Copyright, Aviatrix8, 2015. Kill la Kill and all related characters are property of Trigger, and are used without permission.
One spoiler in this for episode 20, nothing I'd consider major. Turned out darker than I expected, so fair warning.
Kill la Kill fanfic:
He is the head of the most powerful club in Honnouji Academy: Shiro Iori, president of the Sewing Club; the club that produces the Goku uniforms only doled out to the most worthy and privileged of students.
Yet Iori spends so much time in his laboratory, that not many students would recognize him by sight; those who do know of him though, speak of him in hushed tones…
Despite his diminutive stature, many find Iori intimidating, what with his stern expression, partially concealed behind his clear, orange gas mask…
They also say that he never smiles.
Iori remembers smiling, when he was younger… But not any more. Certainly, he hasn't done anything in recent memory worthy of a genuine smile… It is the price he has to pay, as a supporter for Lady Satsuki's cause.
For Iori has done many unspeakable things in the name of Lady Satsuki and the Student Council… Things that he never wishes to tell.
Using a helpless no-star student to test a 5-star uniform was only one of the latest transgressions he'd performed against the student body… But such unpleasantness was not limited towards just them.
As the Sewing Club president, naturally Iori was the one Sanageyama turned to in order to sew the his eyes shut, thus enhancing his own sensory abilities. Yet that wasn't even the first time someone Iori knew needed his help for some unspeakable act…
"What are you doing?"
Iori stood in the doorway of Lady Satsuki's room, staring at the somewhat surreal scene before him.
Lady Satsuki, in her bathrobe and sitting in her usual armchair, with crossed legs. She held one foot in one hand, and in the other… What he first thought was a nail cutter, was actually a pair of pliers.
His eyes moved to the floor, where a white cloth was laid out; upon it lay a roll of gauze, fragments of metal, and what appeared to be false nails, all neatly arranged.
He met Lady Satsuki's eyes, and found himself repeating the question. "Lady Satsuki, what are you doing?"
She returned his gaze calmly. "I could ask you the same thing, Iori."
"I have the latest Sewing Club reports, so Uncle Soroi gave me the key to let myself in." Did Uncle suspect what was going on? he thought to himself. Is that why he let me have the key?
"I see," replied Lady Satsuki.
"Milady, you still haven't answered the question," pointed out Iori.
She looked down at her feet, as if she had never seen them before.
"I thought I should replace my toenails with the metal from my sword."
"WHAT?" Iori could not contain his shock. "Why in the world would you want to do that?"
"As a failsafe," she replied. "If the worst should happen."
Iori's mind boggled, at her forethought. But only Lady Satsuki could plan so far ahead.
"But is it necessary–"
"Yes. It is."
Iori hung his head. "Then let me do it for you, milady."
"I would not ask that of you, Iori."
"But I want to. Please, Lady Satsuki."
She closed her eyes. "Very well."
He walked up to her, and knelt at her feet.
"There's nothing here that will help dull the pain. Are you sure–"
"Just do it, Iori." She handed him the pliers.
He bowed his head low, so she could not see his expression. "As you wish, milady." Iori held her right foot, and took a deep breath.
He would never forget the sounds… Or the blood.
They always came to him for the dirty work, and Iori could never refuse… And even if they tried to shoulder the burden themselves, he could not help but offer his aid.
Perhaps it was because he was the nephew of a butler, that made him this way. And like a butler, there were some things that happened behind closed doors that they never spoke of… Iori was certain that Uncle Soroi knew that better than anyone.
Living in the manor, Iori knew this too… But he could only suspect at such things. Yet he would never dare ask his uncle directly about it… That was Soroi's cross to bear, the price he had to pay for his loyalty… His silence.
And yet, these were not even the greatest of Iori's own sins, in his mind. Though at least one other person was privy to one of those secrets…
Iori and Inumuta stood on the catwalk overlooking the Sewing Club lab. Below them, they could see dozens of hazmat-suited students working on mass producing 1-star Goku uniforms for Honnouji Academy.
"It always amazes me at the loyalty you command from your members, Iori," commented Inumuta.
