580A/N: Just a quick note, many scenes in this fic will be exaggerated just like in the anime, so I hope it doesn't throw anyone off. I know the idea of "accidental" kissing is a bit outlandish, but of course I was inspired by the accidental kiss scene in the actual manga lmao. The way I see this story as i'm writing it, is basically a very high definition version of the anime LOL. (but I mean, ya'll can imagine it however you want ~ ) But anyhow . . . CHEERS!
~ CAPTAIN! ~
CHAPTER 15
༺º༻
"Oh, my god!"
"No way!"
"I can't look!"
"My eyes!"
"Somebody do something!"
Camera shutter click; flash—click; flash—click; flash.
Meanwhile, a guilty Suigetsu whistles casually, arms behind his head as he surreptitiously inches away from the mess he's just created without being seen.
Around them, all hell breaks loose. The rest of the baseball players stiffen in shock, blinking wildly at the scene just across the field. Naruto blanches, cerulean eyes wide with disbelief.
But Sasuke and Sakura are oblivious; unbeknownst to it all.
With their lips still securely locked, eyes burning into one another, they remain unblinking.
Paralyzed with shock.
The large, warm hands on her bare waist where he had instinctively reached out to catch her, tighten unconsciously.
Small fingers curl into the fabric of his uniform, where she had automatically latched onto his chest to steady herself.
The explosion of butterflies within her stomach flutter along her whole body, bursting along the seams of every nerve. A warmth strikes her chest, zipping through her blood in a frenzy of absolute shock and confusion.
Is this—really . . . happening?
Light-headed, her whole body melts into his embrace. With his palms splayed on her bare skin, with the intoxicating scent of his pheromones filling her head with his dizzying proximity—her knees threaten to collapse beneath her, hands curling just a little tighter around the fabric between her fingers to keep from doing just that.
Sakura's eyes flutter shut, unable to focus on anything but the gentle warmth of his lips sloped so softly against hers.
And so she doesn't see that his eyes widen even further, if possible.
What is she . . .
Mind totally blank, the captain of KHS has no other choice than to let his body respond in its stead—and that's just what it does.
. . . doing?
Allowing instinct to take hold, with a thunder in his chest and his heart thrumming angrily against his ribcage—obsidian eyes slowly . . . ever so slowly, begin to shut, fingers trembling against her soft skin, lips just beginning to press a little firmer against her own in the crazed heat of the moment. Sakura's fingers clutch his uniform tighter, pulling him even closer.
When his heavy eyelids are a centimeter from being completely shut, head beginning to tilt—
A force on Sakura's shoulders rips her backward so fast that they both inhale sharply at the instant loss of physical contact. Two large hands yank her right out of Sasuke's arms and Sakura's back hits the hard surface of someone's chest with a surprised oof!
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Naruto roars somewhere above her head, hands firm and protective on her shoulders. "Are you seriously taking advantage of Sakura-chan?! Right in front of us?! Don't think I didn't see what you just did—!"
"She's the one who took advantage of him!" Someone screams from the stands. "I saw it with my own eyes!"
Sasuke looks stunned, eyes wide as if he's still recovering from the loss of warm lips that were sealed against his moments ago.
Or maybe he genuinely has no idea what actually just happened.
"Naruto!" Sakura shrugs off his hands with a furious shake of her shoulders, rage crackling in her eyes. Winding her fist back, she spins around and delivers a punch to his head that launches him clear across the sky, baseball cap flying off somewhere in the distance, before he crash lands far in the outfield with a force that shakes the earth.
There's a unanimous, terrified gasp from the witnesses in the stands.
Behind her, Shino swiftly pulls out a tape measure from god knows where, starting the tape from the back of Sakura's heels and stretching it all the way to where Naruto lays flat on his face, eyes spiraling.
"One hundred and sixteen yards." Shino breathes, snapping the yellow tape back into its coil. "Amazing."
Cheeks flushed bright red, Sakura quickly tries to recover. But her hesitant fingers touch her bottom lip, where the ghost of the gentle press of his mouth lingers. She wobbles on her feet in a daze.
We really . . .
"It was—It was just an accident!" She hurriedly defends, chest heaving when the reality of the situation crashes down upon her with alarming fright. She swallows. "S-Someone pushed me!"
. . . kissed.
Neither Sasuke nor Sakura even remember their small argument beforehand, the anger towards one another having snuffed out the moment their lips met like the pinch of a candle flame.
Another girl screams, "Get off the field, you sleaze!"
At this, Sasuke's eyes instantly snap back into focus, whipping his head to the voice that just insulted one of his players.
Sasuke points a dangerous finger to the offending girl, and then gestures to the others, "Leave—all of you. Now."
"What?!" The girls gawk, ugly tears wiggling down their faces. "But, Sasuke-kun—!"
Ominous eyes narrow in warning, jaw tense. "If you're going to insult and distract my players," Through clenched teeth, he emphasizes, "all of you need to leave, now."
