[ ObiRyū October | Day Thirty | Smile ]
[ @abyssaldespair ]
[ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Namikaze Minato, Jiraiya ]
[ Verse: Make Ends Meet ]
[ Vulgarity, nsfw, drugs, abuse ]
Ugh...what a night for it…
Windshield wipers going at full-tilt, Obito squints into the wash of rain cascading down the glass. Beside him, strapped to the passenger seat, a stack of pizza boxes await their delivery, the heat of them fogging the window beside them as the cold rain beats against the door.
Just a few more hours, and he can head home, having earned his few dollars for the day. As much as he hates this job...well, it’s all he’s been able to nail down as of late. Times are tough. He’s lucky to have a job, let alone an apartment. It’s hardly anything to be proud of, but...better than being curled up under a bench somewhere. The holes in his wallet after those years spent drinking - years now behind him - have been tough to fill...but he refuses to fall that far again.
Coming up to a traffic light, he slows to a stop, waiting as the opposing stream of cars take their turn. Leaned back into his seat, he sighs, entertaining himself by watching racing drops of water down his window.
Brow furrowing, something catches his eye beyond the glass. A strange flash of white on the street corner. Daring to roll down the window enough to peer out, he sees it’s...a woman?
The white is her hair, falling in tight waves down to her tailbone. Despite the weather, she’s rather...scantily clad. A pair of mini shorts and a corset, loosely covered by a baggy jacket that seems to hang off her frame. Thigh-high boots cling to her legs, leaving only a strip of milky white thigh visible between them and the shorts. Under an umbrella, she doesn’t walk despite facing his way, the crosswalk open and free to take.
It’s hardly the first time Obito’s seen one - his routes quite often take him into the poorer parts of the city where they roam, along with dealers and gang members. Having found himself in such lows once upon a time, he’s hardly one to judge. But a spark of pity nonetheless alights in his chest at the sight. It isn’t easy.
But then she notices his staring, seeing the open window and assuming he wants to talk. Heels click along the asphalt as she glances around warily, making her way closer as Obito’s heart leaps up into his throat. Oh shit, no, he’s not -?
“Hey mister...like what you see?”
She leans toward his window, and he gets a clearer view of her (and her cleavage). Like her hair, the rest of her is white white white - skin, brows, lashes...save for the dark circles under her eyes and the smudges of makeup on her face trying to hide them. And he spies a fading bruise along her left cheekbone.
That stirs a flare of anger at the obvious blow.
“Er -? I mean, I didn’t -?”
Peering past him to his cargo, she seems to understand: he’s on the clock. A flash of disappointment overcomes her face. “Maybe next time, huh?” A smile - meant to be reassuring, but looking far more strained than anything else - briefly upturns her lips. With that, she retreats back to the sidewalk, rain curtaining down off her umbrella as the light turns green.
Struggling to regain his bearings, Obito accidentally presses the gas a bit too harshly, tires squealing for a moment as his ears grow hot in embarrassment. Mortified, he leaves the corner behind, struggling to get his window closed as the water starts to get in.
Gah, that was horrible. Sure, he’s had his share of one night stands. But he’s never been desperate enough for a hooker. Not...that there’s anything wrong with that. He knew plenty while he was stuck on the streets himself. But the misunderstanding leaves him feeling guilty.
...she was really pretty. What a shame she’s found herself stuck out there. The dreary weather only makes him feel all the more terrible. She might get sick, hanging around out in the rain.
...then again, given her avenue of work, she might already be sick…
That too makes his gut coil in discomfort. Why he’s getting so worked up over a random prostitute, he can’t really say. But as he reaches his first stop, she continues to nag at the back of his mind, and does so for the rest of his night.
Returning to the pizza shop, Obito sighs and turns in his timecard, stamped and recording his hours. Looking over the last week depressedly, he then makes to leave and head home.
Another day. The same damn thing. Thoughts of what his existence means, so meager and mild, start brewing in his head.
But he cuts them off with a slam of his car door, buckling the strap and starting the engine.
It was thoughts like those that got him into trouble in the first place. He’s...he’s doing okay. Better than he was on the street. Better than when he first dropped out of high school. As stagnant as things seem now, he tries to remember that they’ve been worse. They could be worse again. He pulled himself up out of that ditch - that was progress. Now it’s just a matter of finding the next step.
