A/N: No idea where this came from, but I'll run with it. I do not own Naruto, and if you truly think I do, I can recommend a great psychiatrist. This fic is rated mature and it won't take you long to figure out why. Leave if you're underage. All characters portrayed in mature situations are of legal age in this fic. Prostitution was quite legal in feudal Japan. Ok? Good.

Red Lights at Dawn Ch. 1

Mitarashi Anko lay spaced out and uncaring there on the floor, not at all paying attention to the man laying on top of her. In this profession, it was always recommended to have another state of mind, another place to be to separate herself from this world. She wasn't sure why she had sunk to being a prostitute, even after all that had happened. The state of affairs in Konoha had degraded so heavily after the great ninja war, maybe this was her escape. Who was still left alive? Strangely enough, it was the death of Sasuke that led to the greatest problems. Somehow, he had been a pillar connecting a series of events that led to this massive war. Funny how it took a missing nin that consorted with a snake to cause such widespread destruction.

Then again... she wasn't exactly one to talk, being one of Orochimaru's experiments herself. Her thoughts abruptly halted when her instincts told her that the man on top of her had finished his business. He left unceremoniously, leaving payment on the table on his way out. Hell, she hadn't even gotten a good look at him, as absorbed in her apathy as she was. She wasn't concerned about unwanted pregnancy. Even though she wasn't a medical ninja, warding off pregnancy was one of the first things that kunoichi of age learned. As soon as a girl started her bleeding, she was taken to a female ninja to learn the finer points of her gender. The technique was simple enough, and even the weakest ninja could at least protect themselves.

The room was still somewhat dark, a few half-shaded lights glowing dimly. Few in her profession needed much, thus the room was sparse as far as personal belongings. There were fine rugs, rich bedding and decorative furniture, but it was all for appearances. These were not her things, they belonged to the house. Her kimono also belonged to the house, and she blankly registered that it was currently in disorder and tied it swiftly. She didn't have any more customers for the moment, so she tied her obi at the front of her waist and headed out into the common lounge.

This lounge was far from the eyes of customers, the furniture worn and not at all like the fine carved ebony that laid just outside the doors. She had been lucky to join a well-to-do house, as they kept their "assets" well cared for instead of the questionable slums that some lived in. Then again, she wasn't exactly the average woman, and that alone gained her ranking into this fashionable house. It wasn't her looks that got her here. Everyone else in the house was outright gorgeous, their perfect curves and petite faces, lined by their silky hair falling to voluptuous breasts. No, she was a little better than average, though not the phenomenal beauty, and what got her here was the fact that she was a kunoichi. This meant that unlike the other women, she could take the abuse that some of the more... anxious clients could sometimes give.

Anko felt singled out every time she came in here, and she often sat in silence, content to listen to the conversation at the tables. Now and then she felt enraged that she was treated this way, but other times the apathy sunk in and she didn't care. Tonight she listened to the news, her form slouched in a chair as feminine voices filled the room.

"Did you hear? Another one of the women down the district was ruined."

"Another one? Honestly, how many is he going to ruin before he gets the hint that none of the women around here want his business anymore?"

"He pays so handsomely, though, the heads of the houses make the girls do it."

"They can't be too happy that he's ruining their goods!"

"He pays so well they can almost replace the woman with a new one. It's hard to think of, but there's really nothing we can do."

"...what if he comes here?"

"If what I've heard is true, he might even kill one of us."

One of the women, a lithe, dark-haired woman with sharp eyes gestured flippantly towards Anko. "Just give him to Anko, she can take him. Right, sweetie?" She smiled with well covered cunning in her direction.

Anko had more or less gotten a bad reputation around the house for being the one that got all of the more sadistic customers just so the others could keep their ridiculous unmarred skin. She took it all in stride as much as possible. After all, what could this world really do to her anymore? "I don't care. I'm sure I'll manage either way."

The other woman scoffed at her. "Manage? Don't you have any pride? Any preferences, at least? Or are you just going to take whatever the lade of the house tells you to?"

A different woman with russet brown hair gestured the other woman to quiet down. "Hey, don't go at her like that, you should be thankful. If she wasn't here with us, the lady would give those tough customers to you! You don't want to be ruined, do you?"

Anko stood abruptly, slamming her hand down with emphasis. "I said I don't care! Leave me alone!" She brushed out of the room before anyone else could get a word in, fleeing to the nearest corner in the hallway. For a while she stewed in silence. Some might have cried out of frustration, but she only had anger at this moment, anger at everything, everyone. However, after a moment, a small, fair-haired woman appeared before her, handing her a newspaper meekly.

"Anko-san... here. Don't worry about them. They don't know how lucky they are."

Her frown slowly dissipated at the sight of the one friend she had managed to make in this place. Dark blue eyes met her own, showing only a placid emotion. Anko tried a small smile and took the newspaper gratefully. "Thank you, Amaya. So what have you heard about this guy that goes around ruining women in the brothels?"

"Only what I've heard from others or read in the paper. There's nothing illegal going on, he's not intentionally doing it, he's just... too intense. It's not even that he's doing anything physical, he's just... I don't know. It's like their minds can't take it."

She flipped open the newspaper, glancing at all the brothels the man had been reported in. "Strange, it's like he's moving from one to the other." Her eyes widened at the last entry. "Look here! He hit the district right by us!"

Amaya gasped lightly. "We're next, aren't we?"

"I wonder if he'll come here tonight." She glanced once more at the column. The person was described as very handsome, with dark hair. He always requested dango, which was a rarity amongst men. Strange... "I guess we'll have to find out."

A new voice sounded in front of them. "You won't have to worry about that. He's... here." The lady of the house stood just a ways down the hall, her rich kimono being the only one in the entire house that was tied in the back. She seemed somewhat worried, though she tried to carry herself confidently. "Anko... I know that you were a kunoichi, you are the only one I can trust to handle this. Maybe you can break the cycle."

Anko's lips drew taut, suppressing her anxiety. "Very well. Send him to me." She handed the newspaper back to Amaya, nodding reassurance to the young woman as she made her way to her room. Well... no sense putting it off. Difficult or not, she had had her share of men that would have ruined anyone else. If anyone was going to break the cycle, it would have to be her, or some other kunoichi. But then, how many kunoichi willingly worked in a brothel? She must be crazy.

She sat alone in her room, hearing the clock on the wall ticking every second away. The faint smell of lavender incense flowed through the room, dim lights flickering her shadow wildly. In the silence she could even hear her heart beat and she briefly wondered how much longer she would hear it. A soft click of the door closing announced the arrival of the notorious man, though his footsteps were nearly silent, unlike so many brutes before. He even had an odd aura that she could sense long before he faced her. She stiffened. That was no aura... it was chakra. He had a chakra signature, even though she could tell he suppressed it. Shit... that explained everything. No wonder women were ruined by him. He may have only been doing what a normal man might, but he was no normal man. A shinobi.

This revelation did little to tear down her confidence. She was a shinobi too, a high-ranking one at that in the old days, and even now she still trained herself. With resolute finality, she allowed herself to look upon this great challenge. However, her breath caught in her throat as this man turned to her. Back in ANBU... it was him, but... how? It was those eyes again... She knew him. He was Uchiha Itachi.