A/N: This is my first fanfiction. I hope you like it; I'm not very good at this sort of thing.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, or any associated characters. They are the property of Masashi Kishimoto.
By Lady Ryden
… Chapter One …
The smoke of cheap cigarettes and a swathing too-musky perfume filled the air, creating a sleepy, hazy fog within the small tavern. The mixture of smells was nauseating to the average patron, but he was buried too deep in the bottle of bourbon sitting on the hard, polished mahogany of the bar top to really pay attention. It was the scent of the bitter alcohol that filled his nose, and not the aged French-whore fragrance that permeated everything else, that made it so he could sit for hours on end in the small corner on a broken, three-legged stool.
The off amber liquid swished about in the bottle as he held it by the neck and twirled it in an oblong oval shape, the usual circle stretched out by the influence and distortion that often accompanied his intoxication. It made an hollow splashing sound, and a light clink as he tapped the butt of his drink against the clear glass sitting in front of the empty stool next to him.
He wavered on his seat as he lifted the mouth to his lips, nursing away the last of his bourbon with a heavy swallow and a heavy heart. His one good, dark blue eye, the one not hidden away beneath the dark cloth of an eye patch, fell to the empty seat to his left.
"Where are you, Obito?" He called out with a pained, raspy cry. He reached out a hand and closed it tightly, grasping the filthy air that took the place of the friend who once sat there.
The hostelry regulars shrugged away the spine-chilling sobs, having grown accustomed to the drunken wails of the man searching for a friend who no longer lived. Customers new to the establishment however, would tense and slowly turn to see what was happening, confused and upset by the man occupying the broken stool. They would shudder as he muttered the same, repeated mantra with each sip he took – his heart and pain drowning away in the liquid he ingested from bronzy glass bottles.
The bartender, Ra, would frequently shake his head as he wiped down the bar watching as the heartfelt tears, from the man so broken and lost that he knew only of happy hour and sleep, fell. He would listen for hours on end to him call out a single name and it never failed that time and time again, his voice would eventually crack. He would continue on, rasping the syllables until he passed out, clutching tightly a bottle in one fist but emptiness in the other.
Sooner or later someone would be willing to drag an unconscious, broken man to the room he rented upstairs – in which he would hide away, attempting to sleep off a hangover, until evening rolled around once more after which the process would slowly start again.
He sat, hunched and slouching in the counter, pushing his finger through the ring of condensation that had gathered atop the bar counter from his chilled glass of whiskey. The man held said glass to his temple, his pounding headache not yet numbed by the bitter drink. Every beat of his heart could be felt, throbbing through his body from his weeks-long hangover.
The shrill ring of the phone underneath the counter pierced his ears and he visibly cringed away from it, retreating further into himself.
The bartender answered it with a grunt and listened to the other line for a short moment before holding it out towards the man and rumbling an easy: "It's for you, Hatake."
The lone blue eye lifted to the wireless in the man's hand, and he stretched out to reach it after a second's hesitation. As he pressed the speaker to his ear and a curious "Hello, Kakashi?" found him.
"Hn." Kakashi hummed, swirling his glass before draining the rest of it.
"How about 'hello, Genma'?" The other man queried.
The man frowned, his lips pulling into a flat line. "Hello, Genma." He finally murmured, though his voice was low and shallow. He sipped at his drink before speaking again. "How've you been?"
It'd been so long since he'd talked to anyone but himself or Ra. While he'd heard others in the bar speak, nothing had been directed towards him, and the feeling was unsettling, but hearing a friend's voice for the first time in what seemed like ages made him feel more grounded, even if only a little. Distancing himself from those he cared about was the reason for locking himself away. He would never be able to face the pain that accompanied losing another old companion.
On the other end, Kakashi could hear Genma sigh followed by a light, rustling crackle. "I'm doing pretty well. I hope you are, too."
"…" There was a long pause. The sound of ice clinking against the empty glass set on the bar.