...he hopes there’s a next step.
It’s still raining, the rhythmic thrum of the windshield wipers drowning out the low-volume radio, mostly kept on as background noise rather than something to actively listen to. Obito’s mostly driving on autopilot, left arm propped against the car door and fist bracing his cheek. His thoughts feel like television static, chaotic and yet not really saying anything.
Next thing he knows, he pulls up to a light.
The same light as before.
It’s late enough now the street is pretty much empty, one car crossing in front of him before the light changes.
But he doesn’t pull forward.
...did she give up and go home? Or maybe find a John?
Either way, it seems he took this little detour for no reason. Not that he really had a plan for if she’d still been here. It’s not like he actually wants to buy her time. Money is tight enough as it is. But that doesn’t stop an odd feeling of disappointment as he finally crosses the intersection, making a round-about way home.
The next few days are more of the same. He has a morning gig delivering newspapers, and then the middle of the day off before heading in to make the late-night pizza runs. It’s a lot of gas, and he fears anything going wrong with his already-derelict ride. But he’s managed so far, if just barely.
And every night, he makes the same detour, just...seeing if she’s there.
Each night, she’s absent.
Maybe she got moved to a new spot. If business wasn’t booming, no point in staying. Which means she could be anywhere, really. Why he cares, Obito can’t say. He sees other ladies of the night (and some of the men, too) hanging around other corners. There’s just something...nagging him about her.
Even so, the habit remains. Any deliveries close to the street get slightly rerouted to take him by. Just to look. And for over two weeks, he sees neither hide nor hair of her.
But just over a fortnight later, doing his last sweep on his drive home...he spots her.
Her outfit is different, but just as suggestive. Mini skirt, torn leggings, crop top, heels. And the same jacket draped over her shoulders.
Chewing his tongue in nervous thought, Obito finds a hand tapping against the wheel as he struggles to make up his mind. About what, exactly?
He ends up stopped the third car back from the crosswalk. As he watches, she approaches the lead car only to get rejected, moving to the second. No dice.
Then she reaches his window, which he’s rolled down to talk to her.
...of course she’d recognize him, it’s his -
The nickname makes him blink. “...er -? Yeah.”
A brief smile flickers over her face. “You come this way often?”
“...yes.” It’s not a lie, he’s just...not explaining why.
“Seems you’ve got an open passenger seat.”
Ahead, the light turns green.
“You could get in,” he offers.
“I’m on the clock, darling.”
Surprise slackens her features before she takes the hint, coming around and sitting beside him as he pulls up and away.
“...it smells like pizza in here.”
After a pause, Obito snorts. “Yeah, well...I tend to have more of those in here than pretty girls.”
In spite of herself, she blushes.
Obito, despite his smooth comment, is internally panicking. What is he doing?! He doesn’t have spare money for this! And he doesn’t want this.
Either way, he takes the now-familiar detour toward home.
“So what do you have in mind, pizza boy?”
He glances over at the name again. “...Obito.”
“...uh…” A nervous swallow bobs his Adam’s apple. “...you...hungry?”
Her brow furrows, clearly confused. “...is this your first -?”
“No!” he cuts in, voice breaking and making his face hot. “...I-I mean, I’ve never...paid a prostitute. But I’m not -?” He can’t bring himself to say it.
Understanding tempers her expression a bit. “...well, I work by the hour, so…”
“I know. I’m just…” Nervous. Panicking. Completely making this up as he goes. “...new to this.”
She gives a soft snort. “Well...food’s fine. I did skip lunch.”
That’s all he needs to hear. Taking a bit of a sharp turn, he pulls up to a random fast food place, ordering a burger and fries. She only asks for fries and water. They sit in the parking lot under a light, eating in an odd silence.
...okay. Take this time to gather his nerves, and calm down. It’s...it’s just sex. Something he’s done his fair share of times, just...not ever for money. Though then again, not really for love, either. Just...on whims, for the most part.
...even if whims aren’t really enough for him. But that’s all he ever gets.
“Okay, so...with dinner out of the way, how about the rest?” she asks, head tilting as she considers him.
