The Writing on the Wall

The Writing on the Wall


Author: ladygizarme
Beta: Houseki
A/N: Surprise! I’m not dead, and neither is this fic! My muse is just easily distracted. ^^;; I hope you guys haven’t forgotten about this story!


Chapter Six:


The blood ran, dark red, from Itachi’s mouth as he stared at the heart in his hand. His eyes were red, trained solely on the heart as it fluttered rhythmically in his grasp. He squeezed, and Sasuke gasped, clutching a hand to the pain in his chest. The sound gained Itachi’s attention, and suddenly Sasuke was caught in Itachi’s blood red gaze—eyes wide, unable to close or look away.

Itachi squeezed harder.

Plop.

PLOP.

Blood splashed to the floor, turning an unnaturally bright white as it painted the ground.

Itachi grinned, his teeth showing black before his mouth slackened again, turning down in disappointment as his eyes rolled up, showing just the whites. For a maddening moment, Sasuke wondered why the whites of Itachi’s eyes weren’t black, but before he could completely wrap his mind around the contemplation…

“Uuuruuuchhiii!!”

The sound of his uncle’s voice coming from Itachi’s mouth sent Sasuke reeling like he’d been dealt a physical blow, knocking him backwards. And he was falling, falling, falling; unable to tell if it was the world spinning around him or just the opposite. Maybe it was both, and he felt dizzy. He tried to fight it—to stop himself—but only succeeded in gaining more momentum.

And Itachi’s head fell after him, following in a spiral as the name of Sasuke’s aunt echoed endlessly in his uncle’s voice from Itachi’s lips—a sound that was only drowned out by the reverberation of the heart’s struggling beat.

Suddenly, the sound was gone—no more than an imaginary echo under the sound of his soft waking-gasp—and Sasuke knew he’d had a nightmare again. He also knew, now that he was awake, he almost wished he was still dreaming.

Sasuke lay as still as possible, his only movement the up and down, in and out repetition of his chest as he tried to regulate his breathing to simulate sleep. However, the more he concentrated on it, the more panicked he grew. Little by little, his breathing became fast and shallow, his heart racing, blood pumping through his body so fast he could hear it roaring in his ears, blocking out all other sounds. Yet, even that couldn’t erase the feeling he had right now. The feeling that was giving him unpleasant goosebumps beneath his layers of covers, making his hair stand on end from his scalp to his toes. The feeling of eyes on him—of someone watching him as he slept… Or pretended to sleep, at least. With the way he could feel that gaze so intensely on him, though—boring through him—Sasuke thought he probably hadn’t succeeded in his ruse.

He dared not open his eyes, afraid of what he might see if he did. But with his eyes closed, there was no escape from the images of the nightmare he’d just woken from—the images that were now burned into his mind’s eye, it seemed.

The sound of a deep, rattling inhalation filled the room, and Sasuke’s breath caught as he listened to it, eyes squeezing even tighter shut, heart pounding painfully.

“U-ru-chiii…” a voice like crumbling paper whispered.

Sasuke’s heart pounded harshly, ringing in his ears as he felt the presence lean closer.

His uncle’s voice was strained with effort as it repeated the mantra, “Uruchi… Uruchi!”

Closer still his uncle came, and Sasuke clenched his eyes so tight bright spots burst behind his eyelids. His hands balled into fists tight enough to make his palms sting, and his whole body curled in on itself protectively until every muscle and joint ached with the strain of it.

Sasuke’s bed dipped awkwardly, and he covered his face with his balled up hands, shoulders scrunched up to his neck, muttering his own mantra to himself in a voice so barely there it was hardly more than a movement of lips.

“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real…”

Then a deathly chill spread through Sasuke as his shoulders were clasped in an icy grip, and if his entire body didn’t seem frozen from the inside out, he might have lost control of his bladder at that moment. Sasuke gasped in shock so quickly it hurt his lungs, finally making him realize he’d stopped breathing some time ago. He desperately wished he could move to save himself—to wake up (wishful thinking) or run away—but fear had caught him in a grip more iron than even his uncle’s cold, dead hands.

“Uruchi!” his uncle cried again, gaspingly hoarse. And again, “Uruchi,” this time accompanied by a shake that demanded Sasuke’s full attention. And, caught in the spell of fear, Sasuke obeyed. He opened his eyes and looked at his uncle.

Teyaki’s dark eyes were easy to find with the early morning sun already beginning to brighten Sasuke’s room through the closed mini-blinds. His eyes didn’t look as Sasuke expected, though. Rather than black, beady eyes burning with anger, Teyaki’s eyes looked tired and full of worry, the wrinkles around them deep and tightened with a dread Sasuke could easily recognize as it resonated with his own.

Realizing this, the iciness of terror began melting from Sasuke’s body, and again he found himself wanting to speak to a ghost of his own volition.

“U-uncle—”

Before Sasuke could even get his uncle’s name out, Teyaki suddenly released him, staggering back as he clutched his chest above his heart and made the most awful gulping-gasping sounds. His pale face grew red, then purple, and his eyes—bloodshot and bulging from strain—rolled back in his head for a moment before just as suddenly refocusing on Sasuke with a firm glare. Sasuke could feel that glare pierce through him, pricking at something within him that Sasuke mentally scrambled to grasp the meaning of. Before it could be realized, however, his uncle doubled over with a mournful moan, and then turned his back to Sasuke and floated through the wall next to the window.

