Chapter 2: Aperture

New York

It was not a glamorous start for Naruto when he arrived in New York. But while his start in the US was rough, it was still the best decision of his life.

He'd been careful to keep his true identity a secret from his employers when he'd sent out his applications. The idea to look for a job overseas had actually come from both Sasuke and Sakura. Sakura had spent a month studying English in Australia when she'd been in high school. Meanwhile, Sasuke had made frequent visits to his cousin Shisui, who'd gotten into a journalism program at Columbia University and was living in New York. His friends had both loved the overseas experience and had convinced him to try living on his own, without the influence of his famous mother, in a more freeing environment that would help him get over his shyness.

"There's no harm in trying, right?" Sakura had urged. "I mean, you can always come back."

He must have sent out hundreds of resumes, and the only one that had responded and requested an interview was a small company he'd never heard of. The lowly studio hadn't had the budget to do a proper background check to dig into his past. Nobody had also connected his famous last name to that of the governor of Tokyo's. And since nobody knew who he was in New York, his boss hadn't bothered to treat him nicely, which was fine with him. Naruto had started from the bottom, from the lowest rungs of the ladder at the studio agency, but he didn't mind because it was better than feeling as if everything had been handed to him.

For the first few months, the small studio had treated him as a lackey instead of a photographer. He'd spent most of his time running around the city as an errand boy, ferrying messages up and down Manhattan, schlepping equipment for other more famous photographers, assisting designers and editors, and basically wasted all the training he'd worked so hard to acquire in college.

Until that fateful day when the uber-cool Killer B had strode in, lowered his sunglasses, peered over Naruto's shoulder to check out his photos and declared, "Not bad."

He'd been waiting at a photo set for the lead photographer to appear. Naruto was the assistant and his job had been to make sure that everything ran smoothly, especially since this was a photoshoot for his studio's more prominent client, Regatta, a clothing company that specialized in outdoor clothing. That time, Regatta had done a special series of winter gear incorporating the artwork of Killer B.

Naruto had arrived hours earlier to set up the photo equipment. He'd taken test shots, more than what was necessary because he'd been unable to resist the call of the camera. Everything fascinated him, particularly the huge background of colorful swirls, a signature piece by the graffiti artist. One of the staff happened to be standing in front of the panel, going through the clipboard of the list of things to be done, and Naruto had snapped a photo, taking care to note the expression of frustration and worry on the man's face.

"Nanka chigau naa," he muttered under his breath, reverting back to his native tongue because he was puzzled by something. He checked the shots but something seemed to be off while he inspected the photos. He'd taken shots with different angles, lifting the camera off the tripod and clicking whenever a particular composition felt right, hardly paying attention to the people behind him, talking to himself as he normally did when at work.

"Konnichiwa!"

Startled by the greeting in Japanese, Naruto turned around only to see his face reflected on the dark sunglasses of a tall man.

"I knew it! You're Japanese?"

Naruto nodded nervously. He had a sneaking suspicion who this person was. He couldn't help but gape at the man wearing the glasses. He towered over Naruto, who himself was taller than the average Japanese man. And his aura of power and sophistication was emphasized by the beautifully tailored, dark purple suit and the black fedora he wore, making him appear like one of those mob bosses Naruto often saw in movies.

But the man was smiling, everything about him was friendly and affable.

Naruto swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. "Yes, I am."

"I was born in Okinawa, you know. My father was in the military."

Yep. No question who this illustrious person was. Naruto had done his homework. This was Killer B, the graffiti artist who rose to fame in the early 1980s when he began his career scrawling provocative social commentary on the concrete blocks of Brooklyn. Some even said he was the inspiration who jump-started Banksy's foray into the medium.

Still tongue-tied, Naruto didn't say anything for fear of offending him. Plus, he didn't want to get in trouble because he wasn't even supposed to be doing this: talking to a client. He was supposed to be just a lackey. His job had been to just take test shots and to make sure that his boss's gear was all ready for when he finally walked in.

But B continued to smile at him. "Are you the photographer for the shoot?"

