About half an hour later, I'm back on Hyuuga grounds, taking leisure steps toward the grand entrance, with bags of groceries, clothes, and hygienic products all in one hand. My footsteps remain unhurried for a few seconds—that is, until I direct my sight toward the windows and realize that no body is seated at its sill. I unconsciously hold my breath in light anticipation as I search through my various pockets for the door keys. As my free hand continues to fumble through my clothing, I walk over to the window and peer into it.

I reconfirm that there is absolutely no trace of No.10's existence remaining in my living room. The black strips of clothing, the handcuffs: both gone. And apparently, so are my keys. I clench my fists anxiously.

How could she have possibly broken free? To where could she have escaped when I've meticulously secured all three front doors twice? And most importantly, what will happen to the promised fifty million once Sasuke finds out—

The windows. I didn't lock the windows.

My head shoots up with revelation. The shopping bags meet the floor with a small thud as I bring my hands toward the window pane. I exhale uneasily before pressing all fingers against the glass casements, pushing them to their right. They don't even put up a fight. There's no doubt that No.10 opened them with equal ease.

I swallow the urge to physically reprimand myself. In exactly what state of mind was I in that resulted in such recklessness? Cursing under my breath, I heave myself onto the window's outer transom. Only my left leg manages to reach the living room floor before I hear light footsteps.

"Neji!" I watch a pair of white socks come into view. "You're finally here!"

No.10 can't possibly sound this manly. I look up. And immediately regret doing so. "…Hiashi-san?"

"Good evening." The elder man eyes me with a suspicious glint. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Uh, I'm—I'm just…" I pause. "I'm just training."

Hiashi's expression turns only more severe. "By climbing through the window?" He steps closer and peeks at the bags on the ground outside. "With groceries?"

"Correct," I say. I throw my body over the window's sharp ledge and land on the marmoreal floor in the most poised manner I could manage. "It's a new warm up drill that a fellow bodyguard recommended." I bring the groceries in and slide the windows back to their closed state. I lock them.

"I see." Hiashi's frown softens. "It's good to see that you're keeping up with the latest exercise regimes."

I nod, trying my hardest to look him straight in the eye without feeling too ridiculous. "Did you wait long, Hiashi-san?" I inquire, and can't help but scan the room's interior, hoping to find a sign, any sign, of No.10's presence.

"For about twenty minutes or so," is the monotone answer. "I thought I'd check up on you, to see if you were sleeping well and eating healthy meals—but judging from those bags, you seem to be taking care of yourself just fine."

"Thank you for your concern," I reply evenly. I suppress the need to ask about whether or not he encountered an unusually pale, frail, nearly naked woman with an anorexic body of red wounds handcuffed to my window post. The more I thought about it, however, the more unlikely it—

"Neji, are you keeping a woman here?"

My back stiffens. "…I beg your pardon. I don't think I heard you correctly."

"Are you keeping a woman here?"

"No."

"The discoveries I've made in your living room dare to convince me otherwise," my elder responds with a raised eyebrow.

I gulp silently. "I'm afraid I don't follow—"

"I found handcuffs on the floor." Hiashi fetches a few objects from his pocket. "As well as black blindfolds." Something catches in my throat as I glance at the dark strips of fabric that made up No.10's earlier attire. "Neji, I understand...that you're at that age." Confusion threatens to arise upon my features, but I wait for him to continue with little expression. "Your life's at its golden age, I believe. Nevertheless, to participate…in acts of bondage is simply—"

My composure almost explodes. "Hiashi-san, I assure you, I wasn't engaging in any form of—uh, sadomasochism." I somehow maintain my bland façade. "The handcuffs and blindfolds…are all part of the new routine I mentioned earlier."

"Oh." Hiashi doesn't seem very convinced. "Why did I find the cuffs around a pole then?"

"It's more of a window pillar than a pole," I explain. "It was just a method of first-level simulation."

"Ah, that makes sense." The older man nods to himself with a perceptive look. "Good."

"Are there any other important matters of discussion, Hiashi-san?"

"Oh, yes. Plenty." He takes a seat on an oriental sofa. "I have a job for you."

As if the current one wasn't enough. "I see." I stride to the far left corner of the room to retrieve a full set of vintage demitasse cups. "Do you prefer coffee or tea?"

"Coffee. Thank you." Hiashi folds his arms comfortably and allows his back to relax into the couch. "Neji, do you remember the Nara Company?"

"Nara?" I echo as I set two cups onto the wooden coffee table. "The company's the source of many important clients of yours, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes." Hiashi takes a sip from his coffee cup before continuing. "Unfortunately, at approximately 9 PM last night, its chief executive was murdered."

I descend into the settee across from Hiashi. "Cause of death?"

"Three bullets through the brain; one through the cerebellum, another through the parietal lobe, the third along the motor cortex."