"Player?" Another girl gasps.
"Is he joking?" Someone whispers frantically as several heads turn to their neighbors, confused.
"Wait, where's Lee?!"
"She got rid of him and stole his spot on the team!" A girl shrieks, jumping to her feet with an accusing finger in response. Waves of terror ripple over everyone's face at the thought.
Finally, over the shrill din, Ami shouts: "There is no way she is a player!"
"She is." Sasuke says at the same time Sakura exclaims, "I am!"
There's a collective inhale, a disbelieving silence, and then—
"WHAT?!"
Sakura has half a mind to hide behind Sasuke's back at the sight of thirty faces twisting with outrage, but she isn't a coward. On the contrary, she takes a few bold steps forward, fists on her curved hips, and glares up at every single one of them.
Inner Sakura cracks her knuckles.
(The time has come.)
"That's right." Sakura confirms, smirking in triumph. "It's the truth. I'm on the team." Smirking even wider, she steps back and gestures to Sasuke, who quirks a brow at her strange behavior. "And Sasuke-kun . . ." Here it is. The icing on the cake. The cherry on top. Sorry, Sasuke-kun, it's for the greater good. "Is my personal coach."
It feels as if she's just stomped a giant heel into the bleachers with those words, smashing every single one of those evil, malicious faces beneath her ginormous cleat.
CHA! Take that, you idiots! Inner Sakura shakes a fist, hair billowing around her raging metaphysical form. Serves you right for laughing at me, for making fun of me, for being the rudest people ever!
She sticks out her tongue, throwing out an enthusiastic peace sign, inwardly relishing in the thirty gaping faces in between the V of her fingers.
I win!
"Sakura."
She turns around sweetly. "Yes?"
The minute she faces him, her eyes fall to his lips without her permission. All over again, suddenly, she is reminded that only minutes ago, those lips were pressed upon on hers.
Sasuke-kun and I . . . really kissed!
Cheeks blossoming pink at the reminder, Sakura doesn't realize Sasuke has just spoken.
She blinks, eyes flicking up to meet the most unimpressed, heavy-lidded glare she's ever seen. "Huh?"
A black brow slightly twitches. "Don't push it."
Sakura waves her hand sheepishly, the corners of her smile wavering. "Ah—right. Maybe I got a little carried away. But don't worry, I have this completely under control." Whirling back around, hands back on her hips, she continues to smirk at the girls' befuddled faces. "As I was saying—!"
"That's enough." Sasuke stalks forward, interrupting the Oscar-nominating speech she was just about to give. His rude interjection steamrolls over her inner spirit, flattening it like a pancake. Ignoring the slump of Sakura's shoulders with her sulking sigh, he addresses the girls with a scowl. "I'm not going to tell you again. Leave."
"Buh-bye!" Sakura jumps when Suigetsu appears out of nowhere next to her, the proximity of his booming voice nearly giving her a heart-attack. He smiles, waving at them cheerfully. "Run along, now!" He makes two of his fingers walk along the air, suggesting they do the same. "Before Mother Hen over here pecks you all a new asshole."
Suigetsu prances around flapping his elbows, bobbing his head like a chicken, and purposely ignores the searing glare directed at him by none other than Sasuke himself. Sakura slaps a palm over her mouth, choking on hiccups of laughter, which only serves to feed the angry flames crackling behind the Uchiha like a raging miasma.
"Mother Hen?" Comes Sai's voice somewhere behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees him scratching his head in confusion, not understanding the reference to Sasuke's . . . unorthodox hairstyle.
Having just returned from his fist-induced nap, still disoriented as he rubs the lump on his head, Naruto's stomach growls at the mention of chicken.
Neji massages his forehead.
Shikamaru slowly shakes his head in disappointment.
Shino sighs.
༺º༻
When the girls finally take their leave, quickly scuttling away and shrieking in fright when Sasuke had begun to prowl toward them after they refused to budge, Sakura loosens a large breath.
Watching the several backs of the retreating girls as they trip over their feet and run for their lives back to the KHS building, they're no doubt on their way to tell everyone in the world the groundbreaking news, but whatever.
They were going to find out sooner or later. It can't be helped now.
(What a mess.)
In the dugout, Sakura rocks back and forth on her heels as Sasuke prepares a few pieces of paper on a clipboard. The sight is somewhat intimidating, because this either means he's going to be tracking her progress, or actually grading her based on her inevitably humiliating performance.
She doesn't miss the way he avoids looking at her—at her attire—at all costs. After that overwhelmingly ridiculous chain of events, she thinks he's too exhausted to argue any further about what she's wearing, because he hasn't said anything since the fan club left. Other than to gesture for her to follow him with the slight tilt of his head, he hasn't spoken a word.
And this worries Sakura.
In the outfield, the guys run regular exercise drills around strategically placed neon cones—keeping far, far away from the captain's silently lethal mood. And conveniently out of their way.
