Haruno Sakura…

is currently taking her math test; stuck on number fourteen. Help?

Uzumaki Naruto…is cheating off Haruno Sakura. I wish she'd hurry it up! Gah, you're supposed to smart, right?

Uchiha Sasuke…Uzumaki Naruto is a Class 'A' Dobe. The answer is 32, choice D.

Uzumaki Naruto…Uchiha Sasuke just hurt my feelings! TEME! (Still waiting for Haruno Sakura to go on to number 15 here! We only have an hour and there're thirty questions!)

Haruno Sakura…Sigh…you know the world has gone bonkers when people fight over the internet when they could just yell at each other in the REAL WORLD. And, Naruto, I've moved on to number twenty already…Sigh…

Sai…Yes?

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Jenius

i. September

•It Begins•

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A type of emptiness filled the classroom, the only noise being the noise of the ceiling fans whirring above the students, of which were trying to stay awake. A huge party had taken place just the night before—amazing planning, right?—and, somehow, mostly all of the now-Senior class had made a way to attend none other than the Yamanaka mansion for the master party.

The fact that the party was held at the blond-haired, blue-eyed, bombshell-bodied girl's house was no surprise. She had regular parties at her house every other weekend, sometimes during the week if her parents were out of town, which they usually were, working on expanding their rapidly growing flower business.

One girl, no matter what, be it social status or day of the week, was always invited to those memorable parties. She was one of the few who had a mind not to drink her brain into mush, and, consequently, she was one of the few who had the ability to pay attention during the class, not saying she was, that is.

Shining emerald eyes fought to stay open as she stared out of the classroom window, eyeing fluttering birds until they disappeared into the horizon, counting blades of grass until she reached two hundred, at which she would look around the field for random things like bees or beautiful butterflies, of which she would watch until they too flew away. Resting her head heavily on her elbow-propped palm, the girl sighed, too tired to blow the rosy, red, and platinum blond strands of hair that had fallen out of her hairclip, and into her face, ends tickling her bunny nose.

Without much of a warning, her vermillion eyes were covered, eyelids without a hint of makeup on them closing, blackness replacing her view of the rather lively courtyard outside the classroom window.

The first blurbs of color to fill her thoughts were familiar, bright glowing reds, pinks and greens, plenty of people with faces she could hardly make out walking, moving, and gyrating—because they had better not think they were dancing—around her. She was sitting on the couch, yes, the couch that she always took a comfortable seat on in the Yamanaka household. It was large, big enough that she could sit with her legs up on the white leather crossed Indian style while she read, not even interrupted or distracted by the couple beside her, who were heatedly making out. Within a heartbeat, they'd leave, fixing hair and readjusting clothes before they returned to where the bulk of the people were, where people that cared they were making out were.

Music made the walls vibrate, the floors shake, and eventually, she decided she'd be better off in the basement. Someone had brought the beer into the family room—where she was once comfortably ignored—and she did not want to be included in that mess.

Therefore, she gathered herself, hopped off the white leather couch, stuffed her pocket-sized book into her pocket, and made her way to the basement. She took her time observing the numerous paintings adorning the walls, looking out larger than life windows in the kitchen, avoiding people as they ran like wild banshees to another area of the house. She quarried on whether or not she should tell Ino to block out certain areas of the estate for the wellbeing and the cleanliness of all the expensive furniture and decorations.

Either way, Ino wouldn't listen to her. She's too busy partying.

She shook her head, worried for her friend's health, but, then again, she shouldn't worry. Ino is a professional party girl. Her porcelain, petite hand reached out for the golden handle of the basement door, not expecting to run right into the hard, no-doubt toned chest. She fell back, reaction to running into a freaking human brick wall of muscle and hands shot out to catch her, grasping her elbows.

"I-I-I—um, eh, I-I—are you okay?" She asked once she regained her balance, rolling her eyes at her stupidity. She sounded like some sort of broken record! Who freaking does that?

Her burning blush only increased tenfold when the person only chuckled, a laugh she contemplated on recording in the fourth grade, just so she could listen to it when she pleased, so she could keep it as her sort of treasure, especially considering he didn't laugh like that so often. She would know. Trust me.

His hands seemingly slowly moved from their grasp on her arm, leaving a tingling, sizzling hot feeling wherever they trailed, a spark when his fingertips slid away. She didn't even have to look up to see it was he. HIM. (Not the band) "I should be asking you that question."

Her eyes went wide, "His voice sounds even sexier up close…" she mused internally, spinning around in girly circles.

After smacking her inner, the girl laughed nervously, scratching the back of her rosette head, and grinning like an idiot, no doubt. She made sure to keep her eyes focused on the interesting red and white fan on the pocket of his dark blue dress shirt, and as far away as possible while managing to look decently polite. She giggled, "No, no; I'm okay, really."

Beats of silence past, she on the second step from the top, he on the third. She wondered if he was ever going to ask her to move, or at least move himself so she could get downstairs, but they stood there. They stood there like freaking statues.

That is until he opened his mouth, a perfectly arched dark eyebrow rising in inquisition.

"Have I ever met you before?"

The blood rushed to her cheeks again, it having receded just seconds prior, and her apple green eyes widened, heart pounding in her chest. That was an entire six words. Nobody else was around so he had to be talking to her. Maybe there was someone else coming downstairs, in the basement, standing in the doorway that she—even though she thought she did—left open. That would bring some rational to this. Nobody talked to her except her small little handful of friends, and that was rare in itself. Some would say she was solitary.

