This is a really long chapter. REALLY LONG.
This is what I was doing all day yesterday, instead of homework. Oopssss
The next chapter is unplanned, but hopefully it'll turn out well. Crossing my fingers!
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Sorry.
Having booked her flight, Tenten became even surer that her plan would succeed. She had splurged (it was the last time, it was totally warranted) on a first-class ticket. When told that someone had reserved the entire area, she only had to threaten…er, convincingly ask the customer service respondent if they were willing to keep their job if she directly contacted their manager. After pushing the poor replier to near-tears, he finally arranged for her to sit in the first-class section of the plane. No matter who it was, no matter how extremely important the person, she was not going to give up the last piece of luxury she would ever have.
Besides—one person couldn't possibly keep an entire cabin for themselves.
She checked the flight details one last time. It would leave early in the morning on Sunday—she needed time to sneak out of the house. Her parents were early birds (7:00 am was an ungodly hour, but it ran in the family), so she was determined to get up even earlier. Tenten would not take any chances. She also took the liberty of hiring a cab service to get her to the airport on time.
She would have gone with the limo…but the cab seemed a bit more frugal.
She had wiped all her tracks, cleared her history and records and everything, taking the situation into her own hands so her parents wouldn't be able to follow her and drag her back, in the case there was some arranged money-marriage situation.
"Tenten dah-ling!" called her mother from downstairs. "You should head off to bed now! We've got a weekend full of sorting to do!" She heard her mother call to her father off at the side. "Isn't this exciting? Family bonding time! Oh dear, I've always dreamed of spring cleaning with the family. Now that we don't have to hire cleaning services anymore, we can just rely on our Busy Bee Tenten!"
She cringed at the term of endearment. Busy Bee Tenten. What an atrocious nickname, but so nauseatingly appropriate. For her entire life, clutter and disarray had rattled her nerves, so she cleaned as hard as a worker bee to keep things organized. Her parents thought it was cute, hence the nickname. Yet, it was a useful trait: glancing around her room, she noted with a happy air that indeed, her room was spotless and organized to tip-top shape.
Her suitcase, already packed, was hidden in her closet, away from prying eyes.
"Tenten? Did you hear me? Time to sleep!"
"Okay, I'm going, I'm going…" she called, ignoring the enormous sense of guilt and regret that was now filling her up. Her disappearance would hurt her parents like no other. She would leave a note the departure day, telling them she was safe. But if she lost this chance, it was over: she needed to hold onto her courage and headstrong sense until the end. Until the plane. Until there was no turning back.
Tenten quickly washed up and brushed her hair before she went to sleep, noting its long length. And she had split ends.
A trim was necessary.
A new haircut, a new outlook, a new life…
She let the strands of hair fall back in place, pursing her lips. She wasn't mentally prepared yet, but that didn't matter.
Thirty-four hours left.
Start the countdown.
"Mr. Hyuuga! Question!" yelled someone from the immense crowd. The interview was nearly finished, having started quite a while ago, bright and early in the morning. Neji politely indicated for the man to speak, but he was truly bored to the core. The same questions popped up everywhere. If they really needed that information, it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to search it up on the internet.
Why Mandarin? Why are your hopes placed on the Chinese market?
You said you were aiming for something new and fresh—what do you feel about the rookie singer copying your style?
What hopes do you have for the future of J-pop?
"I heard you fired your last maid. What do you have to say about it? From recent interviews, it seems like she said she quit because your demands and regimen were too tough."
He snorted softly through his nose. Rumors and paparazzi; a few things on his "strongly-dislike" list.
"No comment."
If he said anything else, they were sure to warp it.
The reporter scowled, obviously unpleased. Neji ignored him and moved onto another person, a foreigner sitting up front.
"Mr. Hyuuga," she said, once he had acknowledged for her to speak, "You are currently revered as one of the highest paying stars in Japan. What can you say about getting to this point, now that you've started to sell your tracks in foreign markets?"
"I would say," he said, pretending to think modestly, "That while this is surely an honor and an immense amount of work was placed into this, expanding here is merely the beginning. I dream of having a world that is united through a type of music. I wish for people of all ages to be exposed to things they've never heard of: a style they're unaccustomed to—and that can only be achieved through even more effort. I will continue to work hard, despite the successes I've faced. There's always an end to everything, I hope to see it quite further along the road."