However, Naruto's periodic glare in their direction doesn't escape her. Overall, he seems bothered—or irritated in some strange way, even though he had smiled at her just before jogging back out to the field. But what could he possibly be so upset about? Did she do something to offend him?
Is he mad because . . . Sasuke and I accidentally kissed?
No, she concludes, frowning down at her foot scuffing against the dugout's cement as she absently reflects on the situation, thinking about those few moments just after he pulled her into his chest. What logical reason would he have to be upset?
She inwardly scoffs, whenever I find out who pushed me, they better hope and pray they can run faster than me, because when I catch them . . .
Feeling suddenly glum, Sakura continues to sulk at her feet, unable to stop the unease sprawling deep within her gut.
Because of course, she's always wanted to kiss Sasuke. Always, she has wondered what it would feel like to be in his arms, always wondered about what his lips would feel like upon hers. She's wondered about it for so long—for four whole years.
Hell, she's felt this way about him since the very first day he walked through KHS's grandeur double doors, hands in his pockets, and the coolest expression on his face.
"—last night. I did what I could, but honestly I ended up just falling asleep. I don't know how you do it. I typed up like, three fucking paragraphs and that was it for me. Do you think Kakashi-sensei would give me an extension if I showed him my bra strap?" The paper ruffles in her hands as she looks over the assignment outline once more with a laugh at her own joke. But when she receives no reaction from her pink haired friend, Ino looks up with a blink. "Forehead?"
Raising a perfect eyebrow, Ino waves a hand in front of two unblinking green eyes fixed over her shoulder. "Um, hello? Earth to billboard brow. What are you—?"
A chorus of screams has Ino jumping out of her skin, platinum ponytail rigid with fright.
Whipping her head over her shoulder to follow her friend's trancelike stare and the sudden commotion, her baby blue eyes dart around frantically before they widen like saucers, mouth popping open when she pinpoints the exact source of disturbance.
Because there, pushing through the giant KHS entrance doors at the very end of the hall, is—
Flawlessly disheveled hair as black as night, eyes darker than any shadow and features smoother than marble; the physical embodiment of perfection, and quite possibly the most attractive human the two best friends have ever seen.
Earphones in his head, hands stuffed in the pockets of his beige slacks (in KHS uniform!), he gracefully saunters down the hallway as if this isn't his first time stepping onto Konoha's turf, as if being a notoriously rich and powerful freshman student, transferred in the middle of the year from KHS's rivalry school, is totally hunky dory.
Having been widely known not only as a prodigious pitcher from SHS, but also as someone whose perfect face frequently appears in news articles and headlines regarding his influential family.
In short, he is no stranger to the public eye.
As a result, having underestimated the magnitude of his reputation, he's unprepared when he is instantly intercepted by a gathering crowd, surrounded by myriads of heart-eyes and ear piercing squeals of excitement.
"No way!"
"Oh my god, are you really—?!"
"Uuaahh ~ so cool!"
The male students—whom have just lost the attention of their female counterparts in favor of swooning over KHS's new arrival—sneer enviously as they murmur to one another.
"What the fuck is that douchebag doing here?"
"He should have stayed at SHS where a daddy's boy like him belongs."
"Did—Did he really transfer from Sound?"
Sakura and Ino can only watch in awe from a distance, along with the many other students who are unable to do anything except gawk at the individual who just walked through their very own doors.
Popping out his earphones, with a scowl—and a splash of surprise—his head swivels left to right as if he is genuinely taken off guard by the sudden flock of students, attempting to recoil from the buzzing swarm.
There's a hint of fluster to his face as he backs away from them, palms raised and defensive, but the crowd merely pushes forward in response, invading his personal space without shame.
After many moments of struggle and much confusion, he is forced to finally shoulder his way through an opening.
And then he makes a run for it—bolting down the hallway at top speed.
"No way . . . Isn't that—?!" Ino gapes, paper drifting from her hands and swept out onto the linoleum, long forgotten.
Heart hammering within her ribcage with every speedy step that draws him closer, girls hot on his heels in their pursuit, Sakura squeezes her books to her chest, short of breath.
He runs and runs, dress shoes clacking rapidly against the tile before suddenly—
The moment he races past them, time winds down to an exaggerated crawl in which she can see his every detail in high definition. Glittering green eyes watch the black tresses flutter in slow motion around the desperation on his face mid-run.
Wide eyes fixed on the long corridor before him, he doesn't notice the two gaping girls off to the side, holding their breath as he swiftly glides right past them.
"Sasuke Uchiha." Sakura breathes.
The innocent vulnerability on his face had ingrained itself in her memory then; so curiously different than the usual detached, almost robotic, expression he wore in every photograph posted online, in newspapers, even sometimes on TV—in that moment, as he slowly slid by her captivated eyes, she caught a glimpse not of someone arrogant. Not someone pompous or conceited in his birth-given limelight as he appeared to be in every photograph and described by every media outlet.
