Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto
Chapter 01
White eyes tinted with the slightest hint of lavender watched as a black-and-white police car almost flew over the asphalt of the street. The emergency beacons were all activated but the lights weren't noticed due to the neon-lit street and the sirens sounded hushed compared to the music that sounded from clubs lining the street. The young man smirked as the car almost crashed into a building as it missed the curve.
With a shake of his head he continued walking down the street, occasionally taking a drag of his black cigarette. His beautiful long coffee-coloured hair fell over his shoulders like a water-fall and it contrasted nicely against the light-grey colour of the suit he was wearing.
He knew he stood out on the street wearing a suit that was so obviously not made locally, in Japan even. But he didn't care when people took a step to the side as he passed, trying not to look him in the eye as they curiously regarded him. He simply kept walking, the amused smirk still etched on his lips. He was Neji Hyuuga after all.
He was halfway down the street when he abruptly turned to his right. He stood in front of the Sharingan Slot Parlour if one were to believe the neon-lit sign that hung above the entrance. Through the glass doors he could see the gamblers sitting at the slot machines and he pulled up his nose in disgust. Filthy men and women that couldn't lay off of the gambling, sitting behind these godforsaken machines instead of entertaining their families under the false pretence of having to work overtime. A pathetic lot was what he thought them to be. It made him glad this was not the business he was working in.
Taking one last drag from his cigarette he threw it onto the ground, putting it out with the heel of his black dress-shoe.
The moment he neared the entrance the doors were opened for him by two rough looking men, both in black business-suits. They nodded their heads in acknowledgement and on equally rough tones chorused: "Sir."
Neji nodded his head yet didn't bother to look either of the man in the eye. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the scenery in front of him with a look that came very close to disgust.
Slot machines were lined up in perfect straight lines, going all the way to the back. People, from businessmen to tramps, sat hunched over in their chairs watching the machines intently not even paying attention at someone entering the pachinko parlour.
Bright lights flickered on and off from both the machines and the ceiling while the machines seemed to radiate a constant glow. With a sigh he started to walk to the back of the parlour, still thinking that the black and white vinyl that covered the floor should have been forbidden by law.
In his opinion, this place was where the scum of the town met. Because as he got nearer to the back, the more hushed whispers he heard and the more looks he received. In the back of the parlour was where men, sometimes an occasional woman, thought of plans to fool the yakuza. How utterly wrong and stupid these people were, he thought with huff.
That the government claimed that no gambling parlours were in yakuza hands didn't immediately mean that it was accurate information they told their people. Because if one were to ever make a list of compulsive liars residing in Japan, the government would be on top of that list.
It was pathetic that people still held such belief in their government to believe every word being said, every promise being made. It wouldn't be too long before everyone in this on the eye quiet town just outside the metropolis of Tokyo would get smacked with reality. And what a hard wall they would crash into.
When he reached the back of the parlour and was about to ascend the stairs that were hidden mostly in the darkness of a hallway, a hand was roughly placed on his shoulder.
He wasn't shocked, merely surprised and very agitated when he turned around to face the unlucky person that chose to mess with him today.
The man that stood in front of him looked despicable. A long, thin sluggish figure with ribs showing, probably the cause of malnutrition. And if the body and posture of the man weren't bad enough, his face would scare any woman in the world away. Sunken cheeks, thin chapped lips, droopy eyes and multiple scars covering his bald head.
This was the kind of man that wanted to look tough but in reality was only fooling himself.
In a voice that sounded like the man had drunken too much alcohol and afterwards had received a blow to his private parts, the man said: "You can't go up there."
With a blow the man was pushed against the side of a slot machine, fear flashing through his now wide eyes as a hand was putting great pressure on his neck and lungs. His entire body was shaking and Neji hadn't felt like beating someone up this badly for a long time.
But instead of punching the living daylights out of the man, he glared at him with his frightening eyes and on a tone that meant death when defied hissed: "I can't what?"
Never in his life had the man, that was now facing the wrath of someone he should have figured out was dangerous the moment he had caught sight of him, felt this scared. Surely he was about to wet his pants when he answered the threatening person on a shrill voice. "Y-you -"
The man immediately stopped speaking as he heard footsteps coming from the stairs. Someone was descending and he shivered with fear. He closed his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to live through the night if someone from upstairs thought the man that was pushing him against the machines was worth the trouble of coming down. "Have mercy." He whispered, his desperate voice indicating he was silently praying to himself.
