The next day found Shikamaru dressed in a fairly nicer set of clothes then he was accustomed to wearing, a backpack hanging from one shoulder and his camera in its usual spot around his neck as he walked down the street from his apartment early in the morning. Passing cars and chatting students who'd opted out of class to hang at the coffee shop, he wove his way down the sidewalk, paying them no more heed then to make sure he didn't run into anyone. He had an appointment to make, and while he'd given himself enough time to arrive, he still wasn't the type for idle chitchat or time wasting, it just brought in more trouble then it was worth.
Due to his surprising talent and his ability to find pictures near anywhere of near anything that people wanted, Shikamaru was able to make a pretty good living by developing his own photos and selling them to local magazines and newspapers. Granted, his living expenses added up to basically nothing save for the occasional grocery store trip and camera supply along with rent, so it wasn't that hard to live on the sporadic payment schedule. It also helped that a large magazine publisher was located on the other side of town in a warehouse merged with an office building that had a good handful of publications they sent out each month. There was always something they could use his pictures for, and he was apparently cheaper then hiring their own photographer, so everyone was happy with the arrangement.
Crossing the street, he took the alley behind the bus station and picked up his steps, walking a little faster. As he stepped out of the alley he heard something crackle under his feet. Shikamaru stopped and glanced down frowning as he stepped off to the side and pulled the rather large glass shard from his shoe.
At the edge of the alley it appeared that a large group of students had decided to shatter their beer bottles, rather then tossing them in the nearby garbage can. As a result the entire end of the alleyway was covered with glass shards, and Shikamaru had made the unfortunately mistake of wandering right into it. Luckily he wore fairly thick-soled shoes and he only felt the glass break through his sole, but it never reached his foot. He tossed the large piece of green tinted glass into the garbage can next to him and walked out of the alley way, then turned to look back at it.
From where he stood now, the sun glinted off one of the building, adding a rainbow of colors to the glass before him. The angle was just right as well that you couldn't quite tell it was glass, and instead it looked like the old and cracked blacktop had worn away to reveal a lower layer made of diamonds and other semi-precious stones. Almost like a modern day dragon's stash had accidentally been unearthed by the night street cleaning crew.
Shikamaru took a few more steps to the side, watching how the light angle changed and then set his backpack down on the ground, popping off the lens cap from his camera. Silently he lined up the lens and adjusted the focus, waiting until the clouds moved overhead and there were no shadows cast over the area. He noticed that from his camera there was also a deep red tint to all the glass, but that was probably from a glare and he could filter that out while developing the picture. He snapped the photo and listened to the camera click and the film move through his camera. Then he placed the lens cap back on and hurried to his appointment.
(later)
A distinct ticking filled the room, scaring away silence with its steady beat and Shikamaru resisted the urge to fidget as he waited on the photos. He currently sat in the middle of a fancy office, laid out in dark oak and maroon velvet as highlights. Bookshelves were filled with magazines and books arranged by color and date in perfect order without a single issue out of place. The man in front of him echoed the office's severe order with a perfectly pressed suit standing only in contrast to his hair which refused to stay combed perfectly and stood up just slightly out of order, still this was hardly noticeable when he was surrounded by such order.
He flipped through the pictures, careful to only touch the edges as Shikamaru watched, dividing them into two piles: useable and unusable. It was the same wait each week as the man looked through the pile of photos and scribbled notes in a small pad next to his other hand. In the end, when he looked up, Shikamaru noted that his 'unusable pile' was only a handful of the stack, with the majority sitting in the pile which was to be purchased. The man handed Shikamaru a hastily scribbled out sheet with information for him to pick up his check from the secretary outside.
"I actually have an offer as well," he said, when Shikamaru reached for the paper. Shikamaru blinked at him, then nodded as he sat back down.
"We have a photo shoot coming up for a special issue which will be released for the summer. I need someone who'll be willing to show up and take the pictures, and your style would fit quite well with what we have planned."
