[A/N]: I have a valuable note to make about OC's - if you don't like OC's - read the next bolded paragraph. If you don't mind them, skip the next paragraph and enjoy the mystery!
If you don't like OC's let me say that the child in this story is not an OC; just a younger version of a canon character. I implore you to read on and see if you can figure out the mystery of this Modern AU.
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or its characters - that would be Masashi Kishimoto.
"You wouldn't understand. When I'm high, I can laugh again. Like, actually laugh! I don't remember the last time I laughed when I wasn't high! When I'm high the world looks like a story book! The clouds are fluffier, the sky is blue, and the grass is green and there isn't trash everywhere, or horns blaring or homeless people camping out on every corner! And best of all, I don't feel like a total and complete fuck up! But you'd never understand. And the worst part is, you don't even try to. You never have."
Itachi woke up sighing. Which was pretty pathetic if you thought about it. Imagine being trapped in a nightmare, opening your mouth to scream, and waking up with a start. You jolt upright and hyperventilate until you can safely confirm that you're out of harm's way. Except in this instance, Itachi didn't jolt upright and knew he wasn't in harm's way. In fact, he couldn't remember what he was even dreaming about. Instead, he felt more tired than one should upon waking up.
He pushed his upper body into a sitting position when a twinge of pain shot down the left side of his face, originating just above his eye. Perfect. He loved starting the day with a migraine. Though when he looked around the room was dark, illuminated by the glow of the city around him and the darkening twilight sky.
The day as he knew it was over before it had even begun.
He reached over to where his phone lie face down on the nightstand, not charging. At 6:52pm he had two missed calls, two voicemails, 8% battery life, a warning to charge his device, and a hangover. Fantastic.
He slid his legs out from beneath the covers and bent down to connect his phone to the charging cord which had fallen onto the floor at some point. What did one do with less than three hours left of the day? Drink to excess and hope for another hangover tomorrow? Perhaps. Visit a bar? Maybe he could count how many people were worse off than he was just by looking at them. That was an idea. But going to a bar meant looking presentable. He'd have to shower, put on a nice pair of jeans, pay an uber or drive himself. And then there was the music playing so loudly you could barely hear yourself think much less converse with the bartender and the people around you. He hadn't even taken medicine for his migraine and here he was considering a night out at the bar?
He sighed again and leaned forward to let his face rest in his palms. When did he grow so old? When did his youth come to an end?
That, in and of itself opened another series of questions such as "Did his upbringing remotely resemble what most people would call a childhood?" Probably not.
He reached over for his phone to see who called him. If he was going to get drunk tonight he might as well tend to this small matter first and then forget about it later.
Who could it be? He wondered. It was an unknown number so it couldn't have been one of his associates. Whoever it was had called at 1:12pm and again at 5:01pm.
Spam? No, a spam call wouldn't have resulted in a voicemail.
"Good afternoon, this is Nono Yakushi calling from Konoha's Social Services. This message is for Itachi Uchiha. Please return my call as soon as you receive this message. Thank you."
Konoha's Social Services…
It probably had something to do with a case Itachi was working on recently though it didn't immediately ring any bells in his mind. He'd give them a call in the morning if they didn't call him back first.
The next morning there was yet another voice message from Konoha's Social Services waiting for him along with another hangover waiting for him. "Good morning, this is Nono Yakushi calling from Konoha's Social Services. I am calling in an attempt to reach Itachi Uchiha. When you receive this message please call back as soon as possible."
It was 11:09. The voicemail was timestamped at 9:17.
He heaved a sigh, ran his hand through his bangs and dialed the number. Despite the fact that his head was pounding and he couldn't remember the last time he showered, he could still come off as charming, informed, well-intentioned, and professional as always over the phone. He'd done it in the past and he'd do it again.
"Konoha's Social Services, this is Nono Yakushi." A woman answered, typing rapidly in the background.
"Good morning, this is Itachi Uchiha," Itachi smiled into the phone whilst pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm was just returning your phone calls. Before we begin can you state the nature of the case this pertains to so I can pull up my file?"
He had no intention of pulling up any file. His memory was sufficient enough.
"Pardon?" The woman on the other end of the line asked.
Nono Yakushi…the name didn't sound familiar to him. "I presume this call has some relevance to a case my firm is currently working on. I'm the founder of Uchiha Law & Associates on Stellrecht Avenue?"
There was a slight pause. "Oh! I see! I apologize for the confusion Mr. Uchiha. Actually, I'm calling to inform you that we have a child in our care and have identified you as being the next of kin. Would you be willing to come down to our office to discuss some of the details?"
He blinked once. And then again. And then a few more times before rising to his feet to fetch a glass of water and a piece of paper and a pen. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that please?"
"We have a child in our care and have identified you as being the next of kin. Usually we would have you come down to the office, talk about the surrounding circumstances of the case and if you agree to assume legal guardianship of the child we can get started on processing the paperwork. Would that be okay?"
To someone like Itachi, the language should have been simple: this child is related to you. Can you take care of him or her? But to his hazy mind all he could process was child, you, forever. Did his parents have another child they were unable to care for? Would they have told him? Did one of them have an affair? Or maybe that was closer to the plot line of the drama he'd found on TV last night when drinking wine straight from the bottle.
"I know this is a lot to process Mr. Uchiha, but if you have some availability today would you be willing to meet with one of our staff to discuss this at our location today or tomorrow? Today would be preferable but it depends on your availability. Please understand how importance this is."