“Er...right. I live just up the hill…” Making the rest of the drive, Obito feels his gut swim, now full of grease and salt.
...maybe eating wasn’t a good idea.
She follows him to the proper door, giving everything curious glances.
Then they’re inside, and...there’s really no more delaying this, is there?
She shrugs out of her jacket, and Obito silences as more of her skin is displayed. God, she’s so pale! Which...makes another trait extremely obvious. Are those -?
But before he can make note of it, she crosses the space between them, eyes half-lidded and breathing against his lips. “...make up your mind, yet?”
Oh Christ. “...just, uh...something simple…?”
“Quick and easy. I can do that.” Hands lower to his trousers, rather expertly dealing with the button and zipper and making him jump. “You sure you’ve done this before?” she can’t help but tease.
She just chuckles, cupping a palm along his crotch. “If you say so…” Her lips then find his, quick and to the point as she nibbles his lip.
Wow, she’s...not messing around. But then again, this is her job. And as she told him, it’s by the hour.
...when did he pick her up?
The thought is quickly tossed aside as she keeps on, hands all over him and lips finding every little spot to turn him into a puddle. Blood rushes south and he’s soon weak in the knees at her touches.
Rather than answer, he takes her around the corner to the cove where his bed sits - he can hardly afford a one-bedroom, so this is the best he can do. The pair of them tumble to the mattress, Obito gasping at her fluttering hands. Next thing he knows his shirt is gone, her fingers tugging at the hem of his pants and urging them downwards.
Okay, he needs to catch up.
Sitting up and catching her lips, he paws at her chest, hands sneaking up under her top and finding the softness of her breasts. With a flick she whips the garment up over her head, humming against his mouth as she grinds against him.
With ease, she wriggles out of the rest of her clothes, freeing him of his last garments before magicking a condom into her hands. “This goes on, and stays on,” is her command.
“Y-yes,” is his stuttered reply, a bit taken aback.
Tearing the package with her teeth, she then slides the latex down his cock with practiced ease. “Position…?”
“...uh…” It’s kinda hard to think with all his blood in his dick. Doesn’t help how impromptu this is. “M...missionary’s fine.”
Without a word, she rolls to lay beside him, letting him then do the same to get on top. Her eyes travel over his face, and it quickly burns with embarrassment.
“...sorry,” she offers softly. “...I know what it is to be stared at.”
Not sure how to respond, he doesn’t. Instead, Obito catches her lips before easing himself in.
It’s been a hot minute since he’s done this, so...an unabashed moan leaves him at the feeling. He soon feels ankles cross at his back, arms lifting and fingers finding a grip in his hair.
With that, he starts moving. Hips roll up to hips, slow at first before building a pace. At first he braces himself up with two hands, head bowed over her. But as the friction builds and he feels himself getting close, he adjusts and instead lets one slip between them to tend to her clit.
The feeling makes her jump, and a look at her face makes him realize she...really wasn’t expecting that.
It’s not supposed to happen. She lays back, they take what they want, and she leaves empty-handed save for the cash.
Something about her expression stokes something in him. Not quite temper, not quite sadness...but it does translate to a little burst of determination. She’s going to cum before he does. He’ll at least give her that much.
His mouth moves to her neck, earning a small gasp that exhales as a mewl. Thumb still tending her button, Obito shifts his movements to delay his peak, instead trying to elicit the same reactions he’s gotten from lady lovers in the past. Her grip in his hair tightens, pulling him harder back to her with her legs as her own hunger gets to surface.
It makes him smile against her throat.
Between his adjusted angle and the focus on her button, she actually tightens around him with a ripple of spasms, crying out and gripping him a bit harshly. But Obito rides it out, allowing himself to chase his own release with hers reached. His last few ruts are given with a low moan, rolling up against her as he empties out into the condom.
Silence then falls save for the rushes of their breath.
Withdrawing, Obito winces a bit before stripping the sleeve and tying it off, tossed into the bin by his bed.
Still prone, she’s slack with satisfaction...and yet also looks confused.
Though feeling a bit awkward with that moment passed, Obito just...lays on her other side, staring upward as she does. “...has it been an hour?”
For some reason, that makes her snort. “...close enough,” is her reply. “...I…?”