As his uncle Teyaki blurred, a soft buzz like static began in the back of Sasuke’s mind, and by the time Teyaki had completely disappeared, it had increased to a screech that left Sasuke gasping in pain and clutching his head. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the noise was sucked away as if by a vacuum. Suddenly, Sasuke’s head felt instead stuffed with cotton, and an exhaustion he couldn’t even attempt to fight overtook him, putting him into a deep sleep.

When he finally woke again, it was to the sound of his intercom buzzing repeatedly. Sasuke sat up so quickly the room spun for a moment, and by the time he got his bearings, glanced at the clock, and tripped over his feet to get out to answer what was surely his aunt coming to pick him up, his door was already rattling with the sound of a key.

“Wait, wait!” Sasuke called out in a panic as he ran back to his room, not wanting his aunt to see him not only half-dressed, but half-dressed for sleep rather than work.

Cursing in his head the fact his entire family insisted on having a key to his apartment, and wondering how his aunt had even managed to make it up to his apartment so fast, Sasuke slammed his bedroom door behind him just as the entry door opened. The sound of footsteps across his living room floor was drowned out by the flurry of pulling clean clothes from drawers and hangers. Clothes were thrown on with an abandon seldom performed by the usually-meticulous man, and Sasuke didn’t even glance his aunt’s way as he crossed the hall to his bathroom for a quick brush of his teeth and attempt to tame his bedhead.

Out of practiced habit, Sasuke usually avoided looking in his mirror unless he absolutely needed to. Even the routine of fixing his hair was often done blindly, with a careful glance at the end, due to the number of times he’d met the ghost in his apartment through the reflection from the mirror. Today, though, rushed as he was, and with the added oddity that was the cottony-static in the back of his mind—like there was something he was missing but his brain was too lethargic to try to remember—Sasuke had forgotten his usual caution.

Not having time for a proper shower, Sasuke turned on the water in his sink and stuck his head under the tap, fully wetting his hair and blindly grabbing for the nearby hand towel to wring the water from his now-sopping strands. Setting the towel aside, Sasuke reached for his comb as his eyes darted up to the mirror to check the state of his hair, and in that split-second his hand stilled along with his breath, which caught uncomfortably somewhere between his throat and his lungs.

His vision tunneled, and all he could see were those dead eyes, glaring at him from the corner of his mirror. Now that he saw them, Sasuke finally noticed the presence in the doorway, an unpleasant chill oozing over his skin as the back of his neck and his ears prickled.

“Are you almost done, little brother?”

Sasuke’s heart lurched at those words spoken in his brother’s voice, but then his tunneled vision began evening out again at the edges, and he saw the reflection of, not the ghost, but his brother moving towards him from the open bathroom door. Sasuke whirled around to meet his brother’s gaze.

“Itachi, what the fuck are you doing here?!” he exclaimed, still caught in the remnants of his initial panic, unsure if this was really Itachi or just another nightmare. Covertly, he pinched his thigh through his work pants, uncertain if the pain he felt should reassure him or not; knowing that being awake only meant this was really happening, not that it was really Itachi.

Apparently noticing his brother’s panic, Itachi stopped in his tracks, putting his hands up in placation. “Easy, Sasuke, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m here to pick you up from work, and it’s getting rather late,” Itachi told him, pointing to the hands on his watch which indicated they should have left ten minutes ago.

Sasuke frowned, confusion mixing with his fear. “What are you talking about? Where’s Aunt Uruchi?!”

Itachi took a deep, patient breath, and gave Sasuke a look that simultaneously relieved and aggravated him. No one else could mimic his brother’s particular expression of cool nonchalance mixed with brotherly exasperation and overprotection. Sasuke frowned as something unfamiliar tried to creep through his brother’s expression just as Itachi closed his eyes, rubbing them tiredly.

“Aunt Uruchi had a last minute engagement, which she couldn’t avoid. So I’ll be taking you to work today.”

Sasuke’s frown deepened as the feeling that he was missing something leapt to the forefront of his mind, quickly replaced with the soft static that would have been disconcertingly familiar if its very existence didn’t deter him from contemplating it in the first place. Sasuke shook his head, as if to dislodge whatever was fogging it up, narrowing his eyes in irritation when the action proved fruitless. Sasuke set his narrowed gaze once more on Itachi, growing even more irritated when he realized Itachi was still just standing there, watching him in tired concern.

Sasuke gave a low growl ending in a huff and turned his back to his brother to continue fixing his hair. “Fine. I’ll be out in a minute,” he told Itachi, relieved that his brother took the hint and left the room, finally.

A few minutes later, Sasuke was walking out to his living room, deftly ignoring his brother as he grabbed his messenger bag and left his apartment, feeling a small smirk of satisfaction creep to his lips when he heard Itachi following behind, closing and locking the door before taking long strides to catch up to Sasuke at the door to the stairs. Sasuke turned around and waited for Itachi there, hating the feeling of someone walking close behind him—especially on stairs—and the two brothers made their voyage to Itachi’s car in a silence that continued during the drive to Borders.

Sasuke opened his eyes, sensing that Itachi’s crawling stop meant they’d arrived, and glanced at the dashboard clock to see that he had two minutes until he had to clock in. Sasuke thought to himself that there were some advantages to most of your family being in the police force—this time, namely, the fact that Itachi didn’t get pulled over for speeding to get Sasuke to work on time. Even if Sasuke had had a deathgrip on his seat and the door for most of the ride, he was glad he wouldn’t be late.

