Jiraiya was headed to the pub, feeling as if the glass of ice cold whiskey was calling him there. It was eleven o’clock at night, the man slipped through the streets like a fugitive from the ghostly glow of the street lamps before walking through the bars door. Cigarette smoke wafted all the way up to his nostrils as he descended the stairs to find Naruto already seated by the counter, twiddling a cup of liquor between his fingers. He was usually there. Without taking so much as a sip of the spirits he had ordered, a sly grin spread across his face, obscuring the whisker marks marring his cheeks. Just like a sly fox.
“Hey, Ero-sennin” he said, mirth oozing from his tone. Jiraiya lifted a hand and greeted Naruto before taking the seat next to him. The bartender placed Jiraiya’s usual on the counter before him without even having to ask. Jiraiya’s long white hair, somewhat damp after a day of slithering through back alleys in the rain, glinted in the dim glow of orange light.
Uzumaki Naruto, far too young to be at such a place at such a time, took a sip of the golden liquid held in his hand, yet nobody objected. Nobody dared to Naruto’s ocean blue eyes sparkled as he beamed at his friend, such an odd sight many people wouldn’t believe if they saw it, the majority of people were often met with steely, cold, dead eyes that held no emotion within, much akin to those of a blue eyed corpse. Long tufts of golden blonde hair poked out from a bandage wrapped firmly around the boys head. Three ominous scars lined both sides of his faintly flushed face created a whisker effect, unfortunately for the Akatsuki’s infamous rumor mill, nobody knew the true origin of the marks. A black coat, darker then the night itself and far too many sizes too big was draped across his shoulders, engulfing his tiny frame compare to the size of the coat. From under the coat a scruffy suit, hideous orange tie, and unbuttoned shirt collar peeked out from beneath.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” He said to Naruto “Kid’ like you should have been asleep long ago,”
The mirthful grin reappeared on the blonde’s face. “Just thinking, y’know. Philo- ph-“ he paused to remember the right word, absentmindedly scratching at his marred cheek. “Philosophical things, y’know!”
Jiraiyas lips fromed a straight line in attempt to suppress a smile. A half assed failed attempt. “Oh yeah gaki, like what?”
Naruto pondered for a moment before answering. “For most things in life, it’s harder to succeed then to fail, right”
“True” the older man answered.
“That’s why I should attempt suicide rather than commit it! Committing suicide is difficult, but it should be relatively easier to fail at attempting suicide! Y’know!”
Jiraiya gazed at the melting ice in the glass before him for a few moments. An odd feeling stirred in his chest, one that ached at his gakis words, and yet recognizing the attempt of humorous irony. He sighed. “You’re right.”
“I knew it! Well there’s no time to waste, y’know. Let’s test this theory! Barkeeper, one detergent cocktail!”
“No,” the elderly barkeep replied warmly while washing a glass.
“Not even a bleach soda?”
“No,”
“Nothing, huh?”
“Looks like your out of luck kid,” Jiraiya added.
The white haired man scoped the bar one more. Being in the basement, naturally, the place had no windows. The interior was like a quiet, inconspicuous badgers nest packed with a counter, stools, empty bottles lined up against the wall, taciturn regulars, and a bartender wearing a crimson vest. The underground space was so crowded that people could barely squeeze through the aisle. Everything in there was old and antique as if their existence were carved into the space itself.
Jiraiya took a sip of his liquor, then asked Naruto, “So you’re in a philosophical mood tonight, huh gaki? Did you mess up at work or something?”
Narutos sly grin slipped into a sheepish one. “Yeah I messed up. Big time.” Naruto pouted. “It was a sting operation, y’know. It all started when we got word that some merry little group wanted to steal our smuggled goods during delivery. The friendly fellows were willing to snatch the bread out of our mouths, so I was certain they’d be some sort of band of fearless warriors, the Robin Hood types, y’know? So l lay in wait to ambush them. I thought it all went well y’know, i could die a heroic death on the battlefield ‘nd all that y’know? But the dozen or so armed guys show up were a real scrappy bunch. The only thing worth mentioning is the machine gun equipped canvas truck with a rocket launcher attached. I was so disappointed that I set up a trap in the warehouse, but when we surrounded them and attacked they ran away crying, tails between their legs, y’know!”
Jiraiya figured as much. He couldn’t ever imagine the man ever actually making a mistake on the job, as much of a knucklehead he portrayed himself as.
“What group were they with?”
“We caught one of the little balls of energy before he could escape, so he’s in ‘interrogation’ as we speak. Probably won’t be long now until he talks.”
