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Up a Blind Alley	By : Ljiljana Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male > Naruto/Sasuke Views: 1113 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own NARUTO and I make no money on writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Up a Blind Alley
- 1
warnings: eating disorder, drug use, murder, mentions of one sided incesty desires...

beta work: don't even ask about it

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Up a Blind Alley

(1/2)

Because you're not what I would have you be, I blind myself to who, in truth, you are.

Madeleine L'Engle

Seven in the morning is decidedly too early for most things, but not for rain. I ran into the crumbling building behind the Italian restaurant that housed, among a few other poor businesses, my moldy little office. I was drenched. The walk from my apartment was a short one, but my umbrella gave in to the wind half way; I had to leave the sassy orange and yellow heap to cheer up the bottom of a dumpster.

Shaking my head as I climbed the stairs didn't help much. My hair was dripping, and the lower half of my jeans was drenched. The small tea towel I kept in my office wouldn't cut it. Luckily, my lock-picking skills were excellent.

I unlocked the door to my office and cringed as they moaned in distress. I should fix that, Ino from the Custom Greeting Cards across the tiny, musty hall kept telling me. But it had its uses - like no one could sneak on me between them and the sole window of my office looking over the parking lot of the Italian restaurant.

I wasn't paranoid. No, really. People were out to get me all the time.

Well, not for a while now – but I would get a job soon enough. I was damn good at it.

Of course, I was also a very good as a cop, but no use crying over spilled milk and all that. I made a decision and I firmly believe that my father would have been proud. Even if it landed me on the wrong side of all kinds of bad people.

I frowned, jaw clenching. My father was supposed to be the chief of police, two years ago. He was a tad bit too young, only forty-three but he deserved the position. He was the best. The police department of this fucking crapdump of a town never in its history had anyone as good as him.

Much good that did him, once they realized he couldn't be bought.

Fuck.

As if the nasty weather, the empty fridge and my clammy jeans weren't bad enough to start the day, I had to go and think about all that.

With velocity, I pushed the door to close behind me. Instead of the satisfying bang, there was a grunt of pain. I spooned around, tense and ready to jump any direction necessary.

With his hand still where it stopped the door from slamming into his face, Sasuke was glaring at me.

I knew Sasuke well enough. He wouldn't attack me in my office. It wouldn't be the first time it happened, but it wouldn't take place now. Because it was just Sasuke, in a dark gray suit that said a lot about his detective paycheque amounts, and an expectant expression.

It was just Sasuke.

Some tension drained from my back.

For the show, I groaned, "I didn't do anything!"

He closed the door behind him and glanced around the small, stuffy, dusty office pointedly. "Maybe it's time you start doing something, then."

"I didn't do anything illegal, I meant," I amended. He raised his eyebrows slightly, so I assured him, "For weeks. Many weeks. Really."

Sasuke graced the visitor's chairs with one distrustful look and moved to stand by the window. I couldn't hold it against him – the chairs were looking a little unstable and very ugly, with brown vinyl ripped in places.

There was no space for him to stand by the window and me to sit in my chair on the other side of the desk, not comfortably. I took one of the vinyl seats myself, angling it so I could see the door from the corner of my eye. It noisily settled with my weight. I tried to get some more water out of my hair, because I couldn't do what I was planning to just then. I couldn't let a police detective see me pick the lock of Ino's office and borrow her hair dryer. Even when I knew she wouldn't mind.

Sasuke didn't answer. I left my hair stick upward – not like he'd care what I looked like, unfortunately - and sighed, "Look. Am I in trouble?"

There couldn't be another reason for him to be in my office, really. And it wouldn't be the first time Sasuke's father sent him to warn me about something. He was friends with my father and I guess he felt like he had to help me. Not that I was complaining – his warnings and tips saved my life more times than I could count. I made too many enemies in the few months after my father's death.

Sasuke in my office was a friendly presence. I appreciated equally his willingness to play liaison between his father and myself and the absolutely splendid sight of his backside. If he ever caught me staring… Well, he didn't. He'd have said something insulting and rude if he had.

Over his shoulder, Sasuke caught my eye and declared, "I want to hire you."

I sit up straighter, surprised. Well. That was new.

"Alright," I answered, feeling a little odd starting a conversation about work with him on my side of the desk. "What can I do for you?"

Sasuke turned to face me and leaned backward on the windowsill. "Maybe you've heard already. My brother is missing."

