Clipped Wings.
Neji opens his eyes to slits, moves his aching neck a iota to the side on the pillow, and stills. He floats, feeling oddly detached from his own body, but also trapped in this maze of flesh and chakra. There’s a pulse of pain behind his eyes as he tries to peer around through blurry eyesight to take in his surroundings, so he closes them and hides in familiar darkness.
Neji has had chakra exhaustion before, and it had never been pleasant. Hell, Neji had died, and that hadn’t been pleasant either. But this, this did not compare to any pain he’s felt before. For three days straight, Neji has been laying like a half-dead larva in one of Giran’s apartments. The man has been wise enough to leave him alone as he writhes on the couch, sick out of his mind. His physical injuries, which required immediate attention, had been all taken care of– glass and feathers extracted, wounds disinfected, stitched and bandaged (and Neji had forced himself to stay awake during the process, half-delirious, because he’d rather die than let a stranger tend to him while unconscious. Hiromi had been the exception.)
However, that did not mean that he was even close to recovery. Neji would even wager he was worse now than he’d been when he had called Giran that night, a second away from fainting or worse.
There’s something wrong with his chakra, he’s sure of it. He feels frail, heavy and unstable. His chakra pathways, especially the ones located near his hands and wrists, feel clogged and he knows this isn’t a good sign. His chakra, which has been his most trustworthy companion so far, now feels like a wild beast that needs taming. Once smooth and refined, now running and bumping frantically around his pathways. For hours, he lays and focuses inwards, moving his chakra, feeling it hum erratically under his skin as it cuts through his fragilized pathways, and agonizes. It feels like each pressure point in his body is throbbing with pain, which almost feels like divine retribution. For what, well it could be a lot of things.
Yin and Yang, meant to balance one another, fight like two rabid dogs in a ring inside him. Neji shudders, and lets his consciousness fall into the deeper, more dangerous seas of meditation.
“Everything, everyone has chakra, for chakra is life itself. It is split between two components– Yin, which is spiritual energy, and Yang, which is physical energy. Perfect balance between the two is impossible, some clans for example are reputed to be inclined towards one or the other due to bloodline techniques. For instance, there are the Yamanaka with Yin, or the Amakichi with Yang. However the two are complementary thus cannot exist without the other.” the teacher stopped for a moment, letting the lesson sink in. “Each of you has an affinity to one chakra element– sometimes, two. But remember that every element, whether that be fire, wind, lightning, earth, or water, are present in your chakra. Learning to tame them will be one of the goals you’ll work towards during your years in the academy– using hand signs to mold and manipulate your chakra as you want – and that of course starts with meditation.”
The woman earned herself a chorus of groans in the classroom. Neji himself repressed an impatient frown: He had gotten meditation down years ago.
“Quiet!” the older woman snapped, and the children settled. “One mishap and you can blow all the pressure points in your body, shred your pathways open and annihilate any prospects of a shinobi career, or even any career at all, forever.” the school teacher said dangerously. “So trust me, you will be grateful for meditation when it saves your life.”
Gasps could be heard around the room.
“Chakra is life. It can be death, too.” she warned. Neji’s school mates shrinked in their seats as her gaze passed from table to table. He bit back a scoff at the reactions– half of their Academy curriculum was already behind them, they should be past such childish reactions.
The chunin’s gaze found his blank stare, and held it.
“And remember well, run out of chakra and you will die. So you might want to think twice if you’re considering practicing out of class without supervision.”
Neji had ignored these words at that time. Young and foolish, he had been driven by revenge– against who exactly? Hinata, his uncle, or the clan? Konoha? Himself? Everyone?
Hate makes the most exquisite fuel for motivation, but it is also true that it turns people blind. How dangerous it was for someone who had been praised his whole life for the proficiency of his eyes? For how many years exactly had he looked at the world through tinted windows?
Neji had ignored them. But he had grown, and hard-earned wisdom had replaced infantile sentimentality. Emotions are good. Fear keeps you alive, passion makes your hands strike true, spite makes you pick yourself up from the ground. But you could not let them command you– a shinobi should learn to follow logic’s path, detach himself from feelings when needed so that logic (and a good deal of instinct) could reign. That’s what it took to keep yourself, and yours, alive in the Elemental Nations.