Watson nodded approvingly from the sidelines. Neji allowed himself a mental pat on the back for an eloquent answer and a job well done. The reporter looked stunned at his answer, momentarily faulting for a moment before thanking him.
More hands went up, more cameras flashed, blinding him with their bright lights.
His legs were getting restless.
Only two more hours to go.
oOo
"Another interview?" he scowled, slouching unhappily in the front seat of the rented car. Watson who was at the wheel, smiled sympathetically.
"This is the road you chose, Neji-san. Bear with it. I'm old, but hopefully we can find another helper too. It would make things easier for the both of us." He drove carefully, avoiding the pedestrians on the street.
"It's not fair," Neji grumbled. "I'm sick of these interviews, there are hardly any creative questions anymore, and I'm trying to keep my head in check but it's becoming rather difficult. You get me?"
"Of course, Neji-san."
"You always do," he replied, but still sulking. If Watson hadn't been there for him every step of the way, he probably would have quit by now.
Work was hard. He rarely had breaks, save for the car rides. Glancing out the window, Neji observed his surroundings, swearing to engrave everything in his mind. Images of beautiful Asian women graced the LED lights of buildings, posing for the camera only they could see. He glimpsed the signs of stores written in characters he couldn't read, bolded in red, yellow, black, and white. Little girls, no older than ten, walked on the sidewalks with their neat and short hair.
"Do you like it here?" Watson asked kindly, stopping at a red light.
Neji contemplated it for a second, choosing his words carefully. "China…no matter how many times I come here, it seems different; ever changing…a shift of the kaleidoscope, breaking my preconceived notions every time the tube is twisted."
"A good metaphor. You're growing."
"If only I could squeeze that into an interview. That would surely make me sound more sophisticated."
Laughing and gently stepping on the gas, Watson replied, "You've already become sophisticated."
Neji smiled, an action he rarely let others see. "You praise me too much."
"Only because you deserve it. Compliments do not come from me very easily, you should know that," Watson explained, eyes still trained on the road.
"…I know." Neji glanced at his butler. "And that's why I'm so grateful for it."
Watson smiled, and allowed himself a second's glance at his young charge. "You've grown."
Then the eyes were back on the road again.
"This conversation again?" grumbled Neji, flushing a little. Inwardly however, he was pleased.
The car ride would only last a bit longer. He was going to savor every moment.
"Please turn left on—recalculating. Signal lost."
…But that was a bad sign.
"We're going to be late again, aren't we?" Neji asked casually.
Watson raised an eyebrow. "Since when were we ever on time?"
oOo
"Thank you, Mr. Hyuuga, for your patience and dedication. I hope you enjoy your stay in China."
Neji smiled contently, waving at the interviewers as he left the stage, but inwardly feeling glad that it was over. Now there was only one left to go after lunch, a TV show, and then he was on the flight back home. He saw Watson out of the corner of his eye, and immediately felt a sense of extreme guilt. His butler looked exhausted, face a little ashen, nicely trimmed mustache looking more straggly by the minute. Taking care of all the appointments by himself was taking a toll on him.
Watson clearly needed some time off.
Neji struggled with his inner thoughts, wondering if he should begin hiring again. He wasn't comfortable with certain guys doing the chores he required, and girls even less so.
But he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of his close companion.
As they got into the car and Watson started up the engine, Neji casually said: "I think I'm considering hiring another person."
"Is that so?" replied Watson, passing him a bento box and chopsticks. Neji opened his lunch, discovering rice, steamed vegetables, a side of noodles, and beef. One thing he was sure of: cooking would be the one job he would leave to no one else—it was Watson's right, his privilege, to be the chef of the house.
Neji took a bite of his meal as they pulled out of the parking lot and got back on the busy streets. "Yes. You look tired lately since everything is piling up on your shoulders. Even when those girls were there, you had it easier. Now you look completely stressed. Dead tired. I'll be taking a break from work soon enough so you can have a vacation."