I had heard of it, actually. But Itachi did that occasionally, so I wasn't worried. The papers liked writing about him, because his eccentric personality gave them a lot to talk about. Even for an actor, Itachi was a real character. He'd run away from home at fourteen and built a name for himself before turning twenty.

But I just nodded and gestured for Sasuke to keep talking.

"He disappeared sometime between yesterday morning and the previous evening. There was a note that said that he had decided to take an early vacation. Some of his things are missing."

"But you think that's not what happened."

"Yes."

"And you want me to find him." I summarized. Sasuke didn't deny it. "Right. What makes you think something is wrong, then? I know this isn't his first time to skip town for no good reason and all of the sudden."

It was his fourth time. I, just like everyone else, kept track. Kind of. Itachi was often the talk of the month in every cop's family. My father liked speculating about his whereabouts as much as any other of his colleagues – well, perhaps with a little more admiration and little less scorn. My father liked rebels. That's why he married my mother and took such pride in me.

Also, I liked Itachi personally as well. I even had a poster for one of his plays on my wall. He was like a bland of my only real life infatuation – Sasuke – and a really hot Hollywood super-star icon; both drop-dead gorgeous and real.

Sasuke produced a thin folder from somewhere while I was distracted. Behind him, in the distance, the sky flickered and the distant thundering followed.

"This," Sasuke offered a single paper over my desk. My hands were dry enough, so I took it. It was an Email, printed.

From: _...

To: _...

Subject:

Date: Tue, 12 Oct 2010 1:02:02 AM

Sorry, Sasuke. I'll be out of town for a few days, so we will have to have that dinner together some other time. I'll call you when I get back.

I took notice of the date and time. It was sent an hour after midnight night before last. I couldn't see anything that would point out that Itachi was in some sort of trouble.

"What's wrong with it?"

Sasuke hesitated, but only a second, "The way he used my name."

I glanced at the paper again. "He used your name in a certain way?"

"Yes."

Well now he was just trying to be difficult. I glared at him, "And what way is that?"

"None of your business," Sasuke cut off, glaring right back. "I don't have to justify my reasons to you. All you need to know is that I am not completely sure he's off to have an impromptu vacation and I am hiring you find him."

I shrugged. He had a point, of course. If Itachi was simply somewhere getting tanned, all the better for me. I could use a case that doesn't land me in hospital or in prison. Or an animal shelter, though it's kinda nice there in comparison.

"Who was the last to see him?"

Sasuke relaxed visibly. "The entire theater, apparently. He went to his changing room directly after the last performance for the night was done, around midnight, and no one saw him since. When woman cleaning the changing rooms entered in the morning, she found the note saying he's off to Jamaica. Most of the spare clothes he kept there was gone."

"Does he sleep in the theater often?"

"When he's really tired. Often enough."

"Was the police called in?"

I didn't think it was likely. No one would even be aware he was gone if there wasn't a note. It'd only been about thirty hours anyway; too early.

"No, but they contacted me."

"You saw the note, then?"

"It's his handwriting. There is nothing wrong about it that I can see. If he didn't send that mail, I wouldn't think there was anything wrong."

"Does he send you a mail whenever he has a change of plans that concern you?"

"I don't know," Sasuke said with a ghost of a smile. "He's never done that before."

"Never?" I persisted. It wasn't likely, after all. "He never had to work when you were supposed to meet, he was never sick? Ever?"

Sasuke narrowed his eyes and glanced sideways with a frown, in an obvious mock imitation of thinking. "I had an entire day to think about it – and the answer is still the same. Never."

In moments like that, I was sorry I was the only child. It'd be so cool to have a brother like Itachi. I flashed Sasuke a grin and tried to think of anything else I needed to know.

"Are there any pseudonyms he likes to use that you know of?" I had to check stations and the airport. Itachi was an actor, so pseudonyms seemed likely, even with the only moderate fame working in theater evoked.

"No, not that I know of," Sasuke answered. "I have checked with transportation security and saw their records. Itachi – under his name, anyway – wasn't on them. My father got the word that I was looking into that. He wasn't happy."

"Yeah, that explains why you're here, alright." He was more than capable of doing anything I was about to, after all. With his perfectly valid badge, it'd be a piece of cake. "I don't quite understand your father."

I knew Fugaku had gone stricter after my father was killed. But if he was willing to make exceptions for me and send Sasuke to help me occasionally, shouldn't he make exceptions now? Itachi was his son. I guess he simply wasn't sharing Sasuke's bad feeling.