"No!" Naruto finally answered, panicking at the mistaken assumption. "I'm just the assistant."

The last thing he needed was to step on the other photographer's toes—who happened to be very temperamental and hated his guts.

"Oh, that's too bad," B said. "Because that's an incredible photo."

That made Naruto pause for a moment, and then he was instantly filled with a burst of joy. Coming from an artist of Killer B's caliber, that was high praise. "You think so?"

B smiled. "Yes. I'm a man of truth. I tell no lies." Then he raised a brow. "Now why do you think I said that?"

Naruto hesitated.

B pointed to the camera, at the current photo displayed on frame. His face was serious, but when he spoke next, his voice was encouraging. "Go ahead, Shashinka-san. Tell me what you like about your photo."

Naruto knew he would never get this chance to speak to a world-renowned artist like B again so he took his chance. With a shake of his head, he said, "It's not my photo. It's the artwork on the wall. There's only one focus, one single thing that the eye is drawn to and it's mesmerizing. I really love how powerful the contrast is."

He pointed, and they both glanced at the wall. "When I snapped the photo, I just wanted to convey what the staff was feeling. It felt fitting, somehow. The lone staff working by himself, nobody else around him so he could focus, his face scrunched up into a tired frown. And then that block of bright colors behind him. The dark scowl, the darkness of the bags under his eyes created just the right depth to pop against the cheerfulness of that yellow shade."

B was smiling now. "Good for you—and not because you just sucked up to me." They both laughed. B pointed to the photo on the screen. "Still, I really like the way you interpret things."

Overwhelmed, Naruto could only stutter a small thank you even though he wanted to gush some more about the incredible artwork that B had produced over the years, particularly the exhibition he'd done that related to the refugee situation in Syria.

Then Naruto suddenly remembered that this wasn't his photo shoot and he might get in trouble for talking to the artist. He didn't want to be accused of stealing somebody's else's light, so he stammered a quick retraction. "Uh, but I'm sure that's what the other guy's going to do."

"You'd be surprised what others decide to focus on," B said, adding a huff at the end.

Then he turned around, making Naruto belatedly realize the entourage who often traveled with B. Presumably, the sharply dressed man and woman were his assistants.

"Omoi," B was saying as he reached out a hand toward the younger man with the blond hair and a golden earring glinting on his right ear lobe.

Omoi seemed to know exactly what it was B was asking for without being told because he reached into his bag and whipped out a small case. His lips firmed briefly on the lollipop in his mouth before he opened it and took out a business card from inside and handed it to B.

B then turned to the woman and said, "Karui, something to write with, please."

Karui reached into the breast pocket of her power suit and handed a fat, silver-plated pen to B.

Naruto recognized the expensive Montblanc pen she slid to B because his great uncles from his mother's side of the family also loved the brand.

B took it from his assistant and turned over the card he'd just gotten from Omoi. He quickly scrawled something on the back of it before he extended it to him.

It took Naruto a couple of seconds to realize that B was giving him the business card.

"Listen. I don't usually do this, but I'm making an exception for you. You're cool. I like you—and it also helps that both you and I have an affinity for Japan." B grinned and then winked. "Call me if you ever need anything."

Before Naruto could stammer his thanks, B and his assistants walked away. Naruto watched them, unnerved from the whole experience, and still gripping the business card and remembered that there was a message in the back.

He quickly turned it over:

You've got promise, so don't sell yourself so short, kid. Konoyarou, bakayarou!

Naruto had tucked the card into his pocket and had quickly run out of the set to hide in the bathroom.

He found the closest available stall and quickly shut it behind him. Inside, he had to lean on the door because he was shaking, still reeling and completely starstruck from his experience with Killer B. He took out the card again and gazed at it for a few minutes in quiet adoration. He quickly tucked it into his wallet for safe-keeping because he didn't want to lose it.

Unfortunately for Naruto, somebody had seen him talking to the client and had mentioned it to Gateau, the lead photographer for the project. Furious, Gateau had waited until they were back at the office and ripped into Naruto with all kinds of creative insults.

