2.

The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.

-Marcus Tullius Cicero

I feel a little bad about not drinking the tea Itachi went out of his way to prepare for me. Although it was nice of him, it wasn't necessary because it wouldn't have cooled off in time for me to drink. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him that since he had already started to boil the water at the time.

Pakkun groans as he turns to his side when I walk by.

"The heat bothering you too old mutt?" I ask crouching down beside his small body, observing the pink tongue hanging out of his mouth as he answers back with a groan. His drool reminds me of Itachi's sweat.

"Damn, should I have told Itachi that I didn't drink his tea because of this hot weather, Obito?"

I smile as I dismiss the thought, figuring that it would be more interesting for Itachi to think that there's some sort of mystery behind my dislike of warm tea. Having Itachi scratch his head over this "conspiracy" would probably do him some good by taking his mind off the whole situation with his parents. It's a surprise that he's even able to juggle an evening job and school at the same time while in such a state.

I nudge Pakkun's fat belly with my foot to tell him that I'm going out for a bit. He answers back with what I can make out as another groan. That lazy mutt.

"Look after Pakkun for me, alright Obito?" I call out to the empty living room. As always, there's no reply. Just the sound of the fan running and Pakun's constant panting.

I heard somewhere that pretending the person who has passed away is still around helps to get over their death easier (1). As crazy as it sounds, just talking to them like normal and acting like nothing has happened to affect their existence on earth is supposed to help. At least that's what Rin told me at Obito's funeral. But at that time I didn't care, I would have believed any bullshit to get rid of the pain that his death caused. Hell, if she told me to jump of a bridge to ease the pain I probably would have done it.

I bite my lip as I remember the moment Obito got his brains blown out by the thief he was chasing after. He would have caught that bastard if it wasn't for me. If I hadn't trip on that pothole, Obito wouldn't have had to jump in front to cover the gunshot that was directed at me. Everything happened so fast. Soon police cars came by and the thief was brought to the police station.

And so was Obito's body.

I stood there helpless as I watched the once top police officer of the city being hauled away in a stretcher with in a white sheet over his body. The bloody stain became bigger and bigger on the sheet as the paramedics moved his body to the ambulance. It was almost symbolic. The pure white sheet stained with blood was pretty much Obito's death in a nutshell. Pure innocence slowly drowning in a sea of crimson red.

Immediately after that, I resigned from the force not wanting to deal with the constant reminder of Obito's death on a count of my carelessness. Every time someone said "Oh, I'm sorry for your loss" or "He was a great guy" I came close to losing it. One time I even punched out Asuma just because he offered to take me out for a coffee when I came back from a double shift. So quitting was my only option. It was for the good of me and the force since I would've ended up behind bars if I continued working the way I was. Obito would have been ashamed if I had completely snapped and harmed everyone that I had sworn to protect. That, or he would have came back and haunted the shit out of me.

"Kakashi, you asshole. You shouldn't have killed that old lady that you're supposed to help cross the street." I chuckle at the thought. Even as a ghost he'd probably just end up making me laugh instead of scaring me.

"That Obito…" I chuckle once again. If only he knew what I would give even just to see him as a ghost. As long as I get to see him, I could care less if he came back just to haunt me. But the closest I can get to that is listening to Obito's favourite jazz station every morning. Having that familiar tune play through the kitchen brings back that nostalgic feeling of Obito living with me. The familiarity of his love for jazz and how he would always go on about Peter Brötzmann (2) and other jazz artists that he barely knows anything about almost makes me sad. Sad that I don't even like jazz in the first place. Too bad he died thinking that I was even remotely interested.

I wonder if he knows now.

I usually don't tell people much about my past because it's really none of their business. The most they could probably get out of me is my name and that I like a lot of things. But I did fill Sasuke in on this whole ordeal when Itachi asked me to look after him when he was only ten. At the time he said he had to go "deal with some issues" and not bothering to tell me or Sasuke what exactly those "issues" were. I didn't mind though, I figured I could just play with the kid a bit and put him to bed when he got tired. But he wasn't like any kid that I've seen. All he wanted to do was to talk to me and ask me questions about things he didn't know about. I don't know what came over me, but before I knew it, I ended up blabbing the whole story to those curious eyes that were eagerly looking up at me. Everything from A to Z came out of my mouth and into his little ears. At first I was a bit skeptical that he even had the patience to sit there and listen to everything I had to say, but as time passed my story came to an end and he was still listening.

