The bridge I crossed
The Eighth
When I woke up the next morning, the first noise that met my ears was the sound of the phone ringing. I forced a small, dry smile onto my face--just to see if I still could--and, of all the great ironies, felt my bottom lip crack. Hesitantly, I let my tongue run over my lip and tasted metal.
I rolled over in bed, pulling the covers over my head. And still, the phone rang. It kept ringing, until I heard my voice travel through the empty apartment: "Hey, this is Naruto. Can't get to your call right now, soo just leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible..." There was a pause, and then a mechanized voice supplemented, "Please leave your message after the prompt. If you wish to leave a call-back number, press 5." A second's pause, and then, finally, the beep.
I strained my ear, hoping to catch the message. "Naruto, I heard what happened." Orochimaru. I pulled the covers around myself even tighter, unwilling, for some reason, to hear Orochimaru's voice. The message continued for another minute or so, often filled with long, contemplative pauses as if he was thinking about what to say.
The message ended after a while, and I felt the silence descending again. Life would move on, I knew. Financially, I was still in striking distance of a decent life. I had resigned from my job, so it was less of a blemish on my record when compared to getting fired. In all appearances, I had been hired for a week, and then resigned out of my own will. Any future employee of mine would consider it to be a mistake on the Uchiha Corps' part, not mine.
Here was a Kyoto University graduate, one of the best in the graduating class with a double degree in political sciences and journalism in three short college years, and who got fired within the week. Coupled with the Uchiha's history for bad temper, I came out looking like the victim.
But.
I did a complete turn in the bed, and realized that there was no point in trying to sleep for longer than my body needed. Slowly, I got up, and headed towards the bathroom. Without thinking, I brushed my teeth, and got into the shower. When the hot water hit my body, I winced, and then, settled. I let my eyes close, and then leaned against the glass door of the shower. My hand rested lightly on the tattoo on my body. "Bridge-burner," I said it out loud, experimentally, and winced when Haku's face--still a sixteen year old--floated into my mind.
Zabuza, in all his simplicity, had been right. A bridge-burner, that's what I was. My eyes pricked with water not from the shower head. I lowered my head, and let the water plaster my hair against my scalp. Was Zabuza even alive? There was a time, I remembered, when I was fond of Zabuza--his rough affection. "I won't let you die, boy, if that's what you're worried about." I smiled dryly when I realized that he kept his promise. I was the one who broke our unsaid contract. I was the one who became the bridge-burner. There was also a time in my life, and I could recall it clearly, when all I knew was Haku's purity and the stark ugliness of Nagoya's red light district. That, and my own stupidity.
I shut off the water with a flick of my wrist, and quickly stepped out of the shower, scared by my own thoughts. A fleeting encounter with someone shouldn't matter so much, I knew. I collected my breath, and against the steam in the bathroom forced my brain to thought, the UB was the last person on Earth that I cared for. But then, I saw my reflection in the mirror--blue eyes drawn into small circles against an abnormally large area of white, tight lips, and skin taut against bones that seemed too angular all of a sudden. And I couldn't help but wonder.
If I hadn't applied for the job in the first place, would I have been a happier person? Maybe, I would have settled down to a comfortable life. A life that I chose to live, not one swayed by encounters with block-headed idiots that made me... I narrowed my eyes at my reflection, and wrenched the door to the bathroom open. I had no time to indulge in "if" clauses for the rest of my life, I told myself. Things just happened sometimes, and it was best to accept them, I knew.
I walked into the kitchen, with only a bathrobe on, and stared at the phone. Orochimaru had called. Kiba had called. Shikamaru had called. Kakashi had called. Heck, even Neji had called and left a polite message asking me if I was all right. I winced when I realized that Sasuke hadn't called. I was too tired to do much of anything, so settling on the couch for some TV seemed like the only natural course of action.
*
When I woke up again, I couldn't remember falling asleep. I glanced to my right, and saw Shikamaru, his head bent over, and his two fists supporting his forehead. "Shik--"
His head snapped up even before I could finish his name. "Not a word, Naruto." He narrowed his eyes at me, and reached over to feel my forehead. "You were passed out, burning up, and shivering when I came in. You-you-" He stopped, collected his breath, and stood up. "A day, Naruto. An entire day, you've been sleeping." I winced at his tone, and looked away. "What did I ever do to deserve such a selfish friend? You never even stopped to think about me and Kiba, did you?"
I shook my head, and then, I remembered what I'd been doing in the kitchen in the first place. "Shikamaru. Did anyone call?"
He grunted. "Yeah. Oroch--Your doctor buddy, and Kakashi. That's about it. Don't you dare change the to--"
"No one else?" I pushed myself up into a sitting position and met his open stare. "You didn't miss anything?"
Shikamaru shook his head and stared even more. "Naruto, what happened? Kiba calls and tells me not to worry, that you're not even in the country anymore, but I shouldn't worry. And then, I check up on the apartment just to make sure and I see you here..." He trailed off when I fell back onto the pillow and turned away from him. A moment passed, and then I heard him settle down into the chair by my bed again. I heard fabric rustling, a soft sigh, and then the click of metal. A second later, smoke filled the room.
I closed my eyes, and breathed the scent in. Against all that cigarette smoke, I could smell, somewhere, a forest in spring. I pulled the sheets around my body closer and my mind immediately formed a picture of the Uchiha's hand coming around my waist. I felt something wet on my cheeks, and when I reached up to my face, I realized a little stupidly that I was crying. For what? For him?
"Hey, Nara?"
"Yeah."
"I think I might be in--" I snapped my mouth shut. "I screwed up."
There was silence on the other end, and I heard him breath in deeply. Unheeded, a smile came to me and deepened the split on my bottom lip when I heard Shikamaru murmur, "So goddam troublesome."
*
"I am going to kill him." I heard Kiba's threat before the door to my room even opened. Shikamaru looked up nonchalantly, and tossed his cigarette pack towards Kiba. I heard Kiba catch it, and then Shikamaru said, "You'll be needing it."