"It's been five months, Kakashi." His friend finally began, "Nobody has heard from you, or even seen you, in so long. I know you miss him buddy, I do, but you have to move on." Genma said with a deep concern controlling his voice. "I'm worried about you."
He heaved a heavy, breathy sigh as his throat tightened. "I can't just…move on." He spoke the words as though they disgusted him. "I refuse to act as though he were never here. I'm the reason he's dead – I can't just get over it."
What had started as a simple recon mission five months prior, had turned into Kakashi, and ANBU's, worse nightmare. Not wanting to scout by himself that night, Kakashi had asked Obito, who was off duty, to come along for the ride. It was the worse mistake he'd ever made. They'd been lured into a trap by a young blue-haired woman and two men, a blonde teen and an older red-haired man. From there, shit had rolled down hill. The three had been prepared to attack with assault rifles. In comparison, it was though Kakashi and Obito had brought knives to the gunfight; their average issued nine mils had stood no chance.
"I'm not asking you to act as though he didn't exist, I'm asking you to please try and get your shit together. We need you here, you're the best grifter we have, man." Genma sighed, "Obito wouldn't want you to sit around and hide in that filthy hell hole of a bar, Kakashi. He wouldn't want you blaming yourself, either. It wasn't your fault. So get off your ass and get your life back, man."
He was unable to deal with the reality check Genma was trying to hand him; he was far too drunk and too numb. Kakashi's thumb found the end-call button and pressed it repeatedly before setting the phone next to his glass. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and forced his fingers through his hair as he held his head tightly, brain hammering against his skull with an unrelenting force.
He wanted to return to work, he really did, but wasn't sure if he could handle it. The stress and emotions it entailed.
Why didn't Genma understand? Without Obito at his side, Kakashi was a lost, broken man who had lost his only guiding hand. He was a man content to sit wallowing in sorrow, his life simmering away to nothing in booze and tears.
…
A steady misting rain fell over Konoha, dampening the city that could never be cleaned of the sins and filth that decorated every street, every corner and every alley. It was a city created from the loving hearts of kind men, but it was their evil and corrupt counterparts that had raised its buildings until it stood as a bustling metropolis.
In its infancy, Konoha had been beautiful, with litter free streets and cleaned gutters. The sun had shined everyday like a beacon of hope representing the luminescent greatness that such a village could achieve with the proper guidance. As it developed, its radiance faded. The city slowly gave itself to the corruption directing its growth and each day the sun seemed to dim until it was considered a rare light, seen only a few days a month – if one was lucky enough to find oneself on the outskirts of town where the smog wasn't blinding in its thickness.
The pale golden lights of the city bus came into view in the distance, flickering as raindrops danced in front of them. People paced past the bus stop, some shielding themselves with umbrellas, others with the newest copies of the Konoha Times held over their heads.
A young pink-haired doctor stood in the shelter of the small stand waiting for her bus to arrive. Other waiting passengers gave her odd looks because of the long, white lab coat she wore but she didn't let the stares bother her. Instead, she adjusted the black, faux-leather purse over her shoulder and smoothed both hands against the pale skirt she wore, ridding it of work-created wrinkles. She tried to blink away the exhaustion from her eyes; eyes which she could barely keep open. Taking three twelve-hours shifts with minimal naps in between was readily taking control of her. Her feet, hidden away in her favorite pair of boots, were aching dully.
The tiny phone tucked away in her bag sounded with a loud ping. She pulled it free from the front pocket as with slender fingers before opening the newly received message.
NarutoWhere r u, Sakura?
With a weak smile at her friend's concern, she quickly typed a reply with her thumbs.
- Leaving work. Hopefully be home soon.
The bus came to a slow halt in front of them splashing water onto the curb. In the rain, Sakura noted, the sidewalk shined like newly polished silver; as though the walkways were made of the stolen riches that funded many citywide events.
She climbed the steep steps and took the first open seat she could find, one in the far back on the driver's side. She held her handbag in her lap and scooted toward the window so she could watch the rain patter and slide against the glass.
