having peter's camera on all the time. you're on direction duty and peter's on driving duty. having the window open and letting the wind flow through your hair. picking up a cheeky flower while on rest. keeping the flower on by the ear. having you & peter's favorite songs on loop. long talks about everything. the occasional loving glances. doing as much acitivities you can do to keep yourself up. seeing the beautiful scenery and taking pictures. getting lost a few times, but i guess that's part of the experience.
"you look gorgeous, baby." — "peter keep your eyes on the road!"
ᒥ嫌いᒧ— He couldn't dare look at her for too long, she looked just like...her Chakra was even similar, only much stronger he can feel a headache coming on. Zenjiro kept his eyes focused off somewhere else, fighting the nervous tightening of his chest. Though, if her Chakra was so purely Uzumaki, her hair must have been that signature red like his own. This couldn't be a coincidence, then. He was chosen for a stupid, low level mission because this lady is an Uzumaki! That had to be it! And it was not fun, Zenjiro standing with his shoulders firm and posture unmoving as they’re briefed on the miniscule details.
The elder woman speaks, and Zenjiro doesn't turn to even give her a glance. "....Then go home," his tone is dry, apathetic even. "Or stop whining." The younger Uzumaki certainly wasn't very delicate with his words, not that he was a delicate person in general. Zenjiro stood tall at 6'2 and was built to match such a stature, making him rather physically intimidating despite being in his early twenties. As any shinobi, his skin was covered in the scars left from being raised in battle. Not the typical looking guy to be on such a low rank assignment, for certain.
It didn’t totally escape her notice that the boy seemed slightly alarmed to see her, and it made something pang in her chest. Sure, they hadn’t spoken a word thus far since an arrangement by Lady Fifth to help with a juinjutsu matter demanded her expertise, and with Konoha repairing its frayed relationship with Suna, collaboration missions weren’t unusual. Just rare since Fuso only did them when called to do so, and with Tsunade being a technical kinswoman as an Uzumaki descendant, the Uzumaki was more than willing to pitch in. But, it made her wonder: was this child also an Uzumaki, or just another Suna-nin who were occasionally known for their red hair? Rasa’s boy was a redhead, and a missng-nin she’d heard of during the Third War, Sasori, also had red hair. So, it could’ve been a coincidence.
“Jus’ talkin’ to myself,” Fuso replied with a nonchalant shrug, noting that this boy obviously wasn’t the friendly sort; well, neither was she. Sociable, at least. “Right, so this gang originated in the Land of Rivers, an’ they’re goin’ around slappin’ juinjutsu on people to rob ‘em... among other things. You ready t’head out, or do ya need another minute?” Skipping over the pleasantries, it felt pointless to linger. If anything, she wagered they were a bit similar, personality-wise. Either it would be interesting, or contentious.
Jae-in internally kicks himself for not paying attention to the conversation at hand. He had arrived early to the unexpected meeting, but after some hesitation and some awkward pacing by the front door, he had barely made it inside the office room with a minute to spare. His attention had been on the decorations of the pristine desk in front of him.
The office room seemed more like a movie set rather than an office that was in use for the majority of the week. Perhaps, he was being pranked on camera and he had worn his training sneakers, which had seen better days but were still capable of keeping up with Phoenix’s demanding choreography.
His mouth had turned slack from the shocking news, staring blankly at the woman in front of him. He had situated himself on the edge of the chair and with his faltering posture, he risked the chair of tipping over with him in it. He sat back properly, fingers reaching up to touch the nape of his neck.
“The producer informed us that he had thought of you for recording the guide of a song, but changed his mind upon seeing you performing during Phoenix’s latest comeback.” He was thankful for the elaboration, but despite his head nodding occasionally, he was still at a loss. “He vouched for you and after careful consideration, we have decided to offer you the opportunity of recording a mini-album with the producer if you wish to accept it.”
“Which song?”