I pulled the covers over my head again but before I could completely pull a shield around myself, Kiba wrenched the sheets away. I yelped in surprise when cold air hit my bare legs. "Damn it, Kiba, I'm not wearing much!"
"Yeah, I know. I can see that." He looked me up and down, and then, threw the sheets aside. I reached for the pillow and slowly, with as much dignity I could muster, covered myself. "Now he's being shy," Kiba barked, throwing up his hands into the air. "Shy!"
Shikamaru coughed quietly. "Kiba."
"You idiot, you tell me that you're fine, and then I get this call from Shikamar--"
"Kiba."
"--u saying, 'Naruto has a fever.' A fever? A FEVER? And you, Nara, say, 'I've got everything under control,' but what is this?" He pointed at me, seething.
"What is what?" I said, unable to reign in my confusion.
"You've been crying, Uzumaki, and don't you dare deny it."
A silence fell on the room, and Kiba scrutinized me until I let my gaze drop. I stared at my palms against the fabric of the pillow in my lap, guilty and suddenly no longer capable of mustering any more self-pity. "Kiba." Shikamaru's voice snapped Kiba's gaze away from me. "He's screwed up, man. Big time."
I snapped my head up, and stared at Shikamaru who looked back at me, his eyes half-lidded and his body lax with nicotine. Kiba stared for a moment before crumbling onto the edge of the bed. "Naruto, you. Just. I'm going to kill whoever made yo--"
"It was all my fault," I explained, slowly choosing my words. "All my fault. I got myself into this trouble."
Shikamaru stood up, snapping his wrist to shake off his cigarette ashes. "Who were you waiting for, Naruto?" I stared at his back as he considered my closet as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. "Who was supposed to call you? Practically everyone on the Northside of Tokyo called to make sure you were okay. Wasn't that enough?"
Kiba moved his eyes from my face to Shikamaru's back, confused. "Wha--?"
"Your boss is setting the official date for his marriage this week, isn't he, Naruto?"
I watched as Shikamaru lazily bought up the cigarette to his mouth. From the back, I saw a faint cloud float to the ceiling. How he managed to make the connections, I couldn't figure out, and I didn't dare to try. Maybe it was extremely obvious, or maybe Shikamaru really did know everything under the sun. He turned around, slowly, and his normally uninterested gaze was sharp--sharp, black eyes that reminded me of the Uchiha. I blinked once, and then twice to get rid of the image.
"I don't know anything about that," I said slowly, feeling guilt beating against me. I didn't want Shikamaru and Kiba involved in this. I had started on the wrong foot, and this--I knew with certainty--would not end well if I picked at the problem again. "I should congratulate him."
Shikamaru narrowed his eyes, a slight movement that would have escaped me if I hadn't been paying so much attention. There was a nother silence. "You should. Why don't you call him now?"
I felt my breath hitch. "I--He's probably very busy now, Shikamaru. He fired me a long time ago, remember? And besides, he has nothing to do with--with this."
Shikamaru was silent for another minute, and then, abruptly, he walked to the door of the room. "When you feel like trusting me again, Naruto," he didn't even bother to throw a glance over his shoulder when he said, "Call."
I felt a lump form in my throat and nodded. He left without another word, and after a minute or two, Kiba left as well. "If you're not going to say anything to him, I doubt that you'll say anything to me. I'll be home if you need anything. I bought some--" He faltered for a bit, and I saw his shoulders droop. "I bought some ramen for you. It's on the counter."
I lay back down, without a blanket, and only the pillow as a companion in my horribly lonely bed. By the time my eyes started to drift close again, my eyes were stinging with tears again. I wiped angrily at my face, wondering if in my stupidity, I'd ruined my friendship with Kiba and Shikamaru as well.
*
When I woke up again, I was covered with a sheet, and no longer naked. I felt a blush coloring my face when I imagined either Kiba or Shikamaru dressing me. I groaned and pulled the blanket over my head again and heard a spine-chillingly low chuckle. Not Kiba, and definitely not Shikamaru. I pushed away the covers and slowly sat up, blinking against the darkness in the room, and saw, with the help of the moonlight from outside, white hair. "Kakashi--you. How--Clothes--I. Oh, dear, God," I groaned, and then lamely added, "Hello."
There was another chuckle. "It was quite a tempting sight, Naruto, but you were shivering so I had no choice but to cover you up," he said, his voice comfortably low, almost intimate. He stretched, and I felt a shiver travel down my spine again. A small, annoying voice in my mind piped up again. Great, a horribly good-looking man catches you naked, just when you're dying to get laid. Perfect. I groaned again, and fell back against the pillow, still cold from the fever and still unable to keep my eyes off of Kakashi's well-honed body.
"A good place you have here," Kakashi said, walking over to the switch by the door and turning on the lights with a flick of his wrist. He turned around, and I felt my eyes traveling the breadth of his shoulders. I was feverish, and I was still tense with desire. Kakashi's presence was the last thing that I wanted.
He walked over again, his every step like a predator and sat down in the chair where Shikamaru had been that morning. "The door was open," he explained, returning my blank stare. "It wasn't hard to walk in, you know." I nodded dumbly, and felt my mouth dry. Slowly, reluctantly, and with a determination that I did not think I had, I looked away from him and pulled the blanket closer around me. He had dressed me in the largest shirt he could find--which made sense, seeing as it would have been easier for him to dress me in something large--and a pair of boxers.
"You were lucky that I came in on you," He paused, and then ammended, "Well, maybe not." He followed his statement with a slight, guilty chuckle, and I snapped my head to face him, my face reddening.
"Oh, dear, dear, God," I whispered. I felt my face getting hotter, and pulled the blanket up so that only my eyes were peering over the edge.
"You know, Naruto, looking at me like that won't change my train of thought right now."
I closed my eyes, feeling a hot, ridiculously uncomfortable bubble growing in my stomach. "Oh, my dear Lord."
