Naruto (c) Masashi Kishimoto

Yuzuki stared out at the vast cityscape before her from the fifteenth floor. The twilight was gathering and the city was slowly flicking the lights on; it was a beautiful sight, the soft orange glow of streetlamps, the multi-colors of neon signs, all mixed with the purple and gold of the evening sky. She sighed softly, touching the window and wishing she could be out there.

She glanced down at all the people milling about below the skyscraper that she lived in. She felt so far removed from everyone else. It was a little eerie, but her step-mother always said she was privileged, she was lucky to be born into a rich family, that her father was a high ranking government official. Especially, in today's economy, her step-mother always said. She could do anything she wanted with her life, oppose to the less fortunate that were at the mercy of a system that seemed broken beyond repair.

Yet it was times like these, that she wanted to just break free and run away, getting lost in the twisting dark alleys of the city beneath her. She chewed her lip, she should be studying for her college entrance exams. Her step-mother wouldn't accept anything but the best university in the country! It was a tall order that Yuzuki feared she wouldn't be able to fill. Sighing softly, the young woman turned away from the gathering night outside her window and went back to her desk. She clicked on the deck lamp and began to study.

"And stay out!" a gruff voice yelled as a pair of bouncers tossed a ruffled young man into the alley. He landed with an oof and in a puddle that was a mixture of water and something else. He rather not think about that something else.

"Yeah, well," he snapped as he got up, "I didn't want to be in your shitty bar either!" He tugged at his leather jacket, glanced around at the ground. "Fuck," he grumbled noticing his cigarettes and lighter were on the ground. He stooped and picked up the two items. "Mm," he opened the pack of cigarettes. "Only two left, hmph, at least they aren't wet." He muttered and shoved both items into the pocket of his jacket.

The young man left the alley, but not before he made sure to rip open the bags of rotting greasy food that were in the dumpsters and scatter the garbage all over the rear entrance of the bar he just got thrown out of.

Outside the alley, cars honked loudly, fewer shopkeepers where shouting their wares and though the general press of people didn't dwindle, it just changed demographic, the housewives and elderly women out doing their shopping was replaced with businesspeople heading home and young adults hanging out for the night. There was a loud ching-ching of a bicycle bell and Madara had only a few moments to step aside, though the cyclist's handlebars clipped his bicep. "Hey, watch where the fuck you're going!" he shouted, before hunching his shoulders in a disgruntled manner. He reached an intersection, smashed the cross-walk button and waited. He tossed his head back to stare at the sky. It was a purple and gold mixture, and he could barely see the brightest of stars in the sky.

He sighed softly before looking at the towering skyscrapers around him. He felt trapped, like a mouse in a maze. He missed the countryside of his childhood, where he was chased by his younger brothers, their laughter echoing across rolling hills. He didn't like the city, but eventually the need for money drove his family from the little country town they lived in to the big city. He felt like a fish out of water, leaving everything he loved behind: his school, his best friend, his house, the sense of freedom.

Madara studied the windows of the skyscrapers and noticed that there was a shadowy figure staring down at the intersection. He frowned, wondering about that person, and who they were and why they were watching this intersection. Do-deet! Do-deet! The cross-walk suddenly flashed a green walk symbol and Madara moved with the crowd, though he kept one eye trained on the person in the skyscraper, until he turned a corner, down a darker street and lost sight of it.

"Where have you been!?" screeched the voice of an angry red haired woman. Her slate-blue eyes narrowing in her disappointed. "Do you realize that Hashirama has a exam in the morning?! He's been working half your shift!"

"Hn," Madara ignored her shoved a cigarette into his mouth, before lighting it. "I'm here now," he said as he exhaled smoke. Mito coughed and waved her hand in front of her face.

"That's not the point! You got fired from the three previous jobs because you were on your own schedule! You never show up on time! Don't you have any sense of commitment?"

"If I did, I'd be like Hashirama," Madara took a drag on his cigarette before letting out a lungful of smoke. "Probably be studying genetics or medicine, specializing in optometry. I always been curious about how the eye worked."

"Argh," Mito waved her giant bamboo chopstick at him before shoving an apron in his face. "Put this on, and get working! We have customers to serve!"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, dropping the cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his shoe. He put the apron on, had Mito help him tie it in the back before putting the bandanna on his head to keep his hair out of his face. He walked out to the area behind the bar with Mito, where she began to oversee the huge bubbling pots of broth and noodles. The old wooden bar sat fifteen people and the two tables could seat four additional people. It was needless to say, packed, as it always was. Construction workers, electricians, common labourers always came to Uzumaki Ramen after work and before heading home to their wives and families. They smoked, drank some saki, ate delicious ramen, and talked loudly about their day. On big baseball games, the little room was packed with screaming fans, saki flowed like a river and the smoke haze was so thick it was like the fog in the morning.