Sasuke didn't bother answering, so I asked the only questions I had left, "Any close friends I can talk to?"

"No one that I know of. You can ask around in the theater."

"Do you have any idea at all what could have happened? Does he have enemies?"

"Probably," Sasuke cocked his head. "At the very least, political influence of our father might backfire, even if he only comes home about once a year. Professional envy also might be an issue. But I don't have any clear idea, no."

I bit my lip in thought, but I couldn't remember anything else. But I had Sasuke's number in my cell, and I wasn't afraid of appearing unprofessional if I called him for a fallow up.

"Fine, then," I nodded. "I'll call you when I have something."

Sasuke moved off the windowsill, giving me an odd look. "I'll find you when my shift is over."

Before I had a chance to assure him that it wasn't necessary – and to ask how he thought he'd find me – Sasuke was gone. Door groaning was the only goodbye I got.

I noticed that he'd left the folder behind. There was little more info in it than what we went through and also a single key, safely taped over 'Itachi's place' written in black ink.

A few minutes later, when I got out of the office, Ino was already in her so I couldn't steal her hair dryer. She offered it anyway. I let her use it on me while I read yesterday's articles about Itachi's disappearance.

I called the theater. The secretary/assistant/what-the-fuck-ever on the other side was happy enough to answer any questions I had. No, performances featuring Itachi Uchiha had not been canceled, he had an alternate. Yes, the rest of the crew was exactly the same. No, she didn't think any of them would refuse to talk to me, if it was the matter of making sure their resident star was safe.

It was quite clear she was bewildered at to why a private detective would be investigating Itachi. I refused to tell her who'd hired him. Sasuke didn't say he wanted it a secret, but it was possible he didn't want his father to hear about it. Until I was sure, it was better to play it safe.

I ringed Itachi's place as well. I wasn't expecting anyone to answer, it was just… Well, it didn't take more than a minute and it couldn't hurt.

Itachi had an answering machine. The message was clear and to the point. Itachi's voice was pleasant but his tone was impassive. I didn't leave a message.

So the plan was to go check Itachi's apartment first and then visit the theater before the first performance started that evening to catch all the colleagues Itachi was working with and were close by when he retreated the night he disappeared.

In the meantime, I contacted a couple of people who were happy to do me a favor – in return for another, anyway – and had them check a little deeper into the records for possible signs of Itachi boarding a plane or a train. Bus tickers required no documentation, so there was no point. In the end, it would come down to checking the security tapes, one by one, if nothing else worked.

Around ten Ino brought over donuts her boyfriend bought for her in a vain effort to stop her from starving herself to death. They were fresh, dipped in chocolate. I ate three without breathing between bites – I had nothing to eat since lunch yesterday. Ino just made a face that clearly said she was about to puke things she hadn't even ate herself and left.

Fifteen minutes later, I was on my way to Itachi's place. The sky was gray, streets and buildings were gray and even people were not wearing any bright colors as if they weren't daring to disrupt the overwhelming depression of the day. I only had a vague idea in which part of town he lived but I took the bus there. The town was big, but it wasn't a metropolis. Someone like Itachi would stick out in his neighborhood, so I asked people for directions.

The building was of the older ones, built at the start of the last century. It wasn't as richly ornamented as those in the uptown were, but I liked it more because of it.

Key fit the lock perfectly. I let myself into Itachi's apartment on the third floor after knocking several times and waiting an appropriate amount of time.

Nothing was out of place inside. The furniture looked retro but comfortable, with most wooden surfaces painted green. I couldn't see a television anywhere, but there was a collection of all kinds of kitchen appliances in the kitchen. There was a lot of light coming through old-fashioned tall but narrow windows. The air refreshment I found in the hallway discreetly scented the place with vanilla.

With effort, I resisted the urge to open the windows. Vanilla was too sweet. It was suffocating me.

I went to the bedroom. It was easier to breathe there. Itachi's bed was huge; it could easily fit four people. Everything was neat, every thing in it's place. The room looked, well, as if it wasn't in use. The only thing sticking out was a wooden chest next to the bed.

I tried to lift the lid, mostly out of curiosity than because I thought there would be a clue inside. It was locked. I was disappointed, but I didn't break in, even though the lock was easy to pick.