"I didn't think you were religious, you know." He stopped suddenly, and then, "You are gay, aren't you?" I stared at him, and could almost feel my pupils dilating in shock. There was a second, and then Kakashi focused all his attention on me. I felt my breath hitch, and felt the blood drain from my brain. Why, oh why did Kakashi have to look so good? I nodded, slowly, and then, seeing his slow, predatory smirk, covered my head completely again.
"You know, Naruto, you shouldn't be embarassed about your body." I shot out from under the blankets, ready to snap an answer at him, when he added, "Really, I would know." He smiled, and I felt myself sinking into a deeper shade of embarassment.
"This can't be happening. This is a dream. I'm hallucinating." I slowly turned in bed so that my back was facing him and willed myself to fall asleep. I would wake up, and this would just be a very twisted dream that would reveal to me that I had been going after the wrong man. It wasn't the Uchiha that I wanted, it was Kakashi. This dream would prove to me that all along, it had been Kakashi, ever since I saw him in the hospital. No, scratch that. Ever since I heard his voice in my drunken haze on my first day of work. Yes, that was it.
"This is a dream," I whispered to myself again. "Go to sleep, Uzumaki. This is a dream. Shikamaru and Kiba are still in the room, and you are dreaming. That's right. Go back to sleep."
I sighed, convinced and closed my eyes, ready to drift off into a sleep and awaken to find my friends, when Kakashi's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "You know, that usually doesn't work." He chuckled once again, and then felt silent. I kept my back turned to him, hoping that he'd get the idea and leave me in peace.
I waited for my mind to find my voice, and then, slowly, "What are you doing?"
"I have a few questions for you."
"You're scaring me," I said. He was silent, so I added, "This isn't the way to ask someone questions, you know."
"Don't worry about the techniques, Naruto. That's my job. So, back to me asking questions."
"You weren't asking me any ques--"
He ignored me. "What happened between you and Sasuke? Neji told me about your...argument."
"If you know so much already, then wh--"
"You're not answering the question, Naruto."
I turned so that I could face him, angry now. "I don't have any reason to answer you."
"You want to know what Sasuke's reaction was to your absence? I have it. First-hand witness, right here, Naruto. You wouldn't miss that for the world, would you?"
I stared at him, setting my jaw. "I don't care about Sa--the UB, Kakashi." His eyes narrowed, and I saw, for the first time, worry lines appear on his face. He was older than I had anticipated, and I realized with a start that he had raised the Uchiha through his adolescence. Which meant that he would know all of Uchiha's silences better than anyone. So, what if the UB had reacted to my absence. What if he was concered? Maybe he was angry that I left. Maybe, and the voice in my mind suddenly become loud again, he cares.
"What happ--"
"How is he?" I said, not bothering to think about the consequences of asking such a question. Kakashi shook his head like a disappointed school teacher. "The point of this game is this," he explained. "You give me some info, I give you some. All right?"
I shook my head. "Did they set a date for the marriage?"
Kakashi sighed. I couldn't tell if he was angry with me or just tired of trying to negotiate. He was silent for a very long time, and I pulled the sheets around me, cold still. I closed my eyes, and felt an initial sting before my eyes began to water again, not tears, but from exhaustion. "Do you mind turning off the light?" I asked. A moment, and then the lights went out with a click.
"You're a stubborn man, you know that?"
I grunted in response and turned in the bed. "When's the marriage?"
"In a month." His response was quick, almost as if he felt better delivering the bad news without any unnecessary prologues. My breath caught in my throat. "That soon?"
"It was Sasuke's idea."
I moved my face against the pillow so that half my face was covered. "Oh."
"I don't know if he hates you," Kakashi said, picking his words slowly. "Or maybe it's one of those puppy love things, you know? Love at first sight and all those hallmark moments--"
"He hates me," I said quickly. "I pissed him off that morning. That's why--we had an argument. That's why I even --"
"Resigned," Kakashi finished my sentence, a disbelieving look on his face. "I got the memo."
I felt my lie falter, but before it could completely dissolve, I ploughed ahead. "It's better that way, too. I mean, imagine if Sakura finds out that I'm still working for Sas--the UB. That would make their marriage difficult." My words came tumbling out, all in one breath.
"Yes, it would," Kakashi said contemplatively. I glanced at him quickly and saw him massaging the back of his neck. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right," Kakashi said, standing up for a final time. I saw his silver hair shift in and out of the shadows of the room, and wondered briefly how late it was at night. He paused at the door on his way out."I left his cell phone's number on the counter top. Next to the ramen. When you feel ready," He looked over his shoulder, and I could barely make out his smile, "Call."
When I felt that Kakashi had left the apartment completely, I walked outside, dragging the blanket with me. I felt happy, ecstatic, even, and made myself some ramen. While waiting for the water to boil, I dialed Shikamaru's number and waited for him to pick up. I got to the answering machine instead, and left a quick message. "Shikamaru, it's me. I, um, was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner. Yeah. Call me back." I waited for a minute, and then added, "Sorry," before slamming the phone down.
One down, one to go. I picked up the phone again and called Kiba. No one picked up again, and I felt myself getting irritated. "Kiba, it's me. I called Shikamaru, but nobody picked up. Where are you guys? Anyways, come over whenever. Bye."
I sighed in relief when I put down the phone again, and felt my eyes wandering towards the piece of paper lying on the counter top. I picked it up, and saw, 03-4931-7836. I stared at it until the ramen was done, and even while I was eating it.
By the time I was putting away my food, I realized that I had memorized the number. I picked up the phone again and walked with it towards the bedroom. Maybe he was asleep. What was the time difference between Jixi and here anyways?
But why did Kakashi follow me back and give me his number anyways? Why was he so persistent? Orochimaru--and I felt a pang of regret when I thought of him--had said that Kakashi cared for Sasuke like an older brother, maybe even a father. Which meant-- I set my jaw, and began to dial the number. There were soft sounds each time I pressed a buttom, and by the time I was done, my face was flushed and my breathing had sped up.
