Through Thick and Thin

The bell chimes softly upon his arrival, and a young woman beams at him from behind the counter. “Good morning!”

Neji nods politely. “Good morning.”

“I’ll let you get settled in the back and look over our menu, as well as get acquainted with our little friends.” she taps a nail to the counter and gestures towards the backroom. “Please make sure to properly close each door and put on our provided slippers for security measures.”

“I will. Thank you, miss.”

She beams at him again, flashing him a thumbs-up. “There’s rarely any customers at this hour, so you’ll have all the cats to yourself, too!”

Neji finds her upbeat attitude admirable, even more so as it is currently eight in the morning. He bows politely again, briefly meets the woman’s approving gaze, and makes his way to the backroom, diligently following the instructions before softly closing the door behind him.

He’s greeted by curious feline eyes, a deep emerald shade, on a furry calico coat. The cat peers at him unblinking for a second before resuming his grooming. The inside is rather lovely, there’s a large window with tables and chairs, cushioned with cottony velvet pads. The wooden benches are pierced with holes big enough for various cats to slumber in. Other cats are less discreet and are laying on the chairs, benches, or on the carpets, looking largely uninterested at his entrance.

Neji takes a seat near the door, and peers at the intricate system of wood and fluffy material on the walls and ceiling (must be for indoor parkour for the cats) curiously. Several cats are perched there, with half-closed eyes, dozing quietly as a soft tune plays in the café.

The employee comes back to take his order. She must, for some reason, recognize that it is his first time in a cat café, as she deftly snatches a thin book off another table and hands it to him, “Here, we created these little printed books for the cats, you can take a look if you want. And don’t hesitate to call them over, they’re used to it and they’re all super friendly and cuddly!”

Neji nods, flips the book over in his hands.

“Also, all the cats here were rescued and are up for adoption! So just let me know if one of them manages to charm you.” she winks. “I’ll be right back with your order, sir.”

While Neji waits, he fiddles with the little plastic wrapping of the flipbook. Inside there is a picture, name, age, and short description for each cat, certainly to sell them out for potential adoption. Neji likes it; it’s certainly a good way to deal with strays, a good way to offer them a second chance. It was a good idea to come here.

Neji wonders how an establishment like this would look like in Konoha. Hinata would definitely like this kind of thing.

For the moment, Neji allows himself to sink in the cushions, and makes an inviting gesture to the cat that’s been staring a hole at the side of his head since he’s seated himself. The cat, a thin black and white little thing with a bit of its ear missing, stares at him for a moment longer (perhaps mulling over the merits of entertaining him) before lazily strolling to him and jumping in his lap. Neji moves his arms to accommodate it and flips the book until he arrives at this cat’s page.

“Your name is… Oreo.” he whispers, and Oreo slowly blinks, looking the picture of indifference. “That’s an… incredibly generic name.”

Oreo turns back to consider him, and suddenly Neji is reminded of all the horror stories he’s heard about cats, and most importantly, his frightening encounter with Tora ‘Evil Beast’ the Cat. He awkwardly pets the feline, hoping to appease any possible cravings for violence.

The waiter comes back with his order, setting it on the table and offering the Neji and the cat a gentle look.

Neji slowly pops the iced mochi in his mouth, chews thoughtfully, and sips on the fruity drink the woman brought him. Then, he just sits there, content, and lets the frail cat lie on his stomach, feels its warmth and the vibrations of its purrs on his skin. He leaves a small tip, thinking he’ll probably come back to this place when he has time.

The teenager adjusts his sunglasses in the reflection of a window car, then strolls down the street with a content smile, the sweet taste of vanilla lingering in his mouth.

He has a meeting with Giran tonight, about a higher pay mission that he is honestly looking forward to. Because of the money, but also because he likes fighting, likes feeling the thrill of adrenaline in his veins, likes doing his best at something he’s talented in, and his latest missions haven’t been… challenging, in the least.

Neji wears a polite white button up and dark jeans to his meeting, he ties his hair at the back of his neck, and conceals his pale eyes behind sunglasses. People chat pleasantly around him as Neji ventures into the narrow streets of Kichijoji. The air is warm and heavy, dark clouds swimming in the evening sky indicating an incoming storm.

He stops in front of the jazz club Giran told him about. There’s a display board of today’s menu, and the faint sound of music and chatter coming from the door connected to the narrow staircase. When he enters, colors suddenly fill his sight and a soulful harmony of instruments reach his ears. A woman is singing on stage, voice low and clear.

