Red Leather, Yellow Leather 1

The man named Jakob Rider, who was clad in a formal, fitted light brown suit, carried himself down the hall, flicking each light on as he went. Balancing a tray with a freshly made Caesar salad and a wine glass filled with apple juice in one hand, a note from his boss in the other, he rounded the last corner to enter the enormous, pitch black room.

There was nothing to see but darkness except for a spotlight in the middle, shining down on an extremely bored-looking blonde, spinning around in circles aimlessly in a bright red armchair.

"Your food, sir," Jakob said, his British accent noticeable when he spoke. He stopped at the door, watching the one he just called out to spin in mindless circles.

The boy in the middle of the room ceased his spinning for a moment, peeking through his sleek, dandelion yellow hair to look at his assigned personal assistant. The boy nodded, signaling Jakob to come in with a lazy swish of his hand.

"Thank goodness you came, Jakob; I`m starving," the boy said, holding out his hand, waiting for his glass to be placed in it.

"Caesar salad today, sir, and apple juice, like always," Jakob said, placing the wine glass in the other`s hand. The blonde sat up straight in his chair, joyfully sipping his apple juice.

"What`s on the To-Do list today, Jake?" the blonde said, grinning up at his assistant when Jakob raised his eyebrows at the new nickname.

"Just training today, sir," Jakob said, the corners of his mouth twitching up when the boy whined. "But we do have a new target."

The boy`s head shot up, his eyes dancing with excitement. "Who?" he asked, unable to stop another grin from spreading over his face.

"Their organization is called Kono, sir," Jakob said. The blonde quirked his eyebrows up, scrunching his nose.

"What kind of name is that?" the boy laughed. "Does it even mean anything?"

"From our research, sir, no," Jakob responded formally. "Their elite team, our major target, is a group of men called the Akatsuki."

The boy snorted, snickering quietly. "What`s up with the stupid names?" he asked. "Dreadfully horrid names, if you ask me."

"Agreed, sir," Jakob nodded, taking the blonde`s empty glass off the tray.

The boy`s nose scrunched up again, tilting his head to the side and staring at his assistant with an odd expression. Jakob took a step back, staring back at the boy.

"Is something wrong, sir?" he asked. The blonde shot his hand up, pointing an accusing finger at Jakob, who flinched, leaning his body away from the finger.

The boy grinned, chuckling softly. "That`s what`s wrong," he said. "Don`t call me sir, it`s disgustingly formal."

"Yes s- . . . Mr. Iwa," Jakob said slowly, but the boy still wasn`t satisfied. Shaking his head from side to side, he waved his hand at Jakob like there was an annoying fly in the air.

"No, silly," the boy said teasingly, flicking out his tongue. "Call me Deidara, or Dei! My close buds call me Dei."

Jakob blinked a couple times before responding. "Buds?" he questioned.

"Yeah, yeah, Jake! We`re buds, aren`t we?" Deidara winked, smirking when his assistant was hesitant to respond.

"As you wish . . . Dei," Jakob said, noticeably feeling awkward about not addressing Deidara formally.

"Also Jakie," Deidara purred, licking his lips as a shiver ran down Jakob`s spine. "Don`t be so nervous around me . . . I`m not that frightening, un."

Deidara inhaled sharply, causing Jakob to chuckle softly. The assassin`s eyes narrowed, loathing his speech problem.

"Anyway," Deidara said boldly, sitting up straighter in his chair, "I`d fancy seeing the records on those men in that Akapookie group, or whatever they`re called."

"Right away," Jakob said, fighting off the smirk on his face. He handed the thick folder to Deidara, who gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, smiling widely.

"Thank you so much, Jake, really," Deidara spoke generously, staring after Jakob as he strolled to the exit of the room.

Deidara smirked, eyeing the blinking red light on Jakob`s shoulder, snickering to himself as the light flashed faster. He hummed happily as Jakob left the room, checking his watch as the second hand ticked towards the twelve.

"Dix, neuf, huit, sept, six," Deidara counted down in French, glancing from his watch to the exit every couple seconds, "cinq, quatre, trois, deux, un."

The explosion rang throughout the entire building, the ceiling and walls shaking violently. Scraps of thin metal and moldy string fell from the ceiling as Deidara sighed contently, folding his napkin in his lap. Deidara smiled as he picked up his fork, pouring the Caesar dressing over his salad.

"Yum, yum," Deidara sang merrily. "I love Caesar salad!"

He flipped open the folder to see a picture of a red head smirking up at him, the name of the man printed boldly underneath the picture.

SASORI AKASUNA

"Hm, Sasori . . . ," Deidara said in a mouthful of salad, quickly swallowing his food. "That`s a stupid name."