It rang four times--and I began to panic; did a phone normally ring four times? How many times did it ring when I called Kiba and Shikamaru? Was it normal for a phone to ring four times? Did it change because he was in a different countr--
"Uchiha."
He sounded very awake. "Are you and I in the same time zone?"
There was a silence, and almost like a groan, "Naruto."
"Yeah?"
"You left," he said after a while, words sounding slow.
"That's kind of obvious, Sasuke," I said, rolling onto my stomach and letting my eyes close. We were both silent for a while, and worrying if the line had been cut, I asked. "When's the marriage?"
"A month. I'm, uh, celebrating." His voice was brisk, but I noticed the slur of his words. So he had been drinking. "You'll be getting an invitation, obviously."
"That's a bit cruel, even for you, don't you think?" He was silent, so, "Sasuke, if you want to--"
Before I could even finish my sentence, he surprised me. "I'm not looking for a quick fuck, Naruto."
I felt a blush creeping onto my face. "I wasn't even thinkin--"
He continued, stopping me from finishing my sentence again, "Naruto, goddamnit, what did I ever do to deserve--" He stopped himself, and then slowly, as if regaining control of his own speech, said, "What--What am I missing?"
"Uh. Sorry?"
"What." He sighed heavily and I heard clinking of glass. He was drinking still, apparently. "What am I--That Haku. What did he have that I--"
I pulled the phone away from me and stared at the number on the screen. 03-4931-7836. Maybe Kakashi gave me the wrong number? Was this even the Uchiha? "Sasuke, you're drunk."
There was a pause, and then, "Yes, I know."
"You're not being yourself. You should rest--stop being silly and get a hold of yourself. Kakashi told me--"
"Kakashi came to you?" He chuckled, a deep and bitter sound that made me flinch. "I'm sure you found solace in his arms. Or wait, was it Orochim--"
"Shut up." I felt my anger rising like bile in my throat. "Don't you dare insinuate--I don't know what kind of impression I made on you, but whatever it is, let me tell you this. I'm not one to let anyone crawl into my bed like some sort of--"
"You seemed willing enough for Orochimaru," he snapped. I cringed at his anger, and forced myself to hold the phone to my ear. "And I--the entire time, Naruto, you lead me to believe that you--" He stopped abruptly and fell silent. I found myself suddenly understanding his thought process.
I had lead him on the entire time I was there--sharing a bed with him, the encounter with Eiji when he had been so gentle with me when I had refused to go with Eiji, at the dinner with Lady Wazuka...The entire time, he had thought. I let my head fall into the pillow. And when he had approached me, I told Sakura it was a disgusting thought. What had he heard in my voice that day? Contempt? He must have thought that Orochimaru was...
"Sasuke, you're an arrogant bastard, but there's absolutely nothing wrong with you." I waited for a response, and then, for the first time, realized that he had hung up.
*
There was something twisted about life, I realiezd when I put down the phone. Somehow, with maximum efficiency and almost a masochistic drive, I managed to screw up a moderately honest conversation with Sasuke. He was attracted to me, that I knew, but he was also getting marreid in a month. Which meant he wasn't interested enough to do anything about it. Sure, he was getting drunk and acting strange, but he drank a lot, from what I could tell.
I got out of bed, wondering if I could screw up any more, and almost as if on cue, the doorbell rang. I glanced at the watch on my nightstand, and realized that it was already 8:30 p.m.. An entire day had gone by and I didn't even notice. I groaned, and slowly made my way towards the door, feeling the air lap against my skin through the large, large shirt that Kakashi had put me in. When I opened the door, a smile came uncensored onto my face. "Shika."He frowned at first, but there was a twitch threatening to pull his lips upwards into a soft smile. "About time," he grunted, and pushed his way into my apartment. I closed the door behind him and watched as he sat down in his favorite spot--the thinking chair, as I liked to call it--and let his head drop back. There were a few moments of silence as I went into the kitchen and made coffee for Shikamaru and tea for myself.
When I got back, I saw Shikamaru flipping through the channels on TV with no sound. His face had softened during the time I was away, and even his hair, normally pulled back immaculately was a bit loose. "It's all over the news," he said, taking the mug I held out for him, "the Uchiha's wedding, I mean."
I sighed. "I think he hates me."
"I don't think he does," Shikamaru put in mildly. He took a sip. "From what I hear from Kaka--"
"Kakashi spoke with you?" I couldn't keep the anger--and my embarrassment--from my voice. Only a few hours ago, he had come into my house, seen me naked, dressed me, and then almost seduced me before giving me contact information for the Uchiha.
"I saw him coming out of the apartment," Shikamaru explained. "I was throwing away the trash, and I saw him." He took another sip and put down the mug on the table next to him. "The coffee's good."
"Thanks," I said, and realizing that he had intended for me to get distracted, added, "But did he approach you or did you approach him?"
"It was mutual."
I growled and put my legs up on the love-seat. Shikamaru ignored my anger, and then, "He said that you would be talking with the Uchiha, so I waited for a while before I rang the doorbell."
"Yeah, I was talking to him."
Shikamaru sat forward, suddenly intent; his usually hooded eyes were now narrowed, and meeting his gaze was almost like brushing against electricity. "Naruto, I've known you since college and I'll be damned if I let you ruin your life like this. You have to pull yourself together. I don't know what that man did to you, but whatever it is, it left an impression. You either forget him entirely and let him get about his business of marrying this Sakura of his, or you go in and assert your claim. You can't do both things at the same time; it'll ruin Sakura's marriage life."
I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. He was right, of course; there was hardly any situation when Shikamaru was wrong. So, "What should I do?"