The bus groaned as it was put in gear and wheezed as it slowly pulled away into the road. Sakura gently rested her temple against the cool pane, heavy eyes fluttering until they eventually closed.
Thirty-six hours had surely taken its toll on her. It wasn't often she burdened herself with such work, but the rent on the apartment she shared with her two closest friends had been raised substantially. Not only had rent been upped, they were paying off student loans in the process. Sasuke Uchiha was finding himself unemployed for the time being, his job having been terminated due to wage cuts, and had no source of income. Naruto Uzumaki on the other hand worked from four to ten on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday at minimum wage as a dishwasher in his favorite ramen shop. It was barely earning enough to pay for the electric bill, which came separate from the lease.
As the only one with a full-time job, she had agreed to pick up some overtime hours in order to keep up payments, at least until the boys were a little steadier on their feet.
When Sakura woke, she was one of only three people left on the bus and as she glanced down at her dying phone, with no new messages, she nearly jumped from her seat at the time. It was a little past midnight. She'd been sleeping for four and a half hours. She cursed herself as she made her way to the front, watching out the windshield as the driver turned down an unfamiliar street lined by unfamiliar buildings.
Neon signs flashed on every wall, reading an assortment of things: XXX, Jiraiya's Gentlemen's Joint, Adult Merchandise- Movies, Magazines, Toys … the list went on and on.
She cleared her throat, shocked more than horrified by the things she was seeing. "Excuse me, sir, but where are we?"
The older man glanced up at her, his eyes nearly hidden by the fluffy white eyebrows that hung over them, "Red-Light District, downtown Konoha."
Downtown? She'd never been downtown, despite having lived in Konoha her whole life. She'd always been an up-town girl. A feeling of panic spread across her chest as the bus pulled to a stop outside of a rundown, decrepit bar. In the window an old, green neon light blinked Shinobi of the Leaf. Throwing caution to the wind, because it was the only place that didn't offer Sexual Services for Cheap as the sign next door read, she exited the bus and stepped out into the rain, holding tightly to the strap of her purse as she made her way toward the small pub.
The navy blue paint on the outside of the building was peeling away, revealing age old bricks and the doorknob jiggled loosely as Sakura pulled against it to let herself in. Small bells tinkled lightly overhead as she pushed her way in, startling her slightly. The bitter scent of old perfume mingled with the pungent smell of cigarettes had her scrunching her nose awkwardly and while it wasn't the most pleasant of mixtures, it was bearable.
…
Kakashi sat hunched in his corner, sipping a coke and whiskey mix from a straw as he massaged his temples with his fingers. His eye was half-lidded and unfocused, but his ears perked at the sound of the front door bells. He didn't bother looking up at the sound, honestly because he could care less, and he figured it to be another of the late-night barflies.
That is until one of the other men nursing an off white drink gave a shrill, practiced wolf whistle.
He turned and lifted his head, eyebrows rising with mild surprise at the pretty pink-haired thing stepping inside from the cold rain. Her damp locks stuck to her forehead and cheeks, which were flushed a windburn pink. Big green doe eyes darted around the room, observing the bar cautiously. Nearly every other stool was taken by one of the Leaf's all-nighters. Trepidation crossed her gaze as she considered her seating options.
He watched as she tentatively walked towards him, step by wary step. Tiny hands held tightly to the strap on her bag as though someone where trying to steal it. Her knuckles were a pale white, nearly matching her jacket. When she was close enough to him that he could hear her without her needing to shout, but she was far enough away that should he so desire to he couldn't grab her, she cleared her throat.
"Excuse me?" She started nervously.
He simply gazed at her, waiting for her to continue. His eye focused on the pulsing point at the juncture of her neck as she lifted her chin. The man still alive inside of him made note that her ivory skin was practically flawless.
"May I sit here?" Delicate hands gestured to the empty stool on his left.
Obito's stool.
The eyes of those who knew seemed to slam toward them in anticipation of his answer. Not a soul had sat there since the Uchiha's passing, whether out of respect for the man or fear of Kakashi, no one was sure. Perhaps it was a bit of both.