Back in the living room, I checked the usual places – notebooks on the working desk pushed into a corner next to a window, low table under the telephone and so on. Among the neat notes of phone numbers and a few reminders, I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

There were several messages on the machine. A few from Sasuke, who sounded worried and annoyed, one from Mikoto, their mother, who wanted Itachi to make early plans to spend Christmas at home so there would not be any 'I promised someone' excuses. There were a few more messages that sounded work related. People were angry he'd bailed. No death threats or anything.

I also found a written note Sasuke attached to Itachi's fridge. I would have recognized the handwriting easily even if he hadn't signed it. It said that Itachi should call him as soon as possible.

What he thought I'd find in the apartment that he couldn't, I have no idea. I found nothing, though, so I headed back to my office – after copping the notes from the notebook next to the phone that looked more recent. The rain had stopped, but the air smelled of sewer and greasy fried food from the barbecue stands. The wind bit into my skin every time it got caught up in my clothes, so I gave up on sparing bus money for food. There were still those donuts left, anyway.

Ino had already left. She could afford it, so good for her. It was just her and mine office on that floor, though, so I felt kinda lonely whenever she was away.

I called a couple of numbers I copied. Chances I'd hit something were small, but it was a better way than most to spend the afternoon. No one could tell me anything about Itachi's sudden reason to disappear, not even those calling themselves his friends. No one had seen him recently. It was a waste of time and phone impulses that will bite me in the ass at the end of the month – some numbers I called belonged to overseas residences.

It was getting dark when I left the office for the day. The theater was reachable on foot, so I went straight there. The streets were still wet, with puddles big and small cutting off most of the routs I chose. It took careful maneuvering and some jumping to get me to the double doors covered in posters over posters promoting the programs of the theater Itachi was working for.

ITI

Once the play and all my interviews were done, I stumbled back out into the dark night, frustrated with the lack of progress and haughty attitudes. Perfectly still under a large black umbrella, waiting patiently, Sasuke was standing. He sure as shit found me.

I ducked under his umbrella, hands in pockets. He just waved down the street, where a bright neon sign of the casual dining restaurant was glaring down at us.

"I missed lunch," he said. "Come on."

"You're paying." I answered. I hoped I didn't sound as hungry as I was and there was no way I could afford to eat there and survive the month.

Sasuke didn't say anything, which I took for 'of course' and turned away. I followed after finding some protection from the rain close by the windows of the stores we were passing by. There was a bakery snuggled between two shoe stores, which I found strange.

It was warm inside of the restaurant. There were those booths with high headrests that gave the impression of privacy, which was good. I ordered orange flavored pop drink, Spicy Beef $ Cheese Nachos, Vienna Stake with fries, classic Greek Salad and Chocolate Swiss Roll for dessert, a combination so atrocious that it made the otherwise perfectly polite waiter raise both of his thin blond eyebrows in question. I raised my own blond eyebrows at him in turn in silent challenge to voice whatever he thought was so odd about my order.

Just when he started opening his mouth, Sasuke said, "Seafood casserole for me, thank you."

It effectively dismissed the waiter. I wish I was so good with dismissing people.

"Did you find anything?" Sasuke asked as soon as the waiter turned his back.

"Not a freaking thing," I said honestly. "There is nothing. No one knows – or is saying – anything, there are absolutely no signs of anything suspicious. There are absolutely no signs of him. I can't find passport but I also can't find any evidence he'd left town. I'll be up all night going through security tapes from the airport and train and bus stations."

If I got them that evening, but it wasn't a very big if.

"What were you doing all day?"

Because he was buying me food, I decided to ignore the jab and instead told him exactly what I was doing that day, step by step. Uh, except the part with Ino drying my hair and the wank I had in the little bathroom by my office after coming back from Itachi's apartment.

The food arrived in the meantime and I dug in immediately, even though I had to talk while eating. A small box of donuts can't satiate a big guy like me for an entire day. Also, as I warmed up, it was becoming clear that my socks were wet, so I really wanted to go home as quickly as possible.

There wasn't anything Sasuke could comment on, regarding the work I'd done. He wouldn't hold back if there was, so the silence was almost like a compliment. Perfectly elegant in his dark suit, Sasuke looked more like anything but a cop. He paid for our meals and even drove me home afterwards.

A small box with several flash drives waited for me in the mail box. I was doing exactly what I promised to do for the rest of the night – I watched the security tapes, trying to spot familiar figure of Itachi in the sea of people. I found nothing.

Sometime after three in the morning, with a pondering headache from all the squinting and my stomach actually bellowing with hunger even after the generous meal of the previous night, I finally went to bed – clothes and all.