Shikamaru stared at me for a moment, some of his intensity dissipitating, and he looked away. "If you go to him, Naruto, and he accepts you, what do you think you'll have in the future?" The question was soft, but it felt as if he'd delivered a blow at the small of my back. I felt betrayed, almost. "I mean," he took a deep breath, still not looking at me but at the silent figures on television, "He's the richest, most wanted bachelor in Tokyo, second to royalty, and with enough papa razzi to rival celebrities."
I couldn't fully comprehend his train of thought, but I felt anger rising in my stomach nonetheless. I pressed my lips into a thin line and stared into the depths of my tea. The light was dim in the living room, and the television set was casting eerie shadows on my white mug. I didn't hear him, but Shikamaru continued talking, explaining, rationalizing and reasoning.
I returned my attention to his words, and caught, "--an heir. Naruto, I don't think you'd ever be really happy." He let his words settle in the room like a heavy blanket, and picked up his now cold coffee.
I glanced at clock on the wall opposite from me, and noted that half-an-hour had passed. I wondered, dryly, if I could make a decision concerning the Uchiha within half-an-hour. It felt wrong, sacreligious, even. But who was he, the logical part of my mind reasoned, to demand such attention from me? I had barely known him, was intimate with him once--and that too by accident--and couldn't remember a conversation with him that wasn't peppered with barbs.
"Naruto." Shika's voice snapped me out of my ridiculous train of thought, and I swung my gaze to look in his direction. We stared at each other for a moment, and then another.
"Something's wrong with me," I said, finally, the words sounding hollow.
Shikamaru started to nod, but then began to shake his head. "You're in l--"
My mind shut down, and hurriedly I interjected, "What did Kakashi say?" It was rude to interrupt, Zabuza had taught me, but there were exceptions to everything.
Shikamaru frowned, and was silent for a moment. "Nothing that I couldn't figure out by myself." I nodded mutely and watched as Shikamaru stood up and put his empty coffee mug in the kitchen sink. There was a moment, and then, the door to the apartment opened and closed with a small sound.
*
When I woke up again, I realized with a start that it was almost noon. I had managed to slumber my way through almost two days, and I wondered, with growing dread, if I would ever manage to recover from this ridiculous situation.
The scientific side of me tried to rationalize and trivialize this entire experience, but I couldn't bring myself to truly and genuinely understand. I wanted to sit down, surrounded by comforting objects, and throw a tantrum, sulk, and a tight knot in my throat told me that I even wanted to cry--all to get everything out of my system. Maybe, I thought, I could bribe Kiba and Shikamaru into putting up with such a tantrum.
I got up, brushed my teeth, and slowly ate my way through a bowl of ramen, which, for the first time, tasted dull and uninteresting to me. It was one by the time I had cleaned up in the kitchen, and went back sit idly on the couch. The tidiness of the house was unsettling me, and I suppressed an urge to throw things around to make a mess.
I was jobless again, a condition that was laughable for a student of Kyoto University who had graduated summa. I had been assured, steeping out of the University, that I would get a good paying position, and here I was, jobless, and as tired as I had been when I left Haku and Zabuza. I sighed and stood to take a shower. It wasn't a job that I was after, I admitted to myself, just a temporary position that would support me until I got into grad school.
The dream seemed silly now, as I stripped in the bathroom. I left the door open, hoping to catch the sound of the phone if it rang, and stepped into the shower before sliding the door shut. It was privacy enough, and knowing Kiba and Shikamaru, they were probably at work.
How did I plan on affording this grad school of mine? I had a good chance of getting in, I knew. I was a good candidate for the journalism program at Tokyo U. But it was expensive, one of the more expensive colleges in the country. Even the cheapest program was too expensive for me. I could take loans, but I was still repaying my undergrad fees.
"What I would do for a job," I murmurred, soaping my hair and massaging my scalp with my fingers. I closed my eyes against the flow of soap water onto my face. I could wait another year, save up some more money. I was still young, got into college at sixteen and a half, graduated at twenty, and I just turned twenty-two. But what if I couldn't save up enough money? Would my life become one long, continuous struggle for grad school? Would I be stuck with entry level positions that only paid my bills? And why was I so obsessed with grad school anyways? Shikamaru and Kiba settled with a bachelor's. Heck, the Uchiha didn't even go to college.
So, the most logical thing for me would be to forget my grad school plans and start applying to newspapers and magazines. As a technical writer. Maybe, if I had any luck, I'd be given a few stories now and then. Eventually, I'd find the right publication and I could settle there. Like Kiba, almost. But he didn't care much for anything other than the A&E comics section. I wanted the entire thing, wanted a newspaper pulsing under my finertips day in and day out. Kiba could get me some contacts within the Daigaku Shinbun, probably. And he'd been pestering me about applying there for ages now, so Plan B might actually work out easier in the long run.
I fumbled around for conditioner and began to work it into my hair before moving to stand under the water again. I tilted my head up a little, meeting the water with my eyes open and took stock of my life. I was jobless, which was the most immediate thing (I'd paid the rent for the month in advance, thank God), there was my mutant relationship with the Uchiha, and of course, my acquantance--what more could I call him--with Orochimaru. Right.
Shikamaru was right; there was nothing left for me to gather after my departure from Jixi. It had been wrong of me, first of all, to listen to Kakashi's advice and call the Uchiha to begin with, but I wouldn't repeat the same mistake again. I hadn't even begun to form a solid relationship with the Uchiha when I had turned around, and as Zabuza had predicted all those years ago, burned what small part of the bridge I had crossed.
I felt strangely detached from this entire situation, almost as if the tragedy--and was this the word I was looking for, I wondered; it was overly dramatic--of it all was numbing me down a little. Maybe I was in shock, I thought, but then let the idea drop. Whatever this was, it was ridiculous. I had known the man for only--and here my mind faltered because it seemed as if I had known, some way or the other, for all my life, almost--two weeks. He was not worth mourning, I told myself firmly, as I snapped the water off with a flick of the wrist.
