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The Split Sinuate	By : DismalBismuth Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 871 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Split Sinuate
- 1
Disclaimer:
Naruto doesn’t belong to me. Neither does the title or song
used in this chapter.

Notes:
This fic will be rated M, for violence, swearing and possible sexual
situations and drug use. It’s also SasuNaru, so no flames about
that when there’s a warning right here. There will also be
mentions of past NejiNaru and kinda defunct SakuSasu. There will be
other pairings as well, but those will reveal themselves as I go on.

This is also Noir inspired, so if you’ve ever seen movies
like the Maltese Falcon or even neo-noir’s like Brick or Sin
City hopefully you’ll get the running themes, like the femme
fatale’s, or the tough talking bitter detectives. So if it
sometimes sounds corny… eh, just go with the flow!

“ fate comes a-knockin', doors start lockin'

your
old time connection, change your direction

ain't
gonna change it, can't rearrange it

can't
stand the pain when it's all the same to you, my friend”

Chapter
1

The night came as it always did in the city, slowly, creeping through
the streets like a child come home too late for curfew. The light
would leak down the dirty cement and shadowed roads, turning the
night jungle into a new setting, safe for the ordinary citizens, the
dwellers of the day and those who lived lives that were honest.

Myself, well I work in the darkness, in the alleyways that children
don’t dare enter and behind a trusty camera shutter that never
fails to capture the sins of others. I never go on a job expecting to
find out that my target is squeaky clean. Those late night phone
calls? The lipstick stains on the collar? Those lucrative hourly
motel charges to the joint credit card? It’s like they want to
get caught… In my business the subject is guilty until proven
innocent. My customers would never come to me with their hard earned
money unless they had reasonable belief that they were right. They
just need that final proof, because a photograph won’t lie to
them the way that a lover can. Most of my cases deal with adultery.
It certainly isn’t glamorous, spending my nights outside of
pay-by-the-hour motels.

I’ve been told that I’ve become jaded in my old age,
despite that I’m half a decade from thirty. I wasn’t born
this way, and in my childhood I was disgustingly optimistic. A real
boy scout, and I did believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny and
even the stupid Tooth fairy, though I could never figure why some
kids got a quarter while others got five bucks under their pillow.
But without trying to be cute I can say, Shit Happens. People
change.

I am now a shamus, a private detective who keeps office in the
scummy part of town, generically set right next to the wrong side of
the tracks where the train runs by every fifteen minutes, causing
most of my bookshelf to periodically spill all over my aged green
shag carpet that I swore I’d replace. It also doubles as my
apartment, much to the dismay of my loyal secretary.

It has a small workable bathroom that I keep my personnel’s
in and a closet meant for files that has been transformed into a
drop-off for loose clothes. I don’t have very many belongings,
and I really didn’t have the sort of money to pay for the rent
for both an office and an apartment. My place of business works well
enough with it’s three multi-use rooms. There’s the
washroom, my office and the waiting area, which contains my
secretary’s desk, a pair of chairs, a sofa, a small fridge and
a microwave that makes too many strange noises to be safe.

That morning I tumbled unceremoniously off of the couch and onto
the before mentioned shag carpet, the threads mushing up against my
face and the dust causing me to cough harshly. I moaned as I checked
the incoming sunlight peeking through my dark blinds; wondering, just
what damn time did I go to sleep last night?

A slight clicking noise alerted me of the opening of the door and
the tip of a sturdy black shoe told me that it was Hinata, coming in
early to work, and god willing with some coffee. She leaned past the
door frame, allowing for her short auburn bob to fall over her pale
eyes as she soundlessly entered the room due to the heavily insulated
floor. In her fair hands were two of Fred’s finest brew from
the run down café down the road. Angelic Hinata, with all of
her grace and her conservative white suit brought with her my eternal
salvation.

She looked downwards, eyeing my sprawled position on the fake green
ground. It would have only been a few years ago that my shirtless
state would have sent her into such a stammering frenzy that the
boiling liquid in the two cups she was holding would’ve
inevitably ended up all over me, scalding my skin. Instead she just
sighed loudly, speaking her exasperation more loudly than any voice
could.

