Rhetorics

3. Argentinian beer (Hashirama)

I sat in my expensive couch in my vast living room, in almost complete darkness. There was only two sources of light; the windows of the skyscrapers making up the skyline outside my floor-to-ceiling ones, and the television.

And on the television was a man of the name Madara Uchiha.

The man wore a perfectly cut suit that was obviously tailor-made. He had a painfully handsome face with sloped eyes and a heaviness beneath them that I guessed made him a magnet for the girls. He had long, black hair up in a dark wooden chopstick.

I hated him.

I hated him because he was a terrific speaker. The only one I believed I had ever come across that came close to my own abilities. He spoke with confidence, never hesitating, not once, but still had the ability to seem as though he spoke directly from the heart. He even made me wonder whether he's actually learned the speech, or was just improvising. It infuriated me.

I also hated him because his values and propositions were so unintelligent, it made me disgusted that someone so dumb could walk on the same planet as me. How could you speak for easier granting of citizenship for people seeking asylum? Couldn't he see how immigration and crime rates correlated? Didn't he understand that when his mother, his sister, his girlfriend walked alone at night, they were in far greater danger of being raped by a foreigner than a native?

But there was something else... Something else about him that infuriated me even more.

I looked at the man, my arms slung over the back of my suede couch. His voice was deep and slightly raspy, giving him an aura of authority I didn't think he deserved. He seemed to work out, probably more gym and less cardio than me. He was probably even slightly broader than I was. His eyes went to the camera sometimes, so dark they were almost black. I'd never seen a politician look into the camera like that. It broke so many rules, it disgusted me. He had a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

He looked dangerous. But that wasn't what I hated about him. Not his appearance per se.

But the fact that he was Asian. 

I took a sip of my beer.

"It's good", I remarked.

"Isn't it?" one of the other men said. "Got it from my trip to Argentina last month. Hundred dollars a can."

"And you waste it on our lot?" another joked.

"Who else but you?" the man who's bought the beers in Argentina said. "My fat wife? Her figure is not the same since she gave birth to our first child." The others laughed. I didn't. "That was twenty-two years ago. Nah, you do me a favour by drinking it." He put his beer down on the dinner table of his vast dining room. Six of us had met up in his villa to drink.

"Did you see the man who spoke today?" I asked coolly.

"Uchiha? Yeah, he's a problem." Argentinian beer man was the one who spoke. His name was Hank, and was the most senior member of our party, even if he'd chosen not to be part of government but remain in parliament. He was the only one of the six of us who'd met up who had a seat there.

"It was fine as long as he shut up" someone else said. "He's been in parliament four years, but now seem to have become their spokesperson."

"A triumph card", the first said.

"We need to get him out of parliament", Hank said. "When we speak in parliament and on television, we need to speak against his party's policies, but also make remarks to make people's thoughts trail to him, without them realising how it got to be so. We need to pinpoint him, but we need to make the hand putting the pin down invisible." Hank turned to me. "You up for the job?"

I put my beer can down, rolled up the sleeves of my expensive, olive green shirt, pulled my fingers through my hair, loose for the evening.

"Are we certain we want Senju to do it?" I turned to the man who's spoken, a blonde rookie. Who the fuck did he think he was? "He's new. He hasn't proven anything to us. We're taking a huge risk. This Uchiha filth is good. Like, really good. He'll be analysed by media experts, and they will reach the conclusion that he's exceptional. The entire country will wait to see what their opposing party, which is us, says."

"I won't bring myself down to your level by trying to convince you you're making the right choice by choosing me", I said casually, crossing my arms, not even looking at the blondie who'd spoken. "You'll just have to sit down and watch."

"The left holds the majority of the parliament, and Madara's party holds the most seats", Hank said. "Our previous approach hasn't worked, obviously, so we need a different one. We'll try Senju here." He lifted his beer can to me. "I haven't heard him speak myself, but I have people in my company who have. He's a product developer for Samsung on his free time."

Free time was, I understood, sarcasm. Samsung was my main job. I was a politician on my free time. Blondie whistled. I didn't even cast him a glance. Of course I was highly educated. I had inherited a lot of money when my parents died, even the apartment I now lived in, something they'd bought on a whim as they were in the housing market, but of course I could provide for myself.

"Even more..." It was Hank. "If you do well, Senju, me and the leaders will let you apply to the public election to get chosen into parliament."

I worked hard to keep a straight face. If I got elected, not only would I be the person who'd gotten in after shortest time in the party as I'd only been a part of it for one year, but I would also be the youngest. There were younger people in parliament, just not in our party where the youngest were middle-aged.

One of the other men lifted his beer can.

"To Senju!" he said.

"To Senju!" the others echoed.

I lifted my can in unison with them.

"We have one advantage", I said.

"What are you thinking of?"

"We're correct in our opinions."

I drank my hundred dollar Argentinian beer.