Kakashi tensed, wanting to yell 'no', but eventually he nodded after a few moments' hesitation, his hand tightening on the glass as he scooted his stool closer to the wall. The young girl crawled up on it, her heels resting against the beaten rungs connected to the legs. She was obviously a woman of an aesthetic nature, from the way she dressed to the elegant sway of her walk. Even the way she so innocently clasped her hands in her lap was a beauty on it's own level after she settled her bag on the floor between them. Then she ordered a glass of sake from the bartender.
Kakashi gave her an odd sort of look to convey his confusion. The sake in the Leaf was fairly strong and extremely bitter; it was strong enough that he'd only made the mistake of ordering it once. He'd take his bourbon and whiskey over it any day. He was even more shocked by the small woman when she took a few swallows of it without so much as a twitch. She drank it like water – certainly a feat to admire.
She stared down at her glass for a few moments before beryl eyes lifted to meet his lone blue one. Her cheeks were still flushed with color, but Kakashi found himself unsure just why. Whatever the reason, it was moot; he was still fascinated by her ability to so easily ingest the rice wine.
Hesitantly, Kakashi quietly questioned: "How do you do that?"
"Do what?" She countered as she finished her first glass.
Kakashi watched as her tongue peeked out from behind her pale, pink lips to gather the few drops of sake that still remained on them. He seriously doubted she was trying to be sexy, especially in a place like this. And he'd always had a sort of oral fixation.
"Drink sake like it's water."
"Oh. Well, my college professor taught me. She has more alcohol in her system than anything else." She laughed timidly. "Not a fan of it?"
He made a sound of disgust deep in the back of his throat, "God, No." Inside he questioned his newfound desire to share more words than just 'the usual' with someone. Maybe he had missed having conversable company more than he'd thought.
"In a place with such a lackluster and coarse ambiance, soda seems a little tacky." She informed him with a slight smirk, lifting the new glass placed in front of her to her lips as she glanced at his.
The subtle drawl her words were composed of told him that she was a native to Konoha, though definitely the northern part - revealed by the sharp, dictated pronunciation on her soft consonants. An up-town tendency. So she was an up-town girl, he thought. Someone like her seemed out of place drinking in the Leaf.
…
Sakura was uncertain inside, struggling to keep at bay the torrent of anxious emotions filling her. She'd always been taught to pay attention to her surroundings and trust her gut. Most of the client's screamed 'sexual predator' or 'creeper' to her; even the bartender seemed to make her stomach churn and her skin crawl. Everyone but the silver-haired man sitting slouched in the corner.
So it was with an air of caution that she approached him with the intention of sitting and having a drink or two.
Not even ten minutes later, she had an almost meek smile tipping his lips upward. Not all of her feelings of apprehension had left, but she felt as though she could trust this particular man for now.
"I happen to like tacky soda." He stated. "Actually, it's got a bit of whiskey in it."
"Ah." She said as she acknowledged his words. "I'm Doctor Sakura Haruno." She said after a few moments; her hand held out to him.
He took it slowly before muttering, "I'm Kakashi Hatake." He sipped at his coke mix, "You're from up-town, aren't you?"
"Yes." She admitted. "You've heard of me?"
She didn't think she was that well known yet, after all she was still new to the Konoha diagnosticians' field, having graduated just months before.
"No," Kakashi told her, "It was the accent."
Of course, she thought almost disappointedly. "So… why coke and whiskey?"
He shifted his jaw from side to side before tilting his head with his answer, "Because there are jackhammers in my head. Drinking more straight booze didn't seem like the wisest of ways to get rid of the ache. So I put a little soda in with it."
He didn't seem like the boozer type – but then again, she mused, she didn't seem like the type of girl to drink in such a trashy place.
"I see. You know, they say time is the best way to cure a hangover. I'm assuming that's what your headache is from?" She told him as the bells by the door jingled lightly again. Neither looked to see whom it was; they were more interested in each other.