I might have smashed the alarm clock when it woke me up too early, I'm not sure. It was definitely smashed when I got up the next morning, for I cut my feet on a sharp part that lay among a bunch of other parts in the floor. It stung and I bled all over the carpet, despite the sock. And the headache didn't quite go away, either.

In the shower, when I almost slipped and fell, I thought I was starting another shitty day, but I had no idea exactly how shitty it was until I turned on the television while preparing to go to the office. The breaking news for the day had me stare, shocked, at the screen.

The body of Itachi Uchiha, an extremely successful theater actor, was found early that morning. The river washed it out. He was obviously murdered. His father, a captain in the police, had no comment.

Fuck, I kept thinking like would help me stop being stunned.

Fuck. Itachi was dead.

I called Sasuke. It was all I could think of doing. There'd be vigil, service; a hundred useless things to do later but at that moment, I needed to say I was sorry I couldn't find him in time.

Sasuke's phone was turned off.

I hurried to my office. It wasn't that much that I wanted to be there as it was that not standing in place like a fool helped me think. I'd have to buy flowers, good flowers. I'd have to borrow money or something.

Ino was walking out as I reached our building, garbage bag in her hands. Her eyes red and swollen. She threw her messy ponytail over her shoulder, looked right up at my face and sighed, "You heard, right? Fuck."

For all the crass language, her voice shook slightly and she was watching me carefully.

I nodded. We used to read gossip about Itachi together when we were both free, sometimes during lunch, when I had to blackmail her to eat and she frowned at my table manners.

"There's that cop in your office. He looked like hell so I let him in."

"Sasuke?"

"Yeah, you know the tall one, with odd hair, very pretty," she described in detail, though it wasn't necessary. "Is he upset about Itachi, too?"

I was already moving by then, but I did answer her, "I should think so. He's Itachi's bother."

She might have gasped, but I was climbing the dark, dusty staircase in an almost-run and couldn't be sure. Odd how I never mentioned their relation before. But Itachi was Itachi Uchiha, the very hot actor I happened to know personally and Sasuke… Well, Sasuke was just Sasuke.

And he was sitting in my chair, face in hands when I walked into the office. His eyes were clear and sober, I saw right away, because he looked up when the door screeched.

"Sorry," I said, stumbling into the room. "I'm so sorry."

Sasuke blinked slowly, eyes darkening. I don't know what he was reacting to. My presence, my words, something he'd seen on my face. But he stood up swiftly, got a couple of bills out of his wallet and threw them on the table.

"Thank you for your services," he said, practically sneering. "I'll be sure to recommend your business."

I knew he was hurting and whatnot, but I scowled anyway, "Oh, fuck you. If it was that easy you would have found him on your own."

Sasuke inhaled, eyes closed – like not looking at me would help him calm down. "You've been asking around after him. Expect police knocking on your door to ask questions. My involvement is confidential."

With that, he left. I stood there, in the middle of the room, waiting for the punch line. He basically came to tell me not to tell the police he'd hired me? What the hell for?

Shaking off the helpless angry feeling Sasuke left me with, I dialed the Uchiha home number. Mikoto wasn't crying, but she was choking on words occasionally as she told me that the funeral was next day at one o'clock. I remembered the customs well enough from my father's funeral, so I knew their house would be open today and throughout the night to all people who wished to bid the last farewell and light a candle.

Ino walked in when I was finishing.

"What'd you do to piss him off like that?" she asked.

"Failed to find his brother in time, like he hired me to do."

Ino leaned over one of the vinyl chairs with a frown. "But they said he was killed only a few hours after he was last seen. He's being unreasonable."

Despite the real, cutting sadness I was feeling, I was a little relived. Sasuke isn't really blaming me for not finding Itachi, not if he hired me after Itachi had already been killed. He was just… lashing out.

"They were close," I said, as an excuse for Sasuke's irrationality. "I'm going over there in a bit, wanna come along?"

"Give me half an hour?"

Two hours later, we walked into the beautiful two story house through already opened door. There were a lot of people there already. I recognized some from the theater I talked to last night. Some girls were crying into each other's necks. From the dining room, where I was guessing the coffin was put until the funeral, female voice was crying loudly, sobbing words I couldn't understand. Ino grasped my arm harder and I felt a shiver run down my spine. It was creepy, the sorrow that woman could put into her weeping.