He turns his head to glance at her.
For a moment she hesitates, looking ready to say something before - instead - sitting up and looking for her clothes.
Though expecting it, Obito still feels a sinking feeling of disappointment in his chest.
Shimmying back into her clothes, she then turns to look at him again.
“...no, I can get a cab.” Which...heavily implies it’s time to pay her. She recites her price, Obito managing to withhold his wince.
Handing over the bills, he then hesitates. “...er...thank you.”
There’s a momentary glance, looking again taken aback at his manners. “...you’re, uh...you’re welcome. See you around, pizza boy. Obito,” she then amends. Another flicker of a smile, and then she retreats out the door.
He watches out the window, positioned over the street, to ensure she gets into a cab okay. Then she disappears, and Obito is left to mull over the night.
...not...what he expected. But he supposes that’s one thing he can cross off a list he never intended to make.
But for some reason, what really sticks out in his mind is what he saw when they first arrived. The scars, sores, and skin along her arms.
Heroin, if he had to guess.
Hardly a rare thing on the streets. He himself dealt with a few drugs in addition to drinking while homeless, but thankfully nothing got to stick. And thanks to AA once he got a leg-up, he’s been sober for over four months now. Still new to sobriety, but...enough to make him wilt at the sight of her forearms.
...he still isn’t sure what his deal is. Why this is bothering him so much, it just...is! Maybe it’s some weird crush-at-first-sight bullshit. He’s never seen anyone like her. Maybe her unique appearance is to blame, just...catching his eye and making it hard to get her out of his head.
Either way...this is threatening to get out of hand. Catching feelings for a random hooker is not what he needs. He’s just starting to get his life back in order, to reach some semblance of normalcy. She feels an awful lot like a gateway back into something...stupid.
Sighing, Obito drags a hand down his face, staring at nothing as he thinks. Well...maybe this will sate his curiosity and let him move on. Forget her.
His day off passes with no real events of note. It’s the day after, back on the road, that he gives her corner another pass.
...and it remains that way for a week. Then two. Then three. When a month goes by, rain turning to snow, he can’t help but start assuming the worst. Life on the streets is hard. Addiction only makes it all the more so.
But he doesn’t like entertaining the idea she’s dead. Partly it’s because the idea of someone he’s slept with being dead feels...gross. But also because it just genuinely upsets him. She seemed like such a lovely gal. Several people he got to know were killed or died while he was homeless. He’d thought he’d gotten numbed to the idea.
Still, he keeps checking. Keeps hoping.
Something just feels...off. No real explanation why. He’s been sitting through several lights, his shift over and the roads empty as he idles. Then the light again flickers green, and he takes a left, hugging the corner she’d stand on and driving slowly.
Two blocks down, he sees her.
A bit clumsily, he pulls along the curb, turning off his lights and engine. As she walks, someone steps in her path.
Apprehension tightens in his gut.
The pair seems to enter a tense conversation, and it doesn’t take Obito long to guess that this has to be her pimp. He leans over her, posture clearly dominating as she shrinks, yet tries to hold her ground. From a pocket, she draws what looks to be a small wad of cash.
Snatching it, the man gives it a quick count before whipping a hand across her face with a crack of skin to skin that threatens to knock her off her feet.
Obito actually jolts in his seat, the locked door and seat belt the only things keeping him from foolishly leaping out into the street.
She recoils, holding her cheek as he pockets the cash. Then from another pocket, he draws something...and she reaches in desperation for it as he holds it above her head.
Even from across the street, Obito can see a glint.
His stomach drops as she manages to grab it, retreating like an abused dog finally grabbing the proffered bone and fleeing to gnaw it. Clearly giving one last warning, the man points before heading back the other direction.
Once he’s gone, she flees into the nearest alley. Likely to shoot up.
...this is stupid. This is so, so stupid. But Obito fumbles with his seat belt, managing to get loose before throwing open his door. A few glances show the street empty, carefully trotting across and trying to draw his phone. The evening’s rain is down to a sprinkle, a few drops landing on the screen as he tries to find the light.
The sound freezes him in his tracks just as the light comes on. Leaned against the nearer end of a dumpster, she’s just beyond the halo of his light. Her jacket shed, she keeps one end of her tourniquet in her teeth, the rubber twisted and cutting off blood flow to her arm as the needle sinks in and the drug floods her system.