"Unbelievable! Your gall to even talk to such a man! You piece of maggoty mealworm! You're nothing! You're that piece of shitty gum stuck to a shoe, to be stepped on and ground to pieces! How dare you even open your mouth and speak!"

Naruto bore Gateau's diatribe with stoicism. He didn't bother responding or defending himself because he knew nothing would make his boss change his mind. Besides, he was secretly overjoyed that nobody had mentioned the business card that B had given him and it was all his!

B's message became his talisman against his hardships, those three grueling years he stayed at the studio. B had praised his artistic eye, and Naruto held on to the hope that someday he would be able to show the world what he was capable of doing.

Naruto had been prepared to spend the rest of his career under Gateau's apprenticeship. Though his boss was temperamental and mean, he held on to the hope that someday, Gateau would give him the chance to be behind the camera and be responsible for a few of the studio's photoshoots.

But there was only so much a man could take when his creativity was constantly stifled and nobody at the studio had been willing to give him the chance to showcase his skills.

The call to Killer B had been a desperate plea, and B must have heard it in his voice because he had instantly offered him a meeting.

Gripping his phone, Naruto whispered, "Mr. Killer B? You said I c-could call you if there was anything I needed. Do you know if anybody's looking for a photographer?"

"No need to 'mister' me! Just call me B." Naruto could almost hear B smiling sympathetically at him on the other line. "Know what, kid? Why don't you come here to my place? Bring your camera. There's someone I want you to meet."

That someone ended up being iRuka, another flamboyant figure in the fashion industry.

"No, my dear Beee-sama!" came the languid tones of a man dressed in flowing cotton candy pink chiffon in the living room. "I don't need a photographer!" He was sprawled sideways on the leather sofa, his hand dramatically pressed against his temple. His long hair was carefully draped over the sofa cushions. Any time he shifted position, the steadfast Karui positioned behind the chaise was quick to help keep his hair pristinely untangled.

Still, iRuka remained on the sofa and continued to complain.

"I'm at my wits end just trying to finish this project for New York Fashion week! Why should I babysit your new pet?"

"Ugh." B rolled his eyes, but he ushered Naruto further into the room. "iRuka, I don't need the histrionics, please."

From the couch, there was a delicate flutter of a well-manicured hand in Naruto's direction. "Shoo! Let me wallow in my misery in peace."

Naruto looked at Killer B, who was frowning at the prone figure but taking everything in stride. "Maybe I should leave?" he asked.

B, though, placed a firm hand on Naruto's shoulder. "Hold up."

Naruto stood still because part of him was fascinated with this dynamic. He wasn't surprised that B knew somebody like iRuka, the artistic director for Yves Saint Laurent's menswear collection. He would later learn that B not only knew people in the fashion industry, he frequently weaved through the worlds of politics, business, the arts, sports, and music. Because of his cult status, everyone wanted to be his friend.

"iRuka, just do this small favor for me, alright? I promise he'll make you look good."

"Then let him take a picture of you." iRuka heaved a sigh full of grievance, his hand still pressed against his face. "He's your problem."

"It's just one photo so he can get a chance to make a name for himself."

"Bee-sama!" This protest was followed by a gasping breath filled with calculated histrionics. "Dear, chickie. I am aggrieved that you think you can pressure me to accept this encumbrance."

B only laughed unsympathetically. "Lord, here comes the fancy vocab. We're in trouble now."

iRuka finally heaved himself off the couch and stood up with a dramatic flounce. "Nobody understands my pain!"

B was unperturbed. "Are you done?"

iRuka sniffed disdainfully at the graffiti artist but then he looked at Naruto, wondering why his friend insisted on giving this young man a chance. "Are you capable?"

Before Naruto could answer, though, B vouched for him, exuding so much certainty while he stood in his Armani suit. "iRuka, he's very talented."

iRuka's eyebrows rose up, his expression dubious. "B-chickie, you only saw one photo."

B met it with resolution. He folded his arms. "I've got a discerning eye. I know he's got it."

iRuka knew he didn't mean that statement lightly. B was very particular when it came to the people he allowed into his circle of trust.