What started out to be a discussion about each other's favourite kinds of cookies ended up being a revelation of a part of my life that I had locked up and tossed away the key. It was also then the pain from every memory of Obito started to ease up a bit. Especially when Sasuke told me that I looked like I was in the same pain as his brother. I guess we both are the same because of our losses. But Itachi's situation is completely different. Way different.

"See you later Obito."

Perhaps the day I hear a reply is the day I'll finally be happy again.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Oi, Kakashi!"

I turn around in this scorching hot heat to an all too familiar voice that nearly startled me.

"Oh? And what brings you here, Mini-Ita?"

Sasuke pouts as he walks towards me. "I told you not to call me that," he replies with irritation. "I don't look like him."

"Your genes prove otherwise." I reply back.

Sasuke grunts back in response unlike that brother of his. At least I can actually have a decent conversation without feeling like I'm taking to myself or to a wall with this one here. In other words, he makes me feel less crazy.

"You didn't answer my question." I remind him.

"Do I really owe you an answer?"

"Point proven."

"What?"

And he says he's nothing like Itachi. I wouldn't be surprised if he picked up that "annoying Kakashi by not properly answering his questions and making him repeat himself" attitude from his brother.

"You're really getting old. I don't even know what you're talking about anymore," he grumbles under his breath even though he knows full well that I can hear him perfectly. I hope he doesn't end up like Itachi in a few years. They're both already similar enough; having another Itachi is unnecessary in my opinion. The kid's still too young to be isolated by his own bitterness. Thank God for a certain blonde that entered his life.

"I'm heading to Naruto's house," he suddenly states cheerfully despite the grumpy look on his face. Ever since he met Naruto he's been quite different. Before, as I watched the boy grow up I began to worry that he might have been spiraling into the same direction as Itachi. Cold, and completely detached from the world around him; limiting himself to the ability to open up and let someone in.

I don't know why I cared so much then and even now for Sasuke. It's like some sort of natural instinct that I have for him. Though, Itachi made it pretty clear that I'm not their "parent" and that I shouldn't be sticking my nose in their business, but it comes so naturally that even I get a little worried sometimes. I guess his little mishap about two years ago really sparked the paternal instincts within me. Maybe I saw how much of a shitty life he was leading with Itachi watching his every move that I just had to step in despite the older man's protests. I just couldn't stand around watching as Sasuke became more like Itachi every day; slowly rotting away in his own loneliness and loath for the one who killed his parents. His attempted suicide was enough of a scare, I can't imagine what he would do if his state of mind had gotten any worse. Perhaps kill Itachi?

"Well, I gotta go."

"Oh really?" I look up at the blue sky and notice the small bits of clouds floating about. One of them resembles Pakkun. But the wind blows and it changes shape. Now it's a doughnut…a flower…a bird…a bear…Obito.

"Yeah, bye." He waves at me as he runs across the street to an orange house with its front bombarded with frog ornaments. As I raise my arm to give an absented minded wave to Sasuke's back I see an excited blonde practically burst out of the house and tackle Sasuke, like he was standing by the window waiting for him to show up.

"Hey, you idiot!" Sasuke yells at "the idiot" as they both fall on the concrete ground with a loud 'thud.'

Then he smiles. The smile that Sasuke never had before he met Naruto. I had gotten so accustomed with that sour frown of his that even now when he smiles it seems like something foreign and forbidden; something only reserved for Naruto.

"Get a room lovebirds!" With that, Sasuke immediately turns around with a nasty glare while his little idiot hides in his neck with a slight blush asking him who I was. All I can do is walk off with the sense of a job well done.

But what I said to them is true. I know that what Sasuke has with Naruto is beyond "friendship." Despite his constantly nagging that they're no more than just buddies, I can see right through him. Their relationship is exactly like mine and Obito's. They way they try to hide their relationship from Itachi and I and their public display of affection with one another practically screams more than just friends. Except with Obito and I, an innocent little tackle often led to more than just cuddling. But I could be wrong on that, who knows what goes on behind those orange doors.

Frankly, I don't want to know.

I give the Obito cloud another look. "Tell me, are you really here, Obito?" I ask it. The cloud continues to move along the direction of the wind and stretches as the gust picks up, making him seem as though he's widening his smile like in the good old days whenever he saw me. But as the cloud stenches and breaks apart I realize that I'm alone once again. Alone and in the middle on the sidewalk talking to a cloud.

"You were supposed to be watching Pakkun, you idiot." I say watching what's left of Obito float away.

xXxXxXxXxXxXx

The bandages itch. I should have thought twice about it before sitting on a floor covered in glass. Sasuke's going to be asking a lot of questions when he gets home; one including where his favourite cup went.