Thankfully she...somehow doesn’t notice him, sighing in relief as her head cranes back. Only once she withdraws the syringe and lets go of her tie does she seem to register that he’s there, jolting in shock.
At least she didn’t stab herself.
“S-sorry,” Obito quickly offers. “I just, uh -? I wanted to be sure you...were okay.”
Her eyes are wide, staring at him with pin-sized pupils. The needle is abandoned in the rest of the trash in the alleyway, her palms pressed back against the dumpster as she shrinks from him.
Slowly, Obito lowers to a knee, phone pointed to the ground. “Something told me to come back. To...check on you.” His gaze falls to her arm, which is riddled with scars and injections sites, old and new, healed and inflamed.
Self-consciously, she scrambles for her jacket.
“Hey, hey! It’s okay! I know how it goes. Well...sort of. Alcohol. Four months sober, heh.”
Slowing, she nonetheless watches him warily. “...what do you want?” she then asks, voice slightly croaking.
“...I just wanted to see if you were okay. I…” His spare hand reaches to itch at his neck. “...I couldn’t get you out of my head. Dunno why. I’ve been checking your corner every night. I was...starting to get worried. I thought something happened to you. Look, uh…” Another hesitation. “...I...go to a place a few times a month. For addiction. I could...take you there. They help for free. Could get you cleaned up.”
A humorless snort escapes her. “He’ll kill me,” is her retort, obviously referring to her pimp.
“He’d have to find you first.”
“Where am I supposed to -?”
“You could stay with me.”
Suspicion quickly colors her expression. “...why are you doing this?”
“Honestly? No idea. Something’s just telling me to.”
Clearly weighing her options, she looks him over again, slowly pulling on her coat. “...guess you can’t do much worse than’s already been done,” is her quiet reply.
“...you know, I never did catch your name before.”
“...Ryū. C’mon.” He offers his hand, pulling her up and finding her far too light for her height. “...let’s, uh...let’s get you something to eat. I’ll call my sponsor and see if he can help get you in tomorrow.”
She doesn’t reply, tightly hugging herself and looking around frightenedly as Obito leads her to the car, letting her into the passenger seat.
“...it still smells like pizza in here.”
Closing his door, Obito pauses before snorting. “Yeah, well...that’s not likely to change any time soon.” He restarts the engine, turning up the heat as he pulls from the curb. “What sounds good?”
“...I’ll probably just throw it up,” she admits quietly, curling up in her seat.
...ah. Good point. “...okay, uh...we’ll just go to my apartment. Get you some water, and...maybe some crackers or something.”
Once they make it in, there’s little forgetting her last visit, and Obito’s ears go red as he struggles to push that memory aside. “Okay, uh...you take the bed, and -”
“No, I’m not taking your bed.”
“I’ve slept in worse places. I’m fine.”
“Well so have I. You’re the lady, so you take the bed.”
“I’m hardly a lady,” is her bitter retort.
“Bullshit,” he refutes, earning a glance. “Just...take the bed. Please.”
Studying him a moment, she wordlessly complies, sitting on it and looking so small.
“...I’ll get you some water. Try to get some sleep, and I’ll handle the rest.”
“...why are you doing this?”
“There has to be a reason. Nobody does things just because. For nothing.” For a moment, distrust colors her gaze. “...what do you want?”
“I don’t want anything. Except to help you. Look, I just…” He sighs curtly, a hand running back through his hair. “...something’s telling me to help you. I really can’t explain it beyond that. And people do help just to help sometimes. I know that’s easy to forget out there. But it’s true.”
Her expression tempers. “...you…?”
“Yeah. For eight years. I know how it goes. Just...please. I don’t want to see you back on that corner. Okay?”
Mutely, she nods...and he brings her a cup of water. She sits and sips as he takes out his phone, dialing a familiar number.
“Hi Minato, it’s uh...it’s Obito.”
“Obito! Everything okay?”
“Yeah, uh…” He blows a breath, unsure how to explain. “...I need your help. I have a...friend. She’s the one who needs help, actually. Can I bring her in tomorrow…?”