We expressed our condolences to the grieving Fugaku and Mikoto. Ino slipped first into the dining room as Mikoto surprised me by hanging on to my neck and smearing her tears over my cheek. Maybe she was glad to see a familiar face in the sea of strangers. I murmured words that had no meaning or a definite purpose until she let go. I went to the other room. It couldn't be a pleasant sight, I knew that. But it seemed somehow unreal, standing there, listening that woman cry and Ino shake, thinking that Itachi was beneath all that useless flowers.

"What now?" Ino asked in a whisper. She had mentioned that she had never been on a vigil before.

"Just do what I do," I instructed.

As I bent to kiss a photograph of Itachi, the woman's voice finally lowered to breathless sobs. I lit the candle into the prepared pot full of smooth white sand next to the table coffin was on. Ino was keeping close behind me.

I was glad to leave that room. A young girl offered us juice and homemade alcohol beverage. Ino shook her head and for once, I was glad for the ridiculous customs to insist on offering unreasonable amounts of food.

"You can't really refuse," I whispered into her ear, careful to keep my otherwise loud voice down. "You have to drink and eat whatever they offer. It's the customs."

Ino gave me a suspicious glance – I was trying to make her eat all the time, and well, she was right, I would totally make something like that up if I thought it'd help. But I didn't have to and the girl with the tray nodded in confirmation.

Ino took a glass, sipping some off like she saw others do before she drank. I pulled her along to meet the other girl half way, the one that was offering small pieces of pie. She picked a spot to settle for a bit.

Sasuke was sitting on the stairs in the hallway. I don't know if he was doing it on purpose, but his position effectively discouraged people who might have thought it would be a good idea to go upstairs.

He glanced up as I came closer, unreadable and collected. Satisfied that he wasn't about to start accusing, I climbed and sat, just a few steps up from him. He made no effort to stop me – maybe he wasn't there to stop people from going upstairs after all.

In the coffin room, someone started crying again.

"He was dead before I even knew he was missing," Sasuke said after a minute. I took it for what it was – the roundabout way of saying that he was sorry and an invitation to talk about it.

"But not before he wrote that note saying he was going on vacation or sending you mail. Do you think he was forced to do it?"

"Yes. Though I don't get what it was accomplished by it when the body was disposed of so carelessly."

I swallowed my uncertainty. Sasuke really shouldn't have sounded like he was talking about a random case, even if it was just a front.

"Why usually points out the killer more efficiently than how," I quoted my father. "Any ideas?"

"As why would someone kill my brother? No." Sasuke shifted and leaned on his elbows on the stair I was sitting on. "If I have to guess – in an unofficial capacity, of course - I'd say he said 'no' to someone."

"To what?"

He was quiet for a second, looking over the heads of people walking around the house. There was nothing of interest up there, but I waited patiently. Someone must have left the front door open. It was starting to get cold.

"Itachi always attracted attention. Good and bad kind – he attracted anger, and luck, and," Sasuke jerked his head a little in my direction, "desire." I cringed because his expression twisted, ugly and resentful, as he added, "And jealousy."

He seemed to have lost his thought, but I waited again. It paid off. Sasuke eventually finished. "It was only a matter of time before he attracted attention of an entirely wrong person – which doesn't mean I will not find them and rip them to pieces with my bare hands."

"I rather doubt you'd be allowed to keep your job after that."

"So what? It didn't stop you." Uf. I was his role model? This couldn't end well. "It doesn't matter. It's not like anyone will know."

"Except for me? Geez. You trust me an awful lot, aren't you?" I said, trying to lighten his words a little. I remembered very well how it felt to wish people who had killed my father pay. And, unlike Sasuke, I knew it wasn't worth it. In the end, my pain for losing my father was not any less. I wasn't exactly regretting what I did, but I did end up where I was because of it and it wasn't a great place to be in.

"I have to," Sasuke said, looking determinately somewhere just below the ceiling, where there was still nothing at all to look at. "You're going to help me find them."

"I will?" I asked stupidly.

"Of course," Sasuke looked back at me with a grim, tight smile. "It will work out just fine. You'll stop me from becoming a murderer, as I'm sure you're thinking about, and I'll pay you so you don't starve to death. You've lost at least 10kg since I last saw you."

A bit thrown by that sudden and rather silly change of subject under the circumstances, I pointed out, "You saw me last night."

"Before yesterday, you moron," Sasuke all but hissed.

"Well, I'm on a diet. It's obviously working."

