No Glove, No Love

[Sand Council]

A girl can only spin a pole so many times before the dance becomes redundant. Girls with daddy issues and an acrobatic skill, tens... well sixes at least all of them and most of them run-aways. The syphilis-riddled pole has to be bleached between sessions, giving a new meaning to "rubbing down a pole." There were a number of regulars here, most of them one should not shake their hand without a glove. That is the policy here at the very least -- no glove, no love.

The floor pounded from the bass that boomed from the the stereo. It was the same several songs on a loop, nobody came here for the music just like they did not come here for the food either. Even if half the men here claimed this place had the best hot wings and beer in town. They all came here for the same thing, to see girls too young or fit for them spin around until they were dizzy. Many had the same idle hope, to find not a girl that wanted better from this life but rather the one that wanted to make a few quick yen by working for ten (or probably less) minutes in the handicap stall of the bathroom. It was the cheep and shallow needs of these men, and on certain nights of the week the women of this town that kept him in business.

It was a long road to recovery, not that he had some sort of mental ailment or some sort of addiction that he needed to overcome. He was to enjoy those things in excess. This was more of a "stay our of the way and let the kids play." At least that was what he said with his infernal rhyme. Wack job. Tonight it was girls named after cute animals -- so we had Bunni and Bambi and Foxi. Got the furries in for whatever reason but there was not a tail or vulpine ear in sight. This setting of debauchery was a great backdrop, a place to meet the most fascinating people. People like little brothers.

"Haha, Susumu... you dirty bastard," a well dressed ginger let out a laugh. Yes, he was too well-dressed to be the purveyor of this establishment. One would have expected at the very least a suit in animal print, perhaps a brimmed hat with a large feather.

"Visiting an ex, checking in on you man. I mean, you're pretty much dead to the word." Susumu commented as he took a seat. "I hear this place has the best legs in town," Susmu announced with a half smirk.

"That it does, in more than one way," he confirmed as an order of hot wings was made and a tassel-wearing waitress in well, not much more sauntered off.

"Nice place you have here," Susumu commented as a beer was slid in front of him.

"Oh no, not mine, I am just borrowing. Letting these lovely ladies nurse me back to health with their beauty."</B><i></i> Indeed it was true, the benefactor of this establishment had taken over after Haku Saburou mysteriously disappeared several years ago leaving a gap in the underbelly of Sunagakure that somebody had to fill. The human trade was the oldest trade that there was -- cash for the sweat among other things.

<B>"...and gonorrhea" Susumu coughed into his sleeve.

The massive red-head leaned over the table, his suit seemed to hide some of his size. The man was massive and when he smiled his teeth would remind one of a shark rather than a man as the corners of his lips peeled back and exposed a row of pearly pointed teeth. "You got a mouth on ya kiddo, good thing I still find you funny," he gave Susumu a push with his index finger and the young man's chair rocked back and slid out from beneath him. "Ha! Hilarious!"

Susumu would let out a yelp as the chair slid out from underneath him at the pure force of the man's fingertip. There was always an insurmountable gap in power between the two of them. It was a space that he could not close despite his grandest of efforts. He was the one graced with brains and inhuman strength as well as the favor of their father and their god. All Susumu had was the name and deep down inside he knew that would not get him very far. "Urrrgh," a noise of complaint would escape the heir's lips as he pulled himself back to his feet. "You're a dick," he complained as he brushed off the dust and hair. Oh god there is hair and it is not the kind he normally sees on the head. Fast brush. Fast brush! "Disgusting..." the disgruntled Hyuuga announced. He would have to sterilize himself and take a prophylactic dose of penicillin once he left here he just knew it.

"That is just the biggest part of me," he laughed crudely.

"We could not be any more different could we," Susumu's tone had grown disgruntled. "It hurts me to know that you are sadly somehow the smart one," he let out an exasperated sigh. "It took me months to find you and this is all I get out of you," Susumu was looking for something.

"Shouldda asked dear old dad, he sent me here for some R&R as he called it. Something about a ninja match in coffee"

"Tea" Susumu interjected.

"Yeah yeah... whatever TEA then," he replied dismissively with a wave of his hand.

"Father," Susumu coughed "was ordered to cease operations until the end of the assessment period of the tournament which is almost over" Susumu clarified the rather complex plan down to a few words.

"Oh?" the red-head's golden eyes widened slightly.

"I think it is time that you made your way to Tea to see what the fun is all about," Susumu suggested. It was the words the sadist wanted to hear weren't they? Someone to cut these metaphorical tethers. "Bring glory to Jashin."

 

[Sand Council]

Brothers​

Bring glory to Jashin.... Right. Next he would claim that we were the bestest of friends. Well fuck him and the half dead mare he rode in on. Just because they slipped me into this penguin suit did not mean that I lost all of brains. Those brain cells are and have always remained evenly divided between my dick and my noggin. Does he really take me to be such an idiot? Just because his mother was some Hyuuga whore that could be outsmarted by a light-bulb joke does not mean that everyone else around him was just as retarded. Dad liked his women simple, simpler than him at the very least. I just liked hearing them scream, but for today I might make an exception. Dear Susumu, how long has it been since I made you cry?

The chair fell backwards as the giant man stood to his full height. That suit could not have been store bought. He stood over seven feet in height. "Let me guess, you came all this way just to tell me to fuck off to another country. That this was part of some sort of plan," he scoffed. "It just took you awhile to find me because nobody told you where I am..."