Watson's eyes turned steely, pursing his lips at the comment. "If you did that, I would lose an immense amount of respect for you. This is my job, taking care of you. It is your job to entertain, not to worry about me. It's true, it was easier with others—but at your expense. They harassed you to no end. I would rather you just focus on your goals. I can take care of myself."
Neji stayed silent, fuming inside. While he was upset with Watson for telling him off, he understood his butler's viewpoint. He had to respect it, and listen to his wishes, no matter how much he opposed them.
Because they were more logical than his idea, which was solely based on his emotions.
Watson sighed, noticing the agitation on Neji's face. "But, I do appreciate your concern. Thank you."
"Mm."
Neji was still upset. Shoulders scrunched, a scowl on his face, he munched on the snow peas quietly; thinking all the way and determined this time around to take matters into his own hands if Watson wasn't better by the end of the week.
They arrived at their next destination, surprisingly punctual. His fans were waiting outside the doors, holding up signs with his name and songs, cameras and phones out and ready to go. Watson's presence made them slightly retreat again, but Neji knew if a single grain of the balance was tipped, they'd be all over him in a heartbeat. He waved and smiled at his fans, the image of a perfect celebrity. But he, like so many in his industry, truly did appreciate them—sometimes the thought of his fans was the only thing that kept him going when recording long into the night.
The rush of air conditioning from the building was welcome. He was immediately ushered in to the interview where he sat calmly at a table, legs crossed, Watson at his side, and ready to take on any questions thrown at him.
Lights flashed, but he refused to blink awkwardly. He held up a hand, signifying the start of his last interview in China. Hands whipped out, waving in the air, cameras focusing on him.
He chose a pretty looking lady sitting near the far back.
"Mr. Hyuuga, how do you feel about speaking Mandarin? Don't you sometimes feel a little embarrassed, or inadequate?"
Easy question. "Every artist has a weakness or more. Mandarin is certainly not my strong point, but I am currently trying to improve my speaking and writing skills in this field. And about embarrassment; its not necessarily embarrassed per say because it is a foreign language I'm not comfortable with yet, but more of a desire to do better. I want to be able to hold conversations with my Chinese fans as well."
He saw her taking note of his response, and sighed as the sea of hands grew restless still. There was still more to go. Being an idol was certainly tiring at times.
This was one of those times.
It was finally Monday. Her alarm was on, but Tenten just lay in bed, waiting for it to go off, too excited and restless to relax. She had checked, double checked, triple checked, and checked again to make sure she had everything she needed to survive. The most important problem at the time was money. There was a limited amount that she had on hand. Sure, it was a quite formidable sum, but it wouldn't last her long.
She would need a job. Preferably a job that paid her well enough to continue her previous lifestyle.
Her transcript, courtesy of her school, was given to her at her request. It wasn't shabby: she had worked hard, and the grades reflected it. The file was safely tucked away in case it was needed for hiring.
The tiniest beep came from her clock and she turned it off quickly, springing out of bed and washing up as quietly as possible. When she was done, she tiptoed down the stairs with her luggage.
It was still a bit dark out side, the sun having just crossed over the horizon.
She sneaked a bite of something to eat, and cast one last, forlorn look at the upstairs where her sleeping parents resided, not knowing that their daughter was running away.
Tenten shook her head. The cab would be coming soon. She couldn't dwell on such matters. She opened her front door, hauling her belongings out, and closing the entryway silently. Locking it for good measure, she stood out on her vast driveway, waiting for the cab to show up. The green taxi with its missing passenger seatbelts showed up minutes later, spitting grey exhaust into the air. The driver came out and helped Tenten put her luggage in the trunk, then motioned for her to take shotgun.
She complied. It was the only other seat in the car with a seatbelt. And driving to the airport in China could take a lot of maneuvering.
She didn't really have any intention of dying before they even reached the plane.
"Running away?" the cab driver asked, expertly reversing and getting onto the street. Her house grew smaller and smaller, retreating into the distance. Her neighborhood, so familiar to her, flashed across her eyes, giving her a glimpse of the place she was leaving. Tenten gazed out the window, looking at what perhaps would be her last view of her home.
"Yeah," she answered quietly, noting the blurs of the trees that whizzed by, "You could say that."
oOo
She arrived at the airport, slightly shaken and nervous. The cab ride had been eventful, but it led up to an even greater hurdle.
