Warning : Sheesh, another mystery/romance type of fanfic -.-;; I never seem to get enough of them :P Yaoi and shounen-ai, OOC-ness (…well, if you have trouble envisioning Naru-chan as a killer), AU-ness, some OCs, slight Sakura-bashing (…nothing new here :D), some weird type of split-personality behavior (…something like the Yami-Hikari shown in YGO), violence (well, murder, actually) and language…
Disclaimer : I don't own anything.
Notes : Inspiration came while I was watching reruns of Captain Tsubasa: Road To Dream and eating dinner O.o;; Weird timing for an inspiration, but whatever :P
Please read on and enjoy c",)
SasuNaru Fanfiction 44
It happened on one awfully-normal night.
He worked overtime, like always. He called up his younger brother, informing the moody teenager that he would be back later than expected, so he couldn't have dinner with the other, like promised.
He left his coat at his office, draped innocently on the back of his chair. His workdesk was neatly arranged; his pens and pencils were aligned by height and by color. He turned off the lights, as he was the last one to leave the premises. He checked the security system before going back to their ancestral home.
He didn't forget anything.
His car-keys made a jingling sound as he took them out of his slacks' pocket. He rubbed one hand over his right arm, feeling the bite of the night's frosty wind, despite the two layers of clothing. The lampposts surrounding the parking lot are strangely pale-lit, making his scarlet long-sleeved shirt look vaguely grayish-black.
He didn't mind it, since he's about to go home, anyway.
He was already driving when his cellphone vibrated—a message or a call—from his younger brother, most likely. He didn't answer his phone because he would have to pull over at one vacant space, and that would prolong his journey home. His cellphone vibrated again—his fleeting thought was maybe his brother is in danger—but he ignored it again.
Only a few more stops and he would be home, ready to congratulate his younger brother for being chosen for the expensive scholarship. It's not that they couldn't afford it (…their Clan –and their death- left an incredibly large sum of money)—it's because it proved that his brother is just as good, if not better, than him.
He didn't forget anything.
That's why it's more of shocking annoyance when he discovered that his gas levels are way below the amount he'd need to travel back home. He could swear that before he left the office, his gas level is rather high. He pulled over to one dimly-lit alley, since he knew that there's a police station nearby. He moved hastily, and he thought that bringing his cellphone with him would only slow him down, hence, he left it on the car.
He opened the car's door and stepped outside. He felt another biting chill of the wind, which is more than odd, since the weather is still warm.
He went on his way, totally unaware that this is going to be his last night.
A young man, probably not even twenty yet, stood emotionlessly on one end of an abandoned alley, seemingly unidentifiable at the darkness of the night and at the pale, ineffective lighting of the lampposts.
Another man, around six years older than the first, stood warily, a couple of meters away from the first man. He wore a scarlet polo-shirt (the color accentuates his eyes) and plain black pants. He stood at the other end of the rather short alley; his car ran out of gas so he thought of walking to the nearest police station to get some help.
The younger of the two pulled off the black hood, freeing his shiny blond hair. His face is familiar to the older one, because a flash of recognition twinkled deep beneath the always-cold crimson eyes.
"Itachi-san," The blond called out to the other person, his youthful-sounding voice crossed distance between the two of them. The unsuspecting Itachi nodded slightly; after he threw his car one last look, he approached the younger male.
When he was within just a meter away from the familiar blond, however, he started to notice that something's wrong with the other. He didn't say anything, but he kept his scarlet-colored eyes narrowed at the other's seemingly out-of-place sinister smirk.
"Itachi-san, I'm afraid to tell you that…" The blond said slowly, deliberately prolonging his words, shifting imperceptibly closer to the grayish-haired man. The older male's stance shifted into a defensive pose, not liking the manic glint on those azure eyes.
"…You're going to die."
Keshite, RERAITO shite
Stack of papers were neatly arranged on his desktop, but he wasn't at the very least intimidated by their sheer volume and number. After all, he has read over these documents more than a few couple of times already—all to aid his investigations. The case regarding the mysterious death of Uchiha Itachi wasn't solved—and it has been five years since it happened.
The police force has humbly admitted that the case is beyond their capabilities—and they also admitted, not with a little bit of shame, that they're not exactly willing to exhaust all their efforts on one suspected murder.
