AN: Slowly moving stuff from Tumblr to here and FFN and vice versa. Come find me on Tumblr! There're a few events on Tumblr happening in September and October that I'm planning to write for (Uchiha month, Kakuhidan anyone?) and I'd love to get some feedback on my writing :)

Day 1 Prompt: Jounin

Business was slow as it usually was on weeknights. It was only 9 'o clock, but the bar was empty, tabletops as spick and span as they were when Kouta had wiped them down this morning. Kouta didn't see the point of keeping the place open when it was apparent that no one would show up, but the boss had insisted. Whatever. City folk were strange.

When thirty more minutes pass by without a single new customer entering the bar, Kouta resolved to close shop a little earlier than the usual 2am. It was getting late, he was tired, and the only living being other than him and the cat was the ex-chunin at the very end of the counter who came in on Tuesday nights to drink himself silly. Come to think of it, he should probably go check up on him. Kouta supposed that he should be grateful to the man for splurging so much on cheap booze—the man practically paid Kouta his Tuesday wages—but at the rate he was drinking, the man was going to end up at a hospital with liver failure. Then nobody would come in on Tuesday nights and he'd have to hightail it back to the countryside.

The doorbell tinkled, heralding the entrance of a new customer. Kouta whipped around. "Welcome, what can I get for—huh?" He scratched his head. "I could have sworn that someone walked i—Oi. Oi, brat. What the hell are you doing in here? And how did you get past me?"

The boy who had just walked in settled himself on the barstool. He arranged his short legs into a more comfortable position and looked up at Kouta.

"I want your strongest drink," he announced. Kouta scrutinized him.

…Nope. He was definitely underage. The two girls who had walked in before at least looked sixteen; the boy looked like he was ten. Kouta had to give him points for the ski mask—it was one of the better attempts to disguise one's age that he'd seen so far. Kid really didn't have to dye his hair gray, though.

"Kid, do you know what kind of place this is?" Kouta finally asked.

The boy blinked. "Of course I do," he said, staring back levelly. "That's why I'm asking you to serve me your strongest drink. If you're worried about the money, I have it here." He took out a little coin purse embroidered with cartoon bones and plunked down a few coins. He looked up at Kouta expectantly.

"Very funny. This isn't a place to play around in, brat," Kouta sighed. "The playground's a few blocks away."

"I'm legally an adult, mister," the boy said, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh yeah? How old are you this year?"

"Twelve. I'm small for my age. I'll be thirteen in a couple of months."

"…That's not even close to the legal age."

"Not for shinobi."

Kouta squinted at the boy. "Squirt, you're expecting me to believe that you're a ninja?"

"Yes," the boy replied with a serious expression on his face.

"Right, and I'm the Hokage," Kouta muttered, surveying the boy from head to toe. The brat didn't seem to be lying; he was wearing a hitai-ate with the standard Konoha leaf symbol engraved in the metal plate. He had on a dark mesh top with a single gray stripe running down the middle of each sleeve. Two leather straps crisscrossed his chest. Very ninja-y. "…Even if you are a ninja, I'm still not going to serve you drinks," he said firmly. "Er, Boss's orders. Sorry, kid."

"That didn't stop you from serving those two girls before," the boy pointed out. "They sure didn't look like they were over sixteen to me," he said. He smiled. "You're a smart man, right?"

…Tch. Kid wasn't even the slightest bit cute.

There was a quiet groan from the end of the bar. From the corner of his eye, Kouta spotted the drunk lifting his head from the table.

"Just…stay there, and be quiet, okay? I'll get this guy back home," Kouta mumbled to the boy. The boy nodded. It was high time that the ex-chunin went back home, and Kouta hoped to the high heavens that the man didn't hear him being blackmailed by a kid ten years younger than him. He'd never live down the embarrassment.

Everything will be fine, Kouta, he told himself. He'd put this guy in a taxi, make this kid a Shirley Temple, and then go home and watch some late night TV. That was the plan.

Of course, his plans never worked.

The drunk at the end of the counter raised his head. "Hey, I kno' you," he slurred, swaying slightly.

"Of course you do," Kouta soothed. "Sir, it's time to go home. Your wife will be worried about you if you stay out too late this time."

"No, no' you," the man said, leaning against Kouta. He raised a shaking hand and pointed at the boy at the counter. "Him." The boy tensed.

"You've got the wrong person," he said shortly.

"Nah." The drunk squinted at the boy. "You look familiar."

"Sir, let's get you home, shall we?" Kouta said a little desperately. The ex-chunin could be a mean drunk at times.

"You…you look li' that guy," the man mumbled. He squinted at the boy. "The traitor." He spat on the ground.

When Kouta came back inside, he shoved a bowl of shredded squid and peanuts towards the boy. The boy looked at the contents of the bowl dubiously.

"I didn't pay for these," he pointed out.

"On the house," Kouta said. "Sorry about that. He's not usually this nasty when he's drunk."

"…You're not from around these parts, are you?" The boy said, watching Kouta warily.

"Nah. My hometown's a day's journey away from Konoha," Kouta said breezily. "So. Care to explain?"

"Not really," the boy said. He waved his hand dismissively. "Best if you don't know." Kouta decided not to push it.

"…So," Kouta eyed the boy. "What's the occasion?"

"I made jounin," the kid said, shrugging. Kouta choked.

"You're thirteen."

"Yeah."

"And you're tiny."

The boy arched a brow. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, but jounin?! You've got to be kiddi—wait. You are serious."

The boy looked at him with a deadpan expression. "Why would I lie to a stranger?"

Kouta gaped at the boy sitting in front of him. "W-well, I mean—congratulations! Wow."

The boy flushed. "Thanks," he said quietly. "So, about that drink…"

Kouta produced a glass with a flourish. "All yours," he announced. A dash of grenadine, a splash of ginger ale. All topped off with a bright red maraschino cherry. The boy picked up the cherry on the side of the glass.

"It's so…red."

"Pretty, isn't it?" Kouta laughed. "It's what I make for my niece when she asks me to make her a drink."

"It looks radioactive," the boy said doubtfully, poking at the cherry with a finger.

"Well, they do say to pick your poison," Kouta muttered. "Kidding, kidding. It's the cherry syrup. Nothing bad."

"…Oh. I like cherries."