Intro Music- Mikansei Koukyoukyoku by One Ok Rock

Chapter 7

The Grease Pit was the most unflattering name that the citizens of Port Diner had given the slums and shady parts of Port Diner; a name that was most fitting, Karashi thought as he held onto the side of a wall after almost slipping on something of origins he wasn't all that sure he wanted to know. The slums themselves were incredibly small since business was so good on the island, but they were still full to the brim despite their size. From washed up café owners to hard-core criminals the Grease Pit had it all.

And it was exactly where Karashi would end up if The Curry of Life ever went out of business- and where the Akamichis would end up if he had anything to say about it. Just the thought of the fat chefs living it rough, surviving on scraps and their robust bodies wearing away sent a sick surge of glee through Karashi's soul. Once they were out of the picture, he would be worry free and all of his stolen customers would come flooding back.

The Grease Pit consisted of narrow alleyways and twisting paths which all led back to each other; but Karashi wasn't interested in where those paths ended. His interest lay in the hidey-holes and dens scattered along them, where the small criminal population of Restaurant Island dwelled. Thieves, frauds and even the occasional murderer found refuge here, though they usually didn't stay hidden for long due to the general lack of other hiding places for them; it didn't take the authorities very long to find their offenders when they were so concentrated. Karashi was looking for the former- thieves to aid him in his plans. The only problem he was facing was the fact that it was difficult to get criminals to give you information when you look as unassuming and act as cowardly as Karashi does; thugs were unlikely to be intimidated by a thin chef with long hair after all. Hours he had spent, asking around for safecrackers and the like with no results.

Karashi released a defeated sigh, slumping against a wall tiredly. He slid down to the ground, hand over his eyes and rubbing his temples. "Damn it all." The chef growled, clutching his forehead between forefinger and thumb. "How is it so hard to find some thieves in the fucking Grease Pit for God's sake?"

"Yer should be careful wha' yer wish fer boy; yer might not like what tha genie brings yer." Karashi flinched as cold steel touched his neck, pricking his skin slightly. "Stan' up- and no funny business." Karashi gulped as he shakily stood; lips trembling he looked into the eyes of his attacker; they were sunken into his greasy face, and his narrow gaze did nothing to hide the malicious laced within. "Now then, wha' would sum clean-as-a-whistle guy such as yer self be doin' in tha' Grease Pit? Lookin' fer some thieves, is ya'? Well, yer got wha' yer were lookin' fer, happy?" Karashi tentatively licked his lips, wetting the dry skin before attempting to speak.

"W-Well, t-t-that depends o-on wheth-whether or not you lis-listen to m-my off-offer." The sound of shuffling cloth alerted Karashi to an extra presence behind his assailant, and he strained to look over the man's shoulder. Behind him stood a man with cropped charcoal hair and thick eyebrows, with a large nose sitting in the middle of his face.

"Hey, Jako-san, if dis guy has summit good, da' boss is gonna wanna here it, don' cha reckon?" The man who held Karashi at knife-point seemed to consider this, if the small frown meant anything.

"Yer lucky tha' Suguro makes a good point; if yer really have a good offer for tha' boss then he migh' jus' help yer out. An' if ya' don' then tha' boss will bury ya'!" Jako moved back, giving Karashi a proper look at his face. Narrowed eyes were situated above a squashed nose, and brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, with a bit of spike on top. "Yer get wha' 'm sayin'?" Karashi gulped, nodding his head now that his neck was no longer in danger of being cut open like a parcel.

"S-sure, loud and clear." Jako eyed him up for a little longer, before grunting and turning around.

"Bleedin' jif." Jako shook his head, spitting to the side with contempt. Reaching out behind him, he grabbed Karashi by the scruff of the neck- getting a strangled protest from the chef. "Yers betta' hope tha' the boss likes wha' yer gonna say." Through his indignation at being dragged, Karashi managed to wrangle up a snide smirk.