“Well, if it isn’t little Neji.” Giran calls and waves him to his table. “Ah, so nice to see you.” he drawls with notable sarcasm.

Neji doesn’t bother returning the pleasantries. He takes the seat opposite to the man.

Giran nurses a glass of beer in his hands. “I heard you’ve been doing well. Nice shirt.”

“Please, let us skip the pleasantries.” he drones. “You have a mission for me?”

“Hah.” the man smiles broadly. “Always straight to the point, huh. But, well, it’s a lot different from what you’ve been getting so far. I can’t have you mess this one up, you see.”

Neji nods. He orders the first non-alcoholic drink he can think of when a staff member stops at their table with a little notebook.

Giran clears his voice once they’re alone again. “Anyways, I figured you’d be a good candidate for the job considering your…” he pauses. “rather flexible arsenal of skills.”

Neji deadpans. “Is it assassination?”

“No,” Giran makes a face, “though it could lead to some collateral damage, but that’s up to you. If you decide to take it, that is.”

Neji already knows he’ll take the mission. Even if it were an assassination, he probably would’ve taken it anyway. “Well then. What’s it about?”

“I can’t tell you much if you don’t agree to take it beforehand.” he gulps down his drink, “Fair warning, though: you accept the mission, that means you have to see it through. And–”

“Failure means death.” Neji finishes, sighing like Giran is boring him. “It’s not my first rodeo. I’ll take the mission, so long as the pay satisfies me.”

“Ah, so now we’re talking.” the man huffs in fake amusement, “How about a *million yen, and whatever you want to steal from the guy.”

Neji pauses. “... That’s awfully generous.” he tells him with a raised eyebrow.

Giran shrugs and smiles. “It’s a dangerous mission.” he motions between them amusedly, “And, well, you and I, we’re practically best buddies at this point. I trust you’ll know what to steal, without attracting too much attention on yourself, and me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

The man from before comes back with Neji’s drink. He settles it on the table, offers a smile to him, and leaves. Neji wraps his hands around the glass, feeling the cold condensation on the scarred skin of his palms.

“So, you takin’ it?” Giran asks casually. Neji does his best not to dubiously squint at him.

The young man half-shrugs, flicks a strand of stray hair behind his shoulder, and sets his elbows on the table. “Giran, not that I’m doubting your good intentions,” he says this with a particularly sarcastic tone, “or your trust in me. But I find it hard to believe that you’d give me such a high-paying mission like this. So, what’s the catch?”

“Ah,” the man croaks, with the quality of a smoker’s tone, “Is it that hard to believe? I mean, you’ve got valuable skills, and I know you know how to be discreet. Which is exactly what I need for this. Most villains these days prioritize brute force over everything else; a shame, if you ask me.”

Neji hums, rolls the straw of his drink along his tongue but doesn’t drink. “Alright, give me the details.” He figures, if this turns out to be some kind of trap after all, he’ll have no trouble getting himself out of the situation and tracking back Giran to make him play. Plus, a bit of uncertainty always adds a little spice to a mission.

Giran chuckles. “I knew I made the right choice. So, so, so,” the man taps his nail against the table idly, “long story short, there’s been an awful lot of heroes mysteriously finding some of my meeting places, clients, and clubs in the last few days. And mysterious radio silence from one of my contacts, and some other reasons that lead me to believe he’s got somethin’ to do with it.”

“Hm.” Neji sniffs. “And you say it’s not an assassination?”

“No.” Giran laughs. “No, that would be counterproductive. The man in question is a bit of a bigshot, you see. His death would bring too much attention. And if he really is the snitch, I don’t want the heroes to get on my ass even more.”

“What am I supposed to do, then, if not kill him?”

“Erase any evidence of my involvement, find proof that he betrayed me, and, you know…” Giran smiles, a cold glint flashing briefly in his eyes. “just ‘strongly persuade’ him to cut the crap, and give me compensation. I’m such a nice guy, you know, I think I’ll be willing to let this go if he asks nicely.”

“Right.” the younger one sizes him up. “So, injuries aren’t a problem?”

“As long as you don’t get caught.” the man allows. “Do this, and find a way to arrange a one-on-one meeting between him and I, and you’ll get your share.” he offers him his hand over the table, “Do we have a deal?”

“Yes, we do.” Neji eyes his extended hand dubiously. “Although I’ll pass on the hand-shaking thing.”

“Fine, be that way.” Giran huffs, shaking his head, and retrieves his hand. “I’ll send someone to explain things more thoroughly, as well as assist you in this.” he downs his drink, then slams the glass back on the table loudly. “Also, you’ll get to meet an old friend again. Isn’t that great? I’m sure she missed you dearly, y’know.”