Madara didn't mind working here, with his best friend and said friend's girlfriend. Mito had inherited the shop from her father and had kept the family tradition of making ramen noodles from scratch, as well as everything else. Any tourist was always pointed in the direction of Uzumaki Ramen whenever the came here.

"Oh, and Madara," Mito added, whispering low enough that the crowd couldn't hear her. Madara winched a bit since the bowls of hot ramen were starting to burn his hands and he could see the glares of the people waiting for the bowls.

"Yes?" Madara asked.

"You're working until closing."

Madara glared at her, "I hate you."

"Aww, how sweet," Mito patted his cheek before going back to stirring the huge boiling pot of noodles. Madara grumbled and set the bowls down before the waiting customers. They grabbed their chopsticks, said the grace and began to slurp the hot noodles. Madara sighed, and went back for more bowls of noodle soup.

The crowd was dwindling down, it was still busy but it was packed. The half the bar was empty and Madara found time to wipe it between serving and mopping up any mess Mito made and count his tips. He was chewing on a toothpick, since Mito refused to allow him to smoke while he was working, when a girl walked in. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, with cream pale skin and true black hair cut in a hime style. She wore slacks and town shoes, as well as a blouse and a stylish jacket. She clutched her purse tightly to her chest. Her eyes were wide and were a dark chocolate color that appeared black from a distance. She looked like a frightened deer. Especially when the more intoxicated of the men were leering at her like she was a piece of fresh meat.

The girl sat down at the far corner of the bar, setting her purse on the counter and putting her hands, fingers splayed, on either side of it. She looked around nervously. Madara walked up to her. "May I help you?" he asked.

"Oh?" she jumped blinking at him; she had delicate rose bud lips that formed a perfect little O of surprise. "I... I... I..." she blushed and looked away.

"I suggest you get the Whirlpool special," he said leaning against the counter top. "It has naruto, pork slices, nori, black mushrooms, slice green onions and a fired egg on top. You can add other toppings as well," he tapped a little placarded on the counter.

"Oh... I... I already ate dinner at home," the girl admitted.

"Then why are you out here, in a ramen bar at eleven-thirty at night?" Madara arched a brow. The girl hung her head.

"I don't know," she finally admitted. "I just got this... urge," she looked up at him suddenly, her eyes wide and bright with excitement. "I wanted to go somewhere... rustic! A hole in the wall. A place where... average people go."

"Oh," Madara straightened a bit. "So, you just want to sit here a people watch?" he arched his brow, flummoxed.

"Yeah," the girl nodded, "I guess so."

"Well, the mistress of the joint may not be too pleased with that," Madara said and gifted the girl with a sauve grin. "But, I don't mind if you just watch. It's an art serving ramen and not getting your fingers in the broth or spilling it. Especially, when you have demanding costumers."

The girl giggled behind hand. "You're funny," she smiled, "and easy to talk to."

"Most people will disagree with you," he said, "they'll tell you I'm an arrogant pain in the ass. I don't know if they're right, but I'm glad you think otherwise."

"Oi! Lover-boy!" Mito shouted, drawing Madara's attention away from the mysterious girl. Madara huffed, held up one finger to the girl before walking over to Mito.

"What? And don't call me that." He scowled at her.

"Shift ain't over," Mito shoved two bowls of ramen into his empty hands. "No flirting on the job!"

"I'm not flirting Mito!"

"No whatever you're doing. If she isn't going to order anything send her home!" Mito gave Madara a fierce glare before he left to drop the bowls of ramen off to their awaiting customers. Madara set the bowls down, said a few words before going back to the stranger girl.

"I'll order something," she said when he returned.

"Really?"

"Yes, I'd take your suggestion," she smiled prettily at him.

"Great," he returned smile before looking over his shoulder and shouting: "Oi, Mito! One Whirlpool Special!"

"Get to work Madara!" Mito shouted.

"I am working you, cruel slave driving mistress!"

"Don't make me get my sister!" Mito bellowed. The mysterious girl giggled.

"So, you're name is Madara, huh?"

"Yeah," he looked around and grabbed a rag and began to wipe a spot on the counter, all to make it look like he was busy in case Mito decided to snarl at him. "My mother named me," he said.

"What does it mean?"