I took a deep breath: I would forget him, find another job, and move on with my life. In a month, he would no longer even be single for me to pine over. I nodded to myself and ran my hand through my hair to get rid of excess water. The door to the shower had fogged up considerably, a bit too much for a short shower. I looked at my fingers and almost winced at how wrinkled my skin had become, almost like a dried prune.
It hadn't been a short shower, far from it. I had been there for at least half an hour, maybe even more.
I was getting more and more reckless and time was literally slipping through my fingers unnoticed. I'd never been this rattled, not even when I left Haku and Zabuza. True, I'd stayed in my rented room for an entire day before eating, but after breaking my fast with one cup of ramen, I had a future to follow. I applied to college within the next three months, gotten accepted, and with a few loans, attended without much hassle.
Life had been simple then, I thought. There was the shelter of college, there was the everyday life of college, and there were the simple responsibilities of education in a college. Nothing complicated. Just a few acquaintances, and the steady, unwavering companionship of Kiba and Shikamaru. I snapped out of my train of thought with a shiver and realized that a few more minutes had passed. Cursing under my breath, I opened the door of the shower, only to face a rather amused Kakashi leaning against the ledge of the sink.
"You take long showers," he commented, letting his eyes wander freely over my body once before recapturing my gaze again. I shut the door with a loud snap, and stood against the opposite wall, breathing heavily. Why, why, why does it have to be me, an all too familiar chant began to echo in the back of my head. I leaned my head against the cool tile, and after I had collected my breath, asked, "Kakashi, there should be a towel across from you. Could you hand it to me, please?"
He chuckled, and I saw through the thick shower-glass a distorted figure move to obey my request. There was silence, and then, the Kakashi Blob stopped in directly across from me, and as far as I could tell, was staring directly at me.
I mustered my courage again--why did he always have to catch me naked? I made a note to ask--and slid the door a fraction before accepting the towel. I dried myself quickly, aware of his eyes on me, and tied it securely around my waist (I checked more times than necessary) before stepping out. I mumbled an "excuse me" before navigating my way to my room and shutting the door behind me.
He was here again, and that meant whatever plans I had made to move on with my life were slowly trickling down the drain. I groaned. Why was he so damn persistent. This was between me and Sasuke, so why did Kakashi have to interfere with such frequency?
I dressed slowly, mulling over how I could kindly show him to the door of my apartment, and hopefully, my life without seeming to anxious to get rid of him. I liked him, I had to admit, and I didn't want to get on his bad side. Something about him reminded me of Zabuza and his shifting danger that always lurked mere millimeters from the surface. I dressed casually--khakhis and a dark shirt with some logo--before walking out.
I found him sitting on the sofa when I came out, languidly drinking a cup of coffee and flipping through an older copy of Tokyo Daigaku Shinbun. "There's not a lot to eat around here," he said over his shoulder sensing my entrance. "Can I take you out for some lunch?"
I opened my mouth and then snapped it with a click of teeth before moving to put on a pair of shoes, shove my wallet in my back pocket, and pick up the keys to the house. I could sense his eyes on me as he followed my movements, and finally, he joined me as I opened the door to walk out.
He waited for me to lock the door before leading me to his car, and driving me to one of the many restaurants in downtown Tokyo. It was a tonkatsu-ya*, I realized when as I took off my shoes at the entrance of the restaurant. The familiar red mats on the tatami floor, and the low-set, deep brown tables was a comforting sight.
He seemed to be a familiar there because when we arrived, the waiter lead us down towards the back with a small, knowing smile directed at Kakashi. I didn't care to interpret the smile, but walked silently behind the man, noticing with a start that I could see the outline of his shoulder blade through his gray suit. He looked good, and drew a few approving smiles from some of the customers, some of which he returned, but many of which he ignored. He seemed intent on pleasing me for the day, so when we sat down, he waited for me to get comfortable before commenting, "You look tired."
I didn't respond and picked at the menu that was placed before us. He sighed, leaned back and did the same. There was silence for a few moments before he put down the menu with a small sound. In a few minutes, I had decided as well.
As soon as we put down the menus, a waitress came, bowed, and then took down our orders--Kakashi's a katsudon*, and mine a korokke*. I watched the watiress walk away, startled by the fact that I had not even paid attention to her features. After years of training with Zabuza, I had learned to always pick up on details, but suddenly, even that seemed to be slipping away.
A part of me wanted to panic at this sudden shift in my life, but the lull of the conversation around us and Kakashi's presence across the table calmed me. It took me at least ten minutes to finally gather the composure to face the man, and when I did, I was surprised to see his brows furrowed in concern. "Have you slept at all?"
I nodded, and then ammended, "A bit too much, I think."
He considered this for a moment and was about to say something when two glasses of water were placed before us. He thanked the waitress, and when she had left, continued, "Are you angry at me?"
I felt like massaging my temples, but resisted. "For walking into my house unannounced like that, and for making me call him."
"So you called," he muttered under his breath, and to me said, "Sasuke wouldn't tell me if you did or not, so I assumed you hadn't. How'd it go?"
The nerve of the man, asking me how it went. "Poorly."
"Couldn't have been that ba--"
"Kakashi," I let his name land like a whip-lash, and silence fell quickly. He did not like my stance, and neither did I; Kakashi, to me and probably to most others, was someone who commanded respect. "He's getting married in a month," I said, lowering my voice and looking away from his narrowed, gray eyes. "I don't understand what you expect to happen."
My words came out sounding as if I was a mourning widow. His eyes softened. "I expect both of you to stop being so stubborn and do something about it. Look, Naruto," he took in a breath and before I could interrupt, plunged on as if he was dealing with an especially obtuse student. "Some people, like Sasuke, are not very good at expressing themselves. And some people, like you, refuse to accept the subtle signs that people like Sasuke send out."
The food came as Kakashi was about to continue, and again, he waited until the waitress was gone before finishing his explanation. "Sasuke was betrothed to Sakura in his adolescence. It wasn't his choice," he emphasized, pausing to eat. I followed suit and watched, fascinated, as his lips worked around the food.