"Heh," the white-eyed young man chuckled for a second before throwing the man he was holding down to the ground. "Don't worry," he said, his voice sounding surprisingly husky as he spoke, "with your looks even your mommy won't mourn your death."
The bald man scrambled up and fell down on his knees, pitifully bowing his head until his forehead touched the dirty ground. He whimpered as the person that had surely come to kill him stood still next to his tormentor.
Itachi, the man who had come down the stairs, was tall and menacing in posture with long raven-black hair. He snapped his fingers and not even two seconds later the bald man was hauled off of the ground by two black-suited man.
Itachi chuckled at the fright that showed on the face of his victim and in an almost amused tone said: "You don't have to worry, after we're done with you no-one will even recognize that ugly body of yours."
"Neji," without looking at the brown-haired man as he spoke, Itachi turned around and motioned for Neji man to follow him up the stairs, which he did with a grin.
The bald man was dragged out of the back-door of the parlour, his begs and screams for forgiveness ignored as everyone in the parlour turned back to their games.
Neji watched the strong muscled back of the man in front of him and grinned when the door at the top of the stairs was held open for him by the sexy man.
When he wasn't at the compound he was treated like this most of the time due to the clothes he wore and the dangerous aura that surrounded him. But when Itachi held the door for him, he knew it was out of respect instead of fear. And in a world where respect was hard to find, he couldn't help but feel a little flattered.
When he entered the room that was situated on the second floor he almost sighed happily at the contrast it showed with the parlour downstairs.
Neji, although he was particularly raised in such surroundings, disliked the parlour.
He disliked being in a crowd because of the people pressing against him, pushing and shoving, and the big risk someone would try to kill him. Not that he wasn't capable of defending himself, on the contrary. It were simply situations he'd rather avoid.
Besides, the parlour was always filled with men and women with bad records and almost looked like a spaceship because of the thousand bright lights on the slot machines.
That though, wasn't the worst in Neji's opinion. It was the smell of cigarette-smoke, the faint odour of a garbage-dump and a body that hadn't been washed in days that seemed to waft through the air of the parlour that disgusted him most.
But as to where the parlour was disgustingly old-fashioned and cheaply decorated the private area on the first floor radiated wealth, luxury and an overall comfortable atmosphere. It was after all the sanctuary of both Itachi Uchiha and Kakashi Hatake, both known for their expensive tastes and adoration for one-of-a-kind furniture.
A good example of that was the couch that stood in the middle of the rectangle room, facing the ceiling-high window that overlooked the street. The couch was an acquisition of Kakashi and in Neji's opinion a complete eyesore.
He had mentioned once that the L-shaped white-leather couch with bloodstains painted across it was awfully tacky, dated and looked absolutely hideous in the room with the beautiful, well-kept wooden-floor. Itachi had claimed it was beautiful art and very well-made since it could be used as a couch as well.
When Neji had protested against that, Kakashi had chimed in and it took only two minutes and two complete colour-blind, distasteful persons to shut Neji up about the subject forever.
In the corner on the other side of the room stood another piece of furniture that one would not see everywhere. But in Neji's opinion it did fit quite well in the surroundings. It was a small bar with a flowery design carved into the wooden sides. It was an old-fashioned bar with stained glass lamps with dimmed lights hanging above it, casting a yellowish glow in the hindmost left corner of the room. The left corner if one were to stand on the street that is. Against the wall behind the bar hung a glass cabinet which contained numerous bottles of liquor from all over the world.
In one of the three barstools, placed with their backs to the door, sat a young man, tapping his fingers against the lacquered wooden top of the bar. The barstools that had the same look as the bar itself and the man, who had hair as black as the midnight-sky and pale skin that looked almost as porcelain would, fit right in.
"Hate the suit." Neji commented on a dry tone and a smirk etching his pinkish lips as he caught sight of the man.
The suit indeed looked hideous and it was a pity it was worn by a man who in general turned every women's head when he walked down a street. Not in the suit he was currently wearing though.
And of course Neji was slightly at fault for giving his friend the suit-jacket. It was an ugly, moss-green jacket that surprisingly fit quite snugly with the pale man's curves.
"Yes," the man turned around and looked at Neji with his jet-black eyes that could make any desired person either swoon or want to hide in fear. He looked slightly dismayed and his thin lips turned downwards in an almost disapproval way as he spoke. "You should know."
Neji's smirk only grew at the comment.
