kick him, but her legs are small and she holds no power now. He seems delighted by it all, some sort of power trip if she had to guess. Her struggles just seem to feed his ego.

"Be still little daisy, It's all right, hush now, I've got you," he calms, caging her in.

"Let me go! I'm not for sale!" she screams out at him,

"Let me go, let me go, let me go!"

He chuckles at her, and she stills, eyes gazing up through tear-stained lashes, cheeks flushed pink from the effort. "Now little daisy, it'll be alright. It'll only hurt a little, now, lets's get you warm," he chuckles out, pressing his chest against her, his arms wrapping around her. His thick, heavy hands kneaded into her back and slide down to her waist, her thighs. His grip is like steel and he smells like grass. His hug forms a cage and traps her hands between them, smashing her arms against his chest. The position is forcing her head to lie on top of his shoulder and it presses her face into the crook of his neck. Ryuishi can feel his breath ghosting down her skin, and she knows this might be her only chance.

She opens her mouth as wide as it can go and sinks her teeth into his neck.

The table has turned and he is the one screaming now, his arms scrabbling to push her away. Ryuishi feels warm, coppery blood flood her mouth and squishes a piece of his flesh out of her mouth before biting harder, biting and shaking her head like a dog, ripping things, crushing bones between her baby teeth. The action feeds the cold rage in her heart. The stormy ocean of her soul is mollified by the carnage and the seas inside of her run red. Her snarls turn to gurgles as the liquid bubbles at the corners of her mouth and chunks slide down her chin.

His hands wrap in her hair and try to pull her free, but her jaw is clenched tight, and she is too high on panic and anger to feel the hairs he rips from her scalp. His actions free her hands, which dart up to his neck, her little fingers crawling into the edge of his wounds, squirming inside the opening like sentient hooks. His howling is weakening, but it isn't enough, won't be enough. It only ends when her hand grasps around the edges of the wound, fingers sunk into flesh, and rip the front of his neck free from the rest of his body. His hand slumps out of her hair and his body folds beneath him, his glassy eyes glued to the wall behind her. He is dead before he finishes crashing onto the trash covered floor.

Ryuishi stands over the body and spits the remains of him out her mouth and into his unseeing eyes, and pants like an animal, endorphins running strong. She looks at the corpse, and screams in rage, flinging his trachea back at him. Her weak little leg, so useless before, stomps his stupid fucking face, again and again, until the nose is pancaked and his front teeth are gone.

She shrieks at the lifeless thing again, her call cutting through the alley air like a blade, her eyes fixed on its ruined visage. Her feelings rush out with the howl, the anger and fear and despair, and she empties herself then and there, bidding him take these things with him as he descends to hell. She will bury her these with the memory of him.

Let my screams carry you down. Let my rage be the only sound you hear in the Void that is death, she prays.

Then, breathless and tired and covered in the remains of a lecherous paedophile, she feels better.

She is filthy, she is tired, and looking down at a corpse she has just created, she doesn't care. Her heart is cold. She doesn't regret his death one fucking bit.

(When she leaves the alleyway, she does not notice the disgusted, curious eyes following her steps.)

Nobody bothers the ragged, blood-covered child again, and eventually, she finds her way back to the Okiya, guided by a helpful hooker who lived with her at the brothel. Kagami Okaa-sama sent them searching, and somewhere she feels pleased with that thought. But the Nee-chan is too late, far too late.

She is not who she was when she left, and a monster was born in that alley.

(It will be a while before she realizes she was not the only one to witness its birth.)