al·ky [al-kee]
noun, plural -kies. Slang.
1. an alcoholic
2. alcohol

About eight or nine years ago, my best friend Saburo tried to kill me. I was fixing a painting. Then something pierced my back and I was gasping for air, coughing up blood. I turned and saw the face of my best friend, filled with nothing but hatred for me.

Die, Kuroda!

I was lucky my student Takashi was there…or I'd've ended up like Caesar.

Et tu, Saburo?

Because one of my lungs was pierced, I had to spend a week in the hospital. When I got out, Takashi told me that Saburo had painted his last painting, Symbol, then killed himself with the very knife he used on me. I guess it was then that I began drowning myself in hooch. Better that than tears.

In the years that followed, even after meeting Naruto helped me move on from Saburo's betrayal, alcohol (often followed by ramen) had become such a staple of my life that I could measure my life in hangovers.

But you must know: hungover is not the same as brain-dead. Why do I say this, you ask?

I can give you a recent example. It was the typical Poker Night at Tsunade's. The sake flowing, the Legendary Sucker feeling lucky, the usual suspects scoffing at the Godaime's overconfidence. Typical…except for one thing: Naruto's presence. Not only was the kid not a gambler; he just seemed…off. Like he'd been three years ago right after he got into a fight with that emo Uchiha that made my stabbing at Saburo's hands look like a paper cut.

I knew it had to be because of the mess going on in the kid's life; earlier that day, I saw him and that pink-haired virago running away from the Uchiha and that homo Sai (what straight guy wears shirts like that?), and this a month after the kid was fucking between said emo and homo.

But any concerns I had were pushed aside as Tsunade got strangely lucky that night, lucky enough to win 2 million yen. The others left, grumbling, leaving just me, Tsunade, the kid, and the battle-ax. The old blonde and I did what we drunks do best: a drinking contest.

And then…I blacked out.


Shuffling. The sound of a cup being rinsed. Then the dim light playing with Naruto and Sakura's shadows like a painting. Her shuffling a large wad of money into a bag. His face twisting in shock.

Sakura-chan, what're you doing?

What does it look like? We have enough here to start a new life and now's the best time to leave. The zipping of a full bag.

But, Sakura-chan…

A sigh. Eye-to-eye. Naruto, you know we fucked up. Royally. There's no way we can stay here with what we did hanging over our heads…especially you.

That bleakness in Naruto's eyes again. The bleakness of three years ago. Of eight years ago.

Resignation. Alright.

Sakura writing. Naruto fingering his necklace, the necklace that had never left his neck…until now.

Looking for witnesses. Looking at Tsunade's table bare except for a scrap of paper and the forsaken necklace.

Eye contact.

Looking from blonde to blondes. Realization. Pleading.

Two sad smiles. A nod. A wave. Two turned backs.


After witnessing what I did in Tsunade's office, I stumbled the hell out of there. If the rumors about Tsunade's legendary temper were true, she was gonna go apeshit when she woke up to find her money gone.

Then, I turned to my tried and true method to keep everything from sinking in.

Like I said. I may have been drunk.

But I wasn't brain-dead.


All characters © Masashi Kishimoto
This story, Wicked Game © me