My pride. It will be the end of me.

Sasuke just said, "Don't lie when you absolutely don't have to. It's painful to listen, you're that bad."

I refused to answer. Arrogant fucking asshole. Like it was any of his business.

"We can as well start," Sasuke said after a minute, standing up.

"Now? It's vigil."

"Which means that everyone who was attracted to Itachi in one way or the other will be here. You take the living room – I'd better keep out of my parents' sight."

I sighed and stood up. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps we should use this chance to talk to people. It was easier to deal with the miserable atmosphere and crying and grief with a goal in mind.

For me, and probably for him, too.

The easiest way to make people tell you things is to make them believe you are interested to hear them out. In order for an elderly neighbor woman to tell me that the last time she saw Itachi was just the other day, when he'd stopped by his parents' house, I had to hear all about her having a weird, sinister dream that had left her with the impression that something horrible would happen. I had to shake my head at the odd coincidence, agree with her that she must have felt it on some level when such awful thing happened to the boy she baked cookies for when he was young and only after I did all that convincingly, she suddenly remembered that she saw him, just the other day.

And Sasuke said I couldn't lie. Pftt.

Itachi looked normal, she told me. Not at all like he had some deep, dire problems or like there was a murderer hunting him. He said a short polite 'hallo' and went inside. He left a short time later – too short for a lunch visit, which is what she'd assumed he had been there for.

Unfortunately, that piece of information was completely useless, so when a pale boy stopped dead just after crossing over the threshold, looking as if not sure what exactly he should do, I took my chance and left the woman to chat with someone else.

It'd been hours since I'd seen Sasuke. He was carefully keeping out of the room his parents were stranded in, waiting for people to offer condolences. Would they be angry he was interrogating people at vigil? It would be understandable. He should be mourning.

But then, who am I to judge? Fugaku had to arrest me to make sure I wouldn't go chasing people who killed my father. Not that it stopped me, but… He would try harder for Sasuke. It was the only son he had left.

"Hey," I said quietly, reaching the boy. He looked up at me quickly, as if startled. His hands were empty, no flowers or a candle. "Itachi's parents are over there, you should give your condolences. "

He bit into his lip, following the line of my sight, "Then what?"

"The coffin is in the other room. You can, er, say goodbye or something." I didn't say anything about the candle and flowers. It was just a kid. He looked like hell rolled over him, but he was just a kid. Who gave a shit about customs.

"And then?"

"Take what food they offer you."

Across his face flashed a look that was familiar and chilling. It said 'fuck pride'. It reminded me of me. Of how I made grabby hands for food lately. It made me take a closer look at the boy.

He was really thin. And short. His dark hair was too long – and the last time it was cut it wasn't done professionally. Jacket was old and faded. Too big on him. There were traces of make-up still remaining under his eyes, enlarging the dark shadows so it looked like they were swallowing his face.

If this kid hadn't been on some heavy drugs for at least half a year, I'd eat my shoe.

He could feel my inspection, and he could sense my conclusion. I saw it in the way he folded into himself, like he was trying to hide into his jacket. Out of questions – or the will to ask them – he started walking away. I wasn't giving up that easily, so I followed.

"Where did you know Itachi from?"

"Nowhere," he muttered. "Just a fan."

He was speeding up. I had no choice, I took him by the elbow and forced him to stop.

"You go to theater often?"

Itachi's plays were freaking expensive. No way in hell.

"No," the kid hissed. He turned to give me a significant look, a conspiring one. Like he thought I was the only one who figured him out based on look alone, but talking about this would clue the rest of the world in. "But sometimes, he walked back home. To avoid the press. Through the back door?"

I frowned. Back door? Of the theater?

Ah.

There were a few taverns back there, a problematic area. Rent boy as well. Poor kid.

I nodded and he finished, "So we saw him, sometimes. He was friendly. That's all."

It went against everything I knew about Itachi. But it was like someone nudged me and I blurted, aware enough to keep my voice quiet, "How friendly?"

Everything that I knew about Itachi fell to water with the fear that for an instant illuminated those dark brown eyes that stared at me. I let the kid go. The middle of the living room, as people started to look at us, was a bad place for this conversation.

But I was onto something, wasn't I?

So I kept a careful eye on the boy. He awkwardly offered condolences, watched the picture of Itachi next to the coffin for a few minutes with an odd mixture of emotions and then found a seat near the staircase in the hall. I returned to the living room, so I could keep an eye on him through the open door.