“Do you…? Do I need to tell you anything now, or -?”
“I’m sure we can discuss everything you want tomorrow, in person. We’ll get your friend signed up, and proceed from there. Best not to discuss this kind of thing over the phone, without her permission.”
“Right, uh...right. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m glad you’re trying to help her, Obito. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“...thanks.” Ending the call, he stares at the screen for a moment before turning. “So -”
...she’s asleep, passed out atop the mattress, her water sitting on the little table beside it.
“...guess I’ll tell you in the morning.”
Lying on his only couch, Obito stares at the ceiling, unable to find sleep. There’s too much whirling around in his head. At least his program overseer has agreed to see her. He knows they don’t release information to the cops. She won’t get arrested. She’ll get help.
...so long as she agrees to.
The thought of her pimp coming after her stokes coals of fury in his chest. He’d like to see that motherfucker try. While a bit out of practice, Obito does have some martial arts training. What he wouldn’t give to have a nice little one on one with that prick...he’ll just...play that out in his mind to try and fall asleep.
A few hours later, he jerks awake, unsure what woke him only to hear retching coming from the bathroom.
...seems Ryū isn’t feeling too well. Part of him thinks to go offer help, but...the rest assumes she wouldn’t want him to see her like that. So he waits for her to make her way back to the bed to ask, “Feel better?”
“...no,” is her quiet admission, curling atop the mattress.
He hears her sigh. “...no. Not really.”
Not convinced, he gets up and crouches beside her, barely able to see her scan his face in the dark. “..roll over.”
After a pause, she does as asked, and her back stiffens as he rubs it. “What are you -?”
“It helps with nausea. My grandmother used to do this when I felt sick.”
She remains tensed for a moment, but eventually forces herself to relax.
Next thing he knows, she’s asleep again.
...it’s gonna be a long night.
Come first light, he slips away and makes himself a tall thermos of coffee. He’s going to need it after an all-nighter. When she wakes, refusing food, he settles on a piece of toast.
“...do we really have to do this?”
“Do you want to get better?”
“...this place got me clean. They can help you too. Even help you look for work once you’re sober for enough time.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but follows him back to the car.
It’s a quiet drive across town, a thin layer of new snow having fallen overnight. The parking lot already has several cars in it, Obito getting out and feeling a degree of calm. He’s spent a lot of time here. It’s almost like a second home after all he’s been through. “Come on.”
Ryū’s posture remains closed off, her jacket back in place as her arms tightly hug her middle. Every person they pass is shied from, avoiding eye contact and bumping into him a few times before Minato meets them.
To Obito’s surprise, he pauses at the sight of them before smoothly introducing himself. “Obito tells me you’re in need of some help, miss.”
“...something like that,” is her reply, still not looking directly at him.
“...well, we’ll do all we can to help rehabilitate you. We have support groups, certified counselors, and doctors here to ease you into recovery. If you stay determined, we can get you well. May I...ask your name?”
There’s a long pause. “...Ryū.”
For a sliver of a second, Minato’s eyes widen. “...well, shall we get you signed in…?”
“We’ll have some paperwork for you to fill out. Please leave as few fields as possible blank. The more we know, the smoother our transition will be.”
The three of them move to a sitting area, Minato providing the packet. “Would you like some privacy? Obito can -?”
“No,” she cuts in quickly. “I...I want him to stay.”
“Very well. Let me know if you have any questions.” Giving a strained smile, Minato retreats, pulling out his phone and putting it to his ear.
Obito frowns, but looks over as Ryū opens her paperwork.
“...there’s a lot of private stuff on here,” she mumbles.
“Yeah, it’s...a little awkward. But they’re things they should know. Don’t worry, everyone has to do it. They don’t judge, hm?”
After a pause, she starts writing, occasionally pausing to think. “...wow…”
“It’s been ten years. I didn’t even realize.” At Obito’s questioning look, Ryū elaborates, “It’s been ten years since I was abducted into the sex trade. I was fourteen.”
Obito blanches. Fourteen…? He was seventeen when he was first homeless. “...I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s in the past.”
She goes quiet after that, leaving Obito to his horrified thoughts. Poor thing. Then, how long has she -?