Kakashi chuckled, his eye crinkling shut. "So I've heard…and your assumption is right. Tell me, what if you've been hung over for months, sweetheart?"
Months? Inner Sakura screamed: Alcoholic.
"In that case, step one would be 'stop drinking'."
He grinned, finishing off his coke as he glanced across the bar to where the newest customers had taken root. Something in his expression changed, and while she couldn't place just what it was, she didn't like it. It had her eyes lifting to peer through the smoky air.
She wished she hadn't as her stomach flipped within her.
Itachi Uchiha and Kisame Hoshigaki.
Sasuke had warned her many, many times to steer clear of the mobster duo and the obscure trail of trouble that seemed to follow them where ever they, or any member of the organization, went. They were nothing but trouble. Her gaze fell to the red cloud insignia of the Akatsuki gang on their cloaks, and she swallowed hard trying her damnedest to avoid their gazes.
…
Akatsuki? Kakashi thought to himself. He'd seen his fair share of gangsters pass through the area; most of them were rooted downtown, but never members of this particular gang.
The Akatsuki were a notoriously infamous, corrupt mob in Konoha – as they controlled many of its aspects, including overall finances. If the Hokage's wallet were running a little light, they would go out of their way to 'fund' what ever it was he/she needed but in consequence, the village's titled mayor would owe them a favor of sorts. And rarely did anyone who crossed them live.
At best, he mused, they were a shady crew.
He watched as the Uchiha and his friend ordered their drinks, and then shared a few words with the bartender. Sakura had suddenly become deathly silent and stiff, shaken by their presence. Definitely an up-town goody two shoes. Itachi's long-lashed stare met his from across the bar; his brown eyes so vivid in color they were nearly red. The other man gave a curt nod before his eyes flickered back to Sakura.
In her lap, she twiddled her thumbs before telling him softly that she hadn't meant to come to the Shinobi of the Leaf tonight, and that she had found her way in because she'd fallen asleep on the bus taking her home. Her voice trembled with fear, its soft soprano wavering with each syllable.
Sheepishly, he scratched at his neck. "I could take you home."
She shook her head, "You've been drinking. That'd be illegal."
He hummed in response, "You could sleep in my guest bedroom. I'm not offering it to be weird, or perverted, I just didn't think you'd like to spend the night down here." Kakashi waved his hand through the air, making reference to the filth and the customers. He could feel her unease; see it in the way she now sat. Seeing her so nervous made him uncomfortable.
She bit her lip with deliberation, nervously twisting her hands against the pale khaki of her skirt as she considered her options, "I suppose that would…be all right."
Her green eyes lifted to the bartender as he placed a red drink in a martini glass in front of her. He grunted 'from the man with black hair' and returned to his cleaning. Her face colored red as she pushed the drink away from her. Her worried eyes lifted to his.
Sighing, Kakashi stood. "Put it on my tab, Ra. Hers too." He took her hand as she too came to her feet. She grabbed her purse, swinging it over her shoulder as he pulled her away from the bar and towards the stairs at the back.
He tugged her closer to him, felt her tense and he lowered his lips to her ear. Her soft hair tickled his cheek. "Just go with it until we're out of sight."
She watched him with understanding as she was led up the stairs to the second floor landing. As soon as they hit it, he distanced himself from her, for her comfort and to fish around in his pockets for a key. He produced it, slid it into the lock and opened his door. His hand found the little switch on the wall and flicked it.
A warm, yellow light filled the small den-kitchenette combo as the door closed behind them. He was apprehensive about allowing her in, but he didn't trust the Akatsuki enough to leave her downstairs unguarded. He considered her lucky that she hadn't caught him on one of his bad days, and that the thumping in his head had steered him away from heavy alcohol most of the night. Things might have ended much differently if he were anything more than buzzed.
Sakura shifted nervously at his side, "Do, ah, gangsters come here often?"
He smiled at her as he started for the hallway, feet padding lightly; he motioned for her to follow. "Occasionally. They're usually from smaller gangs though, like The Sound."
"Oh."