Throughout her eighteen years of life, she had never been on a plane.
Oh sure, she knew how the system worked, which terminals to go on, gate numbers, baggage check-ins—but getting on a plane? That skill couldn't be described on the internet.
She quickly got her ticket and began waiting in line for the luggage check-in. Observing the people around her, she noticed families struggling to handle their bags and children at the same time. She saw businessmen talking rapidly into their phones, some in Chinese, some in Japanese, and others in English. Couples held hands and made lovey-dovey eyes at each other, which made her a tad uncomfortable
Tenten averted her eyes on that one.
How sad was it that she was the only one without a companion?
Peoples' voices echoed around the air.
The line moved slowly along, and it was finally her turn. She checked in her bags with no difficulty.
The rest of the procedures were easy too; requiring only a bit of common sense and compliance with the rules. She arrived at her gate an hour earlier and sat in a chair, ready to catch up on some missed sleep.
But the giant, roaring planes outside prevented Tenten from resting, instead filling her mind with worrisome thoughts. She sat, uneasy and tense, clenching her hand in a repeated fashion, hoping to dispel her jumbled emotions.
She watched others arrive and sit down, some good looking, most average.
One man stood out like a sore thumb.
He was sulking and looking quite upset, constantly checking his phone, legs crossed angrily.
And he was perhaps, one of the most attractive men Tenten had seen for a while.
She swallowed and tried to look busy, but still admiring him from her seat. If she could stand up, casually start a conversation—how lucky would she be?
Apparently, the other girls at the gate were having the same idea. But for some strange reason, they kept their distance and began whispering excitedly to on another, actually taking out their phones and taking pictures (that was going a little too far). Some of the older women noticed him too, gasping and immediately staring at him with wide eyes.
Yet, he didn't look offended in the least, instead more focused on his phone, calling people, then pausing to text, and actually bathing in the females' praises.
He looked indifferent, and the slight frown at the corner of his mouth affirmed what Tenten was thinking.
She could only come up with the conclusion that he was used to it since this happened to him everywhere he went, the girls' interests began losing importance, he cared nothing for their affections, and thus, was an egocentric and stuck up pig.
She turned back to look at her lap, his image ruined in her eyes.
Couldn't he have at least looked a little embarrassed? Or a little offended at the high, and obvious, attention he received?
Or even modestly pushed their affection away?
His good looks added no merit to what seemed to be a stoic and self-centered personality.
Thank goodness she would never have to associate with a person like that.
After what seemed to be ages of waiting, the first-class seats were finally called. She and the stuck-up prince were the only ones in line.
He looked surprised that she was there too. She could see his eyebrows raise the slightest bit past the corner of his sunglasses (why in the world did he need those? The sun hadn't even come up yet). He turned to look at the ground, whispering harsh words in Japanese underneath his breath.
"I thought I booked the cabin!"
So he was the one.
She pretended not to understand.
He turned to the attendant, speaking in mangled Mandarin about his situation. The lady could only smile sympathetically and explain that nothing could be changed, in which his face grew even more disagreeable.
He let out a strangled huff, and stormed through the doors after his ticket was checked, dragging a single suitcase with him.
Tenten unwillingly followed and entered the plane, finding her seat and sitting down…
Smack right next to him.
She checked her ticket again.
The number written there matched up with the seat number.
He looked away from her and sent off vibes of pure hatred. She wanted nothing more than to kick him in his leg, but opted to put her bag next to her instead and pull a magazine out of the chair pocket in front of her.
The cabin was entirely empty, save from them.
"You could move," he said stiffly, breaking the silence.
She wasn't giving up her seat for anything. Who said that she had to be the one to accommodate his preferences?
"I'd rather not," she answered coldly.
Other passengers began filing in too, looking at her oddly. Some girls were obviously jealous of her predicament, and turned away, noses high.
The plane slowly began filling up, until the line had jammed all the way to the plane's entrance. As the congestion eased, Tenten read the safety manual and took out her own book, contending to read. The flight wouldn't take long, perhaps a few hours at most. Her gum was in the bag below her seat, to ease ear-popping.
The man next to her was still sending out hate waves.