When he first learned that from the investigators, when he was still twelve, he was rightfully furious. He threw a temper tantrum right then, at the police station, lashing out on everybody who tried to comfort him and calm him down. They said, with their blank faces and overly concerned gazes, that they understood his feelings—but he knew, even then, with his naïve innocence, that nobody could ever fathom the depth of his anguish when he learned that his only remaining family was ripped away from him.
He didn't give up though; he did his best to earn high distinctions in class, bearing with the inconsolable sadness that gripped him whenever he entered their superbly-spacious house. He became closed-off to everybody, mostly because of his focus on his studies, on becoming the best so that the others would follow his every command, so that the others would believe him.
He was also afraid that everybody he'd allow close enough would disappear too, like his brother did.
He didn't disappear, He corrected himself mentally, eyes skimming over the vague reports held on his hand with practiced, professional ease. He was murdered.
He just graduated from high school a few weeks ago, and the first thing he did as soon as he graduated was to leave the school premises and bury himself with the documents he had collected. News clippings, murders that are of the same characteristics as the one with his brother, sightings on the area during that day—everything he could get his hands on.
His usual routine of glaring at every paper he had his hands on changed today, however. He bumped into a lead, an actual lead, about an eyewitness to a shoot-out nearby—the time and day coincided with Itachi's death. He dug up on the witness' accounts of what occurred on the surroundings at the same time the shoot-out happened. He learned that the witness, Ms. Sanae, spotted a black car that pulled over to one of the alleys, the same alley where Itachi's body was found, with bullets on his eyes, staining his face with same color of his striking scarlet irises. She stated that she recalled the person being called by somebody on the other end of the alley, if his acknowledging expression was any indication.
It was a vague lead, but it ruled out psycho killers who just killed for fun. It seemed that the culprit is somebody that Itachi knew—a person who would make Itachi come to him or her.
That definitely narrowed down the list. Acquaintances from work never earned the acknowledging distinction in Itachi's disposition, since he preferred to keep them at a distance—a far away distance. His older brother only acknowledged people if they're his acquaintances, as weird as it may sound.
This meant that the killer was somebody he knew—somebody that has been close enough to him for Itachi to recognize…
He took out his yearbook for his elementary school—its pages still straight and looking brand-new. He usually hosted group work or class activities since he was the one with a grand mansion.
The primary suspect, then, has to be somebody that has been over to his house quite often. It has to be somebody unique, attention-grabbing enough to merit a place in Itachi's memory. He flipped the pages to his yearbook, until he arrived at the top three suspects for the moment. He reached over for the bright purple marker on his desk, and he encircled the names of his suspects.
First one is their adviser—Hatake Kakashi. He has been over their house quite a lot, since he was the supervisor for their class activities. He has also chatted a bit with Itachi whenever they crossed paths.
Second one is the annoying pink-haired girl with an obvious infatuation with him—Haruno Sakura. Truthfully, he doubted that the female grabbed his brother's attention, but then, she was annoying and screechy enough to attract irritation from him.
The third suspect (…well, they're the suspects as of now) is Uzumaki Naruto—the blond dobe, the class clown, who had admittedly attracted his attention. After all, the blond was loud, clumsy, moronic and boisterous enough to pull all the attention to him.
He replaced the cap of his marker and placed it back down to the glass desk, the suspects' contact numbers and addresses marked already. It may hurt a bit to actually suspect his former classmates, people who have been attached to him, in some superficial manner, when he was still young and innocent and a believer in friendship.
…However, family is more important. Losing Itachi is far more painful than any of his suspicions with once-friends.
I'm going to find out who killed him, He swore mentally, fingers clutching the yearbook tightly, the edges of his fingertips leaving angry marks on the paper.
I'm going to find out… no matter what.
To Be Continued
It's a bit short, yes T.T;; I have no idea if this is cliché or what, coz I haven't been able to read much fanfictions at the moment (…since I'm busy writing XD)
I hope that my characterization and descriptions for Sasuke reflected his supposed vengeance-ridden spirit and his determination to find out who the killer is, laden with his weariness and loneliness at being so alone :P
Chapter Translation : Erase and Rewrite (…ripped off from Rewrite, sung by Asian Kung-fu Generation)
Please review :) They make Inspiration –pokes inspiration- grow healthy and strong:D
Thanks for all your support –bows repeatedly- c",)