Note to Readers: Well, it's been awhile since my previous Naruto fanfiction and I've changed quite a bit, especially in my writing. I hope you enjoy my new work as much as my old and keep with me. I started this the beginning of this year and am just now getting around to fully fleshing it out. Like pretty much everything I post here, this isn't beta-ed. As things stand now, you're due for a new chapter in about a week, so please let me know what you think about the characters, critiques, and your speculations on what the heck is going on in this crazy alternate universe. I need feedback to function as a creator, so don't be a stranger. As always, thank you for reading.

This fanfiction contains homosexuality. Boys with other boys in romantic as well as sexual situations. Flames will be ignored and deleted. This is nonprofit and I do not own Naruto. The writing itself, however, is mine and may not be posted elsewhere or altered unless done my own hand.

The Tattoo

by: Lin West

O(bscenity) N(ever) E(ffuses)

i.

Just as I grew weary with the passing of days, the grind of meaningless paperwork, the endless procession of transparent fronts everyone wears, the physical fatigue of staring at a screen typing all day, the jetlag to places I'd only visit on work, and loneliness and depression of falling asleep at night knowing if I died in my sleep the only who would know or care would be work from not punching in, a contradiction enters into my life.

It came to me in a pressed suit, crisp, bleach white shirt that was only a few hues lighter than his near translucent skin, and ink black hair that was far too trendy to fit his business-attire. I received him, my new manager, with a firm handshake and solemn expression and he likewise. Based on his appearance alone he seemed a suitable candidate for the position despite his youth, his grey eyes, black suit and hair, and milky skin coordinated well with the buildings sterile white walls and cold metallic accents.

My interactions during my first day with the man were just as colorful. I researched, I wrote reports, I delivered them to him, and he received with a flick of his wrist. His name was Mr. Takashiro, and personally I preferred for work relations to stay work relations so I was grateful for his lack of interest in me.

Which was why after work one day when Mr. Takashiro asked me out for a drink I surprised myself by accepting.

We went to some local bar that was within walking distance of the train station, conveniently for me. My apartment was on the southwest side of the city and I commuted everyday to the city's heart. A yellow glow ambiated the small room in warmth and was completely full with people looking to unwind after a day's work.

Glass hitting glass and rough laughter howled over Mr. Takashiro's tenor, "Have you been working this job long?"

"Far too long." I didn't meet his eyes, I busied myself with sipping a draft.

"You're very efficient in your work, you could easily get a job somewhere else." A compliment? But the tone of his voice made me believe it to be more of a statement than flattery.

I provided a noncommittal, "I guess."

His stoic face seemed to form a frown and his brow slightly furrowed, "Are you married or have any kids, Mr. Uzumaki?"

"Nope. How about you?"

He paused for a moment and seemed to study my face. "I have neither. But if steady money supply isn't holding you to your job, why are you staying here?"

What was he looking for? A sap story that would provide him entertainment? Did he think I would pour my heart out after a few drinks simply to satisfy his curiosity about his coworker's life outside the office? So even you are no different from all of them. Besides…if I wanted to tell him the real reason, I'm sure I would be fired and handed to authorities on the spot.

I put down a five and put back on my coat.

With a surprise etched into his sculpted face he questioned a bit louder than his normal speaking voice, "Where are you going?"

"I'll see you tomorrow." I step outside and I'm surprised to see Mr. Takashiro follow after me.

He said nothing, we merely walked forward in silence until he murmured. "I don't mean to wedge myself into your affairs, I was just curious why a man such as yourself is performing grunt work." He paused and then leaned in close with a smile stretching his thin lips, his breath tickles my ear as he whispered in an startlingly different, sardonic inflection, "Could it have something to do with those bandages on your cheeks..."

He couldn't possibly know…

"Or with your tattoo?"

He knows. My face turns hot and my vision tunnels as I turn to face the source of the devil's whispers, hoping in vain the words were whispered by the wind.

We've stopped walking and I could tell from the slight wrinkle forming at the corners of his lips that Mr. Takashiro was suppressing a wicked grin. "From your lack of response I'll take that as a yes." His inclination was smug as his eyes descended down to my stomach. "You know, you have a lot of guts working a nine to five. You could get found out real easy, and that wouldn't be so pretty."

Through my constricted throat, I carefully enunciated so that I didn't falter in my words and act as shaken as I felt. "What do you want from me, Mr. Takashiro?"

"Firstly, Mr. Takashiro is an alias. Secondly, I require use of your talents."

"I'm sorry but under no circumstances do I ever use my talents, as you call them. You'll have to find someone else."

"I'm afraid, Mr. Uzumaki, that you're personal morals are of no concern to me. If you refuse then," His hand presses softly against my stomach, against that dreaded spiral marking, "I'll have to require medical examinations and reports from all my coworkers. And the fact this company didn't require medical checks was the sole reason you applied here in the first place." A dark chuckle, "I'd love to know how the doctor would react when he would see the crimson stains down your stomach."

