Like What You See?

It has been a month and a half since I graduated the academy. A month since the accusations of murder. Though the initial chaos of the accusation had settled, whispers still followed me like persistent flies. I now had a reputation as a dangerous ninja. At least to the civilians.

Tonight, I was at a local bar with Chouji and Naruto, trying to find some normalcy amidst the chaos. The bar was dimly lit, the air filled with the low hum of conversations and the occasional clink of glasses. It was the kind of place that felt detached from the outside world, a temporary escape.

Chouji was halfway through a large plate of barbecue, his third, and Naruto was animatedly talking about everything and nothing all at once. "Man, Kiba and Shino are lucky," Naruto said, taking a swig from his mug. "Out on their first C Rank and here we are, stuck with brutal training sessions from Kakashi-sensei."

"Yeah," I replied, nursing my drink.

"Asuma-sensei isn't even willing to entertain thoughts about C Ranks yet. Says we're not ready." Chouji chuckled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "He's probably right. I mean, look at me. More ready for a barbecue mission than anything."

That drew a laugh from us all, a momentary lightness that eased the tightness in my chest. Naruto, always restless, soon grew serious again. "We haven't even had a chance to ask Kakashi for a C Rank because he's been pushing us so hard."

Ever since the murder, he'd been working us extra hard. "He's preparing us for more than just missions," I mused aloud, the edge of my glass cool against my lips. "After everything, he's probably trying to make sure we can handle whatever comes our way."

Naruto nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. He's making us stronger, better."

We talked more about training, about our hopes for the future, about the paths we wanted to take. The night wore on, laughter mingling with heavier discussions about responsibility and the ninja way.

Eventually, Naruto glanced at the clock behind the bar and swore softly. "Ah, I gotta head home. My mom's probably worried sick." He stood, stretching slightly. "Don't stay out too late, guys. Remember Yuji, Kakashi-sensei won't go easy on us tomorrow just because it's Saturday."

Chouji and I bid him goodbye, and then there were two. Chouji lingered a while longer, but after a few minutes, he too made his excuses. "Mom's got dinner waiting. Can't disappoint her, you know?"

"Yeah, go ahead," I encouraged with a smile. "See you tomorrow."

Left alone, I turned back to my drink, swirling the ice in the glass as I took in the rest of the bar. The crowd had thinned, leaving only a few stragglers and the bartender, who was idly wiping down the counter.

Sitting there in the quiet hum of the bar, my thoughts roamed freely, tracing patterns of doubt and resolve. The sudden scrape of a chair next to me pulled me from my reverie. I turned to find Anko Mitarashi sliding into the seat beside me, her presence totally unexpected.

I raised an eyebrow, staring flatly at her.

"Yuji," she began, her tone surprisingly gentle compared to the sharpness I remembered from the interrogation room. "I came on a bit strong last time we met. Part of the job, you know? But I wanted to say I'm sorry if it felt personal."

I studied her for a moment, taken aback. "It's... it's okay, Anko. Can I call you Anko?" I managed, the bitterness I had harbored melting slightly under her earnest gaze as she nodded. "I get it. You had to do your job."

"Thank you. I do know what it feels like to be accused of something you didn't do." I stared at her in surprise. Huh. That's kind of true. Most people thought she was Orochimaru's sleeper agent, right? She smiled, a mischievous twinkle lighting up her eyes as she signaled the bartender. "Let me buy you a drink then, as a way to apologize properly."

As the bartender poured another round, Anko turned her full attention back to me. Her demeanor now relaxed. "So, Yuji, now that we're no longer on opposite sides of an interrogation table, tell me something about yourself that doesn't involve ninja business."

I chuckled, the situation surreal. Here I was, casually chatting with someone who had once pushed me to my limits. Psychologically of course. "Well, I actually like gardening," I confessed, a little embarrassed by the mundane nature of my hobby. It was something I took up after the incident.

"Really?" Anko raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a gardener. What do you grow?"

"Just some herbs and a few flowers. It's calming, you know?" I replied, feeling an odd comfort in discussing something so normal.

"That's surprisingly sweet," Anko said, her voice laced with amusement. "I might need to get some tips from you then. My plants always seem to die on me."

We laughed, and the conversation flowed more freely than I would have imagined. Anko's earlier harshness was replaced by a warm curiosity, and her easy smile made me feel at ease. As we talked, the weight of the past weeks felt less crushing.

The bartender set down our drinks, and Anko raised her glass toward me. "To new beginnings," she toasted.

"To new beginnings," I echoed, clinking my glass against hers.

The drink was smooth, and as we continued to chat, the initial awkwardness faded into a surprising ease. Anko was different than I had thought. Funny, straightforward, and unexpectedly kind beneath her tough exterior.

As the evening wore on, the bar began to empty, leaving us in a quiet bubble. Our conversation shifted from hobbies to life, to dreams and fears.

It was the most human connection I had felt in a long time, and it struck me how quick we are to judge based on circumstances. As we grew more drunk, I couldn't help but notice the way her breasts squished against the wire mesh shirt beneath her trench coat.

"Like what you see?" She asked.

"Yeah." I said in drunken honesty. "I'd like to suck them."

She giggled, also drunk. "Why don't we take this upstairs?" She grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs. This was turning out to be a night to remember.