It was a moment until he realized he was nodding into the phone and that words were not materializing automatically. He needed to give them an answer despite not knowing what to say himself. "Yes, of course. I'll be there in one hour, is that alright?"
"That's fine. Do you know how to find our office?"
He mumbled an audible "yeah" and an occasional "yes, of course" to each of the questions without really hearing or understanding what was being asked of him until the call ended.
When it did, all of the tension in his muscles released. He let himself melt onto the island countertop in the kitchen, the phone sliding out of his limp hand. His mind was reeling as if he'd just spun around in circles for the past ten minutes. His insides were coiling. Last night he was eating pizza out of a box and this morning he was to assume guardianship of a child he didn't know existed?
His throat constricted, and his abdomen tensed. He inhaled and exhaled in short breaths, forcing his arms to push his weight up and away from the countertop, and spun around on his heel to face the sink.
He wasn't twenty-one anymore. Was it really that hard for him to comprehend?
Growing up Itachi was never proud of his father's alcoholism. He didn't appreciate the way their mother tended to the house, cooked for the family, and cared for him and Sasuke while their father went out drinking with his co-workers at a bar until all hours of the night. He'd come stumbling back in, trip over the runner in the hallway, knock over a few picture frames in an attempt to break his fall, and carry on until he made it to the couch. The next morning their mother would clean up the mess and tell them their father couldn't see very well in the dark when he came home from work.
Itachi knew better than that but played along for Sasuke's sake.
But Fugaku Uchiha took pride in his work and his title of Lieutenant so he always cleaned up nicely. Well, their mother cleaned him up nicely. She'd blend a post-hangover concoction her mother used to make her drink when she was younger after a wild night of partying with her friends. She'd brush stray stands of hair out of his face. She'd button his uniform for him. She'd spritz him with cologne and tuck a case of breath mints into his pockets before seeing him off. And despite batting her away and declaring he could do everything himself, he left the house a caring husband, loving parent, and upstanding member of the Konoha Police Force.
Itachi wasn't proud to admit that he learned a few tricks from this routine their parents created. In fact, he'd go so far as to say he perfected it because he was capable of executing it by himself. He didn't have time to recreate his grandmother's special hangover cure, but a cup of black coffee did the trick nicely. He took a shower, brushed his hair, applied a subtle cologne that masked the smell of alcoholism and existential dread and put on his best clothes. Sure, it wasn't an important hearing by any means but the newly dry-cleaned suit, dress shirt, dress shoes, argyle socks, tie and cufflink combination would put to rest any doubt that he was an alcoholic whose life was falling apart at the seams which he most certainly was not!
Social Services just managed to catch him on one of his off days…that was all.
Konoha Social Services was a newly remodeled building close to the city's center that was equipped with large blue tinted windows, a two story entryway, and pictures of generous benefactors lining the halls.
"Hi, how can we help you today?" A young woman at the receptionist's desk asked him.
He carefully removed his coat and scarf and draped it over his arm. "Hi, yes, my name is Itachi Uchiha; I have an appointment with Nono Yakushi at 1pm." He said, lightly tapping his watch.
The woman smiled pointed to the clipboard sitting in the middle of the raised countertop. "Wonderful; if you could just print your name here and the time and I'll let Ms. Yakushi know that you're here, okay?"
Itachi smiled and quickly wrote his name and the time while the receptionist called for Ms. Yakushi.
"She will be down in a moment." She assured him with a pleasant smile. Her countenance changed from a professional one to a familiar one as she squinted and began wagging her finger at him. "Have I seen you before?"
Itachi bowed his head slightly which was a mistake because he was still edging on nauseous from this morning. In fact, his stomach was bubbling with anticipation of what was to come of this meeting with Ms. Yakushi which wasn't making things much better. "More than likely. I'm a local defense attorney though many of my cases deal with inmates, not so much children."
"I thought so!" She smiled. "But I couldn't put my finger on it!"
Itachi glanced upwards. "Must be the glasses. I can't beat the aging process but I can try to cover it up."
The receptionist threw her head back in laughter and clapped her hands. "You're playin! You can't be older than thirty!"
Itachi shrugged. "It feels like it most days."
"Itachi Uchiha?" A soft voice echoed from his right.
Itachi turned to see a thin woman with blonde hair swept over one side of her shoulder. She wore large glasses that made her look much younger than any pair of glasses made him look, a black long sleeved shirt, a plaid gray skirt and slow heeled shoes. Very conservative. "Hi, I'm Nono Yakushi, thank you for coming to meet me on such short notice." She said, extending her hand.
Itachi lightly shook her hand. "Thank you for being so flexible; again, I'm sorry it took so long for me to respond."
Her eyebrows raised in sympathy like a see-saw does when a child vacates it. "I can imagine." She nodded. "Come with me, let's talk in my office."
"Sure," He said and gave a short wave to the receptionist whose name he couldn't remember.
"How have you been?" Nono asked, as they walked down the hallway. "I'm really sorry to hear about your brother's passing."
So she knew. In his haste to get ready Itachi hadn't read the local paper to see if the obituary had been published yet. He'd been checking for the past several days and came up with nothing. And this morning he was too busy trying to figure out which relative of his had any children. But the answer was staring him right in the face all along.
His brother's death. The call from social services.
It was Sasuke's.