I take a polite sip of the black coffee as well. "It's not wrong to assume that this is a professional gunman."

"Gunwoman, actually," Hiashi says with a curved eyebrow.

"What?" I set my cup down rather loudly.

"The Nara family's detectives found pink nail polish on the pistol's grip."

My eyes narrow. Pink? "The gun was left at the crime scene?"

"Yes. A Beretta 93R."

"A selective-fire machine pistol," I murmur, clasping my hands under my chin.

"We believe that the assassin is now targeting the deceased Nara-san's son-in-law," Hiashi says grimly. "I'd like to put him in your hands for a while."

I grimace, and spend a moment to think. "With all due respect, Hiashi-san, I…I don't think I can take this job."

"I know you can take this job."

"You overestimate my abilities, Hiashi-san," I answer. "The timing just isn't—"

"Neji, you're the best man for this type of task. Besides, who can I trust more than my own nephew?" Hiashi finishes his coffee and gives me a don't-fuck-with-me look. "You know I won't take no for an answer."

"Hiashi-san, there's a crazy prostitute on the loose—one that I have been handed complete responsibility for. I'm putting fifty million on the line. I'm busy. I'm irritated. And I'm hungry. I'm sure it won't hurt you to find another bodyguard for this Nara runt," is what I want to say. But all that leaves my mouth is a solid "I understand".

"Good. As expected from a Hyuuga," Hiashi exclaims. I watch him fetch out a phone from his relatively small pocket that was nevertheless able to carry my set of handcuffs and No.10's meter-long piece of black fabric earlier. He presses in a few digits and brings the gadget to his ears. After a terse greeting, a "Bring him in," and a click, the device returns to his pocket.

I welcome the peculiar feeling of déjà vu, realizing a moment later that a similar event had indeed happened before—in Sasuke's office specifically. It wouldn't be surprising if the personnel leading Nara-san into my compound were No.5 and No.6 themselves.

Soon, somebody knocks on the glass door and I move to unlock it. Almost immediately, a tenacious force blasts through the entrance, nearly knocking me off balance. Hiashi grunts at the insolence but before he can shoot his trademark glare, the intrusion speaks. "Good evening, Hiashi-sama! Nara-san is ill!"

"Ill?" Hiashi almost screeches. "Where is he?"

"In the car, sir!"

The older man fumes. "I told you to bring him in!"

"He can't move, sir!" replies the enthusiastic sentinel, going so far as to saluting. I observe him in quiet amusement.

"Well, carry him then!"

"Yes, sir!" The lad vanishes out into the parking lot.

I wait for Hiashi to recover from his aggravation before turning to him. "I don't recognize him. Is he new?"

"Unfortunately." A sigh. "He hasn't grown accustomed to the world's secretive, not to mention saner, side of occupations.

"…It appears so."

"But," Hiashi announces, "he has great physical potential. He'll catch up to your strength in no time." He stops to raise a judgmental eyebrow. "I'll make sure to assign him exercise routines much more strenuous than yours."

I merely nod. Is it all that necessary for him to bring this topic up again?

"I'll have him climb walls."

"Don't forget the groceries, Hiashi-san."

"Ah, thank you for reminding me." Hiashi folds his arms. "I'll replace them with bricks." The Hyuugan mastermind illuminates. I unwillingly watch. "Nevertheless, I still have to think of a method to quiet that boy down." He narrows his eyes. "He is far too noisy."

"Perhaps—"

"Hiashi-sama!" A green explosion whirls into the room again, carrying a blue-faced man on the verge of death. Or so it seems. "I brought Nara-san!"

"Lee," Hiashi calls, eying the frail man in his arms. "Lay him down." Lee drops him on the sofa. "How ill is he?"

"I do not know, sir." A salute. "Nara-san said he felt cold and fell asleep, sir."

Hiashi crossed his arms foully. "And?"

"And?" Lee wears a pitiful look. "And—uh…and he's ill, sir!"

An exasperated sigh exits Hiashi's scowling mouth. "Neji." He whips his head to me. "This is tiring me to my wit's end. I leave these people to you. Ask Lee for the job details." He eyes the green mess. "Hopefully, he can explain things logically."

Before I can nod, Lee opens his mouth. "I will try my best to explicate comprehensively, sir!"

"Yes, yes." Hiashi slips into his shoes. "I'm counting on you." He sends me one last look and disappears out the door.

I sigh for the umpteenth time. "Hyuuga Neji," is my lengthy self introduction. "Lee! Rock Lee!" is his. We shake hands. For three very painful seconds.

"Nara Shikamaru," a voice murmurs from behind. I turn to the couch in slight surprise, then scrutinize a pineapple-shaped blob of hair and the man under it. He stares back for half a second before yielding to a tremendous yawn. He recovers momentarily. "So, where am I?"