I look through the documents that I dug up not too long ago from father's old desk. Everything from his business associates to his bank history are stored in these files. He even kept the letters that were exchanged between him and his colleagues during their business transactions. There are so many papers that it's impossible to looked through all of them and I'm afraid that eventually I'll give up when I'm just one step away from resolving all of this.

Day in and day out, I look through the same files over and over again and find nothing. Everything is in pieces; much like that cup I had just broken.

I skim the names in the files again. I think I've practically memorized every name on here since I look at them about a hundred times a day. There are so many possibilities that's it's hard to pin down who was likely to have hated father and yet was close enough to kill him.

"Just give it up."

It's ironic isn't it? Getting close to someone for the sole purpose of ending their life. Especially when you're the one they least expect to do such a thing. It must hurt. Not just from physical agony, but the agony of knowing that the one you trusted had betrayed you. And for what? Money? Power? Lust?

This world is disgusting.

As I leaf through the dusty files that are brown from age, one name catches my attention.

Hoshigaki Kisame?

Various notes are jotted below that name but are irrelevant to the information that I'm seeking. But there is a number next to the name in brackets. Both the name and number isn't father's handwriting. It's more messy, but nonetheless still legible.

"Hoshigaki Kisame…" I repeat it like it's a foreign language. "If you're even partly responsible for all of this, I wouldn't hesitate to kill you in a second."

I hear the phone ring in the distant. Its faint sound echoing through the room never fails to annoy me; especially when I find myself in my own world trying to forget that I still exist and that the crap Sasuke and I are going through is just a nasty joke from God. Maybe it's actually an amusing joke and I'm just not getting the punch line because of my lack of sense of humour.

Either way, I'm still pissed.

I silence its wailing as I pick up the receiver without hesitation. Maybe I should tell Sasuke to get a less annoying phone while he's out shopping for a new cup.

I sigh with obvious annoyance and decide to end this conversation as quick as I can to avoid any unnecessary disputes that might arise from my lack of interest. Either that or I just hang up on them like Mr. Hatake does with telemarketers.

"Oi, Itachi?"

Speak of the devil.

"What is it, Mr. Hatake?"

He sighs like he always does when I use such a tone with him. Clearly he knows that I would be annoyed if interrupted me at this time, and yet he still calls.

"Look, I know you're doing your 'daily research' right now, but you need to do me a favour."

Typical. He never asks weather I could do something for him, he always assumes that I will do it no matter what.

"I need you to show a new tenant around the apartment. I'm busy right now."

Before I can even answer, he hangs up. I was about to decline, but now I don't think I have a choice but to comply with what he asked of me. Now that I think about it, how am I supposed to show this tenant around when I don't even know how he looks like? Sometimes I suspect that idiot of a landlord of mine lacks common sense. Or maybe he just likes screwing around with me. Each time we meet in person, he always tries to figure out my state of mind. The way he carefully follows my movements and speech gives off the vibe that he's trying to determine the meaning behind my actions. And each time I look at him he would always give me a little smile; like a form of mockery stating that he was successful at figuring out the motives behind my actions. But often times I feel that's not the case. Sometimes I think that smile is more than just a victory smirk; rather, a smile of understanding.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN, YOU CAN'T HELP ME? I ASKED NICELY DIDN'T I?"

I turn to the direction of the noise. We rarely get any disturbances around the neighbourhood, so this is a bit unusual. I remember there was a time when a couple of teenagers tried to pick a fight with Mr. Hatake outside the apartment a few years back. Since they were actually stupid enough to try and fight him while a police car was parked across the street, they got arrested in an instant. According to Sasuke one of them got pissed off because Mr. Hatake ignored him when he asked for change to use a pay phone. I wasn't surprised at Mr. Hatake's actions and neither was Sasuke. It was typical of him.

I glance down the balcony to find a tall man with a lot of blue on yelling at Mrs. Simmons from the ground floor. I can practically see the poor lady shaking in front of him.

"I…I'm sorry but I'll get someone stronger to help you, Sir." I hear her small voice tremble. Surely, he wasn't expecting her to help him carry all those boxes was he? That would be too much for a frail woman like herself.

"Are you the new guy?" I call from the balcony.

Both of them look up –the blue guy a bit irritated and Mrs. Simmons relieved. She takes advantage of my little diversion to run back inside to her apartment. I can't imagine how much this guy actually scared her. He doesn't look too bad from up here.