Neji raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment. He gets up, carries the chair so that it doesn’t scrap the ground when he tucks it back neatly under the table, and pushes his glasses up with his index finger.

Giran crosses his arms over his chest, peering curiously at Neji’s untouched drink and the half-chewed straw swimming in it. “Not gonna drink it?”

“No.” Neji spares one last glance to the artists on stage, an appreciative hum at the tip of his tongue, and leaves the club with no more fanfare.

-

Someone is waiting for him by a flickering lamp post. She wears dark baggy clothes, though her feminine silhouette is undeniable. A rather large briefcase is clenched in her right fist.

Nomad turns to nod at his arrival, the light reflecting light shades of bronze in her eyes. “Neji Hyuga.” she says stiffly, “I’ve been tasked with explaining the details to you, answering any questions you may have, driving you around, and otherwise assisting you to the best of my ability throughout the duration of the mission.”

Neji nods at her, and decides not to comment on her obvious discomfort. She hasn’t changed much from the last time he’s seen her. Her horns are poking out of the darkness of her hood, narrow eyes squinting at him from under her eyelashes and lips pressed in a forced look of composure. Though Neji notices her hair has gotten a little longer, spiky brown strands hanging just past her shoulders.

The woman rummages through the contents of her briefcase and pulls out a folder. She holds it out for him wordlessly, but falters when Neji makes no move to take it.

Nomad’s hand hovers awkwardly. She flounders. “Uh. Those are the details of the mission. I’d like to go over them with you…”

Neji frowns, hesitates, but takes it. “Right. Thank you.” As far as he knows, she is not an enemy. There is no need to treat her like one.

“I’ll drive you to our first destination. Giran already explained, right…?” Neji nods. “Okay. I’ll go over the details on the way.”

They walk to Nomad’s car, a simple gray machine with no distinctive feature. He tries to hide his nerves as he settles in the front passenger seat. It’s the first time he’s ever gone in a car.

“Daichi Okada.” Neji reads off the files she’s given him. Nomad nods absentmindedly.

“The infiltration of Okada industries will happen on July 15th.” Nomad tells him as she pushes a small key in and twists it to start the engine.

“Is there any reason?”

“Yes, actually.” Nomad blinks. “UA’s sports festival is that day. Most of the top heroes will be there, which means less patrols and less chances for complications. Okada’s main building is located at the outskirts of Hosu, where Ingenium and Endeavor’s agencies are. And there’s been rumors that these two would both be at the festival, so...”

Those names do sound familiar. He knows Endeavor is the number two, and Ingenium must be the leader of Idaten. “And why’s that?”

Nomad pauses, side-eyes him under her bangs. “You’re not very updated, are you?”

Neji glances at her, and figures he should probably feel offended at her almost-smug tone. “No, I suppose I’m not.”

The engine starts with a low thrum. “Well, Ingenium’s brother and Endeavor’s son are supposedly both in UA’s hero course.”

He lets out a thoughtful ‘ah’. “So they’ll probably attend the festival to watch them perform.”

Nomad nods. “And that’s not even considering the symbol of Peace will also be there for sure.” she glances at him and decides to explain that, too. Much to Neji’s relief. “He’s taken a teaching position at UA, surprisingly. I suppose age is catching up to the man.” she scratches her cheek. “Additionally, a lot of heroes either attend or watch the festival live to look for interns.”

There’s a moment of stillness. Nomad seems to be lost in her thoughts.

“What’s our first stop?” the sound of Neji’s voice makes her jump in her seat.

“Ah, uh, well–” she clears her voice, “Casino. A casino in the redlight district. Okada’s known to be quite the gambler.” then, bitterly under her breath: “Rich people…”

Neji blinks at her, but doesn’t comment.

She shakes her head. “The first page of the files I’ve given you contains everything we know about Okada.”

Neji looks the information over. Daichi Okada is a fifty-ish year old man, unknown quirk, whose wealth originates mainly from his ‘hero gear’ business, which he has inherited from his father (Gorou Okada, deceased), and many partnerships (a radio show handled by a pro-hero, a few hero schools, multiple fashion brands, hero agencies…) The man is absolutely loaded. There have been multiple sightings of him in casinos, underground clubs, brothels and the likes. There have also been many lawsuits against him for sexual assault, domestic violence, forgery… none of them resulted in anything.

