New story, here. Trying something in an AU setting of Naruto. Hope you readers enjoy, and anyone with feedback, comments, criticisms, or whatever...scream at me, as always. I want to raise the bar here, and reviews/PMs help me out a lot.
Thanks in advance. Hopefully you'll like it, and I've gotten a lot of inspiration from reading good fics. We'll see if I've absorbed anything in the end.
Extended Spin
[Alternate Universe]
The sunlight filtered through his apartment window, hitting him gently as he lay on his old couch. He had picked it up a garage sale, luckily. At the very least, it took up space in his near-empty living space.
His room had one bed and a dresser-drawer, nothing else. Not like he really slept in there much, anyways.
Two pairs of sneakers at the front door, one orange and one black to go with his standard outfits, which were variations on either black or orange.
And at a table in front of him as he sat up on the couch, an array of mixing equipment. His prized turntables rested on a separate table in one corner, near a stack of vinyl records. A pair of headphones rested on the stack, the long spring-like cord dangling above the wood floor.
The young man scratched his head and walked to the bathroom in his orange pajamas, getting himself ready for the day. While he brushed his teeth, he powered up the black laptop in the kitchen, checking over his music samples and e-mail with one hand while popping a bagel into the toaster with the other. Snapping a cord into one of the jacks on the laptop, he fiddled with a few dials on the nearby mixer as he listened to one piece of work that he finished last night. Or…thought he had finished.
"…Drums still don't sound right. Ugh…"
He marched back to the bathroom and finished his clean-up before getting dressed. He wore simple things, usually – today it was a solid orange shirt and black jeans. The weather was warm enough, so he forewent the jacket for the time being.
The toaster produced a freshly toasted bagel. Reliable as always. The blonde spread peanut butter over the two halves before pushing them together and wrapping it all up in a paper towel. He found his black backpack and after putting the laptop in its own case, put it into the pack. His headphones went around his neck, a flash drive into his pocket. He picked up an old needle for the 'tables and examined it before putting it into his pocket as well.
With all of that, he set out.
He stepped off of the bus and took a look at the building numbers to get a sense of his direction. After making sure he wasn't lost, he made his way down the city block and towards his destination.
Leaf City wasn't really an inherently good or bad place. It had its share of crime and corruption, but really, what city didn't? The streets were typical asphalt and cement, with some wear and tear, the potholes occasionally sticking out like a sore thumb and diverting traffic a few inches left or right.
The buildings ranged from ultra-modern to standard urban fare to traditional Japanese, and that was just the immediate area. There seemed to be a near infinite number of styles and types of structures within the city. The streets and buses running above ground seemed to be the only constant, since the trains were stylized depending on what routes they ran, as they moved while elevated high above the ground or running below it.
After about ten minutes of walking, one Naruto Uzumaki stopped in front of a door on the fifteenth floor of a high-rise apartment. He knocked, unsure of what would happen when the door opened. Well, if the door opened.
A small click sounded, but the blonde-haired boy noticed something very off about it. He noticed it was…
"…Desert Eagle…?" he muttered absent-mindedly.
His blue eyes widened as he leaped out of the way, a shot bursting through the door and into the wall behind him.
As he suspected, nobody even came out to check on the trouble. Either were scared or used to it by now.
"Who the fuck's there, man?"
"…Good morning to you, too…" Naruto muttered, picking himself up off of the floor. He turned as a guy wearing a wife-beater and faded jeans pointed his weapon in his face.
"Who're you?"
"Uzumaki. I've got your beats."
"You strapped?"
"No."
"Where they at?"
"Left pocket," he said without moving.
"…It's cool. Come inside and give me a listen." The black man stuffed his pistol behind his back and ushered Naruto in. Once inside, the blonde unloaded his laptop and made the necessary connections before starting up his tracks.
"Sounds dope! I heard you were something, man."
"Glad you like it."
"Hold on a moment, man." He disappeared into a back room and came out with a wad of cash, tossing it to Naruto quickly. "Enjoy, you earned it. This shit is dope," he said with a suppressed glee.
Naruto flipped through the bills and stifled a frown.
Less than half of what he was promised. And he likely wouldn't get a mention for doing the beats, either. But…had to take what you could get nowadays.