Susumu's eyes widened. It was one of those pants crapping moments where you are pretty sure that you might have pooped just a little but you are too damn scared to check. The girls continued to dance and the patrons appeared to actively turn the other way. The wait staff simply rerouted their paths to give a wider breadth. Indeed this was not an unusual enough of an occurrence to cause disarray. His hand was fast, like a viper's bite as it reached across the table and clasped tightly around Susumu's neck. With a single extended hand he would lift the heir from the ground.

It would be such a simple task, to crush his windpipe and to drain the last vestiges of life from his pathetic and weak body. His grip tightened and Susumu struggled, his hands to his own throat as he tried to peel away his brother's fingers with both hands. His face was turning a terrible hue of crimson, almost grape. "Do. You. Take. Me. For. Some. Idiot!" His grip tightened. "If you want me gone, I will do everything in my power to stay here. My only curiosity and it truly is fleeting... is why Tea? Do you really think that they have the power to do anything to me? Especially now?" He was not going to elaborate on the change. On the gifts that lord had given him with his resurrection. The glory he now knew. "Or is it there is someone that you are trying to protect?" Susumu was not able to answer, no air or blood could pass, in fact the world was getting dark.

Susumu was not going to last much longer. However every story has a hero, in this case an unlikely hero.

From out of nowhere a word would come down and slice cleanly through the behemoth's outstretched arm. Susumu would fall to the ground unconscious, his facial expression one of panic. The severed hand still attached to his neck but now lacking power. Blood would spray from the severed appendage coloring the room and the unconscious man red. The savior or perhaps villain would take a single step back. Just far enough to avoid the wave of crimson. He was dressed in a pristine white suit with a brimmed hat and a Cheshire grin. his blood soaked sword still in hand he would pluck a napkin from one of the tables and run the paper napkin down the length of the blade. "Tut-tut! What did I say about murder in front of the limber consorts."

The man was none other than Aburabuta Hirotomi. Heir to the Aburabuta fortunate, well to the Aburabuta name, the fortune seemed to follow him and he had certainly inherited his father's entrepreneurial spirit.

"There will be no fighting here, the two of you," Hirotomi ordered.

The massive redhead let out a loud, maddened laugh as he spun around and with a meaty fist pounded on the edge of the table he was been leaning over. The table flipped over and was rocketed skyward. With a roundhouse kick the table was launched at the well-dressed swordsman. It was fast what he did, in the blink of an eye the table was split in twain and shot past the swordsman on either side. The sword now covered in bloodied splinters gripped by that same paper napkin.

Tsk Tsk...

"You are nothing but a brute still, find Lulu and have her reattach your arm again." He had a charming voice but a bored expression. "I am getting paid good money to keep you ...safe but you will never reform if I keep having to chop parts off of you," his tone was almost as if he was complaining about a long series of tasks he needed to complete before he could break for lunch. "The degenerate sexual frustrations you release with this bloodshed is simply too messy," he sighed. "I know that you could have avoided that," he added. "Eventually you will have to find something... more productive."

 

[Sand Council]

There was something about blood that got this meat head going, it was pretty creepy in all actuality but more than anything else it was dangerous. Hirotomi was a man used to the better things in life and a skin bar was low on his list of refined establishments but if he had learned nothing else from his father, you follow the money. The money was here with these pretty things even if all he could smell was human filth and watered down booze. Yes, he was too good for a place such as this and he loathed to mention this fact in his present company so he didn't. Altercations such as this were sadly commonplace here, an unruly red-head and some skinny girl or boy in his clutches letting out a silent scream. He knew better than to let the monstrous man have his way, that never ended well for the sub and he had a finite number of girls and patrons.

This establishment was more than some sleazy herpes den, it was a filter for all that left Sunagakre in an oblong box. Yes, most of the men and women in such boxes were dead, but not in this case. Hirotomi was at the heart of the human trade market. A favor one could say to the Merchant Lady. Ishii Shiro's plaything of the decade, he wondered how long this one could last. Thus far longer than the rest. A place for run-aways and those that had a hard time dealing with the rigors of life so they turned to an escape of sorts that left their brains addled but their bodies were still young. There was no quality here, just flesh for the machine. The 'best' were taken away, by box. Their definition of best at first strange -- not necessarily the healthiest of specimen nor the most lovely but rather they sought something entirely different. It took him some time to notice the pattern, but Hirotomi was a man of learning at the best academies in the known world. The pattern was simple, it was their chakra-potential. Some were more obvious than others, the tomoe of the Uchiha, the pearly eyes of the Hyuuga or the androgynous features of the Haku. It was a pattern he chose to not ignore.

He was a middle man that did what he was told whilst he climbed his way to the top rung in this secret plutocracy. He was nobody's employee but he would play the role a little longer. The access he had been given thus far was extraordinary. Access to an illegitimate son, even an unstable one. If he could bend the man's will to his own he would prove to be a powerful weapon. And he had the means to do so, his designs set still on a seat among the Merchant Lords. To fill the seat his father once occupied. There had been a vacant seat among them for a near decade that was consolidated among them. The illiterate swordsman that ran to Sand. He was far from foolish enough to believe that they were merely keeping his seat warm until the former Journeyman's return but rather preventing the Aburabuta heir from taking his rightful place among his peers.

Fine. Two can play at that game.

The paper napkin cleaned the sword from tip to hilt. So messy, does anyone here respect a feather-steel thousand-folded katana with the soul of... well, just nobody mind that. Of course the ginger was hardly startled by the loss of a limb. This was always the weird part, where he sucked air in through his teeth and his eyes rolled back a bit. That moment were he knew better than to look down for fear of the bulge that one would see. The contents of his stomach tried to revolt at the thought. He changed the grip on his blade, there was a 50-50 chance that he wold settle down at this point.

And no, he was not settling down today.

[Topic Ended with blood]​