Sasuke unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, adjusting his bag over his shoulder as he reached to close the door.

“Sasuke,” Itachi called to him urgently just before he closed the door, causing Sasuke to pause and duck down to look questioningly at Itachi. Itachi frowned slightly and Sasuke thought he saw the minutest of head shakes from his older brother before Itachi sighed and met his eyes again. “Have a good day at work.”

Sasuke frowned, wondering what Itachi really wanted to say. “Yeah,” he said, a touch of curiosity belying his monotone. “Thanks.”

With that, Sasuke shut the door and hurried inside.

~*~

The whole double bus ride home, Shikamaru sat in the back of the bus, eyes closed, a frown of concentration on his face as he pressed his thumbs and the backs of his fingers together. When the second bus made the wide turn and stop that signaled it had reached the bus stop a street down from his apartment, Shikamaru finally opened his eyes and got up to leave the bus. He jogged the final block and all the way up the stairs to his apartment, hand shaking slightly in his rush to get his key in the door and finally get inside.

“Minato!” he called out, slamming the door behind him as he went in search of the blond ghost. “Where are you?”

The blond ghost, Minato, wasn’t in the living room, where the TV was now playing Modern Marvels.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Shikamaru accused, peeking around the partition that separated his living room and bedroom. The ghost wasn’t in Shikamaru’s bedroom area, and he wasn’t in the kitchen, either. Shikamaru sighed as he walked slowly to the last unchecked room: the bathroom. He wasn’t at all surprised when the search there proved fruitless, as well.

Shikamaru frowned, clicking his tongue in annoyance and leaving the bathroom to sit at his desk. His frown grew deeper and he put two fingers to his crinkled brow as he went over the events at the diner for maybe the thousandth time.

After the blond at the diner introduced himself as Naruto Uzumaki, Shikamaru had bewilderedly shaken his hand and gestured for Naruto to sit at the table. While Naruto gushed about how much he’d loved Shikamaru’s story synopsis and detailed the steps they would take now to reach publication stage, Shikamaru analyzed every detail he could pick out about the new puzzle before him.

Now that he noticed, although the resemblance of Naruto to the blond ghost that had been haunting Shikamaru was uncanny, there were also a multitude of differences that proved this “Naruto Uzumaki” wasn’t just Minato fucking with him. For one thing, their clothes were completely different. Minato was always dressed in the blue dress shirt and black slacks he’d been wearing the day he died (and Shikamaru had long ago realized this was usually the case for the ghosts he met), but Naruto was wearing a grey buttondown shirt with a blue, white, and orange-striped tie, dark blue jeans, and a leather jacket.

Secondly, Naruto’s blond hair was a shade darker, with the slightest bit of natural red highlights deepening their golden hue—though, now that Shikamaru was really looking, he wondered if it had more to do with the way the restaurant’s lighting shone in his strands, which was something that could never occur with the ghosts Shikamaru had seen. Also, Naruto’s eyes were a deeper shade of blue than Minato’s—more ocean than sky. The brightness and depth of his eyes was almost startling, in fact; so similar to ghostly eyes that pierced with intensity while recalling a life long past, yet at the same time, completely different and, if possible, even more expressive. The most obvious difference, however, aside from the obligatory realization that he’d been able to shake hands with this man, was the faint, whisker-like scars on Naruto’s cheeks.

As their meeting went on, Shikamaru continued adding to his comparisons. Naruto and Minato had similar facial expressions and mannerisms, but Minato’s were more controlled whereas Naruto seemed unable to contain any enthusiasm whatsoever. Their voices were slightly different, and when Naruto laughed after embarrassedly telling Shikamaru his first thoughts on the story’s title, a thrilling chill shook Shikamaru. For while Naruto’s embarrassed grin was something he’d seen in muted version from the ghost, his laugh was completely different. It was rich and so vibrant Shikamaru had the sudden feeling he could almost see it like colors, and he longed to hear more.

With that thought, everything had suddenly shifted for a moment. In that instant, Shikamaru saw only Naruto as himself, not just a more lively, Twilight Zone version of the ghost, and realized with amazing clarity that the blond editor was a stunning specimen of masculine beauty. Along with this realization, Shikamaru noticed the buzz of excitement that was washing over him in waves—an excitement that wasn’t his own, but awakened his exhilaration nonetheless, like a lover prodding at their sleeping counterpart.

Shikamaru had blinked, stunned at the thought, and once again the world shifted back, leaving him with the most plausible explanation for this situation. A thought that nagged in the back of his mind, even as he found himself smiling at Naruto, the editor’s enthusiasm still feeding Shikamaru’s steadily until they had made plans to brainstorm new titles for Shikamaru’s story, and meet up again in a week at Naruto’s office.

“Tch,” Shikamaru sighed in annoyance, opening his eyes and pulling his fingers from his forehead in order to search his desk for the notes he’d kept on Minato’s story. He found the notebook quickly and skimmed through it, in search of a definite answer, only to laugh self-deprecatingly when it was nowhere to be found.

How, after all these weeks, had he managed to overlook one seemingly-miniscule but now glaringly-important fact: for all the boasting the blond ghost loved to do about his family, Minato had never told Shikamaru his son’s name.