“I
can see your boxers, Sir.” Hinata said softly, placing her tray
down on the nearby lamp table (actually lampless due to financial
constraints) and taking off the top layer of her suit, hanging it on
the hook on the door. Again, we once had a separate coat hanger but I
managed to pawn it to buy diner one night. My working excuse to
Hinata was that having a hanger encouraged my clients to linger, when
all I really wanted was to have time to work on my cases.

She said I was full of shit, which is true, but I had a dirty habit
I had to support. I don’t think there’s a support group
out there for Ramen addiction, but if there was I was in no hurry to
find it.

“And
they are lovely.” I mushed out against the carpet, alluding to
my manly neon underwear. Using my two tanned arms to alleviate myself
from the fabric I managed to find myself in a slouched standing
position, scratching under the elastic band of my orange boxers.
“Aren’t these the ones you bought me for Christmas?”

“Yes
sir, because you couldn’t keep on wearing that one pair and
washing them in the sink everyday. And please sir, promise me you
aren’t doing the same with your socks.” Hinata said with
out any inflection of emotion. Mostly because she knew I was, and had
most likely seen them tragically hanging out my window.

“I’m
not. I mean, I don’t.” I tried to say.

Hinata would never directly accuse me of lying, but she says I have
the vice of occasionally and ferociously stretching the truth past
its well worn limits.

“I
don’t wash them in the sink. Really.” I turned so she
couldn’t see my face. I am a good liar, too good when I’m
nothing but a stranger in the eyes of an innocent con. But for
someone who knew me as well as Hinata did all she had to do was get a
good look into my eyes before she knows I was trying to pull
something on her. She’s creepy like that.

“Is
that so…” She breezed out. I accidentally looked to the
left and caught her beautiful pale gray eyes staring me down.

“Well…
It’s really more like soaking. You know, I just let them sit in
there and what not. No washing involved. Maybe some soap, but no
actual physical…”

Hinata
sighed loudly before cutting me off, “…I’ll get
you some new socks the next time I go out, sir.” She moved with
great efficiency around her desk, setting up her computer and
checking the phone and fax machine. She is really a goddess, and not
just because she brings in the coffee every morning. Without Hinata I
would have been bogged down by life long ago. Quite frankly I’ll
never know why a brilliant woman like her stays with me.

Her family is damn wealthy for one thing, and even without that she
has a brain that is above and beyond the call of a secretary. Hinata
is working vastly below her endless potential, yet it was her who
sought the job out from me. It was a few days after I completed a
small case for her family when she walked through my door, looking
for work apparently. She asked me if I needed any help at my job…
and God, I could barely hear one word from the stuttering mess she
made of her sentences. Her face was as red as a tomato and her
fingers kept on poking together like they were powerful magnets.

I was new to the business… or at least, running my own, so I
agreed without thought. Over time she began to change, and I could’ve
never guessed that that little girl would grow up to be an iron
woman, tougher than I am certainly. Smarter… most definitely.
She never stops calling me sir though. Seven years of this, and she’s
never once called me Naruto. Even now when I try to goad her into
saying my real name I swear I can see a little bit of that red bloom
again on her cheeks.

It’s not like it’s even that special of a name. I should
know, because I was the one who made it up. Naruto Uzamaki, a part
Japanese, part… Hell, I don’t even know. I consider
myself something of a mongrel. When I look into the mirror in the
morning I see a good-looking face- not handsome. Pleasant looking,
friendly. Blue eyes that tilt up at the sides on a face that is a
little too wide, just like my generous mouth. My nose turns upwards
and my hair sticks out just about everywhere.

When I go out in public my suits are rumpled, and I’ve been
known to wear ugly sneakers when I should, at the very least should
throw on a pair of loafers. My appearance may at times seem
disreputable, but I never let myself come off as threatening.

“Thanks Hinata, such a dear.” I lifted the after
mentioned socks from my filing cabinet and tugged them on, hopping
from foot to foot. It was clear that I needed a new pair by the
sighting of my big toe through the thick wool.