"Thanks. Hopefully I'll see you around."
"No doubt, no doubt. Take it easy, brother."
Naruto packed up and made his way out of the apartment, stuffing the money into his wallet. He took out his transit pass at the same time and sprinted for the bus that was coming down the road just then.
He needed to make another stop today.
The brown-haired girl turned her head as the door chimes rang out. Since she didn't have all that many customers this time of day, she could guess who was coming through the door next by the quick ringing of the chimes as the door opened and closed.
"Yo," he said to her before disappearing into a row of vinyl records.
She smiled as he scanned through the records with interest and wonder. An interesting guy, that one…he was a regular customer, too, which was always nice. And it looked like he was actually into the records he bought, not just buying them for some grand and pretentious collection or the like. Business was business, but still…Tenten felt that she wanted real, genuine customers to buy the things off of her shelves. Even if it meant going out of business…those records needed to be truly taken care of.
And she knew that Naruto would do so, as he had always done. Handling everything with the utmost care, whether it was his equipment or music. She admitted that he seemed like the clumsy, aloof type.
Well, he was…but when it came to music, he was suddenly on a completely different level. It was a beautiful thing.
She patted the twin buns on her head, making sure they were in place before she started her maintenance, following the young man into the shelves of vinyl discs and dusting lightly.
"This one's unlabeled…no name," he said to seemingly no-one in particular.
"What's the number on it?" she replied casually.
"It says…25-23."
"Uh…Holy Thursday, I think."
"David Axelrod?"
"Yeah."
"Cool."
Another period of silence passed between them, before she spoke again.
"You sent those beats off, right?"
"Yeah, earlier."
"What'd he think?"
"He said they were dope," Naruto said with a shrug. "I won't lie, it wasn't my best work. I messed up the drums on one track."
"He still liked it?" she inquired.
"Apparently."
"Was that the one with that Motown sample?"
"Yeah, that one."
"Sounded incomplete to me," she said.
"Me too. Apparently they're taking whatever these days. Mind you…I got shot at while delivering."
She took a look over at him. "Seriously?"
"Desert Eagle, right through the front door." He added the sound effect for good measure as she shook her head.
"Sheesh…hey, don't go too far for these characters, now. It's bad enough you're getting screwed out of royalties."
The radio blared up with a song, and Tenten moved across the room to switch the station. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she did so.
"Another one…Naruto…" That background was one she had heard him work with just a few months ago.
"It's not that great a song, anyways. Some people say business is business…that's just not me."
There was a sincerity in his eyes that calmed Tenten at that moment. Maybe he wasn't rich and famous, but he didn't mind. Well…neither did she, then.
"You're right. I guess I should just take it easy."
"…Tenten?"
"Yeah?"
He gave her a smile. "Thanks for looking out."
"You…don't have to thank me for that."
"I'm doing it anyways, though."
"Heh…yeah, I guess so." She sighed and gave him a smile as he walked to the counter with a bundle of records and a turntable needle in one hand.
"Oh, replacement?"
"Spare. Can't be too careful."
"True." She pulled open a drawer and found the piece she needed quickly. For some reason, she had set up a neat little spot just for the things that Naruto might need when he came in, besides records. Maybe she valued him more than she thought…
"Mixer come in?" he asked with anticipation.
"Not yet."
"Damn. Oh, well…" He shrugged. "I can wait a bit longer."
"Listen, if you need any help paying it off…"
"Don't worry about that. I'll be fine."
"Naruto." There was a serious look in her eyes. "Don't overdo it. I know the situation, okay?"
"…I promise I won't. It'll be okay. You'll see."
"I trust you, then."
"Heh, I never go back on my word, you know that!"
"That's true…just be careful."
"I will. See ya, Tenten."
"Later, Naruto."
She watched him leave the store, a strange feeling of melancholy washing over her. He wasn't doing as well as it seemed. She knew it.
She just hoped he really could keep his promise…
Night's curtain fell. The beginning of a new act.
Naruto stepped out of his apartment, carrying a heavy-duty suitcase along with his usual equipment. Tonight, he'd be doing a few easy gigs, getting paid for simply mixing tunes and having proper timing. He was good at that.
