Standing frozen in the middle of the dingy bar I could hear the sound of my rapid heartbeat thundering in my ears. Kisame Hoshigaki was well known throughout the brothels of Kirigakure. His frequent patronage and distinct appearance made him easy to identify. The blueish tone of his skin and razor like teeth likened him to a shark, and some women had even gone as far as to claim the scaring underneath his eyes were in fact actual gills. The man had quite the reputation as a shinobi as well. Every once in a while the odd Bounty Hunter would sweep through the various brothels asking for rogue ninjas, sometimes with photographs and descriptions, others with merely a name. The Hunters that asked after Kisame never came back.
I quickly whipped around to return to where Momoko had taken my stool at the bar and had begun pouring herself sake. Frantically walking up to the girl I reached out with a trembling hand to grab her boney shoulder. Turning away from her sake she looked at me with a raised eyebrow in, what I was more than sure, an attempt to mock my earlier expression.
"I'm not going over there." I stated in the most firm tone I could muster while my insides tossed and turned as I knew deep down my fate was ultimately inevitable.
"Yes you are, and if I were you I'd hurry. He doesn't like to be kept waiting." She drawled out in a bored tone before indulging once again in her drink.
"Then have one of the other girls do it!" I spat out, some of my desperation leaking through as my voice cracked.
"Like I said they're busy! And I've got a regular coming in later, now go over there or take it up with Yokuto, but I think we both know how thats going to turn out." She sneered at me. I let a glare wash over my features along with the sense of my own defeat as I knew exactly how the situation would play out. It was well known that Momoko would often frequent Yokuto's bed and that in turn gave her slight perks here and there. I sincerely doubted she was waiting on another customer. I could continue to argue with her but that would waste time and Kisame was not known for being a patient man. She would eventually whine to Yokuto anyways and I would be in the same position I am now but with a much more irritable ninja on my hands. I gave a frustrated noise before rushing behind the bar to grab the largest pitcher of sake we had, making sure to bump my elbow into the infuriating girl on my way in hopes she spilled some of her drink on herself. Filling the pitcher to the very top I grabbed a tray and some glasses before making my way as slowly as I could towards my own impending doom.
In addition to his lascivious appetite for sake that could rival the most experienced of drunkards, the boorish ninja had been proven to have a rather sadistic streak that had made him infamous throughout the brothels. Stories ranged from a variety of busted lips and black eyes, to a particularly mouthy girl named Ami who had lost all of her front teeth and a pinky finger. Rumor had it she now accommodated back alley patrons for pocket change or a hot meal. After all there wasn't anyone who would pay any reasonable amount of money for a toothless hooker. The managers seldom cared if he roughed up the girls, after all his money was good and there was always another girl wandering the streets looking for work. Besides even if they had found fault with his behaviour, most of them were right cowards who wouldn't dare so much as raise a finger against a ninja of his caliber. I had been lucky enough thus far as to avoid serving him and had seen enough of his handiwork to know I wanted it to remain that way. It had become somewhat of a game for the girls to see who would be unfortunate enough to accompany him when he came into our rugged establishment. Sometimes straws were drawn and other times it was simply thrust upon some unfortunate soul. Much like Momoko had done to me. Keeping my eyes downcast I approached the table where the two men were seated.
"About time." I heard his rough grainy voice grumble out and I tried not outwardly cringe as I set the tray on the table, taking care to avoid eye contact.
"My apologies." I said lowering my head further before taking my place beside them to pour the sake. I made sure to focus intensely on the task to ensure not a drop was spilled by my shaking hands. Steadying my nerves I reached out to hand the man his cup. I felt the rough calluses of his massive palms against my own as he took the cup from my grasp. With a quiet sigh of relief I turned back to the tray to pour his companion a drink before my chin was abruptly grasped by the same rough hands forcing my face upwards to look into the ugly mug of the intimidating ninja. Fear gripped my heart as it began palpitating in my chest. It was the closest I had ever been to the man and his shark like appearance gave me the impression that he was more monster than man. Perhaps a cruel reflection of his true nature. What set me on edge the most were his eyes. They were a flat dull gray that lacked any depth or human emotion from what I could discern. Still as rabbit caught in jaws of a snake, I watched as his beady gaze scanned over my features clutched in his grasp before he finally lowered his hand none too gently.