That way of life, Neji finds, can transcend the borders of the worlds.
And now he feels these words hit more than he would’ve ever expected. “Chakra is life,” Neji murmurs, clammy hands resting on the skin of his belly. The current settles, murmuring words of sweet reassurance. Composing his nerves, he dives back into the dark waters.
Neji remembers dull milky eyes, skin like sculpted marble that creased around frowns and smiles. The latter of which was more common, as one of the branch house widows who had felt sorry at his misfortune, had taken a newly orphaned child with a grudge under her wing. A relative of his mother’s side, who had lost her husband and two young sons in the last war. The sound of that inviting wind whizzes past him, a gentle caress.
Motherly love, Neji recognizes in these eyes made wary by years of fighting and scorn– the Hyuga clan had no use for widows, and had never been shy in expressing it. He feels a pang of guilt now. He had never seen that woman as anything more than a rock to step on, the same way he had regarded Tenten and Lee for the better part of his life…
Withered hands through his hair, tying the ends of it so it wouldn’t bother him during practice with the other clan children. A shushing look whenever Neji put his foot in his mouth and earned his uncle’s fury. The pitter-patter of the summer rain against the window, warm afternoons spent watching his reflection in it, wondering if he could dig his fingers in and shatter that reflection and escape and– Be.
Neji remembers these days like one would remember half-forgotten memories, but some bits of that old bitterness, vivid even a lifetime away, had survived despite everything.
Thrashing, writhing like a wild bird against the bars of a golden cage, hurting the people around him; Too ignorant, or perhaps too hateful to care. Neji had raged at that branded seal, green ink an ever present taunt. He had longed to see the Caged-Bird seal gone, had felt like a branded animal on a leash but– Now Neji almost craves to see that green ink in the mirror again, proof that he belongs to kin, that he’s not alone. The irony isn’t lost on him: he had spent the majority of his life loathing the very thought of that seal, just for him to chase after the shadow of that cage once finally free to fly.
The Uchiha were reputed to feel too much; the Hyuga resembled them in more ways than they would like to admit. The two were sister clans, after all.
Neji emerges, gasping for air. His fingers twitch at his sides, creaky as the old branches of a tree in at the passing of the balmy wind. A wave of feverish heat reddens his cheeks. His heart quickens with the vigor of a summer day spent practicing katas in the training grounds.
Lee smiles, laughing eyes seeking a fight. He’d glance, bump their shoulders together, stick a foot in Neji’s path, whoop in a way that used to infuriate Neji so much, until he’d sigh disinterestedly and agree. Their spars were often one-sided, but Lee would always come back for more, even writhing on the ground like a fish out of the water after a few well placed strikes. That stupid, hotheaded idiot, Neji thinks fondly.
Passion like a bonfire, flaring with each friendly jab. Whatever his younger self would have to say on the matter, Lee had been like a cleansing flame, licking away at his bone-deep frustration until there was only the fulfilled, exhausting feeling of a good day spent training.
Gai would watch, warm like the air before the storm, loud like the crack of lightning, but scorching when he needed to be. Neji often didn’t leave the man with much of a choice– restraint is something a teacher needs to instill in his students, and saying Neji had lacked it would be a massive understatement. That time he’d beaten his cousin three-fourth to death in a competition meant to be friendly (or as friendly as pitting chunin hopefuls against each other, anyway) could attest to that.
But Tenten had been the grounding force between them, the unbreaking wall. Solid as earth, and unyielding in the face of both her teammates’ often misdirected drive and Neji’s early antagonism. She often acted like a buffer between them, taking on the role of mediator when Gai would otherwise encourage them. More than that, she was also the wall they could lean on, the soft soil that would lessen your fall after a bad drop– a precious ally on the battlefield.
“The greatest defense is a good offense.” She would smirk, unclasping the scrolls by her hips before unleashing her skills on the battlefront.
Neij exhales, smoothing down the wrinkles, packing each element in its assigned box. His chakra finally settles, upset but orderly, no longer mutilating its way through his chakra pathways. The teenager massages the palm of one hand, weary in a way sleep could not fix.
