Iruka stepped into an old, run down pub and glanced around. Finally, he thought with a sigh, there was life here. Other humans that he could associate with. Maybe they could tell him how he could get home, or tell him where he was at the very least.
The smell of the rank stale alcohol, blood, and sweat crammed itself up his nostrils and he seemed as though he couldn't breathe. His head became dizzy and his vision was spotted by black. Swaying on his feet, he forced his head to clear and moved his legs in the direction of the bar tender.
"Och, good mornin' to ye laddie. What can I get for ye today?" She asked in a husky voice from all her years of smoking.
Iruka shook his head and sat down on the bar stool across from the hefty lady, "I was wondering if you knew a man named Kakashi?"
"Kakashi, Kakashi," she mumbled the name around in her mouth, almost as though she were chewing on it. "Nope, no man of that name comes to me mind, lad. Sorry."
"Do you know where I am, then?" Iruka tried again.
"Well… you're here," she said simply with a smile that revealed rotten and broken teeth that hinted she was someone not to mind when drinking.
Iruka cringed inwardly. Why was nothing going his way? Suddenly, an old man that was dressed in rags with a white beard interrupted him and Iruka was crestfallen. He eyed the man's shaky hands and the long boney fingers that twitched and seemed almost magnetically attracted to his beard, always preening and twining the thick white hair.
"Miss," the old man said to the bar tender, "Ye got a poor feller that killed 'imself in the back corner o'er there," he pointed in the direction.
The lady sighed and rolled her eyes and turned to Iruka, "Och, lad, go to the Painter and tell him to fix me a sign with – 'no suicides permitted here, and no smoking the restaurant' – might as well kill both birds at once." She waddled over to a small room at the right and grabbed a dingy aged mop and shuffled herself over to the man to clean up the unfortunate heart.
Iruka shuddered a little but turned his focus on the old man that was babbling about something, "Pardon?"
"I said anything down there about your soul?"
"About what?" Iruka met the old man's eyes and noticed for the first time his pale, ice blue eyes; eyes like Kakashi had.
"Oh, perhaps you hav'n't got any," he said quickly. "No matter though, I know many lads that hav'n't got any. – good luck to 'em; and they are all the better off for it. A soul's sort of a fifth wheel to a wagon. The poor feller didn't have a soul." The old man shook his head sorrowfully and groaned a little as his aching body tried to stand from the stool.
Iruka felt himself paling and thought maybe he should turn to the gallows instead of wasting any more time in finding Kakashi in this horrible place. So, this is what it's like to be alone. Why couldn't he find the exit? So many questions left unanswered. Tears swelled to his eyes as the thought of his angel being taken by suicide bubbled to the surface.
What if his angel was really dead?