"Speckles," Madara shrugged, before flinching when Mito called the order up for the mysterious girl's bowl of ramen. She stayed in that spot after finishing, chitchatting with him, until it was closing time.

"I'll walk you home," he offered as he shrugged on his jacket.

"Oh, no!" the girl shook her head, Madara frowned and looked out at the dark city. There weren't as many people out here and even though it was relatively safe, he would feel better knowing she got home safely.

"Are you crazy? It's a dark city, and you are a beautiful young woman," Madara pointed out. The girl blushed shyly. "At least let me walk you to your apartment building. I won't go up with you."

"Well... I suppose my parents are asleep at this our. So I guess it couldn't hurt,"

"Compromised reached," he grinned. "Let's go," and began to walk away from the ramen shop.

Yuzuki couldn't believe that she had actually snuck out of her home, found herself in a rinky-dink ramen shop or that the handsome server was walking her home. She looked at him. He wore jeans and a stained t-shirt beneath a worn leather jacket. Sneakers were on his feet and he was smoke a cigarette, the end burning red-orange in the darkness and illuminating his face. His hair was true black like her's, though wild and unruly and a shock of it fell in his right eye. He reached up, took a drag on the cigarette before exhaling silvery smoke. With a practice ease he flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette. "So, you never told me your name," he stated, "the elderly would consider that rude."

"Oh... well," Yuzuki blushed. She couldn't very well give this handsome stranger her name. "My name is unimportant."

"But what if I want to see you again?" he asked, giving her an imploring look in the darkness.

"No," Yuzuki shook her head. She was beginning to realize as they walked that their worlds were vastly different. She lived in skyscrapers and had everything given to her, this man lived on the streets, working until the dead of night, for a job that probably barely paid his bills. "We can never see each other again."

"Oh," took another drag on his cigarette. "What are your hobbies?" he asked.

Was it just her, or did his steps just suddenly slow down? "Hobbies?"

"Yeah, like what do you do in your free time?"

"Oh... I like to paint," Yuzuki smiled, "my favorite medium is watercolors."

"Aa," Madara nodded, "I use to take a martial arts class."

"Interesting," Yuzuki tucked some hair behind her ear as they continued walk along the dark street bathed in the false illumination of the neon lights. Some of the red light facilities called out to Madara, promising him a good time for a reasonable price. He just glared at them and shouted something crudely back at them. When some of the men of the red light industry leered at Yuzuki, she felt his hand on her waist, pulling her close and his hawk-like glare staring down the devious men.

Soon, they were back in the shadows of familiar skyscrapers. Yuzuki looked up and found the window she liked to look out of. "Up there," she pointed to the black window. "I live up there."

"You live in a skyscraper?" Madara asked, "well that'll explain your fancy clothes." He took one last puff on his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smashing it beneath the heel shoe. They crossed the street and entered the skyscraper. The man at the desk gave a disgusted tsk when he noticed Madara.

"Well, as promise," Madara shrugged, "I brought you to your apartment building."

"Yes, as promise."

"So... uh... guess this is goodbye."

"Yes," Yuzuki inclined her head politely, "it is."

"Why won't you tell me your name? It doesn't have to be your full name, just your given name," he said.

"Why do you want to know my name?"

So I can have a name to put to the face that I'm going to dream about for the rest of my life. "Because it's considered rude if I introduce myself and you don't give me that honor."

"Very well," Yuzuki said. "My name is Yuzuki."

"Yuzuki," Madara whispered.

"Yes, now you know my name, I suggest you leave before that man at the desk calls security."

"Hn," Madara looked at the man, before leaning closer to her, his lips brushing against the curve of her ear. "Good night... Yuzuki." He pulled away and left her standing in the lobby of the fancy apartment complex.

So... shall I continue this?

It's an AU, though I personally like Madara's characterization for this one. Irunno. He just came off as natural to me. I tried to keep his arrogant assholeishness, but it's kinda hard imagine him getting butthurt about people when he's working for Mito in a rinky-dink ramen joint. XD

As for the city... it was really hard for me to not call it Tokyo. It's based off of my experiences in Tokyo and Seattle, but it's not... completely both cities. Thus I tried to keep the city ambiguous, though it was pretty hard to not throw in Japanese honorifics or other familiar Japanese things. The martial art Madara studied was kendo, if you are wondering.

Hashirama may or may not be the friend he left behind in his country boyhood home. I leave that up to you, the reader, to decide.

I heart Mito in this. XD

Yuzuki's original concept hair style was a hime cut like Hinata's. Thus is used it for this drabble-story thing. Anyway, R'n'R

Sanguinary Toxicity