Lee, Tenten, Gai, everyone… They’re gone now, but even then they continued to live with him. Giving up isn’t something any of them would approve of.
“Come on.” Neji grunts, heaving himself into a sitting position. With his chakra back to something half-manageable, he should be able to speed up the healing on his deeper wounds– mainly, the stab to his chest and the cut to his foot. Settling back, he lets his consciousness fade again into a more shallow state of meditation.
A chime pierces through the fog, and Neji shoots awake. Blinks slowly. His burner phone– he should have destroyed it days ago calls for his attention on the table. Huffing, and wary, he holds it to his ear.
“Neji Hyuga?” Nomad’s voice asks. “Hello?”
Roughly, “Hello.”
“Ah. Did I disturb your sleep? I’m sorry…” A brief pause. “I called to… Well… Did the mission go okay?”
Neji frowns; He wasn’t made aware that he had to give a report to Nomad. Wasn’t she a messenger? “It went well.” It depends on how you define ‘well.’ He wasn’t killed or permanently crippled, and
he doesn’t feel like one walking bruise anymore, which has to mean something.
“Right, right.” Neji could almost imagine the woman rubbing her nape. “That’s good, then. I’ve read the articles but I wanted to make sure… Y’know, I figured you’d be upset about them, but I’m glad you don’t let it bother you.”
Neji pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling the headache coming. “What articles?”
“Well, the articles about, uh, your–” A stunned silence, then her voice turns flat. “Oh. I just put my foot in my mouth, didn’t I.”
“What articles.”
“I’ll send the links to you. Honestly it’s not even that big of a deal, um, sir. You shouldn't worry too much.”
Links, Neji reflects blankly. Not even going to ask what this is…
Sighing, “I’m hanging up. And then destroying the phone. Bye.”
Nomad’s startled yelp cuts off.
After a few moments of confusingly navigating to his messages, he presses down on the buttons to open the ‘link’ sent by Nomad’s number. It opens on The Flare’s website, which Neji understands is a newspaper. Humming, he internally recognizes the usefulness of having such information in a dematerialized form, rather than in paper. Information that was just waiting to be taken.
There’s a picture of a man he recognizes immediately, taking one fourth of the page. Okada Daichi, ruffled, distracted narrow eyes looking away from the camera. The man looks agitated, the pallor of his skin accentuated by the ambient light; The background is blurry, but the boy can only guess that it was a picture taken the day of the whole fiasco, in front of the tower, possibly mere hours after he’d gotten away.
Overall, not a very flattering picture. That, and the title in bold ‘Unknown vigilante strikes at Okada Industries, sex scandals coming to light!” indeed didn’t make Okada look so good…
“Vigilante.” Neji murmurs, remembering his first conversation with Giran. People seem to throw that word around a lot when it comes to him. ‘An up-and-coming vigilante’ Giran had called him. And there was that warning… ‘There's only a fine line between a villain and a vigilante.’
He keeps reading.
‘A recording released by Juko News, a small magazine publisher, has put a spotlight on the ‘Okada Daichi scandal’ involving various other big-shot support item designers and pro-heroes. Okada Daichi has accused Juko News of tampering with the images, in which the businessman is seen frequenting a bar and engaging in questionable activities. The audio reveals sexual, misogynistic remarks made by a drunk Okada Daichi regarding other big figures in the industry– he brings up the R-Rated hero: Midnight, the Rabbit Hero: Mirko, or the up-and-coming Mineyama Hero: Mount Lady.
When asked, Juko News claims that the recording comes from anonymous sources. A statement that has awoken waves of speculation and outrage. Some people claim it to be that culling vigilante’s doing, Neji Hyuga– the mysterious newcomer that has boldly struck this last Monday, fifteenth of July, at rich businessman Okada Daichi’s main building known for his various hero gadgets (the Okada brand of reinforced padded armor, the Okada protective goggles and masks, the OkaGauntlets…) and his affiliations with various big guns in the hero industry… The prime example being Okada’s long-standing partnership with UA highschool, from which a considerable number of Support Department students have always bounced on opportunities to be in Okada’s teams after graduation.