"A swimsuit issue," he said, not really sounding that interested. Shikamaru wasn't, that was plain as day. He preferred to take pictures of odd things and had never really enjoyed the assignments that resembled the fashion magazine pictures which covered the shelves this time of year. He preferred things that appeared out of the blue and presented themselves for picture taking at random, not set up photo shoots where everything was far too controlled. Still…
"There would be a substantial check involved."
Shikamaru shrugged away the urge to laugh at that, or wave it off. He didn't really care about the money since he didn't necessarily need it, though it would be nice. "I'll think about it."
"Great, here's the date and the information." The man handed him a sheet of paper which had already been printed out and finalized, complete with information for a prepayment if he agreed.
Shikamaru blinked at the paper and did his best not to scowl in annoyance. Was he that predictable now that he knew he'd agree even before he asked? Not that it mattered. A second later he simply nodded and slipped the paper in his folder with the few unused photos, and then placed that in his bag. Giving a polite 'thank you' he exited the room, leaving his newly sold photos in the man's hands. He didn't even ask what articles or anything they'd be used for, he didn't really care that much.
A stop at the front desk to interrupt the male secretary from reading his shady book to get his check and Shikamaru was headed home. The whole meeting had taken maybe an hour and in the end he'd sold more pictures then he thought he would, so he was pretty satisfied. And now he had plans to drop off his things and spend the rest of the day wandering with his camera, seeing what he could find.
Turning his steps, he headed back for his alley short cut, which he'd taken not too long ago, only to find the alley way now blocked by two lumps of metal, which used to be called cars. Shikamaru slowly came to a stop and looked at the scene.
Two cars blocked the alley, one of fairly new design with gleaming red paint, while the other was an older piece but still new enough to crumble like aluminum foil from a head-on crash. The windows were shattered, glass spreading across the road and now surrounded by police tape to keep on lookers from getting glass in their feet and shoes. It wasn't hard to tell the police had already been here and they'd tried their best to clean up part of the mess, because there was an ambulance pulling away, and the glass on the street near one of the cars was soaked in thick red blood, glimmering like precious rubies just now unearthed.
Precious stones.
Shikamaru felt his hands grow cold and the backpack, which was slung over one shoulder, slid off his arm to thump on the ground. Suddenly the camera around his neck felt very heavy and he found himself wishing for a moment it that the strap would break so that he wouldn't have to hold it. All he could think about was the picture he'd taken not two hours ago.
Hadn't he likened it in his mind to precious stones found under the pavement? Hadn't it had a strange blood red tint when he'd taken the picture? Now that he thought about it it had looked exactly like blood covering the street and tinting the glass like that. Hadn't he…
Ridiculous.
That's what it was, ridiculous. Things like this didn't happen and he was being a fool for getting so worked up about it. It was just a car crash that happened to occur in the same alley he cut through nearly every week. It was nothing more then that, it couldn't be.
He stared at the scene a moment longer, noticing other students and businessmen and women stopping to survey the damage. It was the normal gawker's stall that occurred around any accident. Everyone just had to come over and see for themselves what had happened and what was going on.
Even the blond boy from the photo store from yesterday.
Shikamaru began to consider leaving the scene, and actually lifted the first foot to do so, when he noticed something peculiar. The blond boy from before wasn't actually looking at the glass, the blood or the poor excuse for what used to be two cars. Instead, his eyes were focused solely on Shikamaru and his camera.
Shikamaru blinked in question as he watched him back. Strange.
A siren broke his concentration as a police car rounded the corner, the loud whining shattering the stunned silence around him. He moved with the crowd which had gathered, shuffling out of the way for the car, which was followed by a tow truck to take care of the two piles of crushed metal.
Shikamaru looked up, but couldn't find the blond boy from before. Turning he shrugged and grabbed his backpack, swinging it back over one shoulder. He might as well head home, after all, what really was the point of staying and staring as they hauled everything away?
It certainly wasn't that he felt guilty or anything, that couldn't be it. Why would you feel guilty for taking a picture and not realizing that the sun glinting off the glass looked like blood? Why would that make him even partially responsible? It was just ridiculous and he was making something out of nothing.
Least… that's what he was trying to tell himself.