He was a fine sight, I admitted with a blush. Almost as good as Orochimaru, but in a rugged, I-am-manly-so-behold way. There was an assuring presence about him, the kind that I would have enjoyed in the long term. There was an angle to his head, and a set to his shoulder. And while Orochimaru dressed to accentuate his natural colors--golden eyes, dark, dark hair and starkly contrasting pale skin and pale, pink lips--Kakashi dressed to highlight his figure. His clothes were finely cut, his hair, although in a mess, had a corporate flair to it, and his walk was that of an accomplished man. He made sure the world knew about these details before he revealed any of his own personal affairs, I realized.
A bit like Zabuza, without none of the barbaric killing tendencies.
I sighed into my food as I took another bite. The fact was, I could no longer critique him without admitting this, I was curious, in a disturbingly sexual way. I stifled a groan. How long had it been since I was actually, genuinely attracted to someone? A few months? Since college ended? I wasn't the kind of man to indulge myself with the company of my right hand--at least, not after Zabuza caught me once and made a spectacle of it at the dinner table--and I wasn't one to start now, so I had lost even the erotic experience of my solitude. Great.
Kakashi chuckled and picked up the glass. He took a sip, a polite sip, and I watched as his gray, gray eyes twinkled in the light of the restaurant. He even had a handsome face, tanned--so very different from Sasuke--and strong in its outline. "You don't sound very happy," he commented lightly. I began to shake my head, decided that a nod would be a better answer, and then changed my answer again. He looked confused at my strange head-roll, but I didn't bother to remedy it.
I looked at my food again, and diligently dug in. What was the point, I wondered, losing my appetite over someone as ungrateful as the Uchiha? There was another gap in the conversation as we both ate, and then, I heard Kakashi set down his chopsticks with a satisfied clink. I continued to eat, refusing to meet his eyes lest my sex-deprived mind continue on its train of thought.
"Is this going to be mainly a one-sided conversation, Naruto?" His question was innocent enough, but I could sense his disapproval of my rude manners.
"No," I mumbled, stopping my chopsticks half-way on its journey to my mouth. "I can make idle chatter, if you'd like." I could sense his disapproval heighten at this comment, and I put down my chopsticks to face him. "Look, Kakashi, I'm in bad shape right now--"
"That's obvious," he mumbled, picking up the glass of water again.
I ignored his comment and continued, "And I need some time. That's all I ask. Some time."
"How long?" He said, and I could sense that he was on the verge of excusing himself politely and taking an exit in my life.
"A month would be nice," I mumbled, picking up my chopsticks again. The marriage would be over, and if he's not single any more, I'll care less, I finished my statement in my head. I scowled at my food. It seemed as if no matter how much I ate, the food was never lessening. A majority of the dish was still full, and I was already starting to tire of it.
"No."
"What?" My head snapped up at his refusal. Who was he to interfere in my life like this?
"A month would be disastrous."
"For who?"
He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes and leaning over, almost as if he had caught scent of his next prey. "You know."
"I don't think so," I said, feigning ignorance and returning dutifully to my task of pushing the food around the plate. "I just don't feel well."
"Oh, there's a solution to that," Kakashi said, leaning back and resuming his neutral, uninterested gaze. I scowled. Did the man ever reveal anything personal about himself? All this time of knowing him, and I had only picked up on his appearance. He had no speech behavior patterns, no nervous habbits, nothing that would give insight into the more personal aspect of his life.
"And what would that be?" I answered quickly, realizing that I had let another gap in the conversation go by while I became immersed in my thoughts.
"You're distracted, so the best way to refocus your attention is to do something that requires your absolute attention." He let it hang in the air, expecting a question, and I relented.
"Like what?"
"Like a demanding sport, or a long, interesting book, like the one in your house, Death Comes for the Archbishop"--I started at that; when had he spotted it?--"or an engaging conversation or maybe even sex."
My eyes widened at the last reference and I felt heat dominate my face. "Kak--"
"Come on, Naruto, it's obvious you're in need of some company."
I picked up the water to distract myself, but then put it down again. I didn't want to choke on it and make a scene; it was bad enough.
"Naruto, really," Kakashi went on, gesturing vaguely. "Men who look like you don't sleep alone. So why is it that you are?"
I noted the praise with guilty pleasure before scowling at his probing smile and returning my attention to my food. I would not dignify this conversation by participating, I resolved. It was ridiculous. No. It was far worse than ridiculous. I looked back up again when I heard Kakashi clucking his tongue. "Come on, Naruto. You can't be that mundane a case."
"Case?"
"Garden variety solipsist," he offered.
"I am not a solipsist. I have friends, thank you very much," I countered, feeling my anger rising slowly like bile. How dare he assume that he knew anything about me? True, he was privy to a weakness of mine, but that gave him no authority to treat me like a case.
"Two close friends, true, but you rarely seek out genuine contact with people. Admit it," he said, leaning over again with his smile still tugging at the corner of his lips, "You try to isolate yourself, mentally and physically, perhaps not to the level of a solipsist, but still..."
I gritted my teeth and tightened my hold around the glass of water. We considered each other for a moment or two before Kakashi continued. "I need to find out something for myself, Naruto, and I don't think you'd mind obliging."
The anger in me rose again, and I felt my stomach grow hot with it. "I am not going to indulge in your sick desire to categorize me as a psycholigically troubled solipsist in need of a good fuck." I bit off each word, and waited for him to cringe or even react to my hostility.
"You're interested in me, aren't you?" He looked at my surprise at this question, took it as a yes, and continued. "I'll tell you some information and you'll tell me some. Quid pro quo, Naruto. We've played it before, remember? Only yesterday, actually."
I sat back, breathing deeply. This man was--"Fine."
"I go first," he said quickly, almost childishly. But underneath his words, I sensed a darker nature, perhaps not entirely sinister, but a cunning that scared me. "You isolate yourself, refuse to accept people's company, and when you do, you withdraw suddenly, leaving behind a lot of damage. Why?"