Following these events, an overwhelming amount of sexual harassment lawsuits have been filed against one Okada Daichi. A number of people are screaming for justice, while police are scrambling to review each case and appease the situation. Read also: Chief of Police Kenji Tsuragamae Press Confidence.
While there is no decisive proof to confirm the legitimacy of neither accusations as of yet, one cannot prove them to be fake either. “In the absence of serious proof we cannot rule out any possibility, and make an effort to keep an open mind.” says Tsutsui Shika, journalist.
However, a number of Japanese people seem to be rooting for the new vigilante. Indeed, he’s being praised for ‘taking up the heroes’ slack’ and he’s been one of Japan’s hot topics as shown with the trending #NejiHyuga on hero.net third only to #KatsukiBakugou winner of UA’s sports festival and #SportsFestival.
One might say, it isn’t looking good for Okada!"
See other links:
Who is Neji Hyuga?
Ryukyu Press Confidence
Okada Daichi
Present Mic, a fraud?
Cold sweat. All over his body.
This whole thing…it had Giran written all over it. Of course the broker would have contacts to catch Okada in…undesirable positions. That would be all good, if this was only about carrying out the man’s little revenge, but no! Neji had been dragged right into it. And people were…praising him…
So there seems to be a common misconception here, and Neji needs to find out more. He pulls at his hair in frustration, and people are seeing this as his first debut as a vigilante…
Neji cracks the flip phone at the seams, and slams it against the table for good measure, leaving a dent in the wooden surface.
Scrubbing his face with his hands, he promptly shoots off the couch (ignoring the discomfort in his limbs) and quickly rummages through Giran’s belongings. Once that is done, he hurries out of the suffocating apartment. Neji… even back in Konoha, after successfully getting back from a high-stakes mission… he hadn’t been praised. Civilians were blissfully unaware of the littler cogs of the machine, as they should be. Quiet approval from his colleagues and superiors, yes, but… to be seen as a figure to look up to or a subject for gossip? That is just wrong. That should be reserved for the heroes of war, not him.
Even more so in this world, because Neji isn’t a soldier with orders. He has no purpose. He’s fighting for himself. So it’s even more wrong for these idiots to be praising him. What was there to praise?
“Please,” Neji murmurs, closing his eyes. “Should a lightning bolt strike me right now, I would feel grateful.”
The sky is nothing but clear blue when he looks up.
Neji heads for the subway, tightening one of Giran’s coats around him. He blends with the large crowds in the streets, keeping his head down. His mind whirls with what to do next– after all, the boy’s aware that he’s not quite so in touch with this world, not as much as he probably should be. And that’s already begun to bite him in the ass.
Thinking of a certain winged hero, and all the other surprising things he has seen quirks do, it’d probably be wise to document himself on as many threats as possible, lest he wants to be caught off guard again. Eyeing his bandages shrewdly, Neji decides he’s going to do a lot of reading in his period of convalescence.
He stops in front of a small apartment complex. The walls of this street are so dirty and run-down it’s hard to even guess what their original color could have been.
Neji’s rented this apartment since Hiromi’s move out, yet hadn’t gone around to actually check it out yet. He doesn’t expect much; It should be a testament to the place’s condition that, when he’d rented it, people were certainly not fighting for it judging by the landlord’s eagerness to hand the keys out to Neji.
True to Neji’s impressions, the apartment itself is small and lousy. It’s perfect.
The last person who lived here seems to have left in a hurry: there are still cleaning tools in the cabinets. He spends the majority of the evening cleaning the place out, slaughtering cockroaches and worms, and sticking as many standard seals in various hidden places as he dares. There is still a fridge though it’s horrifyingly dirty– Neji decides that will be a problem for Future Neji.
He looks around at the unfamiliar little studio. Tomorrow he’ll go buy a futon to lay on the ground and that would be it. He opens the singular window in the hopes that it will rob the place of its stale air, and sighs a world-weary sigh.
He has a meeting with Giran in only a few hours, and Neji knows his patience is wearing very, very thin. On the bright side though it will give him a person to focus all his frustrations on, and something to do so he doesn’t think of the bizarreness of his earlier condition. Chakra exhaustion that leads to damaged, clogged chakra pathways… never heard of it.