"It's not very nice to yell at old ladies, Sir." I tell him with a hint of the tone I often use with Mr. Hatake.

"Well, she was giving me attitude! " He kicks one of his boxes and immediately regrets it after hearing something that sounded like glass shatter. "Oh shit! My vases!"

For some reason, this guy seems pathetic beyond repair. So pathetic that I can't help feeling like I should at least help him with the boxes. Besides, I can't risk having him stir up the whole neighbourhood over his glass vases.

As he calms down a bit, he beckons for me to come down to help him. This doesn't take long, luckily for him. The second floor isn't far from the ground level.

"Are we calmer now?" I ask as I approach him. Now I can see why Mrs. Simmons was so terrified of him. He's a lot bigger in person than I thought. Not that it matters to me since he's probably just a big moron with temper issues.

He doesn't say anything. He simply picks up the box he had just kicked and throws it in the dumpster parked next to Mrs. Simmons' window. "No use keeping this junk. It's all broken now," he mutters to me.

"Then why did you kick it in the first place?"

"Why are you askin' such a stupid question?" He retorts in a huff. This is coming from the guy who kicked his box full of glassware out of anger. I highly doubt what I asked was more "stupid" than what he did to his vases earlier.

"Do I owe you an answer?" I reply back as I help him carry his other boxes.

I hear a forced snicker followed by what I can make out as the word "asshole" muttered under his breath. "Please, just help me already. I'm not exactly in a good mood." He reluctantly pick up his remaining boxes and heads on inside with his ugly blue flip-flops slapping against the newly polished floor that Mr. Hatake had had done a couple of days ago.

"You the landlord? You look a little too young." He grunts as he throws the boxes into his apartment. I'm guessing there's no more glass in the remaining boxes since he didn't freak out this time.

"I'm not." I reply while setting down the two boxes rather than throwing them. "My landlord told me to show you around but you seem to know your way around well enough."

"The hell? I made it clear that I was moving in this morning when I spoke with him. Did he forget or somethin'?"

"Forget? I highly doubt that."

He gives me an awkward look. Unlike the usual people I run into who give me intimidated looks when they approach me, this man looks at me like I'm the strangest person he has ever met. Rather than looking away and avoiding eye contact, he just stares. This is quite strange and new to me. I've been so used to others backing away with caution after meeting me that I've forgotten that sooner or later I was bound to run into someone who could care less about whether I liked them or not. Someone who doesn't care about anyone else but themselves and would leave me standing there staring back instead of glaring to keep them away.

Selfish bastard.

"Sounds like your landlord is a bit of a nutcase." He sits on one of his boxes and kicks off those ugly flip-flops of his. "I'm going to be in and out for a while. I still need to get more of my crap from back home."

Why is he telling me all this? I don't know. But I should just bare with him for a while longer until I can leave without seeming rude. I can't have Mr. Hatake bothering me about being rude to a new tenant when he gets home. Besides, more tenants mean more money for him.

"Right. If you need more help just let me know." Again I say this just out of common courtesy like I did with Mr. Hatake earlier today. I have no interest in helping someone as pathetic as this man.

"Great! Come by tomorrow morning when I get back with my other stuff!" He cheers enthusiastically. "I can take you out for coffee afterwards as payback."

I hold back a chuckle. Payback? I was so used to hearing that word when I was younger. Except when father used it, he often meant something else. I've lost tracked of how many people father had "paid back" during those years that it was funny. All the times when the family of those who he dealt with came to the front of our house screaming and cursing the man with all that was holy doesn't seem too long ago. At first I felt a little sympathy towards them whenever I saw them crying desperately at our front door asking "Why did you kill him?" or "Why did you get him fired? He needs the money to support the family!" But then it happened so often that I just accepted that that was just part of our world rotting from the inside. That, or perhaps I just thought they got what they deserved for whatever they did to father.

An eye for an eye.

"Very well," I tell him. But I don't intend on going out for coffee with him.

I turn around to leave but he stops me by clearing his throat. "Your name?" He asks like I was supposed to have told him earlier.

"Uchiha Itachi." I reply back as I started to walk again without any interest in asking him back.

"Nice to meet you, "Itachi." Hoshigaki Kisame's the name."

I think I'll have that coffee tomorrow after all.

(1) My friend told me that this is how some people cope with losing someone close. It helps ease the pain to just pretend they're still there when they're really not.

(2) Peter Brötzmann- is among the most important European Jazz musicians musicians (Wikipeidia).

Thanks for reading! Please Review!

Chapter 3 soon!