“You’re welcome.” She said, and turned on her new
computer that she had thankfully brought from home. The old one’s
greatest achievement was that it could most excellently compute Pong
and small numbers. I’m sure there was a running theme in this
office with how pathetic my state of affairs were, but I was a well
practiced in acting like my whole accomplishments didn’t just
add up to a nasty microwave and my beloved gun, a detective colt .38
revolver. Not to mention the last item, if I was being honest about
it, which I rarely am, also wasn’t really mine, but instead
inherited from the previous owner of the office.

Also inherited the old man was an old school radio, that I eagerly
turned on to catch up on the news from the night before. I rarely
dialed it onto musical stations, rarely caring for anything played
past the seventies. It wasn’t like I considered most new music
to be soulless drivel only created for the money. Well, maybe
sometimes it crossed my mind when I drove through Harlem inspired
sections of the city to hear synthetically created voices screaming
about popping bitches. Or perhaps strolling through malls and having
to suffer through girls as young as seventeen singing songs written
by others that spoke of deep love or odes to their feminine ‘humps’.

While my taste more leant itself towards Punk, Frank Sinatra or
Johnny Cash, my easy listening was the news radio, that was now
droning past the weather and onto the main stories of the day.

“…
Last night the police were called into a Hills home after a body
was discovered in the resident’s pool. The identity of the
victim has yet to be confirmed, but it is suspected to be a part of a
bizarre string of recent murders all occurring within wealthy homes.
The police have yet to announce any leads…”

“Another
one… ?” I muttered while dressing. For the finish I
roughly looped a bright orange tie straight out of groovier times
around my neck. It felt like a noose. “Gaara must be having a
shit morning.”

If I was the marrying type (which I’m not) my best man would
irrevocably be Gaara. He’s a fiery red head without eyebrows,
who, rather conveniently for me, chose law enforcement for a career.
He’s good cop who never takes bribes, but it’s a well
known fact that he wasn’t afraid to get rough with his perps.

I should know, because the very first time I met him we got into a
fist fight. Sometimes I can remember how my jaw ached afterwards.
That was well over ten years past now, when I first met him on the
streets and neither of us were any better than the rats that ran
through the drains. He hit me hard in the face, and I couldn’t
even tell you why. It wasn’t like I kicked over his sandcastle
or anything. I think it came to a suprise to both of us that after I
hit him back we just knew we were going to be friends. Hinata would
have something to say about how simple men make things.

Gaara is currently one of the cops on the job of the strange case of
the Diggory Hills murders. Two-- no, now three men murdered inside
their own homes without any witnesses or alarms. These mansions were
equipped with the best security that money could by, yet the culprit
passed through them as if they were some sort of ghost.

The community was in an absolute uproar, despite that murders in
Konoha were hardly anything new. They just weren’t used to the
victims being people who ‘mattered’. Just last month a
young man’s body was found in the nearby river, stabbed ten
times and left to bloat in the water. I saw it mentioned briefly as a
note in the daily paper. But when Mr. Benson, an honorable citizen
who paid his taxes was brutally murdered you had ten pages of
coverage, querying about his last meal to his ex-girlfriend of
fifteen years ago who still swore that he had always been a
sweety-pie.

“I’m sure he is probably very frustrated right now, with
unpleasant phone calls and paperwork to deal with. I don’t
think it’s a good idea that you go to harass him for lunch. You
have a case of your own to finish anyways. You remember, don’t
you sir? The missing bird.” Hinata pressured me to get to work
often, and I tried to listen most of the time. I have an
unfortunately short attention span when it comes to people lecturing
me. Well, we all have our vices.

“Yeah, that damn parakeet. I should just go and buy a new one
from the pet store. It’s not like the nasty broad will notice a
difference.”

“Sir. That would be cheating.” She scolded.

“I’m a detective, the only birds I should be looking for
are the equivalent of the Maltese Falcon.” I grumbled and
shuffled into my office. I slumped into my dark wooden chair and
pulled out the case file for the missing bird. My only lead was the
ladies sister, who wanted the parakeet as something to hold over the
victim.

Outside the phone rang and I heard Hinata lift it with a light
click. She spoke in soft tones and the conversation ended curiously
quickly. “Hinata, who was that?”

“Your next customer, and apparently she’s not waiting for
an appointment, sir.”