The hallways sting of piss and trash, but are fortunately deserted as he makes his way out. The street his apartment is in is as shady as one might think, shady enough that no one should blink at the sight of his hooded self. A trip to the subway and he’s back in a much more populated area.
It’s been getting harder and harder to hold a proper henge as time goes by. His chakra would simply slip off, leaving obvious mistakes even an academy student could detect. Minute after minute, it seems to him his chakra control slips through his fingers, to be lost in the wind. It irks something, buried deep inside Neji that hasn’t been stirred in years– the fierce desire to prove himself.
Keeping his head down and his coat dripping over his hair, the teen ruminates on this feeling, walking the streets until he spots a library. It’s late evening now, and that means he won’t have much time until closing– fortunately enough it also means there aren’t many people there, and the librarian is eager enough to be done with his day that he doesn’t spare Neji even a glance.
He’s surprised to find that he doesn’t need to check in with him or to have a card to enter– it feels a bit weird to not have to sneak. Neji goes straight to a computer, figuring that he could learn the finer details (history, politics and such) at a later date. Channeling what few lessons Hiromi gave him, he taps away at the keyboard and lets his eyes scan that overwhelming well of information.
First, he learns of the hero-ranking. Neji spends a few moments just dumbly staring at the computer screen after learning that the basis for the hero ranking is popularity, not accomplishments or experience or anything else that would make sense. The ranking itself seems to be completely worthless after the hundredth place. There are a lot of heroes in Japan…
And although popularity seems to go hand-in-hand with efficiency in the field, this clearly wasn’t always the case. If it were, and if this information could be believed, Endeavor should have first place. His total number of accomplished missions exceeded All Might’s, and with a not-so insignificant gap at that. A gap which only seems to have widened in the last years– All Might’s activity has been gradually dropping, while Endeavor’s had never been so high.
Behind them both…a blond, red-winged man peers at him through the screen, absent smile and loose fingers from which hangs an almost-forgotten microphone– the Wing Hero: Hawks, in third place.
Neji had been distracted, and Hawks had managed to hit him with a surprise attack. Which was quite embarrassing for a Hyuga, but he refused to dwell on it. Point is, he had apparently beat this country’s number three without any preparation, in a closed space that didn’t play to Neji’s skills, with a self-imposed handicap until the very end as Neji had been convinced at the time he’d still need as much chakra as he could spare after the fight. Which he did.
Blinking slowly, he moves on. If their number three was this weak, it seems Neji doesn’t have much to worry about after all. It doesn’t stop him from briefly skimming through a page dedicated to analyzing Hawk’s quirk, though. He reads about the length of his wings, sightings claiming him to be in one city and then another in a matter of minutes, speculations about whether or not the slight build of the man was directly linked to the nature of his quirk…
And as for the other two…
Neji worries his lip as he reads All Might’s profile, concerned with the way fans seem to depict him as a God amongst men. He hadn’t been wrong in his first assumption– the hero worship was truly something else. But could he really trust that these fans were overexaggerating? Could All Might be at Hokage-level in strength?
Neji watches videos of the man, one of which from only a few months ago. He watches as the number one thrusts a fist to the sky, changing the weather with a single punch (he’s briefly reminded of Lady Tsunade.) In another, he jumps so high he appears to be flying. The Symbol of Peace– Neji chuckles at that.
“That’s one hell of a name…” the boy mutters, sliding the cursor to another video. “One that must be hard to live up to.”
There was no doubt in his mind that All Might far exceeded him in terms of raw strength. Though if came a time when Neji would have no choice but to face him, creeping up and disabling the man should work just fine. Strength is good, but there's no point if you can’t move your arms.
And although the man’s gradual disappearance from the scene dates back to well before this start of the year, All Might’s new teaching position at UA seems to cover it up and explain it well enough. Was that the intended effect? Neji recalls Nomad’s words on the subject– she had implied age had something to do with this, but he has an inkling there’s something more.
Neji is a bit more concerned about Endeavor. Not a single fight lost in twenty three years, not after a mission gone awry early in his career. A number of solved cases and individual missions unheard of in Japan history. Although Neji is a bit perplexed when he reads about Endeavor’s quirk– fire. He’d expected something outlandish for someone with such a record, but it was a simple fire quirk. If anything, the boy supposes that this in itself speaks to the man’s technique.
