Chapter Text
Tokyo pulsed outside, but inside that dimly lit bar, time seemed to drag. Uzumaki Naruto let out a heavy sigh, watching the amber liquid swirl inside his glass. The reflection in the glass showed an exhausted man.
"Man..." he murmured to himself, running a hand over his face. "Being a shinobi just doesn't have the same shine anymore."
He downed the drink in one gulp, feeling the alcohol burn his throat, but even that didn't seem enough to drown the frustration. When he'd signed up for these diplomatic missions abroad, the idea had seemed perfect: a strategic escape. He desperately needed distance.
Konoha had become a battlefield — not of ninja wars, but of something far scarier: the incessant dispute between Hyuuga Hinata and Uchiha Sasuke.
He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering their voices. Those two girls gave him no respite, always arguing, always competing, and the prize of that absurd war was, unfortunately, him. "Who's going to marry Naruto?" That question hung over the village like a storm cloud.
"I thought diplomacy would be the way out," he grumbled, signaling the bartender to refill his glass. "But it's just paperwork. Piles and piles of hellish paperwork."
It was boring. It was bureaucratic. It was the antithesis of everything he was. Sitting there at the counter, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of boredom, Naruto tuned out the world. He didn't notice the sound of the doorbell, nor the subtle shift in the bar's atmosphere. He was oblivious to everything except his own silent misery.
That was when Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru walked in.
The day at Jujutsu High had been long. Teaching students not to die was a task that required patience — something Gojo had in short supply, and something Geto pretended to have in abundance.
"I need alcohol, Suguru. A lot of alcohol," Gojo said, tossing her white hair back and adjusting her dark glasses. "If I have to explain the basics of cursed energy one more time, I'm going to exorcise a student."
Geto laughed softly, her voice melodic and tired.
"Let's just relax, Satoru. The bar seems quiet tonight..."
The sentence died on her lips.
As soon as they stepped inside, both sorceresses' eyes were drawn like magnets to a solitary figure at the counter. It wasn't just a man; it was a presence.
There he was. A blonde who looked like he'd been sculpted by Aphrodite's own hands to humble mere mortals. Even sitting with his back hunched, his size was imposing. His tight t-shirt could barely contain the musculature of his back and arms, and when he turned his face slightly to thank the bartender, they saw his profile.
It was a sculpted face, marked by strong features, exuding a raw, effortless masculinity. He looked like a Greek god, an Adonis lost in a Tokyo bar, surrounded by ordinary humans who paled next to his aura.
Gojo stopped mid-stride, her lips parting in a smile that mixed surprise and mischief. She looked to the side, meeting Geto's gaze. No words needed to be said. The connection between them was absolute, and the message was transmitted in a second.
Forget just drinks.
The plan for a "quiet night" had just been incinerated.
Geto's eyes, usually calm, darkened with sudden, voracious desire. They didn't just want to relax. They wanted that. That man.
The look they exchanged was a silent pact, loaded with carnal promise. They would go to him. And they prayed, with every fiber of their beings, that this magnificent blonde was as capable as he looked. They wanted a piece of him — a big, thick piece, capable of making them forget the Jujutsu world and see stars in a way no technique ever could.
Satoru adjusted her posture, a predatory smile forming on her lips.
"After you, Suguru dear."
---
Naruto frowned, his glass stopping halfway to his mouth. His shinobi instincts, even numbed by fatigue, warned him of the approach. He felt the presences appear beside him, invading his personal space.
An irritated sigh escaped his lips. He just wanted to drink in peace. He'd already prepared the mental speech to dismiss whoever it was—probably drunks wanting to chat or someone looking for a fight. He spun on his stool, ready to say a resounding "not interested," but the words died in his throat before they could even form.
The world seemed to go into slow motion.
Surrounding him were two women who looked like they'd stepped out of a dream — or a dangerous fantasy.
The first captured his attention immediately. She had white hair, long and shining like freshly fallen snow, creating a shocking contrast with the dark glasses she wore, even in the bar's dimness. Her uniform was a provocation: a short black skirt that left little to the imagination, dark tights, and comfortable shoes. The turtleneck blouse should have been conservative, but it failed miserably at hiding the impressive, defiant volume of her bust. She was, without a shadow of a doubt, stunning.
Beside her, the second woman brought a different kind of beauty, more mysterious. Hair black as night cascaded down, framing a face marked by a peculiar cut of bangs and eyes of a deep, almost hypnotic purple. She wore a uniform similar to her friend's, with slight alterations, but her physical constitution was the opposite. While the first flaunted a generous bust, this one was more modest on top, but she compensated — and then some — in the lower curves. What she lacked in chest, she had in abundance in her hips and backside, drawing a silhouette that would make any man turn his head.
Naruto blinked, his brain trying to process the sight. He might be exhausted, fed up with missions, and wanting isolation, but he was still a healthy man. And a man who knew how to appreciate feminine beauty when it practically fell into his lap. Turning away two women like that would be a crime against nature.
Swallowing the harsh refusal that had been on the tip of his tongue, he cleared his throat, completely changing his posture.
"Can I help you ladies with something?" he asked, his voice coming out a little rougher than planned.
In his mind, he was already making quick calculations. It didn't matter which of them was interested in keeping him company; he'd accept either with a smile on his face. It would be a more than welcome distraction.
But it was the white-haired one who took the initiative.
"I'm Gojo Satoru," she said, her voice loaded with playful confidence. She indicated her friend with a nod of her head. "And this is Geto Suguru."
Gojo stepped forward, invading his space even more. With an audacity that made Naruto's heart skip a beat, she reached out and traced a slow line with her index finger down his arm, feeling the rigidity of the muscle beneath the fabric. The touch was electric.
"We were wondering..." she continued, lowering her tone to something low and suggestive, "...if you wouldn't like to keep both of us company?"
Naruto raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. Both of them?
The image of Hinata and Sasuke fighting over him came to mind, but this was different. This wasn't a political or emotional dispute; it was pure desire. He knew Tokyo was different, but he hadn't imagined the women here would be so much bolder and more direct than the ones in Konoha.
A slow, predatory smile curved the blonde's lips. The paperwork fatigue seemed to have evaporated.
"I'm a simple man," Naruto replied, holding Gojo's gaze over her dark glasses, "but I'm always ready to keep two beautiful women company."
He rose from the stool, his height imposing presence, and made a gentlemanly gesture. Gojo and Geto smiled, turning to guide him. As he followed them toward a more secluded table, hidden in the shadows of the bar, Naruto couldn't help but think that his monotonous night had just become very, very interesting.