She sent her own back.
The area was filled with tension so thick it was palpable.
Finally the line ended and the people settled down, and the attendants began going through the safety rules. Tenten glanced at the man out of the corner of her eye, grudgingly admitting his looks were nothing to be trifled with. He had dark hair, long and healthy, lips pressed into a thin line, face a light peach hue. His features were smooth, forearms lightly muscled. She bit the inside of her cheek and quickly looked at something else, unable to stop the light palpitations of her heart.
Those emotions were a load of trouble.
Gradually her heart returned back to normal, and she was able to see him with no weird heartbeats jumping at her throat. The safety instructions ended, and the plane began heading down the runway, gathering speed. Tenten let out a tiny gasp, surprised at the sudden movement. Her seat "buddy" was suddenly no longer of any interest to her—all she cared about was the fact that she was sitting in a giant metal bird of death. She clenched the armrests as hard as she could, eyes wide in horror.
It was coming.
The plane, almost clumsily, gave a giant lurch and left the ground. Tenten tried to control her breathing, slightly panicking, adding more pressure to the armrests that were subject to her vice-like grip.
The ground was so far below her. She could see the layout of the city, see little green dots and little cars and even little people and the wings of the plane were dipping into the clouds and her head was getting woozy and she really wanted to get off right now.
Minutes passed and the plane stabilized, enough for the seatbelt sign to blink off. Things were swimming in Tenten's vision. The rumbling of the engines filled her ears, and she could fill every slight dip and tremble of the oversized vehicle. She closed her eyes, hoping to fight the feeling of nausea.
She had only gotten the flu once in her entire life, and it was the worst feeling ever. And now, the plane ride was coming dangerously close to it.
Tenten tried breathing through her nose, completely disregarding her previously thoughts of reading. She needed to survive. Mentally, she swore never to take a flight again, and then realized she would need to if she ever wanted to get out of Japan. Without warning, there was a quick drop down, and she felt her stomach fly into her throat.
Okay, the ride had now overcome the flu.
She was going to throw up.
Struggling but to no avail, she grappled for the sick bag, but couldn't find it in time—it was hidden firmly behind a magazine.
So, she settled for the next best option and dumped the morning's breakfast onto her companion's lap.
Neji had seen her looking for something in the seats, but didn't think it really applied to him. That girl would find it eventually.
And then, moments later, he discovered that item had been a sick bag.
And that she had barfed all over his pants.
There was a little gurgled gasp of horror that wanted to escape, but he bit his bottom lip and decided he needed to be responsible.
It was what Watson would have expected of him.
oOo
There was legitimate reason for Neji's bad humor that morning. Watson's stress had finally taken its toll. While trying to keep up with Neji's schedule, he had decided to run on the pavement and succeeded in tripping and falling. The fall hadn't been serious enough to knock him unconscious, but it had been bad enough to break his leg. So his butler was now in the emergency room, and he was worried beyond belief.
It was all his fault.
Watson had assured him that he was alright, and that Neji should take the plane home so that two tickets wouldn't be wasted. Watson was losing his, but that was okay—he wanted Neji to arrive home safely. Watson had told him that he would rather have Neji at home than in China where he was much more vulnerable.
"Don't worry, I'll be taking a flight back soon enough," he promised, face scrunched in pain, but still managing to smile.
Neji grit his teeth, trying not to cry.
He made a resolve then and there.
His butler would no longer suffer because of him.
He cancelled the modeling shoot, ready to spend that day looking for someone else to handle jobs around the house. Neji didn't care how many people he would have to hire, or how much money he would have to spend. Watson was in the hospital because of him, because of the stress, because of his age, and it was up to him to finally repay him for his hard work and dedication.
And now there was upchucked food on his lap. The girl he hadn't paid much attention to, still fuming over her existence in the cabin that he had personally booked so that no one would be able to disturb him. He restrained the hand that wanted to smack her on top of her head, and instead yelled for an attendant to come over.
The girl looked up groggily, still sick to the stomach.
She really looked ill, face sickly pale.
Neji felt a tiny bit of sympathy for her.
And then remembered that her barf was on him.
All thoughts of sympathy flew out the window.
An attendant came and gasped, obviously surprised at the situation.