Even with the evidence of different surnames—Minato Namikaze and Naruto Uzumaki—put against Shikamaru’s deductions, Shikamaru could easily explain that away with a handful of plausible arguments. He was almost entirely convinced, now; Naruto was Minato’s son. The fact that Minato was nowhere to be found now served as further proof, in Shikamaru’s opinion.

“You definitely knew he was the editor,” Shikamaru said, almost amusedly, to the ghost no longer there. “Tch,” he chuckled softly, “troublesome ghost.”

~*~

Naruto tapped his fingers on the table, matching the rhythm of the song playing through the diner and mouthing strands of lyrics when he wasn’t slurping at his root beer.

“Well, you’re in a good mood, I see,” Sakura commented as she sat down across from him and stole his root beer right as his lips were again seeking out the straw.

“H-hey!” Naruto protested as the pink haired woman stuck her tongue out at him before sipping at his soda. “Well, I was,” Naruto answered her previous comment with a pout.

Sakura smiled at him, returning his drink with a shrug, “Well, you didn’t have any fries to steal.”

“I was waiting for you,” Naruto reminded her.

“My knight in shining armor,” Sakura teased, reaching for his cheek.

Naruto avoided her grasp, puffing his cheeks out at her when she mock-pouted at her failed cheek-pinching.

“Ugh, don’t call me that after what you did this morning,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against his seat.

“What I did?! What did I do?”

“You’d better know what you did, Miss Should’ve-been-home-by-nine!” Naruto glared accusingly at her.

Sakura blinked at him, cocking her eyebrow, “You’re still mad at me for coming home at noon? You know I go to Sai’s after my shift sometimes!”

“I didn’t know you were going this morning! I thought he was still away being a creeper at that nudist colony.”

“He wasn’t ‘being a creeper’, he was researching—”

“Uh-huh, I’ve heard that before,” Naruto interjected wryly.

Sakura glared and continued, “Researching for his Psychology thesis.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it on? How penis size affects a man’s outlook?” Naruto grumbled, slurping at his root beer again and frowning sadly down at the cup when he realized it was empty.

Sakura kicked his shin under the table.

“Ow! Hey,” Naruto protested.

“No,” Sakura answered. “It’s about how the rules of society affect a person’s behavior and world-view.”

Naruto gave her a dubious look. “Sure, that’s what he’s telling you…”

“Ooh, Naruto,” Sakura groaned exasperatedly, but grinned at him good-naturedly. “So tell me about your meeting.”

“Ohh no, you’re not gettin’ off that easy. I’m still mad at you,” Naruto reminded her, sulking. “You made me late to my meeting!”

Sakura rolled her eyes and sat back, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “I still fail to see how that was my fault,” she replied, her airy tone implying a question.

“You didn’t come home at nine, so I didn’t wake up by hearing you come home at nine, so I didn’t get up in time to eat breakfast, shower, and go over my notes for the meeting in leisurely fashion!”

Sakura snorted, “Naruto, are you using me as an alarm clock? Besides, you did shower. Your hair was dripping all over the floor while you stuffed a muffin in your mouth and said goodbye to me—which was disgusting, by the way.” She gave him a pointed look, “Talk first, then eat.”

“I said leisurely, Sakura, leisurely,” he stressed, ignoring her last comment.

Sakura quirked an eyebrow at him, “You’d rather I’d have brought Sai back to our house?”

Naruto’s face twisted like he’d smelled something awful.

Sakura giggled. “I thought not.”

Naruto still looked a bit green in the face, but it immediately disappeared, his features lighting up when Kurenai approached their table with the food Naruto had ordered in advance.

“The usual for Sakura,” Kurenai said, setting a salad in front of Sakura. “And the cheeseburger platter for Naruto.”

“Thanks, Kurenai,” Naruto said enthusiastically, grabbing the bottle of ketchup to adorn his burger and fries.

The diner owner smiled, “No problem. Ready for a refill on that root beer?”

Naruto nodded emphatically and hummed in assent, his mouth already full of food.

“And for Sakura..?”

“Iced tea, please.”

“Okay, back in a sec,” Kurenai told them and left to retrieve their drinks.

“So, were you very late?” Sakura asked, lightly drizzling dressing over her salad.

“Mmf, mneh foo ba’,” Naruto answered with a half-shrug, wincing and swallowing harshly when Sakura glared at him pointedly. Clearing his throat and wishing Kurenai was back with his root beer already, Naruto repeated, “Not too bad. A couple minutes. Still, he seemed pretty pissed at first.”

“Oh, is he the grouchy author type?”

“No, actually, he seemed pretty nice once we got started, it’s just…” Naruto trailed off, remembering that first moment when Mr. Nara had snapped at him. It had almost seemed to Naruto like he hadn’t belonged there for a moment; like he was standing in someone else’s place. He’d been sure he’d gotten the right person, though—he could feel it—so he’d tried to salvage the situation by starting over, and then…

“So how did the handshake go?”

Naruto’s eyes darted up, meeting Sakura’s knowing green gaze. Seeing Naruto’s surprised expression, Sakura’s lips quirked up in an affectionate smirk.

“Come on, Naruto, I know you by now. You always get a good read on a person through the first handshake.”

Naruto frowned irritably, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” So saying, he bit another mouthful of his burger, visibly telling Sakura the topic was not up for discussion. Still, he couldn’t ignore the thoughts and feelings that surfaced when he inevitably reminisced about that first handshake between him and Mr. Nara.

