Deal

A/N: Gaijin is a Japanese word for foreigners and non-Japanese citizens in Japan.

(A few weeks later)

The hazy images from last night's drinking flashed through Natsuo's mind as he groggily opened his eyes and tried to remember what had happened. He vaguely recalled conversations, laughter, and the feeling of being surrounded by friends. As the night came to an end, he also remembered the overwhelming feeling of regret that had settled in.

Natsuo's head pounded with pain as he lay on the bathroom floor, his stomach churning and a hangover taking hold.

With a groan, he pushed himself off the floor and attempted to stand, only to stumble and catch himself with his hands. He steadied himself against the wall and took a few deep breaths before the dizziness subsided.

He saw his clothes full of bluish-green smudges. A mirror revealed the brightest, teal-colored hair he had ever seen.

"What the fuck...?" He murmured and ran his hands through his hair, feeling the softness of the color and being shocked by the vibrant blue-green in his shoulder-length wolf cut.

"Oh, so you passed out here. How are you feeling?" Jiro inquired as he opened the door.

"Why do I look like this?" He snarled gloomily.

"You don't remember?" Jiro laughed, unable to contain his amusement.

"No!"

"You can thank Ayumi for that."

He stormed outside and saw Ayumi sleeping on the couch holding a bucket of half-eaten chicken wings. Natsuo threw an unfinished bottle of beer onto her sleeping face.

"Wake up!"

She opened her black eyes lazily. Warm beer trickled down his cheeks, but she still grinned at Natsuo's murderous gaze.

"Well, don't you look nice," she teased half-asleep as her lips twisted into an wry smile.

"What did you do to me last night?!"

"I made you look cuter," she continued, her tired eyes sparkling brightly. She was unfazed by his furious expression; her smile still remained on her face despite the beer dripping from her chin.

Natsuo sighed in irritation. Her sarcasm only served to further fuel the flames of anger that were already burning within him.

"You lost the bet," Ayumi admitted, her voice almost a whisper.

"What bet?"

"The loser must dye their hair for two years - so point those beers at him."

His narrowed gaze shifted to Jiro, who was watching them from a distance and surrendered with his hands raised in the air.

"You..." Natsuo hissed at him.

"Okay, listen to me. You agreed to do that. And you swore that you would beat her," Jiro said nervously laughing.

"Beat at what?"

"Mario Kart," Jiro replied, trying not to smile too much.

"You were so terrible!" Ayumi burst into laughter, making Natsuo groan in frustration and throw a pillow at her.

(Later that day)

Natsuo thought he could redeem himself by practicing against the computer-controlled characters in Mario Kart. Redeeming himself in a rematch could undo the bet.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't beat them. He eventually gave up, his pride bruised and his hair still dyed blue-green. Jiro closed the console and turned off the screen, where Natsuo's defeat was displayed.

"I honestly think it looks great on you. It suits your eyes," he encouraged.

Natsuo grimaced in response and crossed his arms. He had been so certain he would win the bet yet there he was looking like a complete idiot.

"You can pick my hair color if you want. Anything. Pink, orange, green..." Jiro began to list as he sneered.

"What? Are you serious?" Natsuo asked, startled by the sudden offer.

"You can be as creative as you like. I will do it for two years as well," Jiro emphasized.

"Why would you do that?"

"If that helps you feel better about it."

The sour look on Natsuo's face softened as he considered Jiro's offer. His head shook in embarrassment as he turned away.

"Nah. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to make coffee. Do you want some?" Jiro offered.

"Sure..." Natsuo replied, a hint of a smile appearing on his face. He glanced at Jiro out of the corner of his eye as he left toward the kitchen and found his words oddly comforting.

(A couple of days later)

Jiro's friends gathered in Kikiyo's underground to smoke weed and get high on the decorative skull bong. It was filled with a potent mix of marijuana, hashish, and other herbs, which produced aromatic smoke when lit.

"You don't look fully Japanese. Did your mom sleep with some white guy, or did your dad molest a poor tourist? Or are you just a full gaijin?" Koichi asked in a mischievous tone.

"Are you that interested in me?" Natsuo smirked grimly.

"Sure I am. We still want to get to know you better. So, which is right?"

"Koichi, just knock it off," Jiro replied.

"Are those just contacts? Or did get you some wanky surgery to make your eyes look like that?" Koichi asked curiously, peering closely into his dark blue eyes.

Jiro's face grew tenser as he heard Koichi's questions, while Natsuo simply smirked coldly.

"Why don't we have another round for our new friend?" Koichi suggested giving Natsuo the bong's pipe after Jiro's warning finally sank in.