"Don't you worry about that; I believe that he'll be very interest-gurk! He-Hey, watch the shirt-" Jako glanced at him, and Karashi gulped, "…shutting up now…" The two crooks led Karashi down the street, passed the starving beggars and the shifty merchants, until they reached an alleyway. Yanking him down it, they passed several rough looking types who looked like they had as much experience with a knife as Karashi had, just not for what he used them for; he had no doubt they could cut him up as easily as he could cut up veal.

After a good ten minutes of navigating the winding back allies of the Grease Pit, the two crooks led Karashi to a door. The door was made out of thick looking steel, with a wooden panel about eye level. They stood there for a few seconds, before Jako turned to Suguro who looked back at him. Jako's nostril twitched and he whacked him around the back of the head.

"Knock on tha' door, ya' fuckin' jif!" He snapped. Suguro rubbed his head as he raised his other hand.

"Sorry, Jako-san." After rapping on the door, the wooden panel slid roughly open, and squinty eyes scrutinised them, before landing on Jako.

"Waz ther pazzword?"

"It's 'Open tha' fuckin' door, ya fuckin' jif'. It's me ya' twat." The eyes widened, before the panel slammed shut. Jako shook his head, "Fuckin' jif- twat's bin drinkin agin." Faint screeching sounds came from behind the door, and the jangling of chains signalled the opening of the door. It swung open to reveal a huge, towering beast of a man. Karashi would have stumbled back, if Jako didn't still have a firm grip on his shirt; the choking sound from Karashi was due to a combination of shock and Jako tugging him upright. The man was bent over so that he could fit into the hallway, and Karashi supposed he too would drink a lot if he was stuck in such a position for hours on end.

"Jako-zan, bozz wantz ta' zee ya'." The man slurred and stumbled to the side, leaving enough room for the three of them to get passed. Jako yanked Karashi inside- getting another choke- and Suguro went to follow them, but the tall man held his hand out. "Zuguro, tha' bozz zayz yaz not welcom' here no m're." Suguro's eyes widened and Karashi looked over his head to see what would happen. Suguro took a step backwards as the huge man reached towards him.

"Wait a tic, Barty," Barty stopped and sluggishly turned to Jako, and Suguro turned with hopeful eyes, "Lemme talk to tha' boss firs', Suguro migh'a redeemed 'imself taday." Suguro sighed in relief, and Barty blinked.

"If yaz zay zo, Jako-zan." And with that, Barty slumped against the wall and slid down it, already fast asleep. Suguro quickly stepped over the man's legs and followed the already moving Jako and Karashi. Once he caught up, he sent Jako a thankful glance.

"Cheers, Jako-san, I thought me number were up den."

"Ya' owe me 200 Beli ya' jif; how'm I gonna get it if yer head's on holiday from yer neck?" Suguro deflated at the harsh words, and Karashi noticed how he shoved his hand deep into his pocket. Karashi suspected it was to hide the money he most likely had on him. They exited the hallway and entered into a surprisingly large room. Karashi gazed with wonder, trying to guess how this all fit into the clearly too small building. Several doors were lain out before them, each with a small barred window at about eye-level. Jako led them to the second door on the right and down the ensuing corridor.

Karashi swallowed nervously as they walked down another dimly hit hallway, twitching every now and then. On the plus side, at least he wasn't being dragged around by Jako anymore. Eventually the unlikely trio stopped at an elaborate door. Engraved on the door was a large cross, with the letters R.I.P. above it. The door looked rather a lot like a gravestone, now that Karashi thought about it. Jako raised a hand and rapped his knuckles on the door.

"Boss, is me, Jako. I's heard me sumthin' tha' migh' perk ya's intrest."

"Come on in then, but this better be good Jako." The doors swung open and the three stepped in. Karashi stopped short as he saw the interior of the room. The floor was not tile or stone, but pure earthen ground. The only non-dirt covered area of the floor was a path of black stone leading up to a stone throne in the shape of a large tombstone. The part that really disturbed Karashi, however, were the numerous gravestones littered about the ground. A bead of sweat slid down Karashi face, and he gulped when he saw a large man standing over one of the graves. "What is it, Jako? You better have a damn good reason for interrupting a funeral." The man looked up, and to Karashi's surprise he was weeping thick, numerous tears.