He’d felt recognition mixed with extreme confusion—a feeling almost like déjà vu, but not quite. It had gradually changed to curiosity, scrutiny, and then—for a split-second—attraction. All the while, Naruto had struggled to maintain his composure, letting his mouth run and putting all his effort into overcoming Mr. Nara’s perplexity with his own enthusiasm.

Naruto’s frown deepened, knowing the inevitable path this line of thinking would take him. Swallowing, he shook his head harshly, and gratefully pulled the root beer Kurenai had just returned with to his lips.

“So,” Sakura said, watching Naruto gulp his root beer down as her hand crept to his plate to steal a fry. “What’s he look like?”

“Oh, you know… average height, dark eyes, long, dark hair in a high ponytail—hey, that’s mine! Aren’t you on a diet?!”

“That’s why I don’t order my own fries,” Sakura informed him with a playful grin, popping the ketchup-laden fry into her mouth.

Naruto pouted ruefully as Sakura grabbed another from his plate.

“Continue…” Sakura prompted, gesturing with the fry before it met the same fate as its predecessor.

Naruto grabbed the next fry just before Sakura and stuck his tongue out at her before eating it and continuing, “Um…so, high ponytail…nice but comfortable clothes…bored expression…”

“Is he the haughty intellectual type, then?”

“Nah, I think he just naturally looks bored. Even when he seemed excited about his story being published, he still looked that way. …well, actually…”

Naruto remembered that moment, right before he’d felt the shift from Mr. Nara responding on autopilot to him actively and eagerly participating in their conversation. The author’s eyes had brightened and Naruto had seen something in them clear—like he was finally seeing Naruto for the first time, and he liked what he saw. Naruto had not only seen the change, but felt it, like a spark in the core of his being.

“Oh, so he’s kind of a hottie,” Sakura said casually, leaning her head on her upturned palm and staring at Naruto wistfully.

Naruto spluttered, “Bu—wha—hey! I didn’t say that!”

Sakura giggled, “You don’t have to. It’s written all over your goofy face.”

Naruto consciously wiped the gobsmacked expression from his face and huffed, “Fine, you got me, but it’s not just about looks. There’s something about him…”

“The fact that he’s an author, maybe,” Sakura suggested. “You grew up with a writer, after all—”

“Jiraiya has nothing to do with—”

“I’m not saying that, but you have always been drawn towards the intellectual types…”

“Well, maybe so… But it’s not just that, though. I dunno what it is, but…something…more…”

~*~

All through his shift, Sasuke felt like he was in a dream where he was swimming through wet cement; his limbs seemed heavy and sluggish, yet moved just fine all the same, going through the motions of his day while his mind drifted aimlessly, never able to concentrate. Before he’d realized it, over half of his shift had passed, and the manager tapped him on the shoulder after he finished with a customer, telling him to take his break. So fuzzy was Sasuke’s head that he only realized belatedly that she’d actually had to touch him to get his attention—something that, by now, his manager knew to avoid when possible.

Sasuke shook his head slightly, again trying to regain his clear thinking, and clocked out of his register.

“Oh, by the way, Sasuke,” the manager said as he headed to the back, “Mr. Uzumaki is coming to pick up his book later. You remembered to bring it, didn’t you?”

The static fizzled in Sasuke’s head as he searched for a memory of what she was talking about. His eyes widened when the answer came to him, but before he could attempt to give an excuse as to why he’d forgotten the blond man’s book, another employee called out to him.

“Hey, Sasuke, you have a phone call.”

Sasuke blinked confusedly as he looked over his shoulder, wondering who would be calling him at work.

“Um…excuse me,” he said to his manager, still bewildered as he walked to the phone being held out to him.

Frowning contemplatively, Sasuke put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Sasuke,” he heard his Aunt Uruchi say, her voice fainter than he was used to, as if just talking took all the effort she had. “Teyaki says…he’s sorry..for scaring you...”

A cold sweat spread over Sasuke’s body so fast he shivered, goosebumps rising in response as he almost dropped the phone in shock. His grip tightened on the receiver and, knees feeling weak, he dropped to the stool kept next to the phone and hunched over, as if to put himself and the conversation in its own private world.

“W-what?!” he croaked.

His aunt took a slow, audible breath before replying, “It’s..not your fault…” She trailed off.

Then, in the background, Sasuke heard a repetitive beep that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Then there was a shuffling sound, and a voice from a distance said, “Mrs. Uchiha? You shouldn’t be making phone calls right now, ma’am! You need to rest…”

“—looks like she fell asleep with it…” another voice said, “How was she even able to..?” Then there was a clatter that Sasuke interpreted as someone taking the phone from his aunt. “Hello?” the voice said, but Sasuke was too dumbstruck by his aunt’s words to manage a reply, and the phone was hung up.

Sasuke sat there, gripping the phone tightly, clenching his other hand into a fist on his knee in an attempt to quell his trembling, until the rapid beep alerting that the phone was off the hook startled him and he finally hung it up. Still, he didn’t dare stand. His legs felt like jelly and his stomach felt queasy. He still wasn’t sure what was going on—what exactly his aunt’s last reply meant—but whatever it was, it was tremendous. His aunt had just delivered a message from his dead uncle, and a crack had been made in the wall that separated Sasuke from everyone else.

Desperate to find answers to the questions his aunt had left him with, Sasuke picked the phone up again, hesitating before punching the numbers as he wondered who he should call. According to what he’d overheard during his aunt’s call, trying to call her probably wouldn’t be productive. Calling his father was never an easy task under the best of circumstances, and if Sasuke called him now, while he was still shaken up, he might not even be able to get any words out, let alone the ones he wanted. His mother..?