The pair of them both spook as someone shouts from behind them down a hallway. As his name is called, Minato walks swiftly past them, expression strained. “I told you not to -?”
“I can’t confirm that it’s -!”
Obito watches as his mentor collides with a man, struggling to hold his larger form back. White-haired and pale with clear distress, the stranger cranes over Minato to look past him.
Beside him, Ryū half-hides, panic clear in her face. “Did he find me?!”
All at once, her face goes completely slack. Recognition seems to flit in her eyes. “...no…”
“RYŪ!” Managing to throw Minato aside, the man sprints down the hallway as everyone present looks on.
Ryū gets to her feet, Obito doing the same with an arm in front of her. Who the hell is -?
Barreling into them, the man engulfs her into a hug, her slim form nearly disappearing in his hold. “Oh thank God, thank God! When Minato called me, I could scarcely hope - I had to see for myself -!”
Seemingly in shock, she just...stands in his arms, expression blank with surprise as this man sobs.
...this is...her father…?
Coming up behind them, Minato heaves a weary sigh. “...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called him, but...there were too many coincidences.”
“Minato, what -?” Obito, confused, tries to find answers.
“Jiraiya was a teacher of mine in high school. His daughter went missing about ten years ago. Despite all our work, we never found her. He’s always insisted she had to be alive. So when I saw her, and heard her name...I couldn’t ignore it. I just didn’t think he’d -”
The pair of them jolt as Jiraiya turns to them, expression intense as he stares at Obito. “Y...yes?”
Oh...well...about that… “Er...yes…?”
Managing to let go of his daughter, he instead plants his hands on Obito’s shoulders, expression unreadable. “...I can never thank you enough. You have...no idea what this means to me. To us. You found my baby...my baby girl…”
...okay this is making him feel really awkward given he technically hired her for sex. But he’ll die before he admits that. “...you’re...you’re welcome, sir.”
“Please. Just Jiraiya. And you are?”
“I’m in your debt, Obito. Anything you need, just ask. I can never repay you.”
“I...hate to interrupt,” Minato then offers, a hand on his teacher’s shoulder. “But we really should let the authorities know -?”
“No! No, please,” Ryū cuts in. “I can’t, they’ll -?”
“You’re not going to get into any trouble, Ryū. We just want to get your missing persons’ case closed. Then...we all have a lot to talk about, concerning your recovery.”
Gently, Jiraiya takes her arm, peeling back the sleeve to reveal the needle marks. “...oh, Ryū…”
Shame washes over her features, glancing away and threatening to cry. “I...I didn’t want to -?”
But he cuts her off with another hug, her arms slowly rising before gripping his shirt with whitened knuckles.
Minato gently sighs. “...I think I might have to wait a while. Obito...thank you.”
“You brought a missing girl home today, whether you meant to or not. That’s one less grief-stricken father in the world. One less girl on the streets. It might not seem like much, but...it’s more than you know. Thank you.”
Feeling rather out of place, Obito watches as the three of them head down another hall toward Minato’s office. His shoulders wilt, gut slowly sinking.
But then she turns. Breaks away. Runs back down the hall and practically leaps on him, staggering him back several paces as she clings to him tightly, face in the crook of his neck.
...he doesn’t know what to say.
But then she pulls back, giving his lips a surprisingly sweet, chaste kiss. “...we’ll talk soon. I just...I need…?”
“...I know. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I will. See you around, pizza boy.” And then she smiles at him. Really, truly smiles, tears in her eyes.
And he realizes why he kept going back to that corner as his heart flutters, face warming even as he watches her go.
This is...inexcusably late, but my excuses are being ungodsly burnt out and really busy irl which left me with no time and no energy, combined with focusing on some other projects. Just...one more day to go, though OTL
Anyway, this is based on a song Meg sent me a few days ago, Pizza Galaxie by Les Cowboys Fringants, that FINALLY seemed to smash through my writer’s block. So...here we are! I took some...artistic liberties with the lyrics but much of this is still inspired by the song!
Also I dunno jack diddly about drugs or heroin or...any of that, but I did my best to research it. I probably failed in writing it accurately but I tried :’D
That said, it’s very late and I need to sleep SO I’ll leave it there. Maybe by December I’ll get the last piece written, ahaha~ Thanks for reading!