I stood up and walked to the doorway, then asking, “What do you
mean not waiting? Just phone her back and tell her to come right in…”

“There’s
no need. I’m already here.” A woman said, already with
her white hand pushing the door back. She stepped into my sad state
of affairs with endless class and her long legs that were a staple of
any good private detectives office. I also knew her.

My next customer was none other than Sakura Uchiha, and I’d
of been a fool to not recognize her by just her strong voice. But
turning my head to see her for the first time since school, when I
had known her as by her maiden name Haruno, I remembered that all of
her was just as striking.

She broke all the fashion boundaries with her perfectly died pink
hair and her fresh green eyes were like flashes of summer leaves. She
was dressed in a silky black number that hugged all her curves and
slinked its way around her body. She had confidence and beauty in
droves, and I couldn’t think that there was anything in the
world that Sakura could ever need my help with. Especially
considering who her husband was.

“Mr. Uzamaki. It’s been a long time.” She strode
into the room and threw down her black jacket on the couch, not
bothering to check for a hanger.

I grinned at her widely, but I was secretly worried about what
brought her here. “It has been, hasn’t it,” I
walked back into my office and gestured to the chair in front of my
desk. “Sit, please. And call me Naruto. We’ve known each
other far too long to be resorting to that strong of a formality.”

She quirked a finely plucked eyebrow at me, her cheek lifting a bit
at the side. “You’ve certainly changed.” She said
as she crossed her long white legs to position herself in her seat.

“How
so?” I asked goofily, not wanting to look any further into the
past than necessary.

“I
didn’t think that it would ever be possible, but here you sit
in front of me today. A mature man. Look at you! You’re in a
suit and everything! Knowing the old you I was half-expecting a
whoopee cushion when I sat down.”

I chuckled at her, glad to see that she seemed genuinely happy to
see me. “Well, I suppose becoming a member of the working class
has done me some good.”

“It certainly seems so…” She sighed loudly, and I
suddenly felt a stroke of panic. Was she here because she thought
that her husband was being unfaithful? “Oh, Naruto…”
Sakura hung her head in her hands, letting her pastel hair fall
around her face. “It’s been difficult lately at the
Estate.”

The Estate…

“Is it… has your husband…?” I asked, my
voice breaking. I didn’t dare to think about it… Her
spouse was many things, but I had never imagined him playing the part
of adulterer. Sakura looked up immediately with wide eyes.

“Oh
no! Nothing like that! It’s not him. It’s just that we
had another break in. With the recent murders in our area I just
become so terrified at night sleeping there, and now our house has
been robbed twice over the last month.” She explained.

“Did
you find out who did it?” I asked.

“No,
but the police don’t think that there is any connection to the
killings. But it’s just terrifying that someone was in the
house, going through our personal things.”

“The first time some cutlery went missing. Fine China, but
nothing priceless. But last night my husbands personal vault was
broken into. There’s a fortune in there, but only one thing was
taken. This small diminutive amulet… On it were these…
these two snakes entwined together engraved into iron. It’s
made cheaply, but apparently it’s an ancient artifact that is
historically beyond price.” She pulled out a small piece of
paper from her expensive purse. On it was a crude sketch of the
missing piece, showing the placement and the basic markings that
could help to identify the amulet.

I ran my finger over the darkly drawn shapes, imagining what it
looked like in reality. “This is the actual size?” I
questioned, noting that it was drawn small enough to fit snugly into
a human palm.

“Yes.
That is about as accurate of a representation as I can give. I’ve
only seen it once or twice in my life. My husband doesn’t seem
that upset over its lose, but I think that it would be important to
him to get it back. I was just wondering if you could maybe come over
sometime, interview a few of the employees? Maybe you could ask for
further details about that snake design from Sasu…”

I coughed loudly and shifted my legs a bit. “I actually am
fairly busy… Recently the office has been swamped, and as much
as I would love to help you… I can give you a good reference
for someone who could do this job with capabilities far beyond my
own… And…”

Sakura growled and uncrossed her legs. She leaned over the desk and
glared at me fiercely. “Naruto, don’t you dare stonewall
me.”

