A/N: The following idea was born and written at two in the morning and was finished, corrected, reread, improved, reread, and finalized at around seven-thirty the same day. I tapped all of it on my iPhone. I hope that it is understandable and most importantly, amusing to read.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I humbly present to you a dream of a male fan-fiction author,
Toying with Your Name
It was a bright, sunny day in Konoha.
No, it won't do. Too cliché. I press the backspace key furiously. I stop and think about it for a while, letting inspiration flood my mind before restarting to type.
The blazing sun peeked through the slightly opaque clouds, letting the trees scattered in the training grounds cast their cool shadows on the heated field. His back against one of the trunks, panting a bit after his training routine, Sauke—
Not again, I groan. I move my cursor between the 'a' and the 'u', click, and push the 's' key. It already happened a whole bunch of times when I was writing a fan-fiction where the Uchiha made an appearance. I blame the fault on my (un-)nimble fingers, who jump the second 's' in the name and continue before me noticing. I had also made multiple other typos concerning 'Sasuke' in the past...
Suddenly, an awful idea which sounds awesome at the moment hits me in the head, knocking me over. Fine, it doesn't really knock me over, but it still gives me a jolt. I eagerly transcribe it onto my computer, continuing from where I left off.
-Sasuke Uchiha sat in the shade, taking in the peace of a summer morning in Konoha. For once, he contemplated the clouds, enjoying the pleasure Shikamaru felt when doing so. A small, serene smile curved his lips, without him being fully aware, of course; since Uchiha men did not smile: they only smirked. A rare sight that would've landed his whole mob of fangirls in the hospital because they all had a heart-attack at the same time (due to /love/ making their hearts beat too quickly, of course), if they ever chanced upon it. Fortunately (or unfortunately), they never did, since, one, they weren't there, and two, the blissful expression was quickly replaced with a frown when a poof! disturbed the silence around the once S-ranked ninja. He glanced to his right where a billow of smoke dissipated and revealed a male teenager of his age, coughing and fanning the smoke with his hands.
I have always wanted to try that, but not once did I ever imagine that I can choke on the gray gas. That's why Kakashi wears a mask, I think to myself. Once my view clears, I stare at a Uchiha with a kunai in his hand, ready to skewer me to death.
"Chill, man," I manage to say, "I've only come here to talk."
He narrows his eyes.
"Who are you?" he asks in a dangerously low tone.
"I'm..." I hesitate, wondering how the raven would react if I tell him my profession. It shouldn't be that much of a deal, should it? I mean, he won't chase me around, bearing his Sharingan-powered death glares, wanting badly to end my existence, right?
So I tell him.
And he begins chasing me around, bearing his Sharingan-powered death glares, wanting badly to end my existence.
And I run, as fast as I can, wishing I was the uncatchable gingerbread man. That is until a smoldering ball of fire sears pass my arm, narrowly missing it by mere millimeters (For those who wonder, I then wished to be a ninja, so that I could use all those kick-ass techniques).
I jerk my head around and I yell, "Time out, Sasuke! I only came to talk to you about something, peacefully!" I emphasize the last three –or is that four? My mind is in a haze, escaping the avenger filled with murderous intent—syllables, hoping he would halt his pursuit and calm the hell down. He does, ascertaining that I truly want to speak to him without any ulterior motives (though that doesn't stop him from sending another fireball towards me, just for the fun of scaring me, barely grazing my hair this time). I'll get revenge on him about this later...
He returns to the base of the tree he initially sat under, eyeing me expectantly. I follow and take a seat beside him.
"Why do you hate us so much?" I wonder aloud, already conscious of the answer. I've browsed and read other fan-fiction, some disturbing the Uchiha more than the others. Even though I have never wrote torturously scary things concerning him (making him extremely out-of-character, coupling him up with original characters, describing him head-over-heels for Sakura, or worse, for NARUTO), I am still one of them and he will forever hate us all. Period. No good trying to change his stubborn mind on that.
He ignores my question, letting a shudder shake him when I remind him of it. He knows when we upload a story about him, and experiences what we write one way or the other (most of the time through dreams—or should I say, nightmares).
"Anyways," I continue, "I'm just here to tell you about some interesting, ah, discoveries, if I may say so, that I made when writing stuff relevant to you."
I pause, checking if I caught his attention somehow.
"Hn."
I take the grunt as a sign to go on, my lecture-mode fully kicking in.
"As you might know, I tend to somehow misspell 'Sasuke' an awful lot of times."
He shows me his infamous scowl. I disregard him giving me The Evil Stare.
"Careful with that," I warn him. I whip out my trustworthy iPhone, ready to counterattack if my listener dares to attack. The latter shifts his Evil Stare from me to my device, horror igniting like wildfire in his eyes. Realizing what it is, he grabs a throwing knife and lifts his arm, the tip of it aiming dead-center at my precious Apple phone.