"He does?" Again, iRuka stared Naruto up and down. "He doesn't look it."

All this time, Naruto remained nervously silent but he met iRuka's gaze levelly. He smiled tentatively at the designer.

"Prove it," iRuka said before he suddenly strode to an armchair and sat down gracefully, unhurriedly, then carefully arranged the chiffon tunic around him by pressing it over his black tights.

Naruto understood it to mean iRuka wanted him to take his photos.

He took a deep breath to tamp down his nervousness and anxiety. This was clearly an audition. They were both giving him a chance to flex. He couldn't afford to be timid now. He took up the camera slung around his neck and brought it to his eye. "Okay, can you lean forward a little, please?"

iRuka did as he was asked but Naruto frowned and then walked over to the designer. "Excuse me one second while I do this?"

When iRuka nodded permission, Naruto bent down to fix the tunic over his legs and arranged it to how he wanted it to look, with the folds of fabric flowing to achieve a tasteful waterfall effect. He backed up a few steps and then started clicking on his camera.

While B talked, Naruto took shot after shot of a suddenly complacent iRuka, who seemed to be enjoying himself being treated like a superstar and being told how to pose.

"We're collaborating, that's why he's here," B explained. "The fabric patterns are my artwork. He's using them in his next show. I've already done my part, but he's been procrastinating. He still needs to make the clothes. I called him over to get his ass working on what he needs to do."

A flicker of distaste crossed iRuka's face, ruining the shot Naruto was about to take. To appease his mood, Naruto hastily asked, "What was the inspiration for your collection?"

iRuka brightened and proceeded to happily explain his ideas, the theme he was trying to accomplish with his clothes.

When he was done, Naruto showed his photos to iRuka, who looked through all of them seriously, but without speaking or offering any kind of feedback.

Finally, when the last slide had passed, the designer looked at B and said, "He's good. I'll take him."

B's grin was smug. "Told ya."

Naruto quit Gateau's studio the following day. He silently packed all his things in his bag and walked out the door without saying anything to his coworkers. He didn't look back, but he rode the subway all the way to Fifth Avenue and 59th St. with a smile on his face.

iRuka, perhaps knowing how important it was to have a mentor in the field, took Naruto under his wing and gave him creative control of some of the smaller projects at Yves Saint Laurent. It started with just a few informal photo shoots then gradually progressed to his more ambitious projects that featured superstars from all industries, thanks to B's contacts among his friends.

His work in portraiture and fashion suited him perfectly. Something about being in the industry reminded him of the life he had with his mother—as the son of a politician in demand. Most times, everything was a blur, but the explosive bursts of frenzy mixed in some moments of tranquil quietness.

These were his favorite moments. Throughout the work he did, he realized that he could get the best photos of his clients when he engaged them in quiet conversations. He'd never been a talker, but he liked to listen.

"Tell me what's on your mind."

That's it. One simple sentence from him that usually started everything. It made everyone unburden themselves to him and allowed him to capture the myriad expressions that crossed their faces.

Or, when the other person in front of the camera lens was just as reserved as him, he let the other remain quiet, finding a kindred spirit in that companionable silence. Usually, they'd smile at each other, and Naruto would focus on work, just snapping whatever emotion he could capture.

It was rare finding them, these people who enjoyed the silence. Not many people realized the little quirks they did when they were nervous or when they slowly started to become quiet. But Naruto was a natural observer, and his eyes would fix on those tiny details, like the squint in the eyes, the wrinkle of the forehead, those little brushes of their fingertips to their ear, to their neck, to hide their nervousness and also to lessen the awkwardness of being photographed.

But he liked that in his silence, he disappeared into their world, unobtrusively getting sucked into his subjects' lives. In that brief time, they revealed to him the most intimate aspect of themselves that they probably wouldn't share with the rest of the world.

Except, of course, those photographs eventually got published in magazines and the general public saw them as Naruto had captured them. To his surprise, everyone had lauded his photographs, garnering enough demand from publishers and designers to fund the rest of his stay in New York.

