And the Crows FlySeries:
Monoshizukanohi: Naruto & Original AUAuthor:
Nagato from Naruto & some random mafia menWord Count:
Language, side story, graphic violence, death (non main character), allusions to kinkSpoilers:
Nagato buys Haze.A/N:
Welcome to the earliest story thus far in the Monoshizukanohi AU. I figure since I showed Nagato giving up Haze in "The Tower," that I might as well show him back in the beginning.
Also, this story is inspired by/written for artwork done by the lovely kyuubi1010
and it can be found on Y!Gallery (18+ & account required to view): Click Me.
Nagato stopped in the middle of the paved oasis, set down his briefcase, and rested both hands atop his cane. Heat steamed from the blackened ground. The lines once demarcating orderly slots for vehicles and outlining arrowed directives for tired factory workers were faded. He counted four posts topped with security lights, three crows on a power line, two dumpster bins, and one metal and concrete structure that loomed like a sleeping golem in the summer swelter. For a moment lost to sweet, scandalous purity, Nagato heard the pained cries of men and the wails of women, envisioned the crack of tawse and oozing rivers of arterial blood, and he smiled, then, quite pleased.
Two men carrying several weapons and a healthy dose of swagger approached. They wore gaudy shirts that flapped in the breeze revealing thick curls of dark hair on their tender underbellies. It was the smaller Neanderthal who spoke and slurred Nagato's surname, and Nagato amused himself by contemplating how the creature would appear without eyeballs in those deep-set sockets as the thugs came to a halt approximately two and a half meters away.
"I am Pein, and you will address me as such."
The weakling snorted. "Get a load 'a this guy, would ya? Hey -- hey Pein
. Where'd ya get that suit? Off a faggot at one 'a them Renaissance Fairs?"
Nagato picked up his briefcase while the two creatures enjoyed their misguided mirth. "An' check out the hat
, man!" the slug continued. "Fuck me, we got a pretty lil' Russian fairy came all the way out here to fuckin' suck my dick."
Nagato closed the distance, and the larger toy had the sense to notice. That one, at least, would provide some amusement. "Hey, right there's close enough, pal."
"The clothing is fashioned after the adornment worn by the first man I killed in the honor of my family," Nagato said, right hand clasping the lions-head cane while the left dropped the case to the pavement. "The hat is my taste, and I would pay the likes of you with laundered money won in part from the torture and deaths of your kin, not in sexual favors." Nagato smiled and steadied himself. "I do not fuck outside my species."
When Nagato murdered his fellow man, he always heard music. It was never a song he could pinpoint when not in the midst of violence, and that was a source of sadness, as the pieces were most enticing and most pure. His cane struck the side of the smaller target's temple, caving the bone around it. Nagato saw rolling eyes and lolling tongue, and the music pitched to a screech. He spun, arced, and brought the cane down on the bigger target's shooting arm. Nagato heard a crunch and a curse. He reached into his pocket to withdraw his fountain pen revolver with enough time to enjoy a trilling piano note, and he shot the .38 round at point blank range into the creature's throat. The crows cawed, and Nagato blinked in the spray of life. He lifted his knee, and delivered the top of his black boot to the base of the dying man's balls. The creature fell in a heap, making wheezing, rasping, wet noises that thrilled Nagato's groin to full excitement.
"Ah," Nagato sighed, shaking off the rush. He withdrew another bullet for the slender gun. He was warm beneath the silk and fine cotton, but it was not unbearable. "Your leader saw this business transaction as a chance to strike at my people," Nagato commented, reloading and retrieving a handkerchief from his vestments to wipe his face. The man beneath him gurgled.
"I wish to procure this property for my own purposes, am honorable in my intentions to pay your ilk, and yet your family sees me as somehow... Oh how do you say it in your inferior tongue? The easy prey? Simple mark? I am young or weak or, I suppose, eccentric enough to do away with in broad daylight with none but the birds to watch." Nagato clucked his tongue three times. "Someone did not tell you that in my family, we earn our names through displays of skill. And the same someone, I fear, sent you here to witness and to be the newest example of why my brethren call me, Pein."
The fatally wounded mound of humanity tried to clasp Nagato's ankle, and Nagato crushed the thing's fingers beneath his heel. The creature squealed, and it was pretty. Nagato pointed his pistol at the other man-thing, who was still breathing but was not conscious to savor the final few seconds. A pity, Nagato supposed. It was better when they had a moment to plead.
"But have no fear," Nagato said to the nearly deceased. "As we speak, my servitors are extinguishing the last remnants of your peoples' hold on this portion of the city's territory. We will not allow you to shame any organization of family or men any longer, and I shall be free to conduct my, shall I say, experiment with open arms." Nagato drew in a healthy lungful of humid air, aimed the thin gun barrel at the final target, and shot out the things eye. It did, as Nagato suspected, look much better that way.
"There," Nagato mused. He fixed his gaze upon the lake of red forming on the tarred ground. He listened to the fading music in his mind, mourning when it was completely gone, the last bar tuned to the death rattle that rose from the beast with the ravaged neck. "Alas, business is done. And I will keep the payment I would have made. Dry cleaning is a burden that I am pleased you will help me bear. I bid you good day."
With a tip of his hat, Nagato started the walk that would take him to the car and driver awaiting him. A fever rose rich in his veins. An irksome branch of a rival clan was gone, Nagato's dear uncle was ailing, and soon Nagato would take position at the head of his beloved family. Such stresses would need management, and Nagato had secured a place to house his every fetish. It was so wretchedly beautiful how the gods granted gifts. Nagato paused at the edge of the lot, longing stirring his arousal. The building seemed more mirage than monument to new titillations.
Nagato hummed, sing-songing and clacking his splattered cane. "And so it is through a haze that I see my way."
Nagato's laughter rung rich off abandoned rooftops, and above him, the crows continually cried. ~*~NOTE!
For the entire list of Nagato/Itachi/Soubi/various stories and information, Click Here
The pen gun used in this story exists. Stinger and Derringer both manufactured fountain pen guns many years ago. Most of them take a single .22 round. However, I've held in my hand a pen gun (we believe it was originally a tear gas pen gun that shot canisters of tear gas) that took .38 rounds. Or possibly just a homemade job. The owner of said pen gun did not know its full history, only that it fired.
For those of you who, ya know... care. *laughs* They're quite nifty little weapons, though *highly* unsafe.
Also, next project on the list is Lessons in Living. Thank you for reading!