"You mind helping out here?" Neji snapped, gesturing at his position.
"Of course sir," she said, regaining her professional attitude. She quickly walked to the front and grabbed him extra clothes to replace his, and then went over to the girl and gently propped her back up.
He saw the flight attendant give her a sick bag, and the girl proceeded to retch into it again, eyes clenched shut.
"Go to the lavatory and clean up," the attendant ordered.
Neji got up, wrinkling his nose at the unpleasant stench that was in the air. He took the clothes that were provided for him and changed in the bathroom, washing himself with a wet paper towel smothered in soap. He came out feeling slightly better, dressed in a hoodie and loose jeans.
The flight attendant took his dirty clothes without a word and put them in a plastic bag as other women came to help clean up the area. The girl was moved to a different area in the cabin, still slumped and looking green.
"Your clean clothes will be sent to your home," the lady said sharply. "We apologize for the inconvenience."
"It's fine," he managed to force out.
This is why he wanted a separate plane space for himself, so issues like that wouldn't happen.
Now, more than ever, he wished his butler was there with him.
But now, all he had were plain clothes, a body that smelled like soap, and a sick girl in his cabin.
"Sorry about that," the offensive girl muttered, suddenly looking better.
Neji forced out his harshest glare. "You really have no idea who you're dealing with."
"You're right," she said with a smirk. "I don't."
oOo
The moment the plane landed, Neji was the first out, determined to put as much distance possible between him and the girl that barfed on him. He had never felt more embarrassed and angry, rushing to the baggage claim as quickly as possible, grabbing his suitcase off the carousel before the girl arrived.
Watson had sent him a driver ahead of time to take his spot, and Neji immediately saw the poster labeled "Hyuuga" on it.
"Sir," the driver greeted.
"Hello," said Neji, skipping the formalities. "Let's go."
The man looked surprised at his curtness, but nodded and led the way to the car.
They drove the faimilar path back to Neji's vast home. On the ride back, Neji pulled out his phone and called Watson to check up on his condition, where his butler reassured him that he was in no critical condition. He might have to use crutches or a wheelchair, but it would be alright. Watson congratulated him on the safe trip back, and Neji didn't have the heart to complain about the incident that had occurred on the plane.
Neji hung up and swallowed the lump in his throat.
They arrived at the mansion minutes later, and Neji paid his fare with a small word of thanks, and entered his home.
He did his daily routine as he did every time he returned, and unpacked his suitcase first. He stripped himself of the clothes the airplane attendants had given him and changed into something of his own. He then proceeded to feed himself. Since Watson wasn't there, he would have to cook.
Neji frowned, eyebrows furrowing in thought. Now that he contemplated it, he had never done a bit of cooking in his life. The most effort he put in was washing and chopping vegetables.
Shrugging it off, he went into his cabinets and pulled out instant ramen packs.
"In emergencies only," Watson had warned.
Neji ripped open a packet, and began boiling water.
This constituted as an emergency.
The timer rang, signaling that his food was ready. Sitting down at the table and silently eating his hot noodles, the house appeared larger and emptier than ever.
Neji had never felt more alone in his life.
A week had passed since Tenten came to Japan. She had enjoyed every minute of her stay, taking trains and staying in cheap hotels, stuffing herself with food and totally immersing herself in the culture. She was now in some random city (there seemed to be a lot of them), filled with technology and broadcasting centers.
There seemed to be stars everywhere. Just a simple walk down the street, and she encountered several flocking crowds on the borderline of just plain offensive.
But the more pressing matter was that her money supply was slowly dwindling to a standstill. She had searched for jobs, especially for those of a translator, but no one desired to hire her. She needed a well paying job as well, so Tenten refused to lower herself to apply for certain positions (working at fast-food chains was one of them).
She was heading to another interview, and was sitting alone at the bus stop. Her luggage was at some hotel down the street, her current lodgings.
The bus wouldn't come for another thirty minutes, but the day was warm and just right. The sun caressed her slightly bronzed arms, and Tenten relished in the feeling, laying across the bench. It really felt nice; like the world was smiling down at her.
Her white shirt rippled in the breeze, and she closed her eyes. This was true bliss.