Those guys had some guts. Jiraiya certainly considered them fearless warriors, seeing as they weren’t afraid of the relentless Akatsuki’s retaliation. And despite Naruto’s disappointment, they came with machine guns and rocket launchers. They weren’t complete idiots with no grasp on reality. It was just too bad they were up against Uzumaki Naruto.
They had a saying in the Akatsuki: ‘The greatest misfortune of Uzumaki Naruto’s enemies is that they were Naruto’s enemies.” If he wanted to, he could even have had a picnic amidst the firefight. Naruto was practically born to be mafia.
The oddball blonde before him was an executive of the underground organization, The Akatsuki- Uzumaki Naruto.
To an outsider, seeing the title of Mafia exec on a goofy looking kid would be a hilarious joke. But they wouldn’t be laughing if they saw Narutos list of achievements, a dark bloody list. Around half the Akatsuki’s profits the past two years were all thanks to him. A mere grunt like Jiraiya couldn’t even imagine how much money that was, nor how many lives were lost.
Of course, all glory comes at a price.
“You’ve got some new injuries I see, gaki.” Jiraiya pointed to freshly wound bandages that cling to him while taking a quick sip of his drink.
“Yep” Naruto smirked as he looked himself over. His body was covered in scars, the price he payed for success.
In other words, the man was a mess. There was always a part of him injured. Once again, it really made Jiraiya conscious of how Naruto thrived in the center of violence and death.
“What happened to your leg?” Jiraiya asked while pointing, sure that the injury was from a horrific, gruesome face-off.
Narutos face twisted in disgust. “Y’know, I came across this book called Icha Icha,” Jiraiya choked on his mouthful of whiskey. “I was so disgusted by it I couldn’t help but throw myself into the nearest river, y’know!”
A surprisingly unsurprising reason.
“Then what about your arm?”
“I was speeding around a mountain path and drove off the cliff,”
“And the bandages around your head?”
“I was trying to kill myself by slamming my head into a block of tofu.”
“You hurt yourself on a block of tofu?”
Jiraiya shook his head. He must have been in desperate need of some calcium.
“I invented a method of hardening tofu, y’know!” Naruto pouted. “It was so hard you could drive a nail through it. Thanks to that, I know more about making tofu than anyone else in this organization, y’know!”
A Mafia executive who’s a stickler for tofu production, the five executives were really one a whole other level.
“Was the tofu good?” Jiraiya asked.
“Annoyingly so.” Naruto grimaced with apparent dissatisfaction. “I cut it into thin slices, then had it with soy sauce, it tasted incredible...”
Jiraiyas mouth watered. He was impressed. No matter what he did, Naruto seemed to reach heights that normal people couldn’t. “Let me try some next time, gaki.”
“Jiraiya.. you should have spoken up right there.” They heard a voice coming from the entrance, then turned around to find a scholarly dressed man descending the staircase.
“You’re too soft on Naruto. You should be calling him out instead of encouraging him. Whacking the back of his head with a hammer for every two out of three things he says, or else he’s going off the rails. Look around. Notice the awkward silence of all the people wanting to say something. Even the poor barkeep is trembling a little.”
His name was Umino Iruka. Dressed in a buisness jacket and soft brown hair tied back, he was an odd mixture of pure exhaustion and an academic, but he was actually one of them. Iruka was the Akatsuki’s personal informant.
“Iruka-Chan! Long time no see! Looking good!” Naruto raised an enthusiastic hand with a smile.
“You’re calling this ‘looking good’? I just got back from business in Tokyo... I’m as worn out as an old newspaper,” Iruka huffed.
Iruka twisted his neck back and forth as he seated himself atop the barstool next to Naruto. Then he took off the small crimson leather bag hanging over his shoulder and placed it on the counter.
“Barkeep, the usual, please.”
The bartender almost immediately set a golden liquid down on the counter before Iruka. He has started making the drink as soon as he heard him making his way down the stairs.
“Business trip, huh? Lucky dog. I wanna go hang out in Tokyo too, y’know” lowering his head feigning despair “Barkeep more please!” Naruto exclaimed, head still against the counter top, glass raised shaking the glass. There were already three empty glasses in front of him.
“Hang out? Not everyone in the Mafia lives to kill time like you, Naruto. I was actually working.”
“If you ask me, Iruka,” Naruto continued, a fresh glass of spirits now in from of him, “everything is this world is just a way to kill time until we die. Anyway, what kinda is work was it?”
Irukas gaze briefly wandered before he replied, “Fishing.”