But the call of home, the land of his birth, inevitably reared its head, and Naruto knew in his heart that he had to return to Tokyo. He was proud of his work, of being able to establish himself in this part of the world, but his next challenge was to do the same thing in Japan.

Plus, he just really missed his friends and family back home.

When Naruto felt he was ready to go back to Japan, his mentor finally revealed his secret.

They were having dinner at iRuka's place after having finished their final collaboration.

"I know about your mother, you sweet pea," iRuka said during a lull in the conversation when Naruto was looking out the window into the view of Central Park, thinking how much he would miss the city.

Naruto turned his gaze to iRuka and winced, not surprised to finally hear it even though nothing had ever been mentioned about it before. "Yeah, I guess I couldn't hide that from you."

Iruka laughed. "No sweat, chickie. She had nothing to do with the work you did for me."

Naruto's heart leapt with pleasure, but he only smiled gratefully at Iruka.

"Have a safe trip back, but be ready to spend time with me when I visit you in Japan."

The thunk of a bottle gently landing on the counter abruptly put a stop to his trip down his memories and brought Naruto back to the present, to this bar in Jinbocho, known affectionately as Booktown in Tokyo.

The bartender silently raised a blond brow in question, held the sake bottle aloft, ready to be poured in case Naruto wanted his glass refilled.

"No, thank you, T. I think I'm done for the night so just some water, please," Naruto replied and got his club soda when the bartender poured it for him.

Still, he sat thinking on the bar stool. The flyer Sasuke had brought stared up at him on top of that counter, taunting him with the opportunity.

Imperial photographer.

He felt the first stirrings of excitement within him as he thought of the possibility of holding that title.

The previous one who'd held the post, Madara Uchiha, had died two days ago. He hadn't heard about it, and he was glad that Sasuke told him about it tonight.

And even though only two days had passed since the news happened, Naruto knew that people would kill to reach such an exalted position. That meant lots of people were not only interested, but they were also all probably already eagerly awaiting the news of this competition. The fact that it was open to the whole public was a big deal.

It was so far away from his usual work that Naruto wouldn't have cared about it all.

But damn it. Sasuke's news definitely got him curious. It would be a new challenge, something different from his current projects. Right now, he was deep into the grind of his normal job. With so many summer and fall clothing collections from various designers, he had his hands full being at the beck and call of editors at high-end fashion magazines.

Still, though. Maybe it would be worth it to just go check out the information session—just to see what the deal was.

Naruto shook his head. No. If he even tried to go for it, he knew his pedigree might affect the results of the competition.

To distract himself, he picked up his phone and scrolled through some of the photos he'd taken this past week. All he needed to do was put the finishing touches to the shoot and send the files to the editors at Elle Japan. They could have their pick of the latest black and white shots he'd taken of Keiko Kitagawa, who was promoting a new movie she was starring in.

He looked at his watch and got up. 11:53 pm. There was enough time to catch the last train and make it home.

He looked up and the bartender came over to him.

"Thanks," he said as he extended his smartphone. The bartender reached under the counter and pulled out the card reader so Naruto could pay for his drinks. He waited for the quiet beep to indicate he'd paid before he picked up his bag from underneath the counter.

Reluctantly, he also grabbed the flyer.

At the door, he paused and slid a glance of farewell to his favorite bartender. "Have a good night, T!"

Behind the bar, Tsunade nodded and smiled while she wiped the counter top. "See you next time, Naruto."

The buzz of his phone startled Naruto awake. He picked it up and groaned when the clock revealed the hour to be 3:28 am. He didn't need to know who was outside in the hallway texting him to open the door to his apartment. There was only one person who did that.

He padded softly to the door and opened it, letting the woman walk into his entranceway without a word.

Ino Yamanaka smiled at him apologetically. "Thanks, Naruto," she whispered, trying to keep the noise down to prevent his neighbors from knowing she was here at his place. Besides, she knew how strict he was whenever she came over to his apartment.

He grunted, still groggy from sleep, and silently walked back to his bedroom.