He took the tube and inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of the aromatic mixture before exhaling slowly. The effects of the herbs mellowed his mind and body, taking away the tension in his muscles.

(Later that evening)

Natsuo strolled outside the club with heavy steps, feeling the need for some fresh air. The atmosphere inside had become too oppressive as Koichi, Shoji and even Ayumi tried to break him to reveal his origin.

The chill breeze ruffled his teal-colored hair as he walked with his head down, deep in thought.

He accidentally bumped into a man with a wide back and stumbled back in surprise. The unshaven man turned around to face him, revealing a strong jaw with piercing eyes.

Suddenly, two more figures appeared behind the man out of the shadows. They were a group of yakuza men, all dressed in black suits and a hint of tattoos showing under their collars.

Their gruff faces curled up into ominous grins as they moved closer to Natsuo. He could feel his blood rush to his chest as they circled him, their eyes filled with malicious intent.

"You are the kid who has been smoking our drugs and drinking our booze."

The man's voice was low and he took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.

"Why don't you pay what you owe and - "

"Oyabun knows about him. You can leave him be," Jiro said in a formal voice behind them, turning their attention to him.

Natsuo watched in amazement as the rest of the yakuza gave him a polite bow, even as they growled at him under their breath. He let out a sigh of relief as the men retreated, leaving them alone in the street.

"You need to be careful out here," Jiro said, giving Natsuo a thoughtful look.

"Thanks..."

"Good thing that I am higher ranked than them, even when I am younger," Jiro laughed stiffly.

"Yeah, they didn't seem pleased..." Natsuo muttered, thinking about their scrunched faces after a mere boy compared to them showed up.

"Why don't we sit down for a moment?" Jiro asked as he nodded toward a bench on the street.

Natsuo watched as the streets of Kabukicho were transformed into a landscape of colors, with the bright lights from the bars and clubs casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the pavement. The night was alive with energy, and the sound of music and laughter drifted through the air.

"My grandmother from my father's side was American," Jiro revealed as they had sat in silence for a while.

Natsuo was slightly surprised by his confession; he had never heard Jiro talk about his relatives before, other than mentioning his deceased parents. He wasn't sure what to say, so he just nodded in response.

"And my grandfather founded Takuya Corporation. He wanted me to work for their company because he couldn't stand that I was getting all the money they worked for without even doing anything. Well, except for being high," he said with a vague chuckle.

Takuya Corporation was one of the world's largest internet and cyber security companies, with revenues in the hundreds of millions. Antivirus programs developed by them were installed in almost every household and organization.

"Who is in charge of it now?" Natsuo asked.

Jiro's face was clouded with uncertainty and it seemed like he was struggling to find an answer. He had clearly been caught off guard by the question.

"My uncle."

A troubled stillness descended around them. Natsuo understood that the topic was difficult for him for some reason.

"I'm half-Russian," Natsuo changed the subject.

Jiro looked at him confusedly, raising an eyebrow.

"I heard that my biological mother was a Japanese who got... assaulted by a Russian addict or something..."

Natsuo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his gaze drifting away from Jiro. His adoptive parents weren't something he wanted to talk about and his birth parents were an equally awkward conversation for him.

"It's quite difficult to believe that you would have Russian genetics," Jiro mused out loud.

"Because you handle your alcohol rather poorly... but then again if you are - "

Natsuo nudged Jiro's shoulder, cutting off his sentence and giving him an unamused half-smile.

"You know, I could drink you under the table," Natsuo scoffed.

"Want to make a bet?" Jiro asked with a cocky smirk. Natsuo rolled his eyes, not wanting to be goaded into any more of their tricks.

A warm smile spread across Jiro's cheeks as he stood up and extended his hand to Natsuo.

"Come on, let's go to the bar and put your money where your mouth is," he said with a playful glint in his eye.

(Later that night)

Jiro had seemingly disappeared without a trace. Natsuo looked around the club, seeking a familiar face. He asked the bartender if he had seen him, but he shook his head. He checked the bathrooms and the back alley but still couldn't find him.

He continued searching for Jiro amidst the pulsing lights and thrumming music of the dance floor, dodging all the drunk and grooving customers.

Natsuo finally noticed his white-haired roommate embracing a mysterious red-haired girl with tanned skin. Their hands wandered around each other, without even pausing for a second to take a breath as they fiercely kissed. It was clear that the two were deeply involved in their intimate moment as they savored each other's mouths.

A strange emptiness started to weigh heavily on Natsuo's chest. He felt a sudden sense of loss as if something important had just been taken away from him.