Sasuke started dialing his mother’s cell phone number, but stopped midway through, hanging up instead. What had happened the last time he’d spoken to his mother had suddenly sprung to mind, and he didn’t think he was ready to talk to her again, yet. Not when he still had an early appointment with his therapist to go to tomorrow, thanks to his mother’s worries.

That left Itachi.

Sasuke closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and another… and another. When his trembling had subsided to a slight tremor, and his stomach wasn’t threatening to expel the muffin he’d eaten at the beginning of his shift, Sasuke picked up the phone and dialed.

“Yes, little brother?” Itachi’s voice answered before the first ring had even finished.

“Itachi,” Sasuke said, pleasantly surprised when his voice came out confidently, “what happened to Aunt Uruchi today?”

“I told you, Sasuke, she had an appointment she couldn’t avoid.”

Sasuke narrowed his eyes. It was small—nearly unnoticeable—but Itachi had hesitated slightly on his response. “Itachi,” Sasuke repeated, his tone becoming demanding in his irritation.

“Sasuke, now is not the time—”

Itachi continued, but Sasuke wasn’t listening. He’d finally realized what the other noise was that he’d heard during his aunt’s call, and his heart was pounding with dread.

Anger bubbling up with the fear, Sasuke interrupted his brother, “Why is she in the hospital, Itachi?”

“Sasuke,” Itachi replied in a stern tone, “what on Earth gave you the idea Aunt Uruchi is in the hospital?”

“She just called me. I heard the heart monitor, Itachi,” Sasuke seethed.

Itachi was silent for an excruciating span of heartbeats before he responded, “She…called you?”

Sasuke really hoped his livid glare would transmit through the phone. “Tell me the truth, Itachi,” he demanded.

Itachi sighed, and for a moment Sasuke thought he’d conceded, until Itachi said, “If Aunt Uruchi didn’t tell you when she called, I must respect her privacy, Sasuke.”

“Itachi!” Sasuke exclaimed in exasperation.

Ignoring his younger brother’s ire, Itachi asked nonchalantly, “What did she say when she called?”

“That’s my business,” Sasuke bit out resentfully before hanging up on his older sibling.

Sasuke tried to calm down, having gotten so worked up during the conversation that he was breathing harshly.

“Is everything okay, Sasuke?” he heard his manager ask from behind him.

Sasuke turned quickly to look at her, finding concern lining her features.

Sasuke shook his head, feeling anything but okay and doubtful that he could even attempt to hide it at this point. “I… my aunt’s in the hospital.”

“Oh, my, what happened?”

Sasuke’s head gave another shake as he looked at the ground, not really seeing what was before his eyes. “I don’t know,” he told her bitterly.

Sasuke could practically feel his manager’s curiosity and confusion, and refused to look up to see it.

“Are you able to finish your shift, or do you need to go?”

Sasuke did look up then, in surprise. He hadn’t actually thought about leaving work early, but now it sounded like a really good idea. If he left now, he might make it to the hospital before visiting hours were over.

“Yeah, I—I think I need to leave.”

His manager nodded in understanding. “You go ahead and do what you need to. You’ve already clocked out, so you’re free to go.”

Sasuke nodded and stood, legs still a little shaky but taking his weight without incident. Quickly he gathered his things, trading his apron for his jacket, and raised a hand when his coworker called out a goodbye to him as he left.

It wasn’t until the chill wind outside hit Sasuke’s face that he realized his major dilemma: he had no car and no ride.

~*~

Naruto hummed a song that was stuck in his head as he strode through the parking lot, smiling when he looked up at the colors painting the late-autumn sky. The parking lot wasn’t very busy, and soon he was stepping onto the curb that would lead him into Borders.

“Fuck. Shit, fuck. Fucking Itachi.”

Naruto glanced over to where he heard the mutterings ruining the pleasant atmosphere, squinting in concern when he found the subject of his curiosity pacing a tight circle in a corner outside the building. The dark haired man paused, gripping something tightly in his hand. Naruto realized it was a cell phone when the man pushed a couple numbers, making the screen light up before cursing again and promptly clearing the screen, shaking his head and hitting the phone against his forehead before glaring at it in irate indecision. When his glare moved to consider the wall, Naruto was suddenly overwhelmed with the image of the dark haired man bashing his head against it, and couldn’t stop himself from barging in.

“Hey-wait-stop! It can’t be that bad, right?!”

A dark glare was suddenly directed at him, and Naruto felt shocked at the sudden realization that he’d somehow taken his vision way too seriously. Shock was reflected in the other man’s widening eyes as he backed up into the corner, not even noticing when his phone dropped to the ground.

“It—” the black haired man croaked, “it’s you…”

Naruto frowned in confusion before it finally dawned on him, and he pointed an accusing finger as he exclaimed, “Hey! You’re that bastardly barista!”

It was only after his outburst that Naruto noticed the way the man was hunching into the corner like a small, trapped animal, his arms tight against his body as his fingers grasped at the wall behind him in almost claw-like fashion. Cautiously, Naruto stepped towards the man, noticing as he got closer the way the other man’s body trembled almost imperceptibly. Naruto wondered if he was just imagining it, the intense feeling of alarm that increased as he drew closer affecting his vision. In the end, though, it didn’t really matter whether the trembling was an illusion, because the panic was definitely real. Naruto stopped in his tracks.