"Oh no you don't," I mutter. With top speed, the Notes application is opened and I type a short sentence, his fist still gripping the weapon in mid-descent.
He stopped.
It takes him a few seconds to process what I did, enough for me to write another sentence, protecting further my useful tool.
The iPhone was unbreakable and could not be harmed by Sasuke Uchiha, nor could it be by his Ninjustu, Taijustu, or Genjustu.
"Take that."
"Hmph," he pouts, uh, I mean, sulks; because Uchiha men never pout like cute little kids.
"Okay, we're off topic." I gather my thoughts, remembering the reason why I teleported myself to the Ninja World. "I'm here to tell you about the numerous nicknames I've decided to use later on."
I smile a radiant smile and turn a blind eye to his I-did-not-understand frown (since I couldn't see with my eyes smiling anyways).
"Sauke is what I wind up with most of the time. Reminds me of tomato sauce. You like tomatoes right?"
"Yeah. I love tomatoes. I'd love to throw some in your face right now if I had some," he snarls.
I wave my hand, as if it really helps waving the matter away.
"And then there's Sake; that only happens if I type too fast." I turn to face him. "Though I don't quite see you as a drunk person..."
The corner of Sasuke's mouth twitches remotely.
"After Sake, there's Sas-Uke."
This time, I wear The Smirk. He stiffens.
"Tch. I, an Uke?" he seethes.
I sense that he is masking, with a little bit of difficulty, the minor upheaval he unwillingly displayed. Just to tease him more, I lean closer to him, letting my head drop in front of his (after all, I'm not gay enough to fall in love with a person of the same gender from a manga, being only in the mood to meddle with the great Uchiha prodigy's unstable Uke feelings).
"Yo-you're t-too c-c-close," he huffs with a stutter rivaling Hinata's. I swear a tint of pale pink settled on his cheeks. He raises his palms and puts them on my shoulders. I expect a gentle push, but instead, he grins, and before I know it, I'm roughly pinned to the ground.
"Who's the Uke now, huh?"
It comes to me that the previous discomfort was simply an act.
"Curse you, Uchiha!"
He stays on me like that for a while, his traditional sneer in place, savoring the view of a fan-fiction writer at his mercy.
"Get off."
He doesn't budge.
"I said," I growl the last word, "Get off, Uchiha."
I bend my elbows and put my weight on them, my upper-body at an angle so I can look him in his onyx orbs at almost the same level. He still refuses to step down, all his features bathing in triumph. Fine. If he is not willing to give me space, I'll force him, no, trick him to and wipe that damn, arrogant smile off his face at the same time. I blank out the emotion from my visage and raise an eyebrow. I proceed by uttering the following with my most stable voice, provoking him greatly. "Are you seriously enjoying this, Sas-gay?"
It immediately gets him off me. I sit up, noticing his blood-red Sharingans flashing precariously at me. I then do the one thing I should not have done: I plunge my gaze into his.
Needless to say, I immeasurably suffer for three minutes in that infernal Tsukuyomi (I find myself lucky the blood-line bearer wasn't Itachi, or else the time spent in pain and agony would be much, much longer).
Right after it finishes, I tap another sentence in Notes.
Sasuke could no longer use the Tsukuyomi; it tired him tremendously.
My companion's shoulders slump a bit as if on cue. He mumbles something inaudible. I'm sure it is an insult apropos of the unjust use of writing tools.
"Sorry," I say, "I didn't quite catch that."
He doesn't dare repeat himself, shooting nervous glances at the Smartphone I hold in my hands, afraid that I revoke his right to speak by easily arranging letters together. I let out a satisfied sigh.
"Toying with your name sure is fun."
His sole response is a grumble of disapproval.
I lay back, content of the work I accomplished, only straightening myself back up again as I recall one last thing to do.
A pair of binoculars appeared from the green entanglements of a nearby bush and settled on the figure beneath the tree. Their target once in view, a lot of rustling came from behind the leaves, annoying the birds around the briars, causing the chirping creatures to fly elsewhere if they wanted to sing without interruption. It seemed as if the shrub was having a giggling fit, if a shrub could giggle. Then, without warning, a bunch of female ninja leaped from the brush, heading for their prey. At the same time, the person sharing the shade with the teenage girls' soon-to-be-boyfriend stood and started jogging away from the tree.
With a head lead, I contemplate from afar as Sasuke casts a glimpse at the hoard of smitten kunoichi and dread flushes his face. He slowly puts one and one together and runs towards me.
"Why you...!" he vociferates, trying to kill me by unleashing daggers with his eyes.
"It's only for the fireballs; I was defenseless when you assailed me!" I holler back, gaining speed and leaving distance between us.
I type the words needed to teleport back to the safety of my home while dodging fire Justus and running away from a lethal Sasuke Uchiha, who in turn flees a swarm of love-stricken females wanting to marry him.