‘A bit of a bigshot’ doesn’t even begin to cover how much influence Okada has. How that man is affiliated with Giran, Neji doesn’t know, but he has a feeling he’ll enjoy beating the crap out of him, should he have the occasion. He burns the picture of him in his mind, his small eyes, large nose, rosy cheeks and short brown hair.

“Okada is a sponsor of UA.” Neji remarks. Nomad glances at him, focuses back on the road.

“It looks real good for someone to be affiliated with the top hero school of Japan.” she says in lieu of explanation. Neji hums thoughtfully, turning the page. There are marked locations of the places Okada has been spotted in the last few weeks, as well as the locations of the buildings he owns.

“I’ll drop you off here,” Nomad tells him as she pulls over. “sorry, but I can’t go further than here with the car. it’s a pain to drive in these streets. I can wait for you at another loca–”

Neji shakes his head. “Go home. I can handle myself from here.” The older woman hesitates for a moment, tan hands gripping the steering wheel, but she nods resolutely. Neji watches her drive away, adjusts his sunglasses, and turns around.

Kabukicho’s redlight district is a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, pubs, and bright advertisement signs. The sound of laughter and the warm scent of booze follows Neji as he ventures further into the district, careful not to bump into anyone. Around him, a sea of people: college students hopping from one bar to another, people in uniforms waving business cards, men and women laughing together…

Neji easily finds the casino Nomad spoke of. It’s slightly hidden away, but once he’s in front of it there’s no mistaking it– there is a large, neon red sign reading ‘CASINO’, a small crowd of women in dresses, and heavy glass doors guarded by a single man. His suit hugs his bulky frame tightly, and it’s no doubt uncomfortable, but the man remains firm and unmoving, his features coiled into a permanent snarl. Neji notices the impressive horns, the trail of dark hairs leading to the man’s chin, and it instantly makes him think of a buffalo. That, and his strong form, make a clever show of intimidation for a security guard, all things considered.

His byakugan comes to life with a thought. He tries to find the face in the picture, but, no luck, Okada isn’t here tonight. Neji focuses on his chakra, on its warm, grounding weight in his belly. He extends it to his hands, molding it with practiced ease, and casts a chameleon technique on himself. He walks past the unsuspecting security guard, and tails a guest all the way to the lobby, slipping past doors just behind him. He drops the technique.

Neji has never been in a place like this before, and for a brief moment he feels a little overwhelmed at the strangeness of it all.

“Excuse me?” Neji interrupts the first amicable-looking person he sees, a short woman in a red dress.

“Hi, sweetheart.” She gestures for him to continue with her hand, a glass of wine pinched between two fingers.

“I’m looking for someone.” he tries.

She smiles, painted lips parting. The blasting music around them makes it hard to hear her properly. “Oh, sweetie. I know most everyone here. Go on, tell me.”

Neji smiles, a little surprised by her sophisticated way of speaking, and leans in to whisper in her ear: “A certain Daichi Okada.”

“Ahh.” she hums in recognition, seeming to reconsider Neji. “I haven’t seen him tonight. But, sweetheart, if he’s here then you’ll most likely find him in the lounging room.” Neji nods, and bows slightly in thanks. He knows Okada isn’t here tonight, but it’s a lead.

“Wait.” Her hand grabs his arm as he’s about to walk away, and he forces down the knee-jerk reaction to smack it away.

“A word of advice,” she whispers, like they’re sharing a secret, “you should let down your hair, and get rid of those horrid sunglasses of yours. More chances of him keeping you around that way.” She winks, and with a flourish of her scarlet dress, she’s gone.

Neji’s face twists in confusion, but he pushes it down for the moment and tries to regain his bearings among the heaviness in the air, the stunk of booze, the sounds of booming music and gambling machines. There’s a certain hotness to this place too, the suffocating and undesirable kind. It’s the mixing of body warmth and odors, Neji supposes, the stench of sweat that clings to everyone. Everytime someone brushes past him, a shudder of disgust travels down his spine.

Neji finds the ‘lounging room’ easily. It’s a large room filled with neon signs, leather couches, glass tables and the likes. This room, like the rest of the place, looks luxurious, with its high ceiling and handsomely tiled floor. There are noticeably less people, too, aside from a few men in suits and… pleasure women on the couches. He guesses, given the information Nomad has given him, that it’s not surprising this would be the kind of place he’d supposedly find Okada at. Well, except that he’s not here.

Neji ignores the curious eyes on him as he heads for the bar, a classy little thing with a shiny counter and an elegant-looking barmaid.