She caught a glimpse—not of the shell painted by the bias of the public. Not of someone empty.
But rather someone . . .
Real.
And from that moment on, for some reason—for some stupid, ungodly reason—she's always felt an undeniable pull towards him.
As if the universe itself were screaming at her in that moment that he was—will be—important to her some day in some personal way, shape, or form.
(And not just because he's hot.)
Every time that she saw the top of his silky black spikes somewhere down the hallway, at lunch, in class, or anytime she happened to accidentally snatch a glimpse of him; her heart ached with the longing to be near him.
But of course, she never acted on such impulses. Never would she be caught dead groveling at his feet; never would she attempt to follow him home like many girls have been caught doing so countless times before.
Never would she stuff confessions in his locker until it was bursting at the seams with colorful construction paper and chalked full of homemade chocolates that she's never even seen him eat.
(But she always saw the cutesy, colorful packages sitting untouched and pretty in the trash bin, along with the glimmering tears of the unfortunate girl who slaved over them just the night before.)
Never did she go out of her way to inconvenience Sasuke. Not because she didn't want his attention, but because she hoped to be one less nuisance in his already complicated life. Because he didn't deserve to be harassed every hour of every day, especially when she came to realize he so clearly loathed the attention.
Instead, other than that single time she bravely attempted to greet him (and failed miserably), she ogled from afar; wishing, hoping, and wishing some more for just one chance—one opportunity to maybe get to know him beyond what his reputation entailed.
But Sakura knew, despite how innocent the wish may have been, that someone like her would never be given the chance.
After all, he had everything—looks, wealth, reputation, skill, intelligence; he was somebody.
And she had been nobody.
A nobody with nothing—nothing except, perhaps, the ability to trip over invisible objects.
Sakura knew without a shadow of a doubt that there would never be anything in the world that could possibly connect someone as ordinary as she, to someone as extraordinary as him.
But even so, despite this, the genuine fear on his face that day four years ago made her wonder—wonder that, just maybe, he wasn't the conceited robot the media had made him out to be. That maybe, just maybe, he's a little more ordinary than he lets on.
Because what egotist runs away from the spotlight? Away from dozens of swooning, pretty girls vying for his attention?
What conceited jerk chooses not to snatch an opportunity to shine?
On the contrary, it was as if he hadn't wanted anything to do with being Sasuke Uchiha.
The concept only made her heart ache for him further. Pity him, even.
For a while, as the time passed, she assumed that such a silly crush would dissipate; that maybe one day she would wake up and decide that Sasuke Uchiha isn't all that great after all.
Because as it was, the news of him over the next few months had dampened (but only slightly.) His arrival had been the new rage at the time—exciting.
The news of Fugaku Uchiha's son, the formally esteemed captain of SHS, and the ruthless way in which the Uchiha swiped the captain position right from under Neji Hyuuga's nose—made all of KHS explode in a single day. It was no surprise that it took an extended period of time for a school like KHS to adjust to such a thrillingly scandalous event.
So logically, Sakura presumed her nonsensical feelings would also taper off along with the school's adjustment.
But after watching him pitch for the first time, after witnessing the concentration glistening in his eyes as his toned body wound back in anticipation with all the grace of a god—she realized no such thing would ever happen.
And there was really no reason for it, considering he hadn't even spoken a single word to her. Hadn't even looked her way once.
Nonetheless, like all the other girls of KHS, Sakura only found herself infatuated with him the more that time went on—with the sultry darkness in his eyes and the alluring mystery of his hidden personal life, she couldn't help but wonder about him.
And secretly about how his lips would feel on hers.
But now this . . .
This wasn't at all how she imagined their first kiss would be. (Let alone believed it would ever actually happen at all.)
Not only this, but it was forced. It wasn't a kiss full of love, or flowery affection. It wasn't romantic. Hell, it wasn't even intentional.
It wasn't . . .
How our first kiss should have happened.
And Sasuke—
Her eyes widen as she replays the kiss over in her head, recounting all the details she might have missed in the electrifying shock of the moment. She remembers the long fingers that tightened on her waist, the slight pressure of his warm lips just beginning to press deeper against hers—
Then, it hits her; like a splash of icy water to the face, something fiercely alarming dawns on her.
In wake of her sudden realization, a flurry of butterflies explode inside her stomach, breath hitching in awe.
Didn't he . . . kiss me back?
Glancing up at him beneath thick lashes, she watches the concentration carve his features as he focuses on scribbling something down on the clipboard. He pauses to look at her when he feels her unabashed gaze.
When she doesn't speak, an impatient frown tugs his lips: "What?"
"You kissed me." She accuses without shame, straight-backed and absolute.
The moment the words leave her mouth, she realizes she could have approached the subject with a little more finesse. But it doesn't matter; she knows if she doesn't address it bluntly, Sasuke will pretend it never happened.
