It was already 9:30 at night when Kumo finally fell asleep. I wish I had more than a couple odd hours a day to spend with him. He shouldn't be left to his own devices, watched by strangers for the whole day, only coming home to eat and sleep. Running my fingertips through his hair, I resolve to make things better. For Kumo.
Hang on for just a little longer.
Double checking all the windows were locked and doors closed, I rush through a ten minutes shower and change into the nondescript black slacks and button down that was given to me. A small lotus emblem in neon pink rested over the right side of my uniform shirt.
Tying my hair up into my usual half-up half-down style, I pocket my wallet. Slowly opening the other bedroom, I see my father in his usual position. Bottles lay empty as he watches tv. His eyes unfocused, face gaunt and grey, but he's awake.
Maybe in years past he was a good looking man. But now his wide shoulder makes him look more hollow, his strong jaw emphasizing how underweight he is. Perhaps, once beautiful green eyes gleamed like jade, instead of sinking and hiding like mold. If he was every that kind of man, I don't remember it anymore. Walking in, I set the leftover serving from dinner on the table next to his recliner.
"I'll be going out, you have enough food and liquids until I get back." I inform him, "I'll be locking your door from the outside… don't do anything you'll regret."
Taking another hard look at the man, I turn to leave. A sudden grip on my wrist keeps me in place, "What now?"
"Your mother too." He mumbles.
Clenching my fists, I rip my hands out of his grip. His arm slackens without it's support. "She's not here now." I hiss, "Not if I can help it."
He's silent once more and I take that as my cue to leave.
Locking up his bedroom, then the front door. I hurry to the lounge club I'll be working at from now on. It's a ways from where I live and I have to call a cab to take me there in time. It's a thirty minute ride by car, but the pay will more than enough to make up for the transportation expenses.
"This is the place, young man." The cab driver says.
I thank him and pay the fee. Entering from the back entrance as I was directed to, the manager is in the break room door opens to.
"Katsumi-kun." An elegant woman in a sensual dress purrs, "How nice of you to join me."
Smiling pleasantly I respond, "I could never stand you up, Terumī-san."
The auburn haired woman pouts, crossing her arms, "How uncute, you weren't affected at all."
"Does that mean I pass, Terumī-San?" I tease.
"Please, just call me Mei." She says, "You'll be a busboy and the occasional host. We don't get too many that prefer men here, though."
"I don't mind all too much." I reply.
"Good." She says, guiding me to the kitchens to explain where to put what, "if you do well enough, I'll promote you to bartender and you'll make a killing in tips, I'm sure. I'll introduce you to the girls as we see them."
"Ah," I say awkwardly, "I'm still underage, Mei-San."
She waves off my concern, "In the lighting we have at Lotus, everyone is of age, I assure you."
That… worries me even more.
—
My job at the Lotus Lounge Club is pretty simple. I go around acting like a fancy cocktail server and pick up empty glasses and the occasion tapas plate. The hardest part would be ignoring the guest-hostess interactions and seeing in the dim lighting.
The lounge is minimalistic yet tasteful. Sleek booths mixed with Victorian-style loveseats, artfully spaced decor and a low haze of fog should be creepy. But the perfect positioning of a light here and there makes it feel mysterious and intimate. Even the hostesses are a harmony of contemporary and historical with their simplistic dresses with either a deep neckline, or an exposed back, or a slit alarmingly high and victorian era updos. Nevertheless, their elegance remains in the way they walk, talk and almost seem to pose wherever they are.
It's like a constant photo shoot in here.
Once my eyes adjusted and I got the hang of balancing the tray, it's mostly autopilot. I go about my job, avoiding the guests as much as possible and get lost in thought.
I should make enough with this job to pay the upcoming rent. Food expenses have decreased since school started since Kumo receives lunch there. If there's extra this week, I'll buy some snacks for him after school. I should get ahead with homework whenever I can. I no longer have nights to do homework, weekdays are booked with school and two jobs.
"Hey newbie." A voluptuous woman approaches, "There's more guests coming in, cover for me."