The only thing the public seems to hold over him is his position as number two, even going as far as labeling him the ‘forever number two.’ That and his briskness and unwillingness to advertise himself, which seems to go hand-in-hand with the latter.
He does chuckle more than once watching a video titled ‘Compilation of Endeavor being RUDE to his fans.’ There’s a humorous, never-ending number of videos of that kind. Though largely unpopular, Endeavor does have a fanbase which seems to mirror the man’s own intensity. Neji finds amusement reading these anonymous people fighting tooth and nail online trying to defend the honor of their favorite. On the contrary, they praise Endeavor’s no-nonsense personality even going as far as bashing others– saying most are more celebrities than heroes. Neji finds himself agreeing, watching approvingly a few videos where the man is seen dealing quick, decisive take-downs.
He is intently watching one of these video footage when he is suddenly interrupted.
“Hero fan?” a voice asks behind him. When Neji turns, it’s to be met with a shock of white hair against pitch black skin. He freezes for a moment, unsure, and he sees that emotion reflected in the teenager in front of him. He himself seems to question why he decided to talk to Neji at all.
“Something like that.” he answers, his voice coming out a little too flat.
The boy attempts a smile. “Endeavor, huh? Yeah he’s one of my favorites too, but I like Gang Orca better.”
Neji hums, trying to ignore the fact that a walking stain of ink is talking to him. It seems as if he were to reach out, his hand would just disappear into a void. Also, who the hell is Gang Orca?
“...Though not gonna lie, it’s mostly because he’s ranked third in the ‘heroes who look the most like villains’ chart and I can kinda relate.”
“There’s a ranking like that?” Neji blurts out, internally cursing himself.
The boy grins, displaying the white of his teeth against the black of his lips. “Yeah. It’s updated every year with the hero ranking, though without all the ceremonies and stuff.”
He then proceeds to pull out his phone (and every muscle in Neji’s body did not tense at the sudden movement, no) and taps the screen at speeds he can not even begin to comprehend. Finally, Shihai shows him the screen, where Neji can see the ranking for himself. In third place, he sees the picture of a large man with a killer whale mutation.
There is a ranking, official and all. The ridiculousness of it doesn’t even shock him at this point.
“Unfortunately a lot of people take it seriously.” he shrugs one shoulder, somehow looking indignant and nonchalant at the same time. “I’m Shihai Kuroiro by the way.” He extends a hand for a handshake, shrugging again at Neji’s look. “I’ve always liked the western greeting more.”
His hand hangs between them. Pitch black skin. Pitch black nails.
Neji lists all ways having physical contact with a stranger whose quirk is unknown to him could be a bad idea before taking it and giving it a firm shake. The look in Shihai’s eyes was far more piercing than such a situation should entail, but at the end his smile seems to grow even bigger. Neji has the impression this was some kind of test, but he keeps his face blank.
The name on his ID card comes easily to him. “Toyama Kazuki.”
Before anything else can come out of the conversation, the speaker asks for people still in the library to leave as it is closing time. Shihai shoots him a little smile, then hurries out ahead of him– claiming his mother is waiting for him.
Neji walks out of the library at a slower pace, still recovering from that awkward encounter.
Another trip to the subway. Neji is beginning to tire (the effects of his chakra exhaustion and other afflictions still can be felt) and he knows Giran will be the one suffering from his irate state. This does not make him feel guilty in the least. The broker just told him the name of the city he is in, so Neji spends a total of six minutes locating and getting to his position. When he silently lands on Giran’s chosen rooftop, the man is taking a smoke.
“Giran.” Neji announces himself, and to the broker’s credit he doesn’t jump.
Turning, the man gives a crooked smile. “Ahh. You’re looking brand new. Almost doesn’t seem like you were on the verge of dying. I was beginning to wonder if you’d come.” The fact that Giran saw him in such a pitiful state is not something Neji likes to think about.
“I’ve had worse.” And better, too. “You're the one who called this meeting. Why?”
“Just to congratulate you in person for the mission. I take it you found the money I left you?”
