Slaves to Substance
Written By: SilentAnonymity
Dedicated to TwinTrouble, Iruka Sensei871, and LunaVanillaStorm
Chapter 1: Two Month Immunity
Chapter dedicated to SS and to the readers who have returned from BLTYO
So I'm back with the sequel/companion fic! This time, the themes are inspired by TwinTrouble's Dogtags and Iruka Sensei871's Addiction. This story is also dedicated to LunaVanillaStorm for all the wonderful support.
TwinTrouble's Dogtags can be read here: /s/5790911/1/Dogtags
Iruka Sensei871's Addiction can be read here: /s/7373463/1/
Beautiful, Lethal, Ten Years Old can be read here: /s/9566245/1/Beautiful-Lethal-Ten-Years-Old
While this is a sequel, the story stands apart from BLTYO and you don't necessarily need to read it to read this one. However, I would obviously prefer it if you read both, but hey, I'm not the Hokage, I can't tell you what to do!
Yes, I stole the title of this fic from a song by Suicide Silence. I don't listen to them often, but the title was fitting, which should give a hint to one of the major themes in this story.
To skip the irrelevant information, please skip over the italics. To read some rambling and/or venting, just go on ahead.
Freakout rant: So some kids in my IDC (Psychology) class were talking about Naruto and they were pronouncing everything incorrectly. It wasn't even like English accented Japanese, it was FULL ON incorrect. I wasn't part of the conversation and didn't want to butt in and correct them. I'm not judging them for saying it wrong, because it's logical to say things wrong- it's another language, but it really bothered me that they were unintentionally butchering the words! D: They were so bad it they weren't even little rookie genin, no, they were like year 1 academy students...actually, worse than that, but better than a non Naruto fan. Still D:
E.g.
Jounin
Actually prononunced: ju-yoo-ni-n (which is the pronunciation of the kana in Japanese...except with the jo part separated- the oo is a long oh sound)
Their pronunciation: juu-nin
Alright, end rant. :'(
I'm not sure how I feel about this yet. I might change it later...
Hope you enjoy!
He stopped his musings when he arrived at the tower.
It had been a little less than a decade ago when he had received that talk and entered the tower to be presented with the mission that only he was suited for.
Well, fuck.
Literally.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on the door knob. The quiet whispers on the other side of the wood were audible over the din of the village beginning to wake up. The door opened with a slight clack and creak, revealing the Sandaime sitting with his pipe in hand.
"Ah, Kakashi, enter."
A masked figure who was behind the man, nodded and shunshined away, but not before giving Kakashi a slight nod of greeting.
"The timeline for this mission is indefinite, though, we're hoping for a maximum of three years- it's a minimum no less. We will be using the seal. You will have two months immunity."
Kakashi nodded his understanding.
It was going to be one hell of a mission.
Three days later, Kakashi found himself captured, covered in blood, surrounded by enemy nin, and having absolutely no idea where or who he was. Vaguely, he prodded the lowermost section of the inside of his mind, but no shapeless memories rose.
His mind was utterly empty, save for instinct and muscle memory.
Static vision was an issue that Kakashi had to deal with often, he had trained his depth perception well enough to cope with it, but he didn't know how to deal with the seemingly permanent blindness in his left eye- let alone remember that he had trained like that in the first place.
He blinked.
Nothing.
His right eye roved over the dark room he had been jammed into. Whoever he was or had been, he had a lot of enemies, why else would he have learned how to fight so well?
"Well, well, well. Look who we got here," a voice sounded from his left. Wordlessly, he turned his head to face the new comer.
The door had opened, spilling yellow light in a rectangular shape into the dark room. Two men stood in the doorway.
"Hell, we caught Hatake."
"Pfsh, kid didn't even put up a fight."
"You know how much he's worth on the market, right?"
"More money than we could make in a lifetime. Let's kill him now."
"No, you dipshit, he's worth more alive. We'll deliver him-"
"You're both dumbasses."
The two men turned to face the woman who had walked behind them.
"Take a closer look to his eye. It's sealed with some infernal fucking technique. We can't forcibly remove it, or we'll ruin the eye-"
"So?"
"SO, no one's even seen pretty boy's face. Hell, no one would believe us if we brought a sharingan-less little wanker to a collector. They'd laugh in our faces and accuse us of child abduction."
"So..."
"So we can't collect any sort of reward for him- not until we can get rid of the seal."
"You're wrong there too," the woman said.
From Kakashi's position, he could only make out the dark silhouettes of three people in the door, their voices having dropped to low whispers after the appearance of a third person. Distantly, Kakashi knew he was in danger of some sort, but wasn't aware of enough to know what kind, let alone how to defend himself, or escape.
The person he was before would have escaped, right?
Regardless, the person he was now wanted to get out of wherever he was and get to somewhere safe. Somewhere they didn't bind his arms and legs with chains and in steel casing.
Anywhere but here.
Just as he finished the thought, a feat that was proving to be difficult, but increasingly easier, the two men moved from the door and grabbed him roughly from the chains wrapped around his back, onto his feet. They were bringing him, "Anywhere, but here."
As his wrists were brought closer to his face, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the steel. Shocking blood soaked silver hair, ripped blue mask, a scar running over his left eyelid and down onto his cheek. He blinked.
He blinked again.
His left eye was the shade of yellowing paper, black kanji in the centre where the iris should have been. As he moved his left eye, the kanji iris just moved listlessly around in the direction he moved it to.
Suddenly terrified, he wondered what they had done to him.
From there, he was brought to another small, stone room, but this one was more menacing. Except for a round circle of light that shone from seemingly nowhere in the centre of the room, the rest was basked in shadows, with the slightest shine of light glinting off the sharp, dangerous-looking forms of various weapons.
In the centre of the section of light, sat a straight-backed metal chair with holes cut out of the back and sides. Metal that could conduct electricity. Metal that they could loop his chains into.
Metal where they would interrogate him.
Torture him.
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