The most eerie thing of all, to Karashi, was that he didn't make a single sound.

The man observed the three men, eyeing up Karashi for a moment, before landing his gaze on Suguro. "What's this? I thought I told Barty to kill you on sight, you worthless fool!" Suguro broke out into a heavy sweat. "This sumthin' of yours better be really damn good, Jako." Jako flinched, fiddling with the bottom jacket.

"Y-Yeah boss, is a real gud sumthin' alrigh'. Ya' see, we founds this here jiff sittin' around in tha' Grease Pit, and believe me or don', up ta' ya' boss, bu' ta' little shit were actually lookin' for sum theifs!"

"J-Jako were gonna slit him a new one boss, but he said he had summit to say, an-and I taut' dat yous would wanna here it, boss." Suguro stammered, cutting into the conversation. "If I didn't den Jako woulda killed him before we got da' info boss, he woulda!"

"Stop your snivelling and get on with it!" Boss snapped, tear drops flying from his cheeks. The two men flinched, and Suguro pushed Karashi forward. Not expecting the sudden push, Karashi stumbled and fell face first into the dirt.

"Blech, tastes like Akamichi's cooking." He spat out some dirt, rubbing his tongue on his sleeve. He froze. He had landed near the grave the Boss was standing over, and it was in fact an open grave. And inside said grave was not a corpse like one would usually expect, but instead a living, breathing person. They were tied up by their hands and feet, and a black cloth gagged them. The man's wide, frantic eyes looked at Karashi with a silent plea. He wriggled and writhed in place, trying to call for help around his gag. "Wh…What the fuck?"

"Aren't funerals just so sad?" A shadow fell over Karashi. Shaking, he turned his head and flinched when he saw the Boss looming over him. Fresh tears leaked from his sorrowful blue eyes, peaking out through greasy green bangs. "This man lived his life to the fullest, and now it's all over and his body is to be buried." Somehow, even more tears gushed down, dripping down into the pit and landing on the bound man's face. "The least we can do is remember the life he lived." A sad yet serene smile graced his dark, full lips.

'Th-This guy's fucking crazy!'

"So, little man, tell me, what does a guy like you want with some thieves?" The Boss finally addressed him, though Karashi was anything but grateful. He was starting to regret this whole affair. However…he looked back down at the man in the grave who continued to struggle to no avail.

'I really don't want to end up like him.' And so, Karashi started talking.

The Bosses smile went from serene to savage.

"Tell me, Shikamaru, what do you think of pirates?" Shikamaru gaze the man sitting next to him a lazy glance, before his eyes shut tiredly.

"Having an opinion about something as complicated as that is too troublesome." The man chuckled, not expecting any less from the lazy kid. "But, I guess if I had to give an answer I'd say I don't care. As far as any of the inhabitants of this island are concerned, pirates are just another source of income, but since that doesn't affect me why should I care? Besides, it's not like any pirates would dare to attack this place or anything." The man raised a brow, removing his cigarette to expel smoke.

"Oh, and what makes you say that?" Shikamaru groaned, shifting his position to get more comfortable.

"Troublesome…" He muttered, and the man waited patiently for Shikamaru to bother responding. "…Why would a pirate attack a place like Port Diner? It'll attract the attention of the Marines and put a huge target on their backs, since this island is important. It just isn't logical." The man returned his cig and took a long inhale, before exhaling. He flicked the spent cigarette away, before lighting another; his silver lighter reflected the sun into Shikamaru's eyes, getting a grunt of annoyance from the boy.

"One day, Shikamaru, you will find that the driving force behind some people's actions is anything but logic."

