A/N: An update after a long time! It feels good to be back.

Show me how you got in this predicament
Did the devil let you down?

- Manhattan by Gallant

The man in front of Sakura was not the type she had been imagining to encounter.

Usually the clients she had to entertain were pudgy old men wearing knock-off brands and wide, sleazy smiles or burly gangsters with tattoos running down the lengths of all their limbs. This guy was neither.

"This is the best you got?" His narrow dark eyes ran down Sakura's figure and turned accusingly towards Oshiro. "I'm disappointed, Mr. Manager."

Sakura noticed his eyes had prominent bags, making him look older then he seemed - a young man with spiky dark hair. He was dressed rather casually, in a beige button down shirt and jeans. On either side of him sat two girls in figure-hugging dresses similar to Sakura's, looking vaguely uncomfortable.

He would have appeared to be quite normal-looking if it hadn't been for the confident, self-assured smile plastered on his face. It was a smile full of evil intent.

Still, Sakura couldn't understand why Oshiro seemed to be practically trembling in his boots next to her. "Y-you said you liked exotic ones, Mr. Abumi."

The man snorted. "Exotic? Bullshit. Take it away." He made a dismissive motion with his hand.

Sakura stood still, staring straight at the painting above the couch he was lounging in. It was a painting of a mother cradling a child in her arms, a scene of warmth and comfort which was very contrasting to the current atmosphere in the room.

"But, at least-" Oshiro's voice sounded uncharacteristically squeaky.

"Out."

Sakura felt her manager's sweaty hand clamp down on her elbow and she followed him out.

Pompous asshole, she thought with each step. I can't wait to get out of-

She heard Abumi shift closer to one of the girls and say to her, "This is exactly why I say Konoha girls are so boring. They should learn from the Oto ladies - at least they don't resort to dying their hair just to get some poor sod's attention."

Sakura stopped.

"What are you doing?" Oshiro hissed, giving her an urgent tug.

"Oshiro," she said quietly, lifting her eyes to meet his eyes. "How important is this Mr. Abumi?"

"That isn't any of your fucking business, Pinky. Now come on."

"I asked how important is he."

Oshiro stared into her steely eyes for awhile before answering, his voice calmer, "As important as this whole club."

Sakura nodded, exhaling. She had guessed it was that bad. "If I take care of him so that he leaves a happy man, will you agree to a condition of mine?"

Oshiro's small eyes widened at her words before narrowing again in caution. "What is it?"

"Give me and the girls a raise."

Stubby fingers suddenly dug into her skin to the point of pain. "Pinky, I told you already, that's imposs-"

"Hey, I thought I told you two to leave. You're ruining the goddamn mood, damn it!" Abumi put down his glass of whiskey with a loud bang.

Sakura looked pointedly at Oshiro. "Either I deal with him or you do. It's your call, boss."

The man in question looked like he was near to bursting a blood vessel. After a few tense seconds he exhaled, bowing his head slightly and nodded in defeat. As the door shut behind him, Sakura turned around to meet Abumi's eyes.

He had looked bored before - now he was leaning slightly forward, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"I just realized that I didn't introduce myself," Sakura flashed a smile so genuine it would have made her friend Sai proud. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Sakura Haruno."

The letter lay, wrinkled from folding and refolding, deep in Naruto's backpack. When the nightmares would be at their worst, he would just stay awake all night and read it, poring over each word under the dim moonlight.

It was the only letter he had received from home all these years. Home. He wondered if he could still call it that after all that he had been through.

He had found some money under the floorboards in Jiraiya's old place. Quite by accident. His disposable chopsticks had fallen off the table and fallen into a narrow space between them. When he had pried the two boards apart, he had come across the fat toad-shaped wallet.

Typical old man, Naruto smiled. Jiraiya always had the weirdest quirks. If he was here right now he would laugh that booming laugh of his and tell me he had been planning this all along.

"Life ain't that simple, kid," he often used to say. "You can't just get up and run away from your problems just like that."

Had it been a few days before, Naruto would not have hesitated in spending all the money in the nearest buffet. He hadn't received a fixed pay in so long and the nightmares involving rich beef stew had been more frequent than usual.

But that was before the letter had arrived. Now, he just sat cross-legged on the dusty wooden floorboards of the tiny inn where he and Jiraiya often stayed, staring down at the currency before him.

Minutes ticked by, his ramen grew cold. And finally Naruto made a decision.

This isn't because of that letter, Master, he thought as he reached the counter of the train station. I meant it when I said I don't want anything to do with that damned city anymore. Believe me.

He reached down in his bag to take out the toad wallet, fingers brushing against crumpled paper by accident.

"How can I help you?" The girl behind the counter surveyed him with bored eyes, chewing bubblegum.

You were right, Master. You can't run away from your problems...because they run after you.

Naruto grinned from ear to ear. "One-way ticket to Konoha, please."