“Look,
I’m not, it’s just…”

Sakura dug into her purse and threw down six hundred dollar bills.
“Six hundred dollars, just for talking to me. I’ll give
you twenty-thousand more if you find the piece of metal and I’ll
pay for any gadgets that you need.”

I picked up the cash and gulped. I ran my options quickly through in
head, weighing the pros and cons. It wasn’t like I was certain
to see him up at the Estate anyways. Important business men were
never at home…

And twenty-thousand…

“I’ll
do it.”

Sakura gave me a brilliant smile. “I knew you’d come
around to my side.” She was our class president in our last
year at high school. She was infamous for forcing the principal to
fund the hairstyles of the entire graduating class for the prom. I
never had a chance at refusing her.

“Money is a strong persuader.” I shrugged and pocketed
the green bills into my pocket. I tried to ignore the queasy feeling
in my stomach, which was my instinct telling me that I should never
have touched the cash on my desk. I should have told Sakura to go and
hire someone else, someone who didn’t have any prior history
with the Uchiha name.

“Isn’t it?” She gave me a peck on the cheek,
“There’s a fancy to-do tonight at the Estate, so could
you come over tomorrow?”

“Of
course. I’ll try to fit it into my busy schedule,” I
grinned, “By than I should actually have some research on hand,
so maybe once I talk to a few employees I’ll be able to figure
out where to start searching.”

“Good,” she said, “It was lovely seeing you
again. I know that we weren’t exactly friends in high school,
but I’m so glad that we got to meet again. I look forward to
you working for me. Who knows, maybe after this we can set up some
coffee dates or something.” Sakura smiled sadly. I thought that
she seemed lonely.

“I would like that. Goodbye Sakura.”

“Goodbye
Naruto.” She left my office, leaving me to lean back into my
chair and expel the air from my lungs. Her reappearance in my life
was going to make things complicated. Just being near her brought me
closer to all the troubles of the past that I was so resolute in
avoiding.

“I took the job,” I told Hinata, who briefly bobbed
her head. “Sakura and I are… old acquaintance's from a
few years back, so it was kinda a favor you know…”

“A
favor, sir? She’s loaded, and she’s going to give you
you’re biggest pay check ever. And it couldn’t come a
moment too soon. Look what your microwave did to my lunch.” She
placed her container under my eyes, and I scrunched my nose at the
decidedly burnt aroma that was floating upwards.

“I didn’t know that pasta could turn that color,” I
said. She shoved it into the garbage next to her and tapped her
finger on the desk. “Okay, I get it. The first order of
business after getting paid is buying a new microwave.” I said,
trying to placate her into dropping her steely eye act.

“Sir, if you and Neji just got over your differences…
You know, he called last night, and he asked about you…”

I sighed and shook my head. “That’s over now Hinata.
Water under the bridge. You can’t go back to the way that
things were, not ever. You read the Great Gatsby right? No matter how
much you try a moment in time can never be repeated, because people
change. Feelings change.”

She stared at me remorsefully and lifted her fair hand to gently
touch my face. “Sometimes, when you look like that… I
just… I’m getting the distinct sense that you’re
not exactly referring to Neji, are you sir?”

I smiled and grasped her fingers with my own. “You always see
right through me.” I kissed the back of her hand and led it
back to her. Her cheeks had become brilliantly red, but I knew that
it would only make it worse if I pointed it out. I sometimes let
myself believe that Hinata was my soul mate. She was like the sister
I never had, and never would have.

“I’m going to the library to do some research, so just
take note of my calls, but don’t promise any immediate call
backs. Tell them I’ve got a big case to handle.” I
grinned with satisfaction, at least pleased that I could ignore that
damn parakeet.

Outside, my car took a few tries to start. If you considered that I
couldn’t even buy safe home appliances I suppose it would only
make sense that my vehicle was a health hazard. It was a 1980 Ford
Pinto, most famous for the high likeliness that your car would
explode in the event of a rear collision. Also known as the barbecue
that seats four. Gaara refuses to get inside it, and Hinata will take
a city bus even if we are meeting at the same restaurant. I’m
not supposed to be driving it either, but I haven’t been
stopped lately, and when I am its usually Gaara. He doesn’t
give a shit if I don’t have car insurance.