The question comes out of his mouth before he could stop himself. There were a series of questions swirling in his mind, and some were more pertinent than the song that had been graciously given to him by a mysterious producer. He was hesitant to agree on the spot, or come off as undeserving of such an opportunity. Was he even deserving of such an opportunity? He had less to show than the other members, and frankly, he felt like any other member was more ready than he was to have a mini-album.
He wasn’t lacking in confidence, but he had nine other people to rely on when he was on stage. He often joked about being the runt of the group, receiving less lines and often overlooked for solo schedules. He knew that it was a privilege to be in a group like Phoenix, where each performance and each album was a collaborative effort between the members.
He didn’t know if he had the courage to stand on stage on his own. While he enjoyed performing with the members, there would be more at stake with only him on stage. What if he failed miserably and ruined any future opportunities for himself? “I —“ He gulps, avoiding eye-contact. “Can I think about it?”
“We can arrange for the producer to let you listen to the song and go from there. We have a proposed timeline and a concept for the music video if you do wish to go ahead, but we would prefer for you to notify us of your decision by the end of the week.”
He nods his head, unsure if he needed to respond or if he was free to go. After standing up, his hesitation had him bumping into the other chair and heat rushing to his cheeks, visibly displaying his embarrassment on his face.
“I’m sorr—” He stops himself, bowing his head in gratitude as he walked backwards out of the room. Yet another bad idea. “Thank you.” He gingerly closes the door once outside the hallway, catching a glimpse of the staff member’s amused expression.
“If I was a dirty little secret, the fuck would I hide?” Jun’ya muttered to himself as he brazenly walked the halls of an underground fortress breached by virtue of his Ketsuryugan infiltrating the minds of whomever was a fair target that was protecting the place; conversely, he erased all memory of his coming that eliminated any knowledge of his being there at all. With a simple hand seal they employed to deactivate a barrier ninjutsu, the Chinoike had emulated the means of entry and managed it unscathed. Naginata holstered across his back in case of its need, with extremely precise Chakra Flow and Wind Release, he broke any impeding locks.
Maybe it was clumsy of him to be so unguarded, but as it stood, it didn’t care as much. He wasn’t a shinobi and being stealthy was just a luxury for him, not a necessity. But, seeing as he didn’t want to have to chase any leads, stealth it was. Rounding a corridor, Jun’ya squinted when he saw a familiar silhouette and long blonde hair, all before recognition hit him.
“Small world, huh?” he murmured just loud enough for the Fuyuno to hear.
“Ugh, ew, I got shit on my shoe.” Jun’ya passed the sole of his boot over the back of a roughshod, now unconscious man far too many drinks and uncomfortable passes at the lady patrons of a local hole in the wall he’d decided to break at for the evening. And, of course, he’d ‘accidentally’ smacked the guy’s skull to the point of instant unconsciousness against the bar counter. Using his back like a doormat, it seemed like a fitting statement to make, shrugging at the woman with what appeared to be a glass of wine.
“Now that’s over with. Hopefully he didn’t fuck up the evening, eh?”
When his contractor had promised enormous quantities of money for a sting on information in a forbidden location distantly associated with the Leaf, of course Jun’ya couldn’t pass it up. Though the Chinoike wasn’t normally an avaricious man, sometimes the idea of so much earning potential for one job was simply too much to pass up. Especially since none of the money went through the usual channels hidden villages employed that wound up taking enormous cuts of the work their shinobi did. And even though his maternal family were Konoha citizens, he was stateless and answered to no one but himself.
Moonlight pierced through the treetops, surveying the area for points of entry. At the sight of what appeared to be an exhaust vent lazily curling smoke into the sky, he grinned satisfactorily at the discovery and leapt unseen towards it. With Wind Release temporarily making it possible to walk on air, he dropped soundlessly towards the vent and used Chakra Flow to remove the bolts shuttering it cleanly.
In a short fall did Jun’ya enter a sweltering, steamy room with motes of fog curling and swirling away at his feet. Noticing a man bound by his hands and feet to hot piping, Jun’ya cursed audibly.
“Shit, hey--you awake there? I think I’m gonna free you!”