She isn't going to pretend.
And maybe it isn't a big deal to him, maybe something so frivolous as an accidental press of the lips can be easily disregarded by someone like him.
But that was my first kiss.
The way he stiffens at her accusation—almost dropping his clipboard in surprise—confirms her suspicion. Heart pounding, she sharply inhales.
. . . Was it also his?
"No, I didn't." He denies when he readjusts himself, clearing his throat and returning his eyes to the clipboard that nearly fumbled out of his hands. "And don't ever repeat something like that again."
Encouraged by his defensive response and not the least bit intimidated by his poker face, she shuffles closer to him, a smug smile spreading across her lips. She links her hands together at her side, leaning in. "I think you did, Sasuke-kun."
Dark bangs hiding his eyes, recoiling from her mischievous grin, Sasuke spins around, giving her his broad, uniformed back.
Cheeks flushed with mirth, emboldened by his uncharacteristic behavior, Sakura simply shuffles around to his front, ready to tease him further. But her smile drops when she sees his shadowed expression.
"H-Hey . . . " She begins softly, worry knotting her stomach. She had no idea something like this would actually upset him. "What's wrong? Are you—?"
She tries to peek underneath the dark curtain of bangs hiding his expression, seriously concerned.
That is—until she sees the light color staining his cheeks.
Oh!
When Sasuke swiftly spins on his heel to face the opposite direction—as if he's hiding from her prying gaze—Sakura lets out a soft gasp, white teeth emerging with a cheeky grin.
Although pleasantly surprised at her new discovery that the captain of KHS is genuinely embarrassed, she can't help but feel relieved that he's okay, and not upset.
"There's no need to be so shy, Sasuke-kun." She teases affectionately, clasping her hands together against her cheek, smile widening before she breaks into small hiccups of light laughter.
"Focus, Sakura." She's too busy giggling to notice the strange waver of his voice, nor the growing redness of his ears. Then, for the record, he jerks his chin away from her and clarifies coldly: "It was an accident and you know that. So don't go bothering me about things that never happened."
Just then, a cringeworthy thought strikes her conscious like a viper, wiping the amusement clean off her face. If the act of kissing alone is enough to fluster him this terribly, she tries not to think about how he must have felt when he read her note.
Oh, dear gods.
She can just picture his brain going blank at her scribbled words—the raw, physical embarrassment he must have felt. Seeing his reaction now to something so innocent, he must have nearly had an aneurysm at her naughty, absolutely shameless confession.
'Then why was the bastard so embarrassed?' Naruto's voice floats across her memory. 'I know he was. He's my best friend, there's nothing he can hide from me. And I've never seen him like that . . .'
Oh, Sasuke-kun, she thinks sympathetically as she looks up at his tense back, where he's straining to keep his respectful eyes on his clipboard and not daring a single glance back at her half naked body.
'. . . I've never seen him like that . . .'
Naruto's voice ricochets off the walls of her conscious, relaying those specific words over and over again. Every repetition hits her a little harder each time.
Taking pity on him, Sakura relents with a heavy sigh.
(Now she just feels awful.)
If he's genuinely this uncomfortable with the subject, and so adamant in pretending such an accident never occurred, then perhaps it's best if she, too, leaves it alone for the sake of his feelings. Even if she will never forget the feel of his lips upon hers, or the fingers that pressed into her bare skin.
She shudders at the memory, sinful heat pooling in her abdomen.
It might have been only an accident, but—
"A girl can dream." She grumbles inaudibly from the corner of her mouth.
"What was that?"
"N-Nothing!" Sakura quickly smiles, crossing her arms in an X as if to defend herself from his suspicious eyes. Suddenly curious, she peeks around his arm at the clipboard. "What are you doing, anyway?"
Glowering at her from the corner of his eye, his shoulders slump as he releases a heavy breath in defeat. "We're going to have to track your progress." He explains, leaning a little toward her to allow her a better look at the paper.
Immediately, however, Sakura is distracted by the intensity of his scent—is he seriously wearing cologne or is that just how he always smells or something?—and the natural warmth of his close proximity. Her eyes study his strong forearms concealed by tight body armor, where they unconsciously flex as he speaks.
Against her will, her eyes fall to his silver belt buckle. Rolling her tongue against the inside of her cheek, she gulps. I wonder—
"Clearly, you are not anywhere near qualified for an official game. Physically, that is." He glances sideways at her, careful to keep his eyes solely on her face no matter how desperately his manhood insists on traveling lower. No matter how vehemently his eyes insist on sneaking just a peek at her cleavage, the dip of her navel, the fullness of her upper thighs . . .
Gaze flicking back to the clipboard with immoral reluctance, he swallows.