"I wouldn't be that impressed," said Iori quietly.
"Nonsense. My data indicates that there have been no information leaks about the secret projects you've been working on, here at the club. It's astonishing."
"That's because nobody can say a word about it," replied Iori bluntly.
Inumuta raised an eyebrow. Then, his eyes widened.
"You don't mean…"
Iori turned to face Inumuta. Inumuta was taken aback by the tiny, yet dangerous smile on the smaller boy's face.
"That's right. There are only two requirements to join the Sewing Club: a rudimentary ability to sew… And the agreement to have your lips sewn together with Life Fibers."
Inumuta pushed up his glasses, to hide his disconcertion.
"I never imagined you could be so ruthless, Iori."
"I'm not proud of it," replied Iori shortly. "But I knew that there would be those who would join the club, just for the prestige it would afford. This was the only way I could think of to assure their loyalty."
The blond boy pushed up his glasses. "And it's not as bad as it sounds; the Life Fibers sewn in their lips do allow them to speak and eat. But betray club secrets, and well… Let's just say, after a few days, they won't even think of trying that again, any time soon."
There was a heavy silence, which was broken by Inumuta.
"Speaking as a member of the Elite Four… I must admit, we've all done some questionable things for Lady Satsuki's cause."
"I know, Inumuta." But it doesn't make me feel any better about it, thought Iori.
Iori knew he ruled the Sewing Club with just as much fear as the Student Council did over Honnouji Academy. It was just that that his crimes were less advertised around the school than theirs were…
"It has come to my attention," began Iori sternly, as he paced in front of the assembled members of the Sewing Club, "that one of the 1-star Goku uniforms have gone missing from our stores."
The members shifted uncomfortably at his words.
"Now, I am not one to point fingers. But whoever is responsible for this theft, or know who is, speak up now, and the punishment will be decidedly less severe."
There was silence.
Iori closed his eyes. "Very well… Then I am left with no other alternative." He pulled something out of his lab coat, and held it up.
"Do you know what this is?"
The Sewing Club members stared.
"Er… It's a doll?" said one of them. It was a decidedly ugly rag doll, at that. It didn't look like something that the president of the Sewing Club would admit to sewing himself.
"It's a voodoo doll," corrected Iori in a crisp tone. "And this," he said, reaching into his pocket with his other hand, "is a hair I found at the scene of the crime."
The silence was deafening at this point.
Deftly, Iori wrapped the hair around the neck of the doll. He then reached into his pocket, produced a pin… And jabbed it into the knee of the doll.
There was a scream among the members of the Sewing Club. They all scrambled away, revealing one of their own lying on the floor, clutching his knee.
"Take him to the Time Out chamber for a one-month detention!" ordered Iori.
He watched as two other members dragged the guilty party away, who was still whimpering. Then Iori turned on his heel, and headed to his office.
Iori unlocked the door, entered his office, then closed the door behind him. Then, pulling off his gas mask, he promptly ran over to the trash can and threw up.
He wiped his mouth in disgust. Iori knew damn well that that hair was not proof of guilt, even if it was at the scene of crime. And yet… He could not afford to show weakness, even at the the theft of a mere 1-star uniform. He could still hear Lady Satsuki's words ringing in his head:
Fear is freedom!
Subjugation is liberation!
Contradiction is truth!
Still, in his deepest heart… He wondered how she and the Elite Four could stand it, sometimes.
They say that Shiro Iori never smiles. And this is why… So he never forgets.
Yet sometimes, he will forget himself, in those moments with Lady Satsuki and the Elite Four; when they're just themselves, and not the ruthless Student Council of Honnouji Academy.
And Iori looks forward to the day that they can all just be themselves again, so he can smile freely, once more.
Kind of went into a dark place with this. It was interesting that I kept coming up with more trangressions that Iori was actually responsible for (or could be), as I thought about it.
Iori being the one who replaced Lady Satsuki's toenail was not my idea, however... I credit that to a comic by h0saki from Tumblr, which in turn was a suggestion by nharime, also from Tumblr.