Thing was, he wanted to do a bit more. He was known as a disc jockey, or DJ. But what he aspired to be was a turntablist – someone who didn't just play records, but made music by using the records themselves, the stylus or 'needle', and the mixer in between them to make music. Real music.
Something that he could grasp, get control of. Something that was special, in a weird sort of way. Making beats was all well and fine, but…he didn't want to get famous as a producer for a bunch of flavour-of-the-month rappers or vocalists. No, he wanted to make it to the top on his own merits, through his scratching.
He had no idea how good he was in comparison to the competition. He'd been practicing with his own equipment, but found he needed a better mixer. Maybe once that came in, he'd register for some events.
For now, though…it was time to work the circuit.
She turned her head away from the crowd around her, looking for something to disrupt the monotony of what she was stuck in.
Nothing.
What a bother.
She brushed her blonde hair to the side for a moment, before letting it fall over the left side of her face as it always did. Her eyes were a light blue, yet carried no brightness in them. She was sick of the scene and bored of what was around her.
Sure, she was famous. Sure, she had brought big acts to the big screen and the small screen and all the screens in between, above and beyond. Didn't matter when everything was so fake.
Damn…when had she realized this? A month ago? Two? Ten? Yet she still attended these lame parties when asked. Image mattered, sadly, so she had to appear at all of these little events and show her face, just to show everyone that she cared.
Not that she actually gave a damn.
The club was packed, as usual. Some A-listers had come out. More B-listers. Lots more C-listers. D-listers? A grade too low for this event, sorry.
Though there were common folk, but they probably paid an arm and a leg to get in. Maybe sold a kidney on top of it.
Ino Yamanaka sighed and took a seat, with the red dress she wore hugging her curves gently. A string of pearls was around her neck, tastefully matched with her diamond bracelet and red pumps. She clicked open her small red purse and drew out a compact mirror, checking herself over. Wouldn't do to look any less than perfect.
She caught a large entourage coming through the front door in the reflection of her mirror. One look was all she needed to figure out who they were. The so-called 'guests of honour'.
About a year ago, she had managed to discover a promising young artist, who went by the name of Young Bull on the streets. She had been impressed with who he was, with his smart lifestyle and convictions. He was a kid from the ghetto, so what? He was a damn good rapper and vocalist. Not too many of those types nowadays.
It took a grand total of 2 months, 15 days, and 4 hours for her to utterly regret that decision. She had created a monster, and didn't see it until it was too late. In record time, he had changed into the exact opposite of what he had started out as – an intelligent rapper. Now it was about money. Appealing to the masses. And more money.
Ino felt guilty. She felt dirty and ashamed for what had transpired. And now, looking at Bull and his entourage striding up, she knew that this was a juggernaut of her own creation. Although she had to admit…whoever he was tapping for his beats these days was something else entirely. The drums didn't sound right on one of the samples she heard recently…but other than that, everything had been pretty tight in terms of backgrounds.
As she listened to the murmur of the crowd, she learned that one of Bull's protégés was stepping up tonight. B-Money, he called himself. Classy.
There was a local DJ on the 'ones and twos', as they were called. Some kid…she didn't bother to take in his name.
He mixed in songs throughout the night, pulling some classics up every now and again. At the very least, he had good taste in material.
Finally, there was buzz about a 'world premiere' by B-Money coming up. A vinyl record was handed to the DJ, who accepted it skilfully and laid it out on the turntable. The instrumental started, and the kid started rhyming over it.
Garbage, Ino thought bitterly. But the masses will lap it up like nothing else…even though I could tear him apart with something off the top of my head. This punk probably took half a year to come up with this…
She winced at a cheesy line and cast a passing glance at the young DJ…then noticed him rifling through a crate of records. What was he…?
He popped back up, obviously satisfied with his choice, and placed the record on the opposite turntable. After a few seconds, the song carried into the chorus.
And it was the most beautiful thing Ino had heard in her life.
Young Bull's posse looked back and cast a focused death glare at the blonde-haired DJ. He blinked his blue eyes twice before speaking into the microphone, noting everyone staring at him.
"Uh…fixed the drums."