“Oh nice. Catch anything?”
“Nothing. It was a waste of time. I heard there were going to be so top grade items from Europe, but it ended up being noting more then the usual junk you’d see at a flea market.”
Fishing is code in the syndicate for purchasing smuggled goods. Usually the goods bought by the Akatsuki were weapons or illegal articles made abroad. On rare occasions, there’s be fine art and jewels as well.
“There was an antique watch that wasn’t so bad, though it was crafted by some watchmaker during the late Middle Ages its most definitely a fake, but someone will be willing to pay for such fine craftsmanship.
Iruka gave them a glimpse of a box wrapped on paper inside his bag. On top of it we’re things he brought with him during his business trip.
“...What time did the deal end at?” Naruto suddenly asked while observing the goods.
“Eight pm. And I came straight back after it was over.” Iruka grumbled, clearly drained from his day. “At any rate, I did what I was paid for, so it looks like I’m not going to be fired today.”
“That’s pretty meek coming from you, Umino Iruka—you’re the man who knows everything about the Akatsuki,” Naruto added with a grin.
Iruka, the Akatsuki’s personal informant, exchanged secret information with other sundicates. He wasn’t affiliated with any of the executives fractions. He boss gave him direct orders for when a deal would take place, he had formed alliances with other organizations, sometimes acting as a mediator to convey critical and highly sensitive information involving collusion, defection, betrayal, and the likes. To put simply, he was a secret messenger. Almost all the important information that decided the course of the organization went through Iruka before reaching the boss. Naturally, if he was tortured to talk, the only intel he could provide about the Akatsuki would be worth more than gold. The scar that ran horizontally across his face was a constant reminder of that fact. A role as essential as his could not be left in the hands of an idiot. It required someone as tough as iron.
“Compared to the youngest executive in Akatsuki history, my achievements are no different from a schoolboys. By the way, are you two here tonight for a meeting of some sort?”
“Were we, ero-sennin?”
“No,” Jiraiya answered in Naruto’s place. “We didn’t plan it out, Naruto, of course, was already here when I came by.”
Stuff like that happened all the time.
“Oh really? I just had a feeling I’d run into you both if I came here tonight, so here I am, y’know.” Naruto grinned, as if amused by his own words.
“Did you need us for something?” Asked Iruka.
“Not really. I just thought if I came here, it’s be one of those nights. That’s all.”
Naruto then flicked his glass with a worn down fingernail.
Jiraiya knew what he was trying to say. They had often gathered at this bar when trying to avoid something. Then they would shoot the breeze under the guise of ‘communication’ until the dead of night. They frequently ran into one another here for some reason. Even though they were all part of the same organization they all have very different roles to play, Naruto was an executive, Iruka an informant, and Jiraiya, a bottom-of-the-pecking-order-grunt with no title to speak of. Under normal circumstances, they shouldn’t have even know each other’s names, much less drink together. But there in that bar, they could hang out regardless of positions or age. Perhaps it was thanks to their vast differences in the Akatsuki’s hierarchy that they got on so well Jiraiya often thought to himself.
“By the way...,” Naruto abruptly muttered while staring off into space. “Ero-sennin, it’s been a while since we all started drinking here together, and yet, I’ve still never really heard you complain about work.”
“I agree. Unlike Naruto and myself, your work is quite unique.”
“There’s nothing unique about what I do.” Jiraiya shook his head. “I just don’t have anything worth saying. It’d only bore you.”
“There’s you being all secretive again, y’know!” Naruto tilted his head, disgruntled. “Honestly Ero-sennin, out of the three of us your job is the most interesting to talk about. So spit it out y’know? What’ve you been up to at work this past week?”
After thinking for a moment, Jiraiya answered while counting the jobs on his fingers. “I investigated a theft at a shopping arcade under the Akatsuki’s jurisdiction. The culprits were a couple of school kids. Then I went to the home of an affiliate groups lackey to look for a missing pistol, which I found in his rice cooker while I was cleaning up. After that, i mediated a quarrel between the wife and mistress of one of our shell companies executives. Lastly, I disposed of a dud that was found behind the Akatsuki’s office.”
“Hey, Ero-sennin, I’m begging you please, switch jobs with me.”
Naruto leaned forward, his eyes, bluer than the ocean, sparked just like water on a bright sunny day.
“Not a chance,”
“But you found a dud! Did you hear that, Iruka? Why does Ero-sennin get all the fun jobs? It’s not fair, y’know! First thing tomorrow, I’m going to the boss and telling him this executives gonna quite ‘cause he doesn’t get to handle duds!”