Myself, I didn’t have much of a choice. It had wheels, an
engine and steering. It wasn’t going to get much better than
that. Today though, my barbecue was taking me to the public library.
I could have used the computer at the office, but I didn’t
trust the depth of the search engines. There were too many finds and
research that had yet to find its way onto the public domain of the
world wide web, and many rare books that contained information only
documented by that one author.

The main librarian is a gentle old man that always greeted me with
a smile. Sarutobi is unfortunately burdened with taking care of his
energetic grandson, Konohamaru, who had singularly taken out the
children’s section that afternoon with a nerf gun. Young women
were running to and fro trying to catch the boy and un-arm him,
mostly to little success.

We caught up on the days events and I explained what I was looking
for. I showed him the drawing of the amulet and he sent me a number
of recommendations. He suggested that it was most likely Egyptian, or
from an area nearby and recommended one book that apparently was
perfect for what I was looking for. It was written by a man named
David Morgan, an Egyptologist who had written an extensive report on
artifacts found on digs, items dating all the way back to the Iron
Age. He managed to record a massive collection of notes, complete
with sketches, dates and theories on Egyptian Symbology.

The book, which was only in print once, was still in the library and
had been since before Sarutobi’s time. It was the only copy in
the city and normally collected dust in the back section of the
building until someone like me came along, looking for something that
was rarely presented in most books about the culture. I passed
through the main areas, combing through the desks and the college
students on computers and past the still hectic children’s
section.

The back area was enclosed, and compared to the open structure and
organization of the rest of the library it was filled with tall book
shelves that made the inside like a maze. I wove my way through the
looming wooden stacks to find the section that the book was
supposedly kept. I ran my hands past the titles, oddly categorized by
subject, and lacking real alphabetization.

“Where is that damn…” My hands shuffled
through the dusty tomes, unable to locate it. I scanned the shelves
above, finally spotting the red casing that Sarutobi had said that it
had. I grunted as I tried to reach it above me, mourning my lack of
height. I managed to snag the tip when a porcelain hand shadowed over
my own and pulled it away from its resting place.

“Thanks, that was…” I trailed off when I turned
around. I was born under a bad star, I often theorized with Hinata or
Gaara. I lose all my money whenever I play Poker and frequently find
myself in improbable unlucky situations. I live perpetually in the
wrong time and the wrong place.

That Sasuke Uchiha would just happen to be behind the hand
that belonged to the much taller body behind me wasn’t just
coincidence. It was all that bitch, fate.

“That
was the book I was trying to get.” I lamely finished, trying to
avoid his penetrating stare.

“I
wasn’t grabbing it for you.” Sasuke said, tucking it
under his black suited arm. He was more than the last (painful) time
I had seen him. More perfect, more poised, and you could practically
smell the money that he wore, drove and lived in. As usual he
reminded me of a beautiful exotic bird, with his sweeping black
glossy hair and his sparkling ebony eyes. It wasn’t really
the first time I had seen him since our parting though. He was in the
newspaper all the time, but looking at a picture in print wasn’t
exactly conductive to a conversation. I was stupid to think I could
take this case without coming in contact with Sasuke. I mean, I had
knew it was going to be unpleasant, because he was a pispot who
delighted in making others uncomfortable, but at the risk of sounding
like a girl in a romance novel my heart felt like it was being
squeezed by a vice.

“Uh, but I was reaching, and you just…” Was it
too late to just hit him, grab the book and make a run for the door?
“I’m working for your wife. For a case, and that thing…
Sakura…”

…
Wow, I sure sound smart. Sasuke was smirking, an expression that made
my past echo inside my mind in a nasty loop. Fuck nostalgia.

“I heard… You’re coming over tomorrow aren’t
you? My wife has some brand of socialite gathering tonight, complete
with tea and cakes, so I suppose she didn’t have time for you.”
He said dismissively, as if Sakura’s activities at home were
silly at best. “But yes, that amulet. A family heirloom, not
that important, but it would certainly be pleasant if it could be
retrieved.” Sasuke idly moved his hand forward and began to fix
my lapel. I flushed to the roots of my hair and jerked backwards.
Unfortunately there wasn’t much room between me and the wall.
What was with him anyways? He should be the one putting distance
between us!