I saw him when he glanced around and swiftly climbed the stairs, taking the first chance he got. I also saw Sasuke coming out to the thankfully empty hall at the moment, and catching the sound of the running up. I was just in time to stop him from speaking up.

"I want to see what he's up to." I whispered, when Sasuke slapped my hand off his mouth.

"What do you think he's up to?"

I made a face, "Stealing money?"

He probably was just stealing money. But, I don't know, the look in his eyes before…

Sasuke apparently decided that was enough time for whatever I thought I was doing. The footsteps disappeared, so I followed him as he stared climbing. We both kept quiet.

At the top of the stairs, Sasuke glanced around. I wasn't there in years. They painted the upper hall in some umber yellow.

"He's stealing money from Itachi's room?"

I looked at the direction Sasuke was indicating. It would be very stupid to look for money first in the room everyone knew no one was using. Then again, how would some rentboy know where Itachi's room was? Maybe he just chose the door randomly.

The hallway was dark. I never even noticed that it was getting dark already, until I could barely see anything. The door of Itachi's room was slightly opened. Sasuke headed there first. I followed. He pushed the door to open further. They were silent, well oiled. Street light was coming in through the window, so the room was somewhat illuminated.

The boy was kneeling next to several opened drawers of Itachi's old desk when we entered. Without a pause, Sasuke crossed the room and hurled the boy up to his feet.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The boy recovered from the shock quickly. He pressed against Sasuke's chest, so small and thin in comparison, trying to free himself. It was a desperate, hopeless attempt. He was so sure he was about to get beaten… Like it happened all the time.

But I knew Sasuke better than to believe that. And a bit of a scare might get the kid to talk. I'd prefer if Sasuke wasn't there for whatever he had to say – but then, I'd have to tell him myself. It was just as well.

"Sorry, I'm trying, okay?"

…Trying?"

I turned to switch the light on as the kid babbled on, "Come on, I am doing it, I will, just – Sai?"

"What do you think you're doing in my brother's room?"

Suddenly, hysterically, the kid laughed. "You're Itachi's bother? Really? Holy fuck."

"What are you doing here?" Sasuke demanded again, ignoring the question.

I didn't want to know what was behind it, either, but… If I wanted to get to the bottom of this, I had to ask, "And who's Sai?"

The kid looked at me. "Oh. You."

"You're not very good with answering questions, are you?" I noticed, closing the door behind me. It was a calculated gesture, meant to scare him.

It apparently worked, for he managed to break Sasuke's hold and try to escape over the bed. I stepped back to block the door. .

"Is there something in this room you want? What is it?"

But cornered or not, the boy glanced over at Sasuke and asked again, "Is that really Itachi's brother? Really?"

I wished he would stop acting like that was so strange. "Yes. Really."

"Dude… That's fucked up."

"Yeah, uncanny how much they look alike?" I said loudly, even though all three of us knew well it was something else, because frankly, they had in common little more than complexion. "Now be a good boy and tell me what you were looking for."

"Just pictures, okay?" he burst out finally. "It's – like keepsake or something – that's all!"

Aright, I could almost buy that. Almost.

"And who sent you to get them? Who's that Sai?"

"No one sent me!"

My ass, no one.

"Just tell us where can we find him and you're free to go," Sasuke said. He calmed down a little in the meantime. He was even sitting at the edge of Itachi's bed.

The kid waged his options, glancing between us. In the end, he blurted out a name of a massage salon downtown. I let him past me and he ran out.

"Do you believe him? Pictures?"

Sasuke looked toward the mess on the floor near the desk, even though it was too far away to see it. "Yes. But it seems they were for someone else."

He took out his cell phone and called information. As someone dictated him the number from the other side, he lay back across Itachi's bed. He put his free arm over his face, covering his eyes. It was a sad sight. It hurt me so much to see him like that.

I wished we were in a different room, where there was another bed. I wished I could climb right into it, lie next to him, think of something comforting to say. I couldn't.

In the silence of the upper floor, I heard when a male voice answered the phone with a practiced line.

"I want to make a reservation. For tomorrow. 4 pm. Good." It was apparently available. It would be right after the funeral. "Naruto Uzumaki."

And I was apparently the one to get a massage.

After another minute of comfortably laying there, Sasuke moved his arm off his eyes and stood up. He cleared the mess the kid made and left the room without a word.

I turned the light off and followed. Hopefully, no one downstairs was crying.

tbc
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