And then someone decided to ruin that bliss by effectively blocking the sun that was the source of her happiness. She blinked her eyes open, discovering a middle aged man. He looked nice enough, face a creased with mild lines and mustache sprinkled with a little gray.
"Hi," he said calmly, taking a seat next to her.
"Hello," she replied, giving him a smile.
Slowly, she was eased into a conversation. The man proved to be a good talker, witty and engaging, explaining his family life with ease. He had a wife and a daughter, and was going to buy some food at the market. He finally inquired where she was headed to on the bus, and she replied with a simple "job interview."
The man's eyes grew in surprise. "Really now!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't have thought. What a coincidence."
"What do you mean?" she asked, growing curious. Could it be that this man was applying for the same job?
"Let me explain," he said, "It just so happens I'm looking for someone to fill a certain position. You wouldn't happen to have your credentials with you, would you? It would be great if I could hire you—you seem like you'd be perfect for the occupation."
Tenten could hardly believe her luck. "Really?" she asked, barely containing her excitement. Then she cleared her throat, remembering the money she needed. "I appreciate the offer, but I have certain circumstances—I'll need to know how much you're willing to pay me. If it doesn't reach a certain sum, I'll have to decline even letting you see my transcript."
She felt bad about it, but it was necessary.
"Is that so?" the man frowned. He seemed to ponder her comment for a moment before speaking again. "…Well, how about one-fifty thousand a week?"
Tenten nearly choked on her spit.
She was one lucky girl—that was an insane amount of money.
She was so happy that her smile on her face seemed brighter than the sun. Money always seemed to have that effect on her. "That's—wonderful. I would be delighted to take on your offer! Here's my transcript," she said, passing him the sheet of paper stowed in her bag. The man looked at it, thinking face on.
Then, he gave her a gentle smile and handed the paper back. "It looks perfect. Your math skills are incredible—we could certainly use a person like you. Miss, you've got yourself a job."
Tenten was beside herself with joy. Perhaps the trip to Japan was finally showing its potential.
"Thank you so much," she replied, shaking his hand.
"No, thank you," he said politely. "Now if you don't mind," the man asked, standing up, "I would like you to start immediately. Would you please follow me? It's not too far from here."
Tenten got off the bench and nodded, dusting off her legs. "I'd be happy to start. Where are we headed to?"
The stranger (her new boss! She could hardly imagine it) led her down the streets. "You'll see," he said vaguely.
They stopped at an alleyway between two shops. It was dark, damp, and stunk like no other.
Something wasn't right.
Tenten realized that very "something" the moment the man stopped walking and turned around, giving her an eerie smile, so unlike the one she had witnessed before.
She had been duped.
This man was after her.
His features changed, from the kind, middle aged man she had talked to seconds before, to a malicious attacker.
Without a moment's thought, she turned around, ready to run. Her feet had barely tensed when the hand that she had shaken earlier clamped open her mouth, large and disgusting. Tenten let out a muffled scream, body twisting and turning, trying to get out of his grasp. She attempted to kick him and her heeled foot slammed down hard on his toes. The man yelped but still held on, harsher that before.
"Stay still, bitch," he hissed, drawing a knife.
He placed the blade dangerously close to her throat.
Her breath was shallow and her heart was jumping a thousand erratic beats.
She could barely think, the adrenaline in her body was heightening her senses, and she wanted to cry but she knew it wouldn't have made a difference.
"You're so dumb," the man snarled. "You really believed that about the job? Like I would ever pay someone like you that kind of money." His breath fanned her face. "Unless you want to whore yourself? It wouldn't be a problem—"
He stopped mid-sentence, for something had hit him in the face, and he was now howling in pain. His hand relinquished its grip on her mouth, and Tenten was free to breath again.
She glanced at the projectile that had saved her life.
It was a crutch.
The assailant stood up, spitting out blood and screaming swears. "The fuck! Shitheads, I'll kill you!" His eyes were mad with rage. He drew his knife again, but another crutch appeared, centimeters away from his face.
He blinked, unable to move, licking lips that were dry and covered with a trickle of blood.
"Hello? Police? Yes, I've got someone to report—he's in the alleyway on South Bound street, near the bus stop. I've arrived on the scene, where he was about to assault a young female. You'll be here soon? Good. It will be alright if he's unconscious, right? Perfect."