The other executives might’ve keeled over if they heard that.
Iruka apathetically replied, “You do that,” just as he always did.
“At least let me go with you next time. I won’t get in the way, y’know, I promise!”
“I wouldn’t recommend that.” Iruka glanced at Naruto out of the corner of his eye. “Forget searching for criminals or looking for lost goods. Bringing Naruto to solve a lovers’ quarrel is just like pouring oil on a fire.
“Who wouldn’t want to keep a relationships fire burning, sounds great if you ask me.” Naruto pouted.
“See? What did I tell you?”
Jiraiya took a large gulp of liquor before responding. “Naruto maybe you should get a hobby before you start meddling in others peoples love affairs,”
“Something more wholesome then attempting suicide.” Iruka chipped in.
“Hobbies, huh? Hm...” Naruto pouted childishly. “Chess, Shogi..?” He shuddered “Maybe not, I don’t wanna get destroyed by Shikamaru. What else is there?”
“Sports?”
“I hate getting tired out.”
“How about studying, then?”
“Too much effort.”
“Then how about cooki-? Wait. Forget it.” Iruka lower his head and covered his mouth. He must have remembered when Naruto made them that ‘peppy hot pot’. It gave them plenty of pep, just as the name suggested, but they had absolutely no memory of what happened the next few days afterward. When they grilled Naruto later for answers about what was in the hot pot, he just giggled.
“Oh yeah, I came up with a new hot pot recipe. Would you guys be interested in having some the next time we hang out? I call it the ‘superhuman stamina pot.’ You can run for hours without getting tired after eating it. It’s a dream of a—“
“Not in a million years,” Iruka cut in sternly. “Let’s just stick to the ramen.”
Narutos eyes sparkled at he went off on a tangent about ramen. Yet again.
“If it keeps you from getting tired, then it might be pretty useful before a hard days work,” Jiraiya added thoughtfully as he sipped his drink.
“...Jiraiya, that’s exactly the problem right there. You’re enabling Naruto. You don’t call him out, that’s why he goes off the rails.”
So that’s what Iruka meant by encouraging Naruto. Jiraiya learned something new everyday.
“Barkeep, do you have a hammer by and chance?”
“I do not.”
“Oh, too bad”
“Guess there’s not much you can do about that,” Naruto said with a wide smile.
“I just got back from work, and my head already hurts...” Iruka hung his head. He may have had a rough day.
“You work way too hard, Iruka,” Jiraiya told him.
“Yeah, I do.”
Iruka glanced sharply back and fourth between Naruto and Jiraiya, then said, “It would appear so. I feel like I’m working unpaid overtime right know. I should get going.”
“What? Leaving already?” Naruto asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“To tell the truth...” Iruka’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “When I’m here drinking with you two, I almost forget that the work I’m doing is illegal. Barkeep, thanks for the drink.”
Iruka removed his belongings off the counter, the stood up.
“You take that bag with you when you go out of town for business?” Jiraiya asked, pointing to his small leather bag. He didn’t have any specific reason for asking; that’s just all he could think of to stop him from leaving.
“Yes. It doesn’t have much in it though. Just some cigarettes, a weapon, a small umbrella...” Iruka opened the bag wide to show me its contents. “And this camera I use for work.”
“Oh hey. Let’s all take a picture together, y’know.” Naruto cheerfully suggested out of the blue. “To commemorate today, y’know?
“Commemorate what?” Jiraiya asked.
“To remember that we were here. Or to celebrate Iruka being home. Or to celebrate you disposing of a dud. Anything will do. Y’know.”
“Whatever the executive says,” Iruka stated with a shrug before pulling the camera out of his bag. It was an old roll film camera, with the black paint chipped off here and there from age and use.
“Make us look cool,” ordered Naruto.
Iruka smirked as he took a picture of Naruto and Jiraiya together. Then, by Naruto’s request, Jiraiya snapped a phot of Naruto and Iruka by the counter. Naruto posed by placing one leg on the stool and leaned into it. “Taking it from this angle makes me more handsome, y’know.”
“Why do you want to take photos all of a sudden, Naruto?”
“I just felt like if we don’t take a picture now, they’ll be nothing left to prove we spent this time together, I guess.” He grinned brightly.
It turned out Naruto was right. That ended up being the last opportunity to photograph that invisible something that the three of them had all shared—the only thing to make them aware of the void left behind once it was lost. They never got another chance to take a photo together in that bar.
Because one of them died soon after.