"As . . ." It's a conscious effort to remember what he's saying. But it's far more challenging than he dares to admit with a half naked girl hovering over his arm, a girl whose lips were just on his, and a girl who wantonly confessed she would pull him between her thighs and—he swallows again, choosing not to acknowledge the sweat gathering in his palms. Clearing his throat a little, he tries again. "As a result . . . we're going to have to run you through the basics."
"I see," She breathes absently, pulling her eyes with great effort from his belt to dart across the complex charts on the paper, completely unaware of the Uchiha's own inner struggle. "Looks like . . ." I'm going to die. "fun."
"Hm," Sasuke hums after several moments, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips when he finally collects himself. "You have no idea."
Looking down at the sudden fright on her face, Sasuke silently huffs in amusement, feigning surprise. "You didn't think this was going to be easy, did you?"
"Um—well, I . . . " Green eyes drop to her feet before glancing back up at him, a sheepish shade of pink painting her cheeks as she twiddles her thumbs in her lap. At the smug look on his face, she lifts a hand to push a strand of pink hair behind her ear and averts her gaze once more.
Inwardly amused by her sudden change in demeanor, he then shakes his head, mouth straining with the effort to keep the smirk on his face from growing into an entertained half-smile as he watches the guilt play across her features. "Thought so."
But when his eyes naturally begin to travel down her neck again, to her deep cleavage, his gaze snaps up and he looks away with a frustrated scoff. "You really do look ludicrous, Sakura."
"Thank you." She replies sweetly, eyes crinkling in delight, "I try."
He ignores her irritating retort. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be." She goes to reach into her bag to pull out her newly purchased glove, only for Sasuke to shake his head.
"We aren't doing that just yet."
"Oh, okay." Slowly backing away from the bench, a single pink eyebrow hitches. "Then . . . what am I doing, exactly?"
The dark, wicked smirk curving one side of his mouth, and the mischievous gleam playing in his onyx orbs has Sakura wishing she never asked at all.
༺º༻
"You're joking."
The dead serious look on Sasuke's face suggests anything but.
"Really?"
He nods.
"Ten?"
Another nod.
I thought I was playing baseball, not running freaking track!
(Seriously, what did she even get herself into?)
Sakura groans, head dramatically thrown back in exasperation as she stands on home base. She closes her eyes against the sinking sun, sky barely kissed orange. It isn't all that hot today, for which she is thankful; the last thing she wants is for Sasuke to see her looking like a sweaty pink rat.
For a moment, she wonders if this is just petty revenge for her love letter—which, by the way, was not a love letter. Or maybe he's just punishing her because he feels like it; because he's the coach and she's the player.
I get that he hates me, but is this really necessary? This is totally abuse of power!
Shooting a glare in his direction, Sasuke simply stares back from where he stands a little ways off to the side to oversee her imminent doom. The most intimidating man in all of Konoha casually judging what she's the absolute worst at.
Exercise.
"When I begin the timer, that's when you run." He explains, holding up the circular stopwatch with one hand, clipboard in the other. "Not hard." And then after a moment of hesitation, he adds with a slight cock of his arrogant head: "Well, maybe for you."
"Very funny."
"I try." He sarcastically mocks her earlier words, glancing down at his clipboard as if grading her performance is the most boring thing he's ever done. "Now, I'm not going to repeat myself, so pay attention."
Sakura frowns.
"What if I have questions?"
Dark eyes flick up to meet hers in surprise and . . . Is that a hint of eagerness in his eyes?
"Do you?"
"Well . . . not yet—"
"Then be quiet." He goes right back to whatever is so important on his stupid paper. Sakura scowls despite the sudden intrigue she feels at the glimpse of disappointment she caught in his eyes at her response. Like he wants her to ask him questions about baseball.
Like he's secretly thrilled to teach her the one thing he's passionate about.
"Like I said, I'll only say this once—so listen carefully." He continues, "I know that you're fast"—she blushes slightly at his unexpected small praise—"but I just need to track how fast you can make it to home base. Speed is important when traveling the bases, especially when the opposing team is racing to get you out. But, most importantly, if you can make it to home base faster than they can get the ball back in the in-field, that's the ultimate goal. Does this make sense?"
Sakura nods, and then frowns. "Yes, but . . . What does that have to do with me running ten laps?"
"Stamina."
"Huh?"
Beneath his dark bangs, an eyebrow raises slightly. "From what I've seen, you have zero stamina. In baseball, stamina is crucial if you're running to catch a ball, or traveling bases. If you're out of breath before you even reach third base . . . "
The implication isn't lost on Sakura. "Are you saying I won't even make it to third base?"
"I'm saying you're not exactly an athlete, and in comparison, small, realistic goals that are easy for us are not going to be . . . as easy for you, just yet."
Sakura crosses her arms, genuinely offended by the fact that he seriously thinks she can't even make it that far, even after she showed him firsthand exactly what she's capable of. He's crudely underestimating her—again. "I can make it to third base just fine."
"I'm just saying." He says coldly, hackles raised and suddenly defensive. "You're getting upset over nothing."
