Although he finds the ninja unsettling, he smiles. /In which Harry is not interesting enough to attract the attention of anyone, but does anyways. /
Harry doesn't understand what the old woman in front of him is saying, but he bobs his head and hopes it convinces her he has inkling on what's going on. She isn't. Sighing, she takes his arm carefully, as if he were fragile mental patient (and he is, isn't he?), muttering lowly to herself. She guides him inside a small looking stand, sets him on a stool.
She points at the seat, and he gets that much.
"Alright, I'll stay," he murmurs, nodding, and she eyes him for a moment before disappearing to the back. He taps his fingers along the wooden counter, eyes trailing his surroundings. He's in Asia, he knows that much. Despite his crippled knowledge of geography and culture outside of the limited wizardry bubble, he did attend elementary school for a limited amount of time. The chopstick stand, the strange letters adorning the stand, and everywhere. Frankly, it was giving him a headache.
The old woman is back, with a young man. Her son? He straightens. She points at him, rather rudely, announcing something in her language (Chinese? No, no, definitely Japanese). The man sighs, replies and Harry watches them bicker for a short while. Finally, they quiet, regarding Harry in a serious manner. Where's a Hermione when you need one?
The man stands up, gestures to himself, and repeats the word 'Ken'.
"Ken?" Harry echoes. That sounded awfully English.
The man looks irritated. "Kenji." Enunciated slowly now.
"Ah," Harry says, as if reaching enlightenment, "Kenji." The man looks smug, nods, and then gesticulates to Harry.
"Harry."
"Hari?" Kenji repeats, pronouncing it, 'Ha-Ri'-H'. Close enough, he surmises. He nods. The man grins, turns to the woman. He says something, and the old woman looks irritated for a brief moment, before sighing.
Kenji turns back to him, scowling again, and beckons Harry to the back. Going to be a long day, Harry thinks. No Apparating, he thinks. Ever again.
Slowly, they instill the language into Harry, using visual aids. Mostly, Harry learns useful phrases.
Like, "Hi, what would you like today?" or, "Oh, yes, I recommend the beef. It's pricey, but worth it." He should be more panicky, Harry thinks, wiping down the counter, but he comforts himself with the fact that most wizards are geographically handicapped, and this could be a vacation. Wonderful food, too, he thinks. This is the more positive side of things. Mostly, he doesn't know how to get back, nor contact his friends.
Apparating was out of the question.
Glancing up, Harry is reminded of why he hates this particular job. The duo's little stand was located at the most civilian boisterous village, between two ninja villages. It was a long journey. Needless to say, Harry is unsettled by them. Frightened, if he's willing to admit. This one is relatively young, but he doesn't let that throw him off.
Harry clears his throat, says, "What would you like?"
The boy glances up, before muttering softly, "Onigri." Harry blinks, mulls it over. Ah, right, rice balls. He wipes his hands on his apron, leans over and shouts the simple order. When he turns back to the boy he is staring.
Although he finds the ninja unsettling, Harry smiles. The boy blinks, looks away. The stand always got empty when a ninja frequented, Harry thinks, glancing behind the boy. Standing so close to the boy, he understands.
If he looks hard enough, he's sure he can find blood on the boy's hands. Still, while he found silence comforting, silence in the presence of a ninja was unnerving, although too common.
"What's your name?" Harry asks softly, purses his lips at the pile of dishes he spies. He can't use magic in front of the other boy. Or maybe he can, he does see ninjas perform impossible feats occasionally, but the instinct to hide is ingrained into him.
"Itachi." Harry almost starts in surprise. He asked a question, right.
"Nice to meet you, Itachi," Harry smiles, hopes he didn't stumble over the words too much. "My name is Hari."
Itachi nods, looking faintly bored, and Harry falters. Alright, next time he won't try to make small conversation. His plate of rice balls is done, and Harry places the dish in front of the boy. The boy nods in acknowledgment, or maybe gratitude- either way, Harry smiles. Harry settles for manually washing the dishes while the boy is eating his food, in an almost formal and polite manner. Not that anyone was watching. Except for Harry, of course, and at this thought, he turns around.
He doesn't notice the boy leave. It is only when he turns around, the bills clean and pristine (odd, he pictured it'd be more menacing, if you will), flattened on the table, does he realize the boy is gone. He feels a twinge of guilt when he's relieved.
A/N: rather short, for which i apologize. unfortunately, i don't consider this story as polished as my other ones so i posted on this account. this will be drabble-esqe in a way, since there will be time-skips, and it might not be in chronological order. whenever i update. non sexual Itachi/Harry, if y'know what i'm saying. thanks for reading, reviews would be adored!
2/3/13: Brushed away some grammatical errors. Will try to update soon.