"You're a little on the young side but you'll do I suppose." He said before turning back to his drink and swigging the entire cup back in one go. I let out a shaky breath before quickly refilling his cup with unsteady hands praying to whatever gods would hear me that not a drop was lost. I knew from previous tales that it was unwise to let the mans cup remain empty at any point. Once I was sure he was satisfied for the moment I hastily turned to fill a glass for his partner. I was aware it had been rather rude of me to ignore his glass to ensure Kisame's was full once again. Not that I cared much about manners but I was banking on the fact he might be less likely to slap me across the face if his cup became empty, while I was more than positive his blue counterpart would. I mumbled a quick apology towards the man and hastily poured his drink.
Turning to face the man with his beverage I nearly dropped the cup as I took in his appearance. He was by far the most beautiful man I had ever laid eyes on. It felt strange to use the term beautiful to describe a man but I could think of no better word to do so. For he simply was a beautiful creature, even more so than most of the women I had known. His skin was pale and flawless, contrasting hauntingly well with his dark features. Black hair that was reminiscent of strands of silk framed his angular face before disappearing beneath the high collar of his cloak. His jaw was slightly more narrow than most mens but it did nothing to take away from the over all symmetry of his face. What captivated me most about the man however was his eyes. Surrounded by unfairly long dark lashes his iris's were the deepest black I had ever come across, so much so that I could not begin to tell where his pupils began. The dark pools were seemingly endless and I couldn't begin to fathom their true depth. It seemed as though they held everything and nothing all at once. But the strangest thing I found in his blank stare was that it was hauntingly familiar to my own. His were the eyes of someone who had seen a great many things, things that would sicken most people. The eyes of a boy forced to become a man, and it had aged him in a way that his other features didn't let on.
I stared awestruck at the man with what I'm more than sure was a stupid expression marring my features holding out the sake cup. With steady grace in his movements I had only seen from the most practiced of shinobi, his long fingers came to curl around the proffered liquor before he gently sat it on the table in front of him, leaving the drink untouched. With a slight nod in my direction he turned to face forward once more letting the lids of his eyes come to rest over his ebony orbs, breaking me out of my trance. I felt a small shiver run up my spine at the loss of his intense gaze before mentally berating myself over my squeamish behaviour. It was not the first time I had come across a pretty face in my line of work and it would not be the last. I had learned that pleasing features were often accompanied by arrogance and occasionally an obnoxious nature. Looks really only went so far and one would be a fool to acquiesce to the whims of blatant beauty.
It was about a half hour before any idle chatter was made between any of us. When acting as the companion of a ninja it was common knowledge that speaking only when spoken to was the best policy, lest they think you a spy trying to gain information. The end result of such suspicions usually ended with your tongue removed from your mouth. Kisame was nearing the bottom of his fourth pitcher of sake and appeared to be showing the first signs of being tipsy while the others remained untouched. I found myself drinking more than I normally would in a futile attempt to slightly dull the on coming pain I would surely receive in the future. Yet while I felt the warm burn of the sake in the flush of my cheeks I made a point to keep my wits about me.
"Ne Itachi, s'not so bad here eh?" The larger man slurred slightly, downing his glass with ease before shoving his cup in my direction to be refilled and I was quick to accommodate.
"Wine, women all in the same place. Rather convenient no? But I guess you've never been one for all that though. Always work and no play with you." He prattled on in his booming voice, swishing his newly filled cup around as he gestured boisterously, yet he managed not to lose a single drop of the bitter wine and in my buzzed stupor I couldn't help but be a little impressed.
The man whom I assumed was Itachi gave a non committed grunt at his words, no doubt to humour the man next to him. His posture was rigid yet somehow seemed relaxed at the same time. I had to wonder if he was stiff or uncomfortable from it yet he gave no outward indications of such. In fact he was so still I would have thought him dead had he not been upright. His profile reminded me of a painting of sorts, as if he was made up of nothing more than brush strokes from the most skilled of artistry.