…
Sakura listened as Kakashi went on, explaining that there was nothing to worry about. Gangsters were people too he said and they'd probably just stopped in for a drink. If only that were the case, Sakura thought. People just 'stopping in for a drink' didn't by others' drinks too unless they wanted something in return.
They stopped at the end of the hall in front of a beaten cherry door. Kakashi fiddled with the gold-colored knob as Sakura looked over the various framed newspaper articles covering the walls. There was a picture of a young, high school aged Kakashi, followed by an excerpt explaining that he'd graduated top of his class at just fifteen. Above it in a silver frame was a picture of an older man in uniform titled "White Fang Dies".
"White Fang?" She asked, "Wasn't he that legendary police agent from like thirty years ago?"
Kakashi paused and glanced up at the picture. "He was my father."
His clipped tone told her that that's all she was going to learn about the subject.
The door opened with a creak. "There are extra sheets in the closet if you need them, bathroom is down the hall by the den on the left. If you need me, my room is right across the hall." He bowed his head goodnight and closed the door behind him as he left.
She could hear the light squeak of his door across the hall and the blunt clack of it closing. Sakura was left to herself as he went to bed. She glanced about the poorly lit room. His apartment, unlike the tavern downstairs, was clean and tidy; pristine, really – almost obsessively so. The bed in the middle of the room was pre-made without a wrinkle to be found among the blankets. There was no dust on the shelves or nightstands, and the hardwood beneath her feet was spotless.
Kudos to him, she thought with an amused grin, for not letting his home fall victim to the gritty influence of the downstairs.
Not wanting to scuff his floor, she slowly stepped out of her boots and placed them by the door. Next to come off was her lab jacket, which she hung from the doorknob before ambling to the bed. She pulled the soft powder blue duvet back, along with the eggshell top sheet and climbed onto the mattress.
It was soft and plush, and smelled of fresh linen- a homey combination. She tugged the blankets up to her shoulders and rolled onto her side as she closed her eyes, the warm alcohol in her belly minutely helping to put her to sleep.
…
After taking a few aspirin, Kakashi stripped out of his musty smelling clothes and into a fresh pair of flannel pants and a back wife beater. He flicked the light on by his bed before crawling into the warmth and comfort it offered. He looked to the worn out Shakespearean classic Titus Andronicus on his nightstand, but decided to forgo finishing it tonight.
Instead he bunkered down beneath the heavy blankets atop him and shut his light off. When he was nearly asleep, the phone began to ring. Groaning with frustration he forced himself to pick it up and answer.
"Hullo?"
A few heavy breathes. "Captain?" Someone whispered heavily.
Kakashi tensed as he sat up in his bed, his soft covers bunching around his waist. "Who is this?" he pulled the phone away for a brief second to check the caller ID.
Unknown.
"Target Acquired." The other end of the call went dead with a click.
He roused himself from his bed, his fingers quickly dialing Genma's number.
"Ohayo, man. Still angry with me?" Greeted the man, though groggily.
Kakashi let out a heavy exhale, his long fingers pushing through his messy forelocks. "I just got a phone call."
Genma grunted in the background, "That tends to happen when you have a phone."
"No. I mean a phone call."
The other end became quiet for a moment, and then livened again. "What'd he say?"
"Target Acquired."
"That's… that's awfully vague. Why'd he call you? You're still offline." Confusion could be heard in the man's voice.
"I don't know." He groaned, "I'm drunk and I'm going to bed."
"Goodnight, Kakashi. Stop by sometime. Please." Genma said before hanging up.
Kakashi frowned as he returned his phone to its cradle. He ran his hands down his face with an aggravated sigh as he sat on the edge of his bed. He was in no hurry to leave the comfort of his bed or barstool but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach told him that he would be doing just that soon. He knew Genma hadn't been blowing smoke up his ass earlier in his 'best grifter we have' exclamation – Kakashi knew other people better than he knew himself.
Flopping backwards, arms splayed above his head as he stared at the ceiling. He slowly drifted to a dreamless sleep.
… …