The cell phone clicked shut.
Tenten glanced at her savior, a thin, wrinkling man who had a plaster cast on his foot. His mustache was trimmed neatly, his eyes hard. The phone he was holding was casually dropped into his pocket. "You alright, miss?" he asked, never taking his eyes off the other man.
Tenten nodded and backed up, giving him room. "Thank you," she breathed.
"Anything for a young lady like yourself."
Then the crutch forcefully slammed into her attacker's face, and the man was down, crumbling to the floor.
Tenten helped her savior pick up both his crutches and gave them to him, still in awe. This man was old, that was for sure—but he had definitely just saved her life. "Thank you so much," she repeated, bowing. "How can I ever repay you?"
She was just hoping this man wasn't like the guy who was now unconscious.
The old man's eyes softened. "There is no debt that needs to be repaid."
It was okay. He was different.
"No, I insist," Tenten urged. "You saved me; called the police too. Anything. I'll do anything I can to repay you."
That was a little far fetched, but she was too grateful to care.
The man smiled and leaned on his crutches, pushing himself out of the alleyway and into the bright sunlight again. He motioned for Tenten to follow, and together, they sat on the bench of the bus that was no longer coming.
She had missed it.
"Just answer one question," her rescuer asked contemplatively, like he was still unsure of his query, "Do you know who Kishito Ran is?"
Tenten blinked. A question? That was all she needed to repay him? She didn't know what was the right answer, but she replied truthfully. "I'm sorry, I don't know. Is he someone you're looking for?"
"You don't know him?" he asked, voice laced with surprise.
Tenten shook her head, now somewhat embarrassed. "No, sorry."
The old man laughed, setting his crutches off to the side. "You're not from here, are you?"
Tenten looked at him, surprised as well. She didn't think she had an accent when she was speaking. "I'm not. How did you know?"
"No matter," he replied, still chuckling. "So I overheard your conversation with that poor excuse for a man—you said you needed a job?"
She was on the defense again, looking at him with wary eyes.
"Don't worry, it's not like that. If you're still willing to repay me, I'd like for you to take up my offer. We'll offer you housing and meals, and you'll be paid monthly. All I ask is for you to be able to follow orders. Can you do that?"
Tenten was still suspicious. "What kind of orders are we talking about here?" She was willing to redeem herself, but she wasn't going to make the same mistake again.
"Cleaning, organizing, the like."
She let out a sigh of relief. Normal jobs. It sounded nice. And he was offering her room and board, and meals as well…it was a little too good to be true.
The old man still saw her hesitation, so he passed her his wallet, cell phone, and keys. "You can take these for the time being. I promise I'm not lying. Will you take the job? It would mean a lot for an old man like me…it's hard to find good workers these days."
Tenten pushed his belongings back to him, smiling softly. This man had saved her life. She couldn't doubt him after she had seen his actions.
Her gut was telling her he was alright.
"I'll take up your offer, if you're okay with having me as an employee," she answered, shyly extending a hand for him to shake. He shook it heartily, squeezing her hand firmly.
"It would be an honor. I'm Watson, but I'm not your boss, Miss," he said, chuckling. "You'll be meeting your employer soon enough. Here's my card: show up at this address with your belongings, and we'll get you settled in."
Tenten read it, the white paper looking bright in the sun. The gold lettering shone and sparkled, the characters slim and elegant.
Hyuuga Mansion
134 Yaesu 1-Chome
Chuo-ku
100-8994
She looked up after reading to thank the man again, but he had left and was now nowhere in sight. Shaking her head at the absurdity of the day's events, Tenten pocketed the card. Her legs began taking her on the walk back to the hotel.
Time to start packing again.
So...that address is from Wikipedia. It's actually Tokyo's post office.
Don't tell.
Now c'mon, admit it...how many of you thought the first guy was Watson? Tricked ya! :D
I realize this chapter didn't have much Neji and Tenten interaction, but now they've met each other in some very unfortunate circumstances. From this point on, there will be more unforeseen situations, mostly awkward ones...*laughs
Please review! Constructive criticism is well appreciated. :)