“Hey, uh…” Naruto began, a hand moving to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I’m not that mad at you,” he decided to reassure the barista, bewildered as to why the guy would be acting this way—especially when he’d been such a bastard to him the last time. “I just… really want my book back,” Naruto finished with an uneasy grin.

The black haired man glared at him suspiciously for far longer than Naruto expected, and it was really starting to creep him out. He didn’t even take his eyes off Naruto when he bent down to pick up his phone and put it in his pocket! Naruto was quickly being overcome with the strangest sense of déjà vu the longer those dark—almost black—eyes bored into his. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it anymore, the desire to back away becoming overwhelming, the man finally looked away, staring off in the distance instead.

“He’s real?” the man said under his breath, the utterance making Naruto frown as he strained to hear him.

“Of course I’m real,” he answered, unable to stop his ‘what’re you, crazy?’ look before the barista noticed and scowled.

Naruto wasn’t sure what he expected to happen then, but it wasn’t this. The scowling barista started stalking towards him. Unwilling to be intimidated, Naruto held his ground, only to be left gawking when the black haired man, rather than stopping in front of him—or, hell, even hitting him—instead darted past him at arm’s length, running through the parking lot towards the street.

“Hey!” Naruto cried out indignantly, and immediately gave chase.

~*~

It’s true, Sasuke thought to himself as he stared at the blond man, he didn’t get any ghostly vibe from the guy. But there was… something. Something that tugged at the back of Sasuke’s mind as he scrutinized him, demanding that Sasuke look deeper; that he understand. But, no matter how long he looked, all that came to him was the memory of ethereal blue eyes glowing eerily at him out of a gruesomely bloody face, and the deathly cold that had seized his entire being when his hand had gone through an incorporeal shoulder.

Suppressing a shudder, he had to look away. In the distance, he could see the city bus stopped behind a long line of traffic at the intersection, and knew it was the one Shikamaru always caught at the bus stop just outside Borders’ parking lot. Before he realized the decision he’d made, Sasuke’s feet had already started moving, taking him ever closer to the bus stop. He heard the blond call out behind him, but Sasuke wouldn’t stop; couldn’t stop. He reached the end of the parking spaces as the light changed and urged his legs faster, over the curb, shoes crunching on the red rocks as he hurried between the decorative bushes and finally made it to the sidewalk a few feet away from the bus stop. Just as the bus motored through the intersection, Sasuke reached the bus stop, heart racing and legs trembling with the rush of adrenaline.

The bus’s brakes squealed loudly as it stopped, doors opening to admit him. Sasuke took a deep breath and stepped towards it, not allowing himself to think of all the reasons he normally avoided public transportation like the plague. Then it happened.

Sasuke realized belatedly how the hairs on the back of his neck and ears tingled in warning as they raised, and the small, wooden cross with a yellow ribbon on it that was pounded into the space between the curb and the sidewalk—which had been a blur in his peripheral vision—suddenly came into clear focus right as that horrible, freezing feeling passed through his body. His eyes widened as he gasped in pain, his breath visible as a puff of tiny ice crystals before the sight was immediately replaced with that of a young woman, her white shirt splattered with far too much blood, the legs revealed by her skirt so badly mangled he wasn’t sure how they were even attached anymore as she hobbled (impossibly) over to the bus and through the open door.

“Are ya gettin’ on or what?!” the bus driver asked crankily.

Sasuke shook his head vehemently in the negative, though the action was less an answer to the bus driver’s query than it was a manifestation of the terrified revulsion now wracking his otherwise-frozen body.

“Suit yourself,” the driver growled before closing the door and driving off.

As much as he wished he could look away, Sasuke’s gaze was caught in the haunting spell of the green eyes staring at him through the back window, visible despite the dark tint of the glass. No sooner had Sasuke lost sight of the bus in the busy traffic than he was sent jumping nearly out of his skin when a strong hand suddenly clamped onto his shoulder, a jolt almost like electricity striking through him from the point of contact.

An embarrassing yelp escaped Sasuke’s throat, made even more embarrassing when he whirled around and came face to face with the shocked blond, who was looking at his hand with wide eyes. His blue eyes turned to Sasuke, and there was some question in them that Sasuke couldn’t quite discern, as he was too busy startling over the fact that the blond had actually touched him…and he’d been solid.

As much as the evidence had already pointed to the blond man being alive, Sasuke was still having a hard time accepting it.

The blond apparently got over whatever his own confusion was concerning a lot faster than Sasuke, because a bright but angry blue glare was set on him as the blond demanded, “What the fuck was that about?! Look, asshole, I don’t know why you want to keep my manga so badly, especially after you talked shit about it, but you better believe I expect some compensation for it! Ten dollars, plus you admit that manga isn’t just for kids!”

The blond’s outburst was enough to bring Sasuke back to his senses and he sneered, “Not only are you an idiot, but you’re conceited, as well. What makes you think I want to keep your stupid manga?”

“Duh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that you won’t give it back to me? I think you running from me when I brought it up is proof enough!”

“Tch, idiot,” Sasuke muttered to himself, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” the blond questioned as Sasuke started dialing. “Don’t ignore me—”

Disregarding the other man’s presumptuous questioning, Sasuke responded to the question asked over the phone, “Yes, I need a cab—”

That was all the farther he got, though, before his phone was ripped from his hand, the blond ending his call as his glare deepened. “I can’t believe this shit! You’re actually trying to run from me again?! What did I ever do to you?!”

