Author's Notes: Unlike the last chapter, I am quite pleased with this one. My beta didn't know what a salaryman was, so I realized I should probably have put something in the author's notes… anyways, it's a Japanese term, for a business man. They usually work really long hours and get drunk on the way home…
Anyways, hope you all like it!
Echizen Nanjiroh adjusted his mask, feeling immensely pleased with himself. He would never be recognized in this getup, not in a thousand years. With his identity safely concealed, he would have a leisurely evening to ogle full-chested ladies of pleasure as he wished. Nothing could stop him now. Nothing at all…
Except, perhaps, a massive, smiley-face coated arm shooting out in front of his chest just as he prepared to enter the door.
"What?" he demanded of the heavily muscled bouncer who was restraining him with a single large hand.
"Old perverts are not permitted, sir," replied the bouncer, sounding rehearsed.
"Old pervert? I'm not even forty!" Nanjiroh cried, affronted.
"Yes. Old perverts are not permitted," stated the bouncer, picking Nanjiroh up by the back of his robe and tossing him to the side, where he landed on top of a rather large pile of unconscious red-faced salarymen.
Nanjiroh, however, was not to be deterred so easily from his prize.
Tugging his mask up, he crept back up to the door, attempting to sneak in under the bouncer's gaily decorated arm. Alas, however, he was detained once again.
"Old perverts are not permitted, sir," said the bouncer, in the exact same tone as the last time.
"Old pervert?" Nanjiroh squawked, attempting to disguise his voice. "I'm not an old pervert! I'm…selling juice! Yes! Just an innocent juice-seller!"
"Oh. Okay then, go in," the bouncer said.
…Hey, nobody ever said Kiriyama was intelligent.
In the meantime, Nanjiroh surveyed the room, widening his eyes as much as possible to best drink in the oasis of delights it had to offer.
…Which seemed to be rather dry. The dancers up on stage were rather young-looking for his tastes, and quite flat-chested… but they were cute, and looked like twins. Everybody loved twins. Especially female ones.
But…wait a minute, looking closer…those weren't female twins, were they? Nanjiroh was a man of many talents, and female-ogling was one of the first and foremost. Nanjiroh was excellent at recognizing a feminine specimen, and those up on stage most definitely…weren't. In fact, he was pretty sure he'd seen their pictures in Tennis Monthly…
He let loose a strangled scream, attracting the attention of the only other person in the club who appeared to be watching the dancers.
Now that was a fine specimen of womanhood. A specimen…for a special man, and Nanjiroh chuckled at his own pun, not realizing that if he had said it aloud, a certain teenager currently in Chiba would have found himself inexplicably drawn towards Tokyo, as if by gravity, unable to break from the pull until his foot had connected with the monk's head.
…That would have been really weird, so it's probably a good thing Nanjiroh didn't say it aloud.
And now, back to the vision of loveliness, clad in a delectable miniskirt, a strip of cloth barely containing her ripe busom. How he would love to harvest those engorged—
(To prevent our readers from being further traumatized by Nanjiroh's train of thought, we will now fast-forward to the part where he realizes Hanamura is talking to him.)
(Several minutes and much flowery, perverted mental prose later—)
—those full cherry lips were moving, sensual strokes caressing words of passion…words? Oh, yes, words! He snapped out of his daze, giving her voice his full attention…or at least some measure of it.
"Do you hear me? I said do you hear me! How did you get in here? I specifically told Kiriyama he was only to allow cute young boys! Now leave, before I lose my temper!"
…Young…boys? This full flower of feminine desire was a pedophile? No, surely he must have misheard… he searched desperately around the room, looking for something…anything, to belie the statement…
He saw only a remarkable number of underage, boy-boy couples on the dance floor, several of whom he recognized from articles in Tennis Monthly as Jr. High tennis players in the area… Tennis players against whom his son might have played…
And those two, weren't they from his son's school? He'd transfer Ryoma, he had to, before he was corrupted by those perverts…except that there seemed to be representatives from the tennis team of every major school in the area. What would his son do? His son would be corrupted! His son would not grow up to follow his magazine-leering ways! His son…was right over there…
Right over there, finishing a dance with that boy from his team. NOOO! He was too late! His son was already corrupted! Where had he gone wrong? He'd wanted to introduce the boy to magazines sooner, but his wife has clobbered him quite soundly when he suggested it at the age of ten…he shouldn't have listened to her mighty fist! He should have defied, and he would not be standing here right now! Well… he probably would. BUT HIS SON WOULD BE STANDING BESIDE HIM. Beside him, searching for females with him, not in the arms of some stranger, saying something not meant for him…wait…saying something…
"All right, I danced with you. Now buy me Ponta."
NOOOOO! His son wasn't just corrupted, his son…his son was…A PONTA WHORE! He should have snatched that foul drink from his son's hands the first time he saw him with it! But even then, the addiction might have already set in! He should never have given him pocket change to nourish his dependency! WHERE HAD HE GONE WRONG?
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"I told you to get out!" Hanamura screamed. "Reiji! Make this man leave! I give you permission to use it!"
Shinjou nodded, picking up an empty can of Ponta. "DEEEEP…IMPULSE!" he yelled, crossing his arms and flinging the can at Nanjiroh. He would traumatize this man…he would traumatize him until he would never want to enter a strip club again…
Little did Shinjou know, Nanjiroh was already quite sufficiently traumatized, and would gladly have run home screaming if he was capable of finding the exit in his current state. WHERE HAD HE GONE WRONG?
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"Echizen, look, it's that crazy monk! Why do you think he's freaking out?"
Ryoma looked over, and paled slightly, quickly averting his gaze. "No clue. Now buy me Ponta."
Note: I think there's only 3 more chapters of this thing left! Yay!