She, after realizing that that was his gaze on her, waiting for her answer to his question, bit the inside of her cheek, a fit completed out of nerves. "I—um—"

Not this again…her inner groaned.

"I'm in all of your classes," She blurted, feeling the need to shut up her retarded inner. "I sit by the window in Math—Kakashi."

He nodded, comprehending. "Sakura, right?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah, totally, definitely—" She swallowed the nervous lump in her throat down, and then rolled her eyes, shrugging awkwardly. How embarrassing it is when your mouth just talks…"Yep, that's my name. Haruno Sakura."

"Uchiha Sasuke."

I know your name…duh…I've none your name since freaking birth!

Sakura wondered for a moment, a split moment, if she should take his hand and shake it, like in most greeting interchanges. Maybe she could be bold and hug him, if she didn't already feel nauseous because he was this close to her already, a whole stair apart. Her throat started tightening. Maybe she should just say, "Nice to meet you!" and then continue her journey down to the nearly empty basement, but that would technically be lying, since she met him—well, not him, per se, Ino pointed him out—years ago, back in elementary school. However, obviously he doesn't know that; he just asked if he met her before. Therefore, it would be perfectly fine for her to lie in this case then, right? Kami wouldn't spontaneously fall from the sky and, she doesn't know, kill her for lying? Right?

She bit her inner cheek, aiming her gaze directly at the Uchiha. Maybe he did know. He is a prodigy after all, and, well, he could have ESP or something. Maybe he knew she was contemplating on what to say know, contemplating on the consequences and rewards all the way up to the age of fifty-eight. Perhaps it would be best for her to just smile, nod her head, and say something witty like, "Oh, that color looks great on you," then walk down the stairs, leaving him speechless, but, that's something Ino would do. Ino has the confidence and charisma to pull something as cheesy as that off, but her. She would never be able to even half-way flirt.

Then, it would be best to grin then—no, that wouldn't do at all, because what if he says 'No problem.' then she would have to either say something else or ignore it, and, being completely honest with herself, she knew that would end up with her blabbing again, and then this whole process would start over from the beginning, and nobody wanted that.

He cleared his throat, ripping her from her inward arguments, and then stared at her inquisitively, dark eyes curious as he sidestepped on the stair, moving from in front of her. She was weird, just standing there in front of him, biting her cheek so hard he wondered when it would actually start bleeding, staring into space. When she blushed again, he rolled his eyes. Just when he thought he could escape fan girls here in the basement, one with smarts actually decides to come look for him.

"I've got to go." Sasuke muttered before shaking bangs out his eyes, staggering up the stairs, thuds after each step.

Something akin to panic ran through Sakura's veins then, and she jumped up, turned and skipped a step, placing a soft hand on the even softer fabric of his shirt. He glared at her, almost sneered even, and then it clicked in her mind. Without any hesitation, she smiled lightly.

"I'm not a fan girl, I swear. I just wanted to come down here and read." To prove herself legit, she even grabbed the little book of hers from her back pocket, "See?"

His eyes narrowed a bit further as he read the title, then he glanced at her, not even leaving anymore word as he turned his back and finished walking up the steps, closing the door back after him.

Sakura stood there on the step then for a couple more seconds, feeling like a complete idiot even though in reality she is anything but.

"Sakura, do you know the answer to this," a voice fuzzed into her ears, once quiet but growing louder toward the end, and, rather reluctantly, the rosette blinked open her eyes.

The first thing she registered was that it was bright, much brighter than it was before. It was almost lunchtime, then. Seconds later, she realized that every one of her classmates and resituated themselves in their seats just so they could see her, eyes penetrating her soul the most were black, deep black orbs as deep as a well. He was looking at her…OMG. That could mean so much.

Kakashi-sensei repeated, "Sakura. Can you perform this problem?"

"Hm?" She hummed, averting her attention to staring at certain people staring at her from the corner of her eye that were completely the definition of deliciousness embodied. Her eyebrows rose in curiosity and surprise, but they fell back into normality when her brain (finally) registered the words her teacher had spoken.

Her green eyes scanned the whiteboard, finding one equation circled and starred, and within seconds she declared, "Fifty-three," without hesitation, question, or even a calculator, as her answer.

People gasped, and she wondered why for a minute, that is until Kakashi grinned. "And what about this one?"

Eyes where literally on her. She could feel each and every single one, waiting for her to say another right answer after just staring at the problem for a maximum amount of fifteen seconds. Some were waiting for her to screw up. She knew it.

She felt one gaze though that never left, one that immediately brought a blush to her face, a tingling, foggy feeling to her brain.

Sakura coughed, shaking her head clear before staring at the next problem on the board then shrugging. "Is it fourteen?"

Kakashi honestly was taken aback when he had to tell her that was the incorrect solution. Weeks into the school year and the girl had never gotten a problem incorrect, not even the challenge examples, and the emotion obviously showed. In reaction to the teacher's barely noticeable—understatement of the year—shocked widening of his visible eye, the hitch of his shoulders, the class' murmurs rose, some wondering how in the world she got the problem wrong.

After double-checking in the back of the Teacher's Edition of the math book, he exhaled, releasing the breath he had been unconsciously holding.

"Um…that's…wrong," he mumbled before pointing to another section of the classroom, "How about you, Sasuke; do you know the answer?"

The Uchiha flicked his eyes away from the girl quickly, then, in a tired reply, he answered. "It's fifteen."

Kakashi nodded, checking both his original answer and that in the back of the book. "That is correct Sasuke." The bell rang. "Alright, class dismissed. Remember there'll be an assembly after lunch today instead of your usual