I nearly jumped out of my skin as I felt Kisame shift to stand up next to me. He mumbled something along the lines of 'taking a leak' before he made his way to where the restrooms were located. Despite my original fear of him I was almost reluctant for him to leave me alone with his partner. I was not often one to be intimidated by awkward situations or uncomfortable silence but that did not mean I revelled in it. Taking a small sip of my sake to give myself something to do to avoid talking to the man next to me, I nearly spat it out all over myself when I heard my companions silky voice shatter the silence.
"How old are you girl?" He questioned me, despite remaining in his same position facing forward. It took my mind a moment to process his question as I had not expected him to speak at all. It was a strange thing to be asked in a brothel, most men where hesitant to know the true age of their escorts lest it impede up their fantasies or conscious. The older women would be forever young and the young women were older than they looked in the eyes of men. Ignorance is bliss as they say.
"Old enough." I replied while attempting to mimic his indifference and turned back to my sake taking another small sip from the chipped ceramic in my hand.
"You don't look it to be in this profession."
I felt myself bristle at his response as it seemed to me he was either mocking me or being condescending. Who was this man to patronize me? Despite my age I had known more of the wickedness of the world than most would in a life time. He himself couldn't have been more than 5 years older than myself.
"Sixteen. I'll be seventeen next month, but I've working here for longer than that." I said snappily before angling my body away from him signalling the end of the subject. He did not bring up the topic of my youth again and seemed content to merely sit in silence. Just as well, as Kisame had made his return from receiving himself, plunking his looming, bulky frame next to my significantly smaller one.
I heard a high pitched giggling from across the room and turned to look over to where Momoko's supposed 'regular' had arrived and was currently draping himself across the squealing girl. The squealing had apparently triggered something in the two ninja as Itachi's eyes abruptly snapped open.
"Kisame."
"Uh-huh." The larger man grunted before turning to face me. "Go and prepare a room girl." His voice grated, his eyes never leaving Itachi's as they appeared to be conversing through mere looks alone.
I felt unnerved as I made to stand on my quaking limbs, slowly heading towards the backrooms where my bed was located. In my shaky wobbling away from the table I heard the two deep voices mumbling to one another. Rarely did I ever feel nervous anymore when taking a man to bed, my years at the brothel had given me a thick skin and a stiff upper lip. Yet when faced with the task of accommodating the two imposing shinobi my walls came crashing down and I was left feeling strangely vulnerable. I was prepared for the physical pain that would undoubtably come with the large shark-man, and while that frightened me, it was his companion that had me shaking like a leaf. I had heard the stories of Kisame and his violent nature, I simply hoped if I kept my mouth shut and remained obedient I could get away with some mere bruising. However, this Itachi was unpredictable. I had no knowledge of what to expect from him, yet if I was pressed to venture a guess I could only assume that if he was a companion to the blue tinged brute, he had to be some form of twisted. The only real question was: Just how twisted?
My quivering hands reached for the door to my room slowly pushing it open letting the rusty hinges creak and groan with the strain. Closing the door behind me I walked towards my bed which was little more than a lumpy thin mattress surrounded by a variety of blue and grey blankets. Mentally berating myself for my own weakness I forced my shivers to dull and made an effort to smooth out the blankets in hopes of making the sad excuse for a bed somewhat more appealing in hopes of pleasing them. Not that I truly believed tidy sheets would make a significant difference in their treatment of me. I gave a soft sigh before undoing the front of the dark green haori, giving way to the lacy garments I wore underneath. They were frayed at the edges and had been sewn in different patches where a customer had been too eager. If one looked close enough it was evident they were cheaply made but I was not a fool to waste money on fine luxuries, besides they would still end up on the dirty floor regardless of how soft the silk was. I caught a brief glance of my reflection in the small dusty mirror I kept in the corner of the room and quickly looked away. I hated the old thing and had debated on smashing it more than once, had it not been necessary for applying make-up and other aesthetic purposes. Well, perhaps it was not so much the actual mirror I hated. Rather, what it reflected. In the mirror I saw a tired worn girl, wasting away in a dingy brothel in the slums of a poverty stricken city. I felt trapped staring at my reflection, as if the mirror was telling me:
'This is your life. This is all you were ever meant to be, and all you ever will be. Caged in edges and cracks of my glass. How long before you too shatter?'