I twist his wrist and push him back, "So you've somehow found my skeletons. Don't you think you can puppet me with threats. If you know who I am, then you should know what I am capable of."

"I have notified my contacts that I should turn up dead then they are to turn your information into the feds."

The roar of the crowd in the afternoon rush and screech from cars and taxi blanketed our words, which would prevent stray ears from overhearing our exchange. "Oh yeah, what information?"

"The kind of information that will land you a place in laboratories and banish you to some unknown island that keeps no records of its patients." The man I only know by the name of Mr. Takashiro pulled a business card from his pocket and handed it to me, which I reluctantly plucked from awaiting cold digits. "You are to come to the location that is listed as my address tonight at ten. Come through the side entrance of the building and only the side entrance. Come alone." He smiled a smile that wasn't particularly pleasant, "Not that you have anyone to bring with you." His arm slid against mine as he evanescenced into the crowd.

I'm not sure how long I stood there in the cold, rose-tinted street as passerby's shoved against me. What could I do? It was over for me, all these years of neatly staying underground and unnoticed for naught. Did I really think that no one would come for me? I must have, and how naive of me to have believed for a moment I would go unnoticed and unpursued.

ii.

Most men would come with guns and bullets, but I had no need of metal.

The building I was to meet "Mr. Takashiro" was a normal and relatively small apartment complex. As he asked, I entered through the side that was left open with a wedge. How kind of him. I removed the stopper and let the door shut behind me.

What would he ask of me? Bank robbery, murder? I remembered the way his hand pressed against my stomach and the lingering brush of his arm. Maybe sex. As attractive as the man was, I do not plan on becoming a pet for a spoiled rich boy with an interest in occult incidents and too much time on his hands.

The warmth from the furnace kissed and warmed my face and lovingly held my hands. The walls were painted a warm tan-green color that I've come to associate with the trees around my own apartment complex when illuminated in sunlight. This building was deceivingly inviting.

iii.

He invited me into his flat with flourish that was probably well practiced. As I sat down on the living room couch and am surprised at the spaciousness of the apartment flat. Only simple furniture filled the space without so much as a TV, radio, or clock.

Instantly, it clicked. He must not live here, he probably kept a flat like this for the sole purpose of meeting people such as he was doing now. What kind of man have I been thrown in with? "I've made some coffee, would you care for any?"

"Considering the threats you're holding against me, I'm not about to take a drink from you."

"Hn." He sat down across from me and hands me a manila folder. "Since you don't care for pleasantries, here is what I need you to do for me: In this folder contains information regarding a man. You are to kill him at a specified time. Do this and I will disappear and you carry on your miserable, lonely existence doing desk work. You what happens if you don't."

I opened the folder and I am greeted with the face of my victim, a man with corpse-like skin, black hair, and equally black eyes. If I didn't know any better, I would say Mr. Takashiro and the man listed here as Mr. Uchiha were related. "Oh yeah? Did he fuck your woman? Steal your car?"

His stone eyes flicked for a moment with fire before he leaned forward, "You only need to kill him, the reasons why are unimportant." He roughly grabbed me chin and growled, "Or you know what will happen."

With calm, "So what's your real name?"

I was genuinely surprised when he answered, seemingly, truthfully. "Sasuke, but at work you are still to address me as Mr. Takashiro."

I jerked myself from his vice grip, "I'm curious to where your confidence comes from, Sasuke. How can you be so sure I am your guy?"

That smirk of his resurfaced and filled his face, "The fact that you actually showed up is proof enough, but I supposed I should check just to be sure, shouldn't I?" He stood and slid a knee between my legs and pushed me roughly to the couch.

"What do you think you're doing?" I hissed as his hands attempted to tear open my shirt. I grab him by his stupid feathered hair and jerked his head back, trying to throw him off me.

I felt a strong grip clamp down on my wrist, forcing me to relinquish my hand clawed in his locks. He pinned my hand above my head on the coach's armrest and my other hand quickly joined it. His laugh a low growl, "Grabbing my hair? You fight like a girl." His head lowered to mere centimeters away from my face and murmured with intrigue, "I wonder," His breath hot against my face and I could feel his body pressed against mine, "If you scream like one, too."

I spat on him, "Fuck you."

He growled as he wiped his face, his hand lingering venomously his cheek as if he wanted to rip it off. Then Sasuke moved so that his one hand held both of mine and his now liberated other hand unbuttoned my shirt. I attempted to kick, to wriggle, and squirm from him but he held me down with ease that led me to believe that this isn't he first time he's had to hold down an unwilling partner. He eyed my stomach greedily. His hand clutched the crimson pattern with avarice, as if he owned the piece of my skin. His grin widened and exposed a dual row of straight, flawless teeth. His brow rose, dividing the skin into three parts that deepened as he continued to speak, "You're definitely him."

"In the flesh." Whether his claims a bluff or not, my choice was obvious: I had none.