I could hear the echo of bridge-burner in his words, but it was less biting, more analytical than accusatory. "I--"
"And don't pull the denial trick on me, Naruto," he interrupted. "It's old."
I huffed, and looked away towards the waitress who had attended us. She seemed unsure if she should come, and catching my wandering gaze, removed herself from the vicinity of our table. She must have overheard bits and pieces of our conversation. "I've had some experiences that have taught me to keep my distance," I offered, glancing at my nails. I made a note to trim them, and then focused my attenion on the patterns on the table.
"That's too vague to satisfy me, Naruto, and you know that." His voice was low, intimate now, and I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. What was he trying to find out? Why was he interested in me, of all people? All this time, he seemed interested in me as Sasuke's representative, not for himself. Was this Sasuke's doing?
"I-I'm an orphan," I began, wondering how many details I could leave out. "A man found me when I was a toddler, in a dump. He took me in and raised me, and that's where I learned." My voice had dropped as well, and I had a sudden urge to look over my shoulder to see if Zabuza was standing in the restaurant's corner, laughing at my self-wrought misery.
Kakashi considered this, and was about to ask another quesiton before I cut in. "My turn."
"Fair enough," he relented, and sat back again.
"What's your relationship with Sasuke?"
There was silence, and I heard bits of outside conversation infiltrating our own (And then she bought this second dress, which I think is absolutely unnecessary). "Through a series of events Sasuke was given over command of his family's business. He was young, and I was looking for a job, and I got it. I once was his regent, and then I became his employee," he admitted, carefully picking his words. "Over the years, I've even become his friend."
"Too vague," I said once he had finished. "Why did he get command over his business? His mother is still alive and in good health."
Kakashi smiled. "Sasuke's father died and his brother abandoned the scene."
"That's strange," I said, my curiosity piqued. All that inheritance, and he willingly gave it up? "Why would he want to--"
"My turn," he said leaning towards me. "What taught you to keep your distance from other people? What specific experience?"
I stiffened at his question, feeling my paranoia reach its climax. "It's--That's too personal."
"You're playing the game, Naruto."
"Well, I can withdraw whenever I want to. This is the beginning of a fresh round, so I don't have to pay you back for any questions that you've answered." I searched for the waitress, and finding her, nodded my head to indicate that we were ready for a check. She came hurrying forward, eager to empty a table in the busy restaurant.
"Check. Please." She nodded, mutely, smiling once at Kakashi before disappearing through two doors into the din of the kitchen where, I assumed, the cashier was located.
"Fine, but, Naruto...Your guardian, what was his name..." Kakashi fished through his memory, his eyes on the doors that had taken our waitress.
"I didn't give you a name," I snapped, following his gaze and staring at the door, willing the waitress to arrive and save me from this back-handed torture.
"Oh, that's right," he said, ignoring me. "Zabuza. Momochi Zabuza, right?" He let the words drop like stones into a still pond. I didn't feel the affect at first, and then, the ripples began to crash against me, first soft, and then more and more pronounced. I kept staring over my shoulder at the two doors that led to the kitchen, and didn't even notice the waitress until she had come and dropped the check on the table.
He had said that he was trying to find out something for himself. But it was not for himself in a personal sense, it was for Sasuke. He was trying to push me towards Sasuke, not in the hopes that the two of us would find attraction, but that my tendency to isolate would further worsen the situation. Out of his kindness--if that was what it could be called--he had taken the pains to inform me of his plans. Give up now, he was telling me. He's getting married in a month.
I felt the knot in my throat tightening at the idea. Only a few minutes ago--twenty, was it?--I'd looked at this man, and thought, He's attractive, someone that I would have liked to have known in private life. Only a day ago, I had assumed he was helping me achieve what little happiness I could gather in Tokyo.
Shikamaru had been right; I just failed to listen to him sooner. Bridge-burner, Zabuza had flung at me at the day I was leaving. (But, I tell you, that dress was absolutely hideous. You should have seen her expression fell when--) I felt my eyes cloud, not with tears, but with something else entirely, and when they cleared, I was young again, sixteen, turning to close a door, and I saw Haku come out of the kitchen with a mug of steaming tea, his hair wet from a shower, and his eyes a sad, sad green. He had looked at me that day, and it was the first time I had ever bothered to look back.
I closed my eyes against the image, forcing the present back into my mind. Against my eyelids, I saw the scene of me walking onto the streets of Nagoya, to the airport, and swallowing my own irrational fear, running, running, running all the way to Kyoto.
There was a tight knot between my shoulderblades, and forcing myself to relax, I turned to face Kakashi. "That's right. Momochi Zabuza."
Kakashi considered me, his eyes like unbending steel now. "I'll pay for the check, Naruto. It's the least I could do."
"I appreciate it," I said, already rising, not having the courage in me to remain polite enough to wait for him. (But, that stubborn idiot, she goes and buys another dress almost exactly like the one before--) "I'll be heading home now."
He didn't protest, and let me leave. I didn't look back at him, and I don't remember looking forward either. I made my way, a little stiff, but functioning still, to the streets where I called for a taxi. I didn't have to wait for long before the taxi arrived, and settling in, I mumbled an address and watched the streets fly by.
I had run then from Zabuza, young and cowardly; I'd run from his memory now, a bit older, but cowardly still.
End of The Eighth
Foot Notes:
*Tonkatsu-ya: In Japan, restaurants are usually characterized by their specialty. A tonkatsu-ya restaurant, for example, specializes in tonkatsu, deep friend breaded pork cutlets, while a soba-ya would specialize in soba and udon noodle dishes. In this categorization, therefore, the Ichiraku Stand in the series is a ramen-ya restaurant.
*Katsudon: It's a tonkatsu domburi that is served a bowl of rice with onions and egg, and a supplimentary dish of a simple tonkatsu (breaded pork cutlets)
*Korokke: the typical tonkatsu dish, it's not originally Japanese, but it has been quickly localized.