~*~
Three days prior to the beginning to our story, Itachi Kobayoshi headed into the market of Osaka, as he had so many times before. He was born and raised in the city of Osaka, which if I were forced to describe it for you, it would be like taking the hustle and frenzy of Tokyo and adding the uncaring and criminal of downtown Detroit. Easily one of the most dangerous places for a native Japanese man, Osaka was even more unforgiving to outsiders, especially Americans. That's why when Itachi saw a young American boy, no older than seventeen years old, walking around the market, and darting and hiding in alleyways, he knew something was odd.
Itachi tried to ignore the boy, and went about his business. Itachi was selecting and sampling vegetables when his concentration was shattered by a deep voice yelling out so all in the area could hear.
“THIEF!!”
The word echoed as a large man, slightly larger than Itachi himself held that same American by the wrist, as the boy fought feverishly to escape. The boy looked absolutely petrified, as he pleaded and begged for forgiveness, only to receive a stern back hand from the vendor. The sound of the contact was brutal, and nearly sounded as if the boy's entire face had been broken. Through the tears, the boy was able force out only one word, in the best Japanese he could muster.
“Please....” The word broke Itachi's heart. He sat and looked at the boy, helpless. The American looked around the crowd of on lookers, hoping for some compassion. His eyes stopping scanning as they met the warmth and odd familiarity of Itachi's eyes. The tears streamed down, as the boy gasped for air, the very moment that his “victim” landed a very large fist into the midsection of the boy. Itachi had enough.
“That's enough! He's learned his lesson, let him go.” Itachi never once left room for the man to think this was a request, he made sure he knew this was nothing but a command.
“You want me to let a criminal loose? A Gaijin criminal at that?” The man said, almost with a chuckle in his voice. “You have to be mad, I'm not letting him off this easily.”
“Perhaps you misunderstood me. I didn't ask or offer for the boy's release, I'm telling you to let him go, immediately. I'll pay for whatever he stole, then you'll have no reason to keep him any further.” Itachi was obviously not going to accept anything less than the boy's release, and was slowly stepping closer and closer to the boy.
At this point, the vendor had become more concerned with Itachi, than his thief, and had let go of his wrist. Within moments, the boy fled, and had blended back in with the crowd, nearly invisible. The vendor stepped face-to-face with Itachi, standing just a mere inch taller than him. Still, Itachi was calm, and didn't look one bit intimidated by the man. “Perhaps...” the man began, “you should learn to mind your own, and let me take care of business the way I please. Hitting a gaijin street wanderer is nothing. I'd hate to have to discipline a man in your position. I'd hate to need to teach you the same lesson I taught him.”
Itachi always handled threats much better than his partner. His lips just curled into a sarcastic grin as he turned his back to the vendor. “And I would hate to embarrass you out in the open like this. Perhaps if you do feel the need to attempt to teach me that same lesson, you should do it in the forgiving shroud of privacy, that way, when you're left on your back, pleading for mercy, I'll be the only one to hear it.”
Itachi stood for a moment, letting his comments sink in. He wasn't afraid, even as his back was prone to his enemy. He knew, especially after that comment, he wouldn't try anything here. He knew, that at least for the moment, he had won the battle. He slowly began walking away, as the crowd looked on, slightly disappointed in their free show. Americans aren't the only ones who love to watch free violence.
~*~
Itachi brought the boy a cup of tea, while Kisame wiped the blood from his face. There was a rather large cut above the boy's eye brow, too large to have been made by a fist. Kisame cleaned it off, and got a bandage over the majority of the wound.
“What happened?” The question was obvious, but it needed to be said. The boy hadn't muttered a word since entering the home, and if they were going to help him, Itachi and Kisame needed to know what had gone on.
“The boy took a long breath, obviously still shaken. “There were three of them. They said they worked for the man I tried to steal from. They said that nobody embarrasses their boss the way I did, and that I had to pay. Then... then they attacked.” The boys voice got weaker towards the end, and was filled with sadness and hatred.
“Your Japanese is flawless, how long have you been here?” Kisame decided that a momentary change of subject would help.
“For as long as I can remember. I've lived in Osaka since my parents left. I don't know how long ago that was.” The boy's words were heartbreaking, not merely by their meaning, but by the tone and inflection of his voice as he delivered them. With every word, you could feel the loneliness inside him. “I just wander the streets, nobody will give a dirty, American boy a job, so I have to steal to eat, sometimes, I'm not so lucky, as you saw.”
“No more. You can't keep living like this. As long as Kisame has no objections, this will be your home. No more sleeping on the streets, no more going hungry, and no more stealing.” Itachi looked over to Kisame as he spoke, and watched him nod his head in agreement. He looked down, and saw tears flowing from the boys eyes, as he placed his hand on his shoulder.
“Nobody... nobody's ever been as kind as the two of you. You stood up for me in the market, and now you've given me a home. Thank you, Thank you a million times.” The boy's words were strained through tears. He was just happy to be accepted.
“One last thing, if you'll be living here, we need to know your name, as you will ours. I am Itachi Kobayoshi and this is Kisame Morishawa. What is your name?”
“I... I never knew my name. I can't even remember my parents, never mind the name they gave me. Everyone I meet calls me Gaijin, so that is the only name I've come to know.” The boy spoke as if he was completely oblivious to the words own meaning
Itachi just shook his head, as he took a breath. “Nobody will call you that here. Gaijin is a racial slur, and I realize that you know no other name. From here on out, we shall call you Gai.”
The boy nodded, realizing now the hatred this town has had for him. “Thank you, Itachi. Thank you Kisame. I'll never know how to thank you.” The boy smiled, for the first time since arriving, and although the Rising Sons didn't know, this was the first smile he had in a very, very long time. He sipped his tea, as Itachi returned to his bed, and Kisame continued to bandage his wound. The boy was able to take a deep breath and relax, for the first time, not needing to worry about where he was going to sleep, how to keep dry if it rained, and where his next meal would come from. Although he had just arrived, he knew this place felt just like home.