"-ra Shikamaru! Wake up this instant or I swear I'll wake you up myself!" Shikamaru groaned as his eye's creaked open; they quickly shut when curtains were harshly drawn, assaulting his vision with light. "Don't be such a baby!" Opening one eye, he gave the speaker an irritated glance. "Don't you look at your mother that way young man!" A woman with long black hair scolded him, one hand on her hips as the other pointed at his face. "When are you finally going to get a job and move out of here, you damn layabout?!" Shikamaru sat up, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

"I have a job-"

"A volunteer job." She interrupted him, crossing her arms and frowning at him. "I understand that you want to help Chōji and Chōza, but you need a paying job. I work my but off all day so we can live comfortably, and you're just a strain on the household income!" She turned around and made to leave, stopping at the doorway to turn back. Her face had softened into a sad expression and she gazed at a picture on his bedside table. Following her gaze, Shikamaru frowned when he saw a picture of a younger him with a man who looked like an older copy of him, only with scars covering his face. "Help me out here, Shikamaru." When the young man said nothing she sighed and left the doorway. "By the way, if you don't hurry up you'll be late for your 'job'." Shikamaru groaned and fell on his back, staring at the roof with irritation.

"Troublesome."

The clattering sound of the trash can lid resounded in the alley between Akamichi's and The Curry of Life and Shikamaru winced slightly as noise pierced his ears. He let out a yawn, scratching his jaw absently. A small amount of stubble brushed against his fingertips, and he grunted at the reminder that he had rushed out of the house that morning. He had been up late cleaning the kitchen after hours, and Naruto's story kept him there for longer than he would have otherwise, so he had slept in late. It was only at his mother's continued nagging did he pull himself out of bed and hurry to get ready.

"Troublesome woman, how did Dad ever put up with her?" He grumbled, pulling out a cigarette and placing it in his mouth. "I wouldn't be surprised if he died to get away from her moaning." He groped around his pocket for his silver lighter. Finding it, he took it out and went to light his cigarette, but stopped to examine it first. Turning it over, he ran his thumb over two letters engraved into the side: S.A. With another grunt he flicked the lighter open and lit his death stick, bearing through the burning in his throat. That was another thing she got on his back about. "'You'll end up killing yourself from those things' she says. If I did, maybe she'll stop nagging me." He muttered with little-to-no venom, before realising something was off.

It was usually by this point that Karashi would be coming out to dispose of the morning's garbage, while flinging snide insults towards the smoking busboy. It didn't usually matter what time Shikamaru came out, Karashi always somehow managed to find the same time to do the same. Shikamaru frowned as he looked at the door to Karashi's kitchen. Karashi was usually so on point with his timing that Shikamaru had seriously considered the possibility that Karashi actually waited until he heard the clanging of the trash bin before going outside. The fact that he hadn't so much as seen a glimpse of the other man seemed a bit odd to him.

"Hmm, I wonder…" Shikamaru muttered, scratching his stubble and sending a glance to the end of the alley. He exited the alleyway and took a look at the front of which confirmed his suspicions. The Curry of Life curry house had yet to open for business. "Huh, Karashi usually opens up around the same time as Chouza-san…" Scratching his face some more, he examined the restaurant for a few seconds before sighing. "Whatever, too troublesome to think about." Dismissing it, he simply attributed it to Karashi catching a summer cold or something.

"Excuse me, is this Akamichi's?" A shadow fell over Shikamaru, blocking the ever present sun from his skin.

"Troublesome." He sighed, turning around with a bored expression. "Can't anyone read these days? It says so on the building." He gave the man an unimpressed look before turning back around. As he turned, however, he froze when he saw a poster on the wall nearby.

WANTED

DEAD OR ALIVE

KUROSUKI RAIGA

20,000,000

"Oh would you look at that." Raiga preened with a vicious grin as Shikamaru slowly turned back to look at his familiar face. "Looks like some people can read these days."

CHUIIN

Chapter End

Chuiin- Japanese onomatopoeia for cutting into clothes (Yeah, imma use these now)

Yeah, it's, er, been a while since the last update, hasn't it?

To be honest I had a massive writers block for this story. However, reading some One Piece fan fics and playing One Piece Pirate Warriors 3 has given me a bit of motivation and interest to finish this chapter off.

There's not much left of the Port Diner arc now, probably only one more chapter. Though when it will be done I can't promise. When I feel like doing it, really.

Until next time.