The black dress-shoes and pants could go well with a simple white button-up and would have the man look as authoritarian and imposing as he always did. And even though the green jacket with nothing underneath it did show a well-shaped muscular chest, it still looked hideous.
There was of course only one reason Neji had given his friend such a thing for his birthday. Neji himself had received a leather collar, along with a leash from his friend thus in his opinion this revenge was justified.
It was, next to a convenient gift, also a good riddance for he himself had received the green suit-jacket for his birthday. Even though his always green-clad bushy eye-browed friend had given it to him as a genuine gift.
Yet, now that he actually saw someone wearing the thing he was damned glad he had not ever done so. "Why are you wearing it, Sasuke? Isn't that going against almost every rule in your 'Road to Vanity' book?"
Immediately after Neji finished his question Sasuke's expression turned into a scowl and in a snarl he proclaimed: "I was out of clean clothes, the washer is on strike."
It wasn't often that Neji found himself in a surprised state but with the Uchiha brothers, even Hell could freeze over. He blinked. "She is on strike?"
Sasuke huffed and shook his head with a dark look. "He. Last week that stupid cunt that has washed my clothes for years claimed I looked at her suggestively." He let out a mocked laugh before continuing. "Now this new guy claims I made a pass at him." Sasuke grumbled.
Neji rolled his eyes. It was unusual of domestic staff to come up with such accusations. But sometimes a daring man or woman would show up with the intentions of making some money of trying to blackmail their masters into paying them a fee to shut up about a crime they had not committed.
Neji had had a housekeeper that had tried such a thing with him too. But the Hyuuga's, as were the Uchiha's, were Yakuza and no-one could fool the master in deception. With a small sigh Neji brushed an elegant hand through his long brown tresses. "This town needs to be taught not to defy us." He sighed.
"Oh don't worry." Sasuke smirked as he spoke and Neji could hear Itachi chuckle behind him. It was a deep, rich sound that would have Neji shiver hadn't he heard it a million times before.
"After they find the bodies of our unfortunate cleaners we'll get all the respect we want again." Hot breath ghosted over Neji's ear and he smirked as a sure, strong hand was pressed against the small of his back.
Without looking up Neji let himself be gently nudged towards the couch. "People sometimes need to be reminded this village is run with a tight reign." He said.
Instead of sitting down on the couch he took several more steps until he stood in front of the ceiling-high window that covered the entire street-side of the room.
"Bourbon?" Itachi asked and without waiting for a reply from the beautiful male standing in front of the window made his way to the bar.
While he waited, Neji watched the street with a disgusted look etching his beautiful face. One of the men that loitered about the street that was lit by street-lamps and flashing multi-coloured neon-lights fell onto the ground, puking his guts out.
It was the kind of man that was married with a child, maybe two, and a decent paying job. The kind of man that had proud parents because their child grew up to have the perfect life. It were those kind of men that were most unsatisfied with their life's, wishing they could be someplace else, working somewhere else with a not-so-average girl clinging to their arms.
Those men were regulars at the pachinko parlour. Neji had heard them claim it was a one-time thing. They just needed to get away from the Misses for a few hours.
It perhaps started out as the truth but after coming back for three times and more it slowly turned into the simple lie of having to work over-time.
"Disgusting creatures aren't they?" Itachi asked as he dangled the half-filled glass of Bourbon on the rocks in front of Neji who took it silently as his expression darkened.
"I will never understand how you can work in the parlour." He informed his friend as his lips were pressed against each other in a thin line.
When he laid eyes on men such as the ones outside he was always relieved he was not born into a Bakuto family, who were traditional gamblers and could be considered gambling gangs. It was true that Yakuza who dealt with gambling and such made good money and had a lesser chance of getting caught then his blackmailing activities.
But Neji was grateful he did not have to witness desperate men, addicted to gambling and alcohol and who knows what, pleading for only a hundred dollar. He'd rather have someone find him blackmail material, create it if necessary, and then pay a visit to the unfortunate victim.
With a small smile Neji sipped his drink. He closed his eyes as he felt the strong liquor glide down his throat as he drank, the feeling spreading a familiar warmth through his body and he couldn't help but sigh.
This were always the perfect evenings. The private Uchiha lounge was always a peaceful place to Neji. Standing in front of the window, drinking one of the best Bourbon flown into the country just for him by Itachi, feeling the other man's body heat against his back. Life was good the way it was.
TBC.
