#11 – Rivals

They were having dinner at Itachi (and Kisame's) place, celebrating the deal Sasuke had just clinched the night before at the club. Kisame was nowhere to be seen.

"To be honest I wasn't confident I could persuade that geezer seeing he wasn't pleased with me from the start," Sasuke confessed while chomping down the tenderloin. "If it wasn't for your friend and the 'good show' he has put up, I was prepared to walk off empty-handed." Sasuke noticed a minute pause in Itachi's knife at the mention of "friend."

"Deidara and I used to hang out in high school," Itachi began with an impassive face, but Sasuke could detect a forced casualness in his tone. That was the biggest difference between them: when Sasuke was upset, he made sure the entire universe was aware (and held accountable), while his brother would cast an eternal spell that fooled everyone (except him) that he was indifferent. "His voice broke really late, coupled with the ridiculous way he wore his hair it was easy for him to pass off as a girl-"

"OH so the rumoured girlfriend you had back then was actually…" Sasuke's mouth clamped shut at his brother's puzzled brows and quickly waved him on.

"Despite the defiant look he seems so fond of wearing, he was a rather reserved guy…"

"Pff, I wonder what happened."

"…And he didn't find me disagreeable so we became friends." Sasuke waited for him to finish chewing his chicken cutlet, but instead he proceeded to refill his lemon tea.

"That's it?"

"That's it. I do believe we got on rather well for a while but towards the end of high school… Let's just say school's not the only thing he graduated from."

"So he basically just stopped talking to you?"

"I guess."

"Was it because of a girl?"

"None that I can remember." Sasuke wondered if there was any girl he would ever be remotely interested in. He felt bad for those try-hards while his brother was just sitting on his born prospects and letting them rot. Just then, Itachi's phone beeped. He took a sideward peek and quickly texted back.

"You're on your phone a lot lately."

"Am I?" He wiped his mouth and cleared both their plates. That was something of a custom since young, such mindless thoughtfulness was what Sasuke would use to describe his brother when prompted. "I'm heading out, are you heading elsewhere?" Their eyes darted in unison to the latest beep coming from Itachi's phone.

"Not tonight, though I was hoping we could go drinking…" Itachi sighed at his hopeful tone.

"Why you never stop trying remains a mystery." They walked along the mostly deserted night street and waved goodbye at the supermarket intersection, where Sasuke lingered just long enough to not be detected by his brother.

Years of battling in the harsh society has invariably involved occasionally tailing clients and rivals to sniff out their weaknesses, for the sake of a 'smoother transaction.' With his back plastered against the concrete wall, he twisted his head to catch the familiar entrance of the club he frequented, where his brother was talking to the manager. He swore that was the cheque Itachi had loaned from him a few days ago, now sitting in the back pocket of the manager's knockoff Armani.

Whipping out a compact mirror, he angled it to catch the reflection of a streetlight mirror that faced the club, capturing the curious scene in close-up. The lip-sync lessons his Father had insisted he took was finally realising its value.

"Here's...the…promised…amount…can...she…go…now? Must…be…nice…dating…rich…Uchiha…Haruno… Haruno?" Itachi spared the manager no further courtesy, took "Haruno" by her wrist and brisk down the street. He could not believe what he just witnessed – his frugal, finance-wise brother, owing his younger brother just to pay off a hostess's contract? And not just any hostess…

He needed more information. Sasuke swallowed the rising guilt and carried on tailing his brother and his new companion. Haruno made a sudden veer to the side and spilled her guts into the roadside drain. He was not sure how to feel as he watched his brother skilfully pulled back her long blond tresses, with hands accustomed to attending to such situations. Likewise, he found himself holding back his nod of approval as Itachi shrugged off his favourite black coach jacket and swung it over her bare shoulders, though deep down thankful to block the view from lecherous eyes.

Itachi used the back of his hand to wipe off the remnants of her puke and his hand seemed to linger a second too long. Sasuke convinced himself it was his imagination.

Years of commercial espionage have taught him things were not always what it seemed. He was not going to jump to conclusion; this was his celibate brother he was talking about. He tried to level his breathing. He needed more information.

And I need more inspiration...