“I did.”
“I was thinking I should give you a little bonus for your hard work.” Giran says, and lifts his cigarette as if for a toast. “You’ll be pleased to know that Okada and I are now back to our best buddies days. They do say hard times make for stronger bonds.”
Was that amusement in the man’s eyes?
“I’m overjoyed.” Neji mutters, miffed. “Though I’ll have you know that I don’t appreciate being tied to whatever drama you have going on with Okada Daichi.”
“You were tied the ‘drama’ as soon as you accepted the mission.”
“The mission said to infiltrate a building, find whatever useless piece of evidence I could so that you would feel validated in your actions, and overall just give a good scare to Okada Daichi.” he exhales through his nose, slowly. “Nothing about playing the public figure for you to hide behind as you take shots at him.”
“I had nothing to do with that. They did claim the info came from an anonymous source.” Giran brings his cigarette to his lips. It irritates Neji even more that he doesn’t even bother to come up with a good lie.
“Is that what you told the media? You can’t deny the timing is a bit suspicious. An ‘anonymous source’... How ominous.” Neji replies, doing nothing to hide his annoyance. “And I’m sure the police isn’t the one to have revealed what scraps of information they have on me. I do recall the words ‘unknown, mysterious up-and-coming vigilante’ coming up in more than a few articles. You don’t know anything about that, do you?”
This was a bit of a bluff– for some reason, the police have been keeping very hush-hush about him until the ‘Okada incident’, even if Neji was a completely unknown player and he’d already displayed to them he wasn’t scared to resort to violence. Neji isn’t sure if it’s because of foolishness or something else– were he in charge, he’d have every agency in the country in high-alert until his head was removed from his body. It did play in his favor though.
Giran doesn’t refute. He holds his hands up, as if stopping him from jumping to conclusions. “I didn’t tell them you were the one with the info.”
“But you hinted at it. And anticipated they would come to that conclusion.” Neji continues, eyes narrowing.
A bit of silence. Giran crushes his cigarette under the sole of his shoe.
“Aye. I did.” the older man admits, gradually tensing under Neji’s glare. “I’m going to guess you’re not too happy about your sudden popularity?”
“Do I look happy?”
The man looks him up and down a few times. “No. Though I’ve never seen you happy so I wouldn’t know.”
Neji hums, casually activating his byakugan. Giran stares with a mix of worry and fascination as the veins around his eyes bulge with the rush of chakra. “You’ve seen me annoyed, though, haven’t you?”
The man doesn’t answer, watching warily.
“Have you ever seen me angry?” he shakes his head. “...No, I don’t suppose you have. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Finally, Neji can see the broker’s eyes wander over the rooftop, as if looking for a point of escape and finding none. Neji is in the way of the only door, so short of just jumping off, Giran is stuck. When that realization sinks in, the teen watches with some satisfaction as the man grows visibly agitated.
“Giran.” he begins softly. “The next time you pull some kind of powerplay on me, I’ll be pulling your heart out of your chest. Is that clear?”
For once, Giran doesn’t seem in the mood to joke, though he does smile grimly. “Aye.”
Neji nods. “Then if that’s it, I’ll be leaving.”
He turns his back on him (a petty way of showing he doesn’t fear for his life doing so) and starts to walk away.
“...There’s something else.”
The teen turns, inquiring but visibly impatient. “Well?”
Giran is now sober as he talks, more aware of Neji’s movements. Instead of going in circles as he usually does, he cuts to the chase. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the league of villains. They’ve heard of your skills and wish to have an informal meeting with you to talk recruitment. Planning something big. They offer money and other services and are open to bargain.”
So Giran is their broker, too. Neji is unimpressed as soon as the group’s name reaches his ears, though he does ask. “Other services?”
The man tries to seem casual as he shrugs. “Something you’ll need to discuss with them. They’re willing to arrange the meeting sometime in the month whenever it works for you. Interested?”
“No, frankly.” For the second time in the conversation, Neji seems to have stunned Giran. Before he can say something, he cuts what arguments the man had short.
Neji waves an elegant hand, already starting to turn away. “I’ll think about it. If I don’t come find you, you know what that means.”