A/N: Thanks Gerald. I tried writing in a more plain style for this piece. I really hope it adds to the simple feeling of the story. This is written for a game on my dA. The keywords were "lights, camera, transaction," and this takes place in my Chasing After You universe. You don't have to know much about it to understand. Just realize that Sasuke and Naruto are around sixteen, and the driving age in Japan is eighteen, while the smoking age is twenty. Updated 1/6
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"Look at the light they're reflecting. They must have just put them in."
Sasuke gives a quick nod of his head, only registering half of what Naruto said. He isn't particularly in the mood to talk, but he has to admit that Naruto was right. The boundary lines on the mountain road they are driving on light up in a brilliant gold, stretching on for miles and miles.
New safety measures aren't uncommon nowadays in the mountains. Touge racing had been very popular, but there are new installations everywhere now. Speed bumps, extension of guard rails… you name it. Japan, as a quickly-growing country, has to ensure that all of its citizens were safe, even if that meant they have to lead her citizens by the hand. Sasuke doesn't care; he's driving even though he doesn't have a license and is underage.
Naruto frowns (just the slightest), but settlesback into his seat and closes his eyes. Sasuke knows he's going to dislike the yellow-haired boy's next words. "We'll be there soon, won't we? It's seriously getting bad-smelling in here. You smoke in here too? Don't your parents kno—"
"Shut up," Sasuke growls through his teeth.
Naruto, familiar to this kind of treatment, merely shrugs his shoulders and continues on, "Your parents will figure out you're driving their car. Either way, it's bad for your health. You should quit."
Sasuke stares at the trail of rich yellow on the road and accelerates the car.
He hates when Naruto is right.
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Sasuke settles down on the bench, letting out a low sigh of relief. It had taken them ages to drive to the recording station and then they practiced for an even longer time than it took to get there. He had decided to escape the loud room when Kiba and Naruto got into an argument over where they should have their next gig.
He eyes the line of vending machines lit up in white, artificial colors on the sidewalk. They're like businesses' best friends the way dogs are best friends to man. One can sell billions of things in them, they work all night, and they don't steal merchandise when they're not being watched. Best of all? They never have to get paid. There's never a transaction of money or transaction of respect between the machine owners and the machine.
The boy finds the machine he wants and walks toward it. He fishes out a crisp yen billbefore he reaches the vending machine. There's advertisements plastered over its dusty surface. "This model looks so cute when she's wearing our lipstick! BUY IT!" or "Purchase this product. These idols are paid to act like they use it, so you should use it too," are the things the posters tell Sasuke. They try (and fail) to captivate him with their myriad of font types and special effects of a five-year-old using Photoshop.
He looks over the contents inside, trying to find his normal choice of Camels.
Cigarettes.
But for some reason, Sasuke is more than just vaguely aware of the camera just above him. He normally wouldn't give a damn, (he looks older than twenty) but this time is odd. The lenses reflect everything around it, framing the reflection of his body in a pure white. The camera is spotless and looks newly installed.
Sasuke inserts the money into the machine and grinds his teeth. The camera still stares.
He presses the button and the machine lights up and its marquee flashes "Thank you!" The machine might as well bow just like a real store attendant does.
Sasuke reaches down and closes his fist around a small, unfamiliar box. Mild Seven Ultra Light better be good.