Sasuke merely scowled in answer, reaching for his phone only for the blond to dodge his attempt. After his third try, which was accompanied by a rude tongue being stuck out at him, Sasuke stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was not getting caught up in a childish game of keep-away.

“Look, this has nothing to do with you, okay?” Sasuke finally answered. “I’m sorry I forgot about bringing your stupid comic book, but I’m not trying to do something as ridiculous as run from you.”

“What’re you doing, then?” the man asked distrustfully.

Sasuke sighed, wondering why in the world he was telling a stranger any part of his business even as he answered, “I’m trying to get to the hospital.”

The blond blinked, his arm that was still holding Sasuke’s phone out of reach dropping to his side. Even so, Sasuke was so struck by the genuine concern spreading across whiskered cheeks—darkening blue eyes—that he didn’t even think to grab for his phone again.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Again with the questions, and Sasuke found himself almost compelled to answer, idly wondering somewhere in the back of his mind why.

“I’m fine, but my aunt’s in the hospital.”

‘And no one will tell me why,’ Sasuke finished in his thoughts, frowning slightly when he remembered how even the hospital wouldn’t give him any information when he’d called right before the blond had shown up.

A blond eyebrow cocked skeptically at him, “Oh, really? What’s wrong with her?”

Sasuke huffed in irritation, sending his most lethal glare to the man demanding answers he had no right to. “None of your business. Now give me my phone so I can call a cab,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

As much as he hated resorting to that—dreading not only ghostly horrors on the road, but being trapped alone in a car with a stranger—Sasuke knew he didn’t really have any other choice at the moment, since calling his family was not an option, and his only close friend, Shikamaru, didn’t have a car.

The blond scratched his cheek, staring up at the sky contemplatively. Then, with a shrug, he simply said, “Okay,” and held the stolen phone out to Sasuke.

Sasuke reached for it with cautious fingers, so as to avoid coming into contact with the other man’s skin. Just before he grasped it, though, the blond pulled it back again.

“But,” the man said, gaze not wavering at all as it met Sasuke’s seething glare, “don’t worry about calling a cab. I’ll take you.”

“What,” Sasuke deadpanned in disbelief.

A bright grin was the blond’s first response, followed by his hand moving to rub the back of his neck again. “I said I’ll take you. You can pay me back by giving me my manga after,” he said with a wink.

Sasuke found himself blinking, inexplicably fighting a sudden blush. Grasping for a way to save face, Sasuke scoffed, “You don’t even know me, idiot. I don’t even know you. Why the fuck should I let you take me?”

The blond positively pouted at Sasuke’s words, though Sasuke was able to recognize that the look was meant to look more threatening than it actually did. Again, he found himself wanting to smile because of the blond’s expressions, but refrained, crossing his arms and cocking his hip; demanding an answer with body language.

“I said don’t call me ‘idiot’, asshole! And what’re you talkin’ about? It’s not like we’re strangers. We’ve exchanged witty banter like this twice already!”

Then he smirked, and Sasuke scowled before quickly turning away, realizing he was unable to fight away the blush this time. As he headed back to the parking lot, he called over his shoulder, “Fine, but you better not be a terrible driver.”

Sasuke heard jogging footsteps crunch over the stones behind him, and tried to suppress the shudder of unease as he unconsciously slowed and turned, allowing the blond to catch up and ease his discomfort. The blond moved easily past him, taking the lead as they weaved back through the parking lot.

“I’m just over here,” the blond called out, and Sasuke followed him to the middle of a nearby row, where he was met with the sight of the blond standing next to a light-blue, older-model Toyota Camry.

Sasuke was a little surprised by the car, having expected something bright and loud—like its owner. Other than a couple small rust spots on the back of the trunk, it seemed to be in pretty good condition, too, which was also not what he expected.

Apparently, his thoughts were evident on his face, because the blond commented as he looked up from unlocking the door, “Yeah, I know he doesn’t look like a very cool bachelor ride, right? Haku’s a great car, though. Never let me down.” He gave the hood a tender pat before opening his door, gesturing for Sasuke to do the same.

Sasuke stepped over to the front passenger door, but didn’t move to open it. “He?” he echoed curiously. Not that Sasuke was an expert, but… “Aren’t most cars referred to as being female?”

The blond stood back up from his stoop to get in the car, and huffed in indignation, “Yeah, he. Haku’s a boy’s name.” With no further explanation beyond sending Sasuke a pointed glare, he got in the car and closed the door.

Sasuke stood blinking in confusion, overcome with the feeling of having inadvertently committed a heinous faux pas, an inexplicable wave of sadness accompanying the sensation. The car started and, as the window on his still-untouched door rolled down, Sasuke heard the blond call out, “You’re not thinkin’ of runnin’ on me again, are you? Get in already!”

Rolling his eyes discreetly, Sasuke leaned down to look at the man through the opened window. “Well, now I’ve been introduced to your car. Before I get inside it, though, I think it’d be a good idea to know your name, as well.” Sasuke quirked a sardonic brow at the end of his statement.

In the span of three blinks, the blond’s face changed from annoyed, to clueless, and finally a large grin revealed white teeth as he leaned over and held his hand out towards Sasuke’s open window. “Naruto Uzumaki, and you?”

~*~

TBC

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