Glancing to the entrance I see three males entering. One, a tall bluish grey man with deadly eyes and a sharp grin, next him a sharp eyed man with furrowed brows, and finally a young man with long hair tied back in a low ponytail.
He looks familiar.
"Sorry miss," I begin, looking back to the purple-haired woman, "that's above my pay grade. Besides, I don't really have experience."
The woman snatches my tray from me, expertly balancing the array of glasses and plates. Shoving me forward she sends me off with a, "I'm taking my break now and those guys aren't picky. You're good enough looking."
Stumbling forward I turn around to protest but she's already gone. Sighing, I turn back to the men. They've just been seated and only one hostess is available so far.
Guess I have no choice.
Taking a breath to calm myself, I make my way over to the men. Upon closer inspection, they must be pretty well off. Each one is sporting a tailored suit and I can see some brand name jewelry on each of them from newer collections. The blue guy has double piercing on his ears, the angry one is more minimalistic with only a watch and ring, the youngest has a necklace chain peeking out along with a watch and bracelet.
Some type of corporate heirs?
Reaching them, I lay a hand on the single hostess and smile, "Do mind if I join you all, Amaru-chan?"
The brunette gives a relieved smile and stands to introduce me, "Katsumi-kun! I'm sure your company will be delightful." With surprising strength, the woman pushes me into the space next to the young man, "Have a seat, I'll come back with their refreshments."
My smile stiffens a bit at this, Don't leave me alone with them!
"If you must." I concede. Sashaying away, I'm left in the company of the men.
A low whistle attracts my attention. The blue guy is leaning casually against the booth, arm resting along the back, "You're a good looking kid, Katsumi-kun," he compliments, "but still a kid. How old are you, fifteen? Are you even allowed to be here." He cackles, I feel slightly insulted and I'm sure my cheeks heat up.
Taking another breath, I try to ignore his teasing. "Don't worry, Mister," I reply with a practiced smile, "I'm allowed to be here."
The other older man sighs, pinching the place between his brows, "This place is a waste of money. Why did you even drag me along."
"Loosen up, Kakuzu." The bigger man says, "We're introducing our kohai to the wonders of the world. As a fresh graduate and new employee, we should make him feel welcomed."
"As I said before," the man next to me spoke up, "this is unnecessary, Kisame."
"You better get used to it, Itachi." Kisame grins, "A lot of the older generation like going to places like this. Might as well get comfortable now."
Itachi…
"Pardon my rudeness," I gather their attention, "you gentlemen wouldn't happen to be from Akatsuki?"
"Well look at that," Kisame smirks, "the kid knows something about the world."
I smile back but am internally panicking.
That means this is Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke's older brother. Just the person I wished to avoid.
"Child," Kakuzu addresses me, "what drew you to such a conclusion?"
"It's Katsumi, Kakuzu-san." I correct, "And it wasn't hard to connect the dots. It was all over the news how the Chief of Police's son, Uchiha Itachi, was employed at the infamous Akatsuki Corporation."
I feel the gaze of Itachi on me and concentrate to not fidget under his attention, "I was just curious," I explain, "I never saw any pictures."
"Seems like you have a fan, Itachi!" Kisame says, his teeth glinting as he pats the Uchiha on the back.
"Nothing quite like that." I counter.
"Aw and he's shy."
"There's not many people with green hair." Itachi states. He's watching me closely and I get a bad feeling about that specific observation. Hopefully Amaru comes back soon.
"If you say so, Itachi-San." I demure, attempting to end this ominous subject.
"Katsumi-kun~" the familiar voice of Amaru greets as she approaches. She boldly sits between the two tall men. Kakuzu's lean figure and Kisame's bulky stature making the already petite woman look even smaller. "I've brought the drinks! Yuko will be accompanying us too, sorry for taking your time." She apologizes cutely.
"Katsumi isn't a host, then?" Kisame asks, leaning into the female to grab his drink.
Amaru giggles and leans into the big man, "No, we just required his services for a bit."
Seeing an out, I say my thanks and leave. I covertly wipe my sweaty palm on my pants and refocus myself on work. Although, avoiding Itachi is my number one priority. I have this weird feeling that I'm being targeted. I return to cleaning up, doing the areas away from those three men and keep myself as occupied as possible.