"I'm not upset." Sakura bristles in response to his abrupt attitude. It's not that she's upset, per se, but rather the fact that he's treating her like she isn't capable of running such a meager distance—does he seriously not even realize how insulting that assumption is? He doesn't get it. And it's definitely not nothing.
"Clearly, you are." He insists.
Tongue loose, she snaps. "Since when are you such an expert at reading minds? Last I checked, you still don't know anything about me. So how would even begin to know how I feel?"
Sasuke blinks before pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in exasperation. Am I not making myself clear? "I'm just telling you, some things are going to be harder for you than for us. You said it yourself that you've never played baseball in your entire life. And yet, you insisted on joining my team, so let me finish explaining everything before you open your big mouth."
At the sudden silence, his eyes crack back open.
The dejected, hurt expression on her face as she studies the dirt makes words fall out of his mouth without regard, dreading a repeat of the last time he hurt her feelings. He isn't quite used to taming his tongue, but if it means she'll stay on the team, he's willing to try. "That's—I didn't mean—"
"It's fine." She whispers in a way that shifts something deep within his stomach. He tells himself that those two words are enough; tells himself that just because she claims she's fine that she must be—and if she isn't, well . . .
It isn't his problem.
But her sad green eyes focusing on the dusty white diamond of home plate forces him to try again despite himself.
"Sakura—"
"It's okay, I didn't mean to jump to conclusions. I just . . . " She bites her lip, avoiding his gaze. He probably doesn't even realize why the comment about not reaching third base hurts her feelings. Or maybe he just doesn't care. "I feel like you don't really take me seriously. Or, you know . . . " Her next words are soft and quiet, eyes still downcast. ". . . believe in me."
His eyes widen. Taken aback, Sasuke is uncomfortably at loss for words. He doesn't know why this in particular bothers him, slightly offends him, but it does. It feels as if those words sucker punch in him the gut; feels as if those words carry the weight of something far deeper than what his keen eyes can see.
After a moment's pause, Sasuke finally answers, slowly but carefully.
"You misunderstand." He takes a few hesitant steps toward her, slightly closing the small distance between them. "I want you to succeed. If I didn't believe you could do this, I wouldn't have agreed to let you be a part of my team. You are . . ." He swallows his pride, reluctance lacing his next confession as he casually averts his gaze, lightly clearing his throat before returning his eyes to her glum expression, "far better than I thought you would be."
Head snapping up, she finally looks at him, eyes glittering with innocent surprise. "You promise?"
Unprepared, the candor sweetness on her features astound him. Large green orbs alight with a childlike eagerness has the back of his neck increasing in temperature.
A small, inaudible breath escapes his throat.
It's suddenly a genuine effort to keep the side of his mouth from quirking in amusement at her purity, and the hope sparkling in her eyes is enough to make him wonder.
Does my word really mean that much to her?
"I promise."
A smile that rivals the sun lights Sakura's whole face in response, filling her chest with sweet warmth, and for a moment, she swears the edges of his eyes begin to soften—
"Sasuke and Sakura, sitting in a tree," Kiba sings across the field, just to spite them. "K-I-S-S-I-N—Fuck!" Naruto sticks out a long leg, effectively tripping him mid-run.
"I can't tell if I like him or hate him." Sakura comments dryly, staring out at the field at the duo's idiocy as Kiba jumps back up and tackles the blond with a snarl. Neji and Shikamaru neatly jog around them, while Sai and Shino give pause in concern. Suigetsu obnoxiously points, holding his stomach with wild laughter.
"Which one?"
"Both." Sakura laughs, sharing a fond side glance with a smirking Sasuke.
The sudden, strangely pleasant occurrence jolts them both. With her blushing and him shifting uncomfortably, they quickly clear their throats, back to buisness.
"When does my time start?" She asks, a little nervous. Even though she was somehow able to catch that ball (twice now that luck was on her side), she isn't quite sure how well she will do with this next task. Sure, she told Sasuke off for not thinking she could do it, but . . .
What if she doesn't make it to third base, just like he implied?
(The seed of doubt sprouts within her.)
What if—?
"Now." His thumb clicks the stopwatch.
"Hey—!" Sakura splutters, arms flailing, totally unprepared. "I wasn't ready!"
He didn't even give me time to mentally prepare or—!
Sasuke simply holds up the stopwatch, showing her the rapidly ticking time she's currently wasting without a lick of shame.
"Shit!" Sakura takes off running. "Come on, Sasuke-kun! That wasn't even fair!" She calls over her shoulder, even as her legs pump wildly to first base.
His lips twitch upward at her exasperation, onyx eyes following her desperately running form.
Sakura's cleat taps first base before she curves her way around the field to second, pink ponytail bouncing behind her with every step.
Sasuke deliberately ignores the obnoxious jump of her breasts.