“Water, please.” He murmurs to her with a polite nod, and she deftly turns around to fish a clean glass out of one of the counters. At the same time, an older man takes the seat next to Neji’s with a glass in hand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here.” he chances. He’s fairly basic-looking, Neji thinks, aside from his obviously expensive three-piece suit. Perhaps he’s so used to meeting people with various mutations that seeing plain-looking people seems odd to him now.

“I’m new here.” Neji answers levelly, “Are you a regular?”

“Yep.” he says, popping the ‘p’, then turns his entire body towards him. “You working?”

Neji fixes him with a bland look, though the effect is lost due to his shaded glasses. “I suppose you could say that.”

The man gives him a cursory once-over. “How much?”

Ah. Neji schools his expression. “I’m a man.”

“I know.”

In the future, Neji will reflect on this moment in the shower or while trying to sleep; perhaps he’ll think something along the lines of ‘what went wrong’ or ‘why do I put up with this’ or maybe, ‘what would Hinata think’. For the moment, he clenches his teeth, reminds himself that he’s a ninja on a mission, and tells the man, “... It’s not really money I’m after. I’m looking for a man, you see.”

The older man gives him a lewd look, and Neji has a sudden, vivid image of taking this man by the neck and twisting until his stupid eyes bulge out, until his limbs stop twitching, until his ridiculous suit is all crumpled and wrong. “Who are you looking for?”

Neji exhales softly and lowers his voice. “A gentleman named Daichi Okada.”

“Ahh.” he smiles broadly, and eyes Neji like he’s got him all figured out, “Good ol’ Daichi. You lookin’ for the bigger fish, ain’t you?” Neji hums, and busies himself with his glass of water when it comes. Let him ask, he thinks, let him offer.

“So,” the man speaks when the silence stretches. Hook, line, sinker. “What do you want to know?”

Neji pauses for a moment, pretends to ponder on it, “...Where can I find him?”

“Oh, Daichi and I go way back.” he waves a hand carelessly, boasting, “I can probably arrange a meeting or something.”

“Really?”

“Oh, darling.” he chuckles. “I could even give you his personal number. Though that depends.”

“On what?”

“If you deserve it, or not.” he states with a rather suggestive tone. Neji didn’t know, prior to this conversation, that it was humanly, physically possible for someone to get the ick so many times in the span of ten minutes.

Neji rubs his throat, like he’s just swallowed something sour. “I’ll do my best, then.” that seems to satisfy the man.

He introduces himself at some point, but Neji doesn’t listen. “So, what’s your name? And can you take off those glasses, I can’t see you well.”

Neji pays him no mind, getting up and heading for the exit, “Let’s go somewhere more private.” the man snorts and follows.

They exit the casino. Neji walks so quickly the other has to trot to keep pace. “Wait.” he huffs and points in the opposite direction, “My car’s this way.”

“Don’t worry about it.” then Neji grabs the man by the collar, yanks him in an alleyway, and sweeps his legs from under him. “Your car is the last thing you should worry about.”

“What the hell?!” he flushes red, holding out his scraped hands and muddy sleeves. Neji cuts whatever he was about to say when he buries his fingers into the soft junction between shoulder and neck, a pained gasp leaving the man on the floor.

“So. About that phone number…”

Hours later, a college student calls 119, Japan’s direct-dial emergency number, upon stumbling on an unresponsive man slumped in an alleyway. A police car and a hospital truck are;ushered to the scene. The victim is confirmed to be one Fujimori Mikio, pro hero: Flashfire.

-

“Is this thing on?” Neji mutters. “Hello?”

“Uh, yes, hello?” Nomad’s voice sounds on the other line. “Neji Hyuga? Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” the teenager says, holding his phone awkwardly next to his ear. “Do you happen to know anyone who can track a phone number?”

“I can find someone…” Nomad mumbles, and then there’s the muted sound of shuffling on her end. “Did you run across something?”

“I have Okada’s personal number.”

“Wha–” there’s a ‘thump’ like the woman has dropped her phone, a muffled yelp. Neji hears her picking the device back up.

“Do you think you can get something valuable from this?”

“I mean, yea–” she rambles, “Of course I can! This is valuable information. Holy shit– you got Okada’s number, in what,” there’s a pause, “two hours? Shit.”

“The man’s contacts aren’t very cautious, I’d say.”

“Well, shit, if you say so.” Nomad sounds a little out of breath. “Send me the number?”

“Um, yes.” Neji answers, squinting at his phone like it’s an object of otherworldly functions.

The next time they see each other, Nomad doesn’t comment on the fact that it took Neji over half an hour to send her the message.