Another one of my duties is to take care of the bathrooms. Nothing gross, I merely ensure that everything is in stock and in their proper places. It gives me the chance to decompress a bit away from the eyes of the patrons and hostesses. A little time to myself. Maybe, if the lounge doesn't have too many customers, I can do some homework throughout the night.
The click of a lock makes me tense, a sense of impending danger makes me reluctant to raise my gaze. The niggling thought that if I don't see anything, it's all okay pokes at me. That's silly of course, so I force myself to look up. Standing in front of the bathroom entrance is Itachi, his hand on the lock.
Itachi is not like his brother Sasuke. Maybe one day, Sasuke would be able to exude the same intimidation and controlled power, but right now, the difference between them is night and day. Sasuke is a weird boy that I could toss around. But Itachi is an adult, a man who can overpower me in a fight. More than that, he has the backing of the Uchiha Clan, the police department, and now, it seems, the Akatsuki.
I think I've finally bitten off more than I can chew.
"Itachi-san." I greet, forcing a nice smile onto my face, "I'll leave you to your business."
Hesitantly, I make my way to walk past him. Predictably, he doesn't allow me to leave. Instead I find myself slammed in the wall behind me, face-to-face with an invincible foe.
With the door hinges on one-side and his arm barring the other, I'm trapped. Peering up, I can't make out much of his face. The lights behind him creates shadows, running my imagination rampant. I'm not confident that I would be able to read his expression but I only seeing the infamous red eyes of the Sharingan is worse than any look I could receive. They seem to glow from his eyes, three tomoe spin lazily, hypnotically. It's petrifying.
Nothing to do but face him head on now.
"What do you need?" I inquire, raising my face with a courage I didn't feel.
"Sasuke came back one day," he begins, his voice low and even, "covered in bruises on his face, chest and back."
I stay silent, my heart skipping a beat.
"No matter how I asked him how he got hurt," he continues, "he wouldn't answer."
Just as I thought. The verification was distant and left my mouth dry. It didn't feel good to be right.
"I did over hear him cursing a green-haired witch though." He shares, his cold inspection of me making my skin crawl, "You, however, appear to be male."
Like a cold bucket of ice is dumped onto me, I catch his meaning clearly. I feel my body involuntarily shake and my mind is racing yet blank.
"Should I confirm that?" He murmurs.
Acutely aware of his every movement, I see his free hand slowly approach my waist, I feel every millimeter my shirt slide up as he untucks it. My hands clench at my chest, terror is running through my veins and the instant I feel his cold hands make contact with my skin my hands shoot out.
He doesn't budge.
My arms are shaking with the force of my struggle. My breaths come out in gasps and I feel my energy leaving quickly. But. He. Doesn't. Move.
Before a grown man, no, a still growing man, I'm helpless and terrified. No matter how hard or suddenly I react, how I try to retaliate, right now, I'm at his mercy. How far would Itachi Uchiha go for his brother? Thinking, even in my muddled mind, of what I would do for my brother. What I have done for my brother. My knees weaken and I can't focus. I can only process the overbearing presence of this man in front of me and the cold tile behind me. It takes me a second to register that even though he didn't budge, he doesn't continuing either. Too frightened to look up, I wait for his move in this stand still.
His hand slips away, my arms have no resistance as he steps back, and they fall limply to my sides. I sense, more than see, his figure retreating. "You're not the right age." He- he justifies? Explains? Apologizes?
The click of the door unlocking, the soft creak of him gently shutting it, and when I can no longer hear his footsteps, the oppressive memories remain. Too shaken to do anything, I slide down the wall and cradle my knees.
Just this once, I let my tears fall freely.
A/N
Protective Itachi wouldn't let something like Sasuke being hurt slide. And, despite her cool attitude and maturity, Katsumi is a twelve year old girl. She doesn't handle those beyond her peers as smoothly and is uncomfortable around 'adults.' More than that, her life really emphasizes she is a child because she is constantly having to pretend to be older.