"I'm glad—this is—entertaining for you!" She yells through huffs of air, glimpsing over and catching the subtle smirk on his face from across the field before it can vanish.
He shrugs innocently, eyes glancing down to watch the time tick by. "You asked for it."
Touché.
By the time her foot hits second base, she realizes, with dread plunking into her stomach, that the spaces between bases are much, much further apart than they look from the bleachers.
She's already slowing down, and she hasn't even finished a single lap.
"Sasuke-kun!" She calls, heart pounding viciously.
He looks back up in question just as her foot leaves second base.
"Thank you!"
Confused, he doesn't answer.
"For—letting me on the team—I mean!" The words puff out of her mouth, attempting to distract herself from the strenuous burning in her calves as she nears third base. She should have warmed up; she should have done something to prepare. She knows for a fact that if her legs are already feeling like this, she probably isn't even going to be able to walk tomorrow.
God, I really hate being so out-of-shape.
Attempting to dampen her panic, she tries to control her breathing—just like Mom taught her—but she realizes that she doesn't have nearly even half as much adrenaline as she did when she raced to catch the ball yesterday.
It's different, she surmises, discouraged by this awful fact.
But why? Is it because she isn't chasing a ball? Is it because the pressure isn't as suffocating as it was before?
Sasuke's right, she realizes with much reluctance, I might have speed, but my endurance totally sucks!
As her legs continue to pump as fast as she can manage, anxiety thrums through her mind and body, courage wilting even further.
Behind home plate, Sasuke remains silent, dark orbs simply watching her physically and mentally exert herself. Aside from taking a single glance at the stop watch, his sharp, calculating eyes don't leave her form.
By the time her cleats draw near the third white diamond, Sakura is sure she's going to die.
The bases . . . Why did they look so much closer together before—?!
Looking over her shoulder, distracted by the mind-boggling mystery of the sudden gigantic space that stretches between bases, the tip of Sakura's cleat catches the padded platform of third base—
—and she goes flying forward.
Rolling head over heels several times, world flipping, Sakura splutters when a cloud of dust settles over her graceless form splayed face down in the dirt, just inches shy from the soft bed of grass.
(So much for making third base.)
Sasuke is crouching at her side before she can even register the gritty dust in her mouth, dark eyes searching her whole body for damage. "Are you alright?"
Concerned when she doesn't answer at first, he reaches out to swipe the pink curtain of hair away from the side of her face to see any injury for himself. Seeing none, he quickly retracts his hand before she can comprehend that he's even touched her.
Eyes pinched shut, finally lifting her head with great effort, she gags on the wonderful bit of dirt that she's just eaten.
Sasuke shifts his weight back onto his heels, elbows resting on his bent knees, and releases a heavy breath; relieved that she hasn't already killed herself.
"Ugh—" She coughs out a puff of dust, croaking a little late in response to his question: "Peachy."
"Whoah, Pinky!" Suigetsu exclaims from somewhere in the outfield, eyebrows shooting up beneath the curved rim of his hat. "You good?"
Naruto's worry joins him not a second later, panic bursting through his deep voice as if to challenge Suigetsu's. "Sakura-chan, are you okay?!"
Just as Naruto prepares to sprint across the field to her aid, a tan arm shoots out across the blond's chest, stopping him in place.
"Don't." Kiba demands, suspiciously eyeing the Uchiha's form hovering over the girl.
For someone who supposedly hates her, he was pretty damn quick to be at her side, Kiba muses, thinking back to Sakura's words the night before.
'It doesn't matter because Sasuke-kun hates me . . . '
Naruto furrows his blond brows in confusion, frowning at his friend, "But Sakura-chan—"
Kiba shakes his head.
The rest of the team pause in the middle of their active drill to see the damage for themselves.
"What happened?" Sai asks quietly, worried.
Shino shrugs.
"I didn't see." Neji comments.
Shikamaru frowns, craning his neck a little to see for himself. "She alright?"
Sakura's face slumps back into the dirt.
Elbows still casually resting on his knees, Sasuke looks up to assure his team with a nod, sighing once more as he half-shouts across the field for them to hear, "She's fine."
Slowly raising from his crouch, he reaches out to grab her elbow just in time to help pull her back onto her feet. He does another once over of her half exposed body when she regains balance, taking note the layer of dirt coating the entire front of her new uniform and not letting his eyes wander a second more.
He doesn't look at the gritty dust sticking to the sheen of sweat on her abdomen, nor the perspiration glistening on the exposed V of her heaving chest.
Sasuke makes sure that she is, in fact, unharmed, before mentally confirming that all hope lost.
"Well," he begins quietly for her sake, leading her back to home base where he picks up the clipboard he had all but thrown to the side in his haste to make sure she hadn't just broken her neck. He scribbles something depressing on the paper. "It's a start."
༺º༻
A/N: Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter, because I totally enjoyed writing it lmfaooo.
Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think :D
Till next time
Sloshi ~