“Yeah, it’ll be done Mr. Uchiha. Just, can I have that
book? I need it for the case.” There you go bastard, I can be
like you, all stiff and polite and shit. Now, just hand over the damn
book.

Sasuke smirked and lifted the corner of the book against his lips.
His eyes were gleaming dangerously in the dark lighting of the room.
It screamed malicious intent. “Come find me at my home
tomorrow, Naruto. You’ve been running from me for what, eight
years? It wouldn’t hurt to catch up.”

Yeah, and give you the chance to kill me in the parlor with the
wrench? I think not, Madam Peacock. “Well, I’ll see you
then… and what not, with the meeting up at your house. With
Sakura, and me working for you. I’ll get right on it, if you
could just, move over a bit, yeah, that would be great.”

Sasuke remained stationary though, ignoring my pathetic attempt of
fleeing. He just pursed his lips thoughtfully. “It’s so
bizarre. It’s only after my wife offers my money to that you
begin to act like I exist. I suppose that all it takes with you,
isn’t it? You’ll only offer your allusive companionship
if you’re getting something out of it.” Low Blow. Prick.

I grinned painfully. “Isn’t that how it always works
Uchiha? Let’s not pretend that I’m any different.”
I breathed deeply, “If you aren’t handing over the book
than get out of my way. From here on out we remain strictly
professional. I was hired to find an old heirloom, not to stand here
and reminisce with you.” I think he winced, but with Sasuke it
was hard to tell. Most likely he was just low on Potassium, which,
according to Hinata causes muscles around your eyes to twitch. That
might have just been her trying to get me to eat properly though.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.”
He said slowly. I moved past, breathing a sigh of relief and I only
looked back once. Sasuke’s eyes were glowing as he watched me
leave. It was a vivid, hungry sable flame. My breath hitched and I
turned abruptly, unable to look any further. Each step I took away
from me relieved the heavy pressure I felt all through out my body.

I spotted the front desk, and seeing it as a place of safe refuge
trotted up to it eagerly.

“Did
you find the book?” Sarutobi asked gently. I barked out a
laugh. The whole irony of it was that I went out of my way to find
the work of David Morgan so I wouldn’t have to question Sasuke
about his bloody useless piece of iron.

“No,
I was rather unsuccessful. Someone else got to it before me. Someone
less vertically challenged.”

He smiled at me and shrugged. “As far as I know that is the
only copy in Konoha. It wasn’t Sasuke Uchiha back there by
chance?”

“Uh, yeah. It kinda was. How did you know?” I questioned.

Sarutobi lowered his voice past his usual quiet tone. “I sent
him back there looking for a book on mental illness. I’m sorry,
I didn’t realize he would take the one I sent you to find.”

I grinned and clapped him on the back. “It’s not a
problem, old man. Next time I come though you better point me out to
some awesome books. None of that classic literature stuff!”

Hinata was waiting for me, like always. She lifted her head up
from her work with a soothing smile. I waved to her, with a jerky
hand, a motion that felt like there was an unseen person pulling the
strings. “Hey, you.”

“How did your trip go, sir?”

“I don’t really know myself. Can I get a rain check on
my response?”

She paused, but didn’t attempt to pry. “Anything you
say, sir.”

I moved and sat on the edge of her desk, slouching like there was
a great weight holding me down to earth. Powerful gravity, and I
hated it. I was so tired… I knew I was just going to fall to
sleep the moment I drifted.

What was Sasuke doing looking for books on mental illnesses? And
what was with his attitude? If he had half a brain he would be
avoiding me as ardently as I had been blacklisting him. I couldn’t
imagine that could’ve forgiven me for the things that I had
done. Eight years ago? Has it really been that long since…

I
closed my eyes, and I dreamt of the fire.

“When
you’re low down and dirty

From
walkin’ the street

With
your old hurdy gurdy

No
one to meet

Said
love ain’t the same

On
the south side of town

You
could look

But
you ain’t gonna find it around”

"Its
the same old story

Same
old song and dance, my friend

Its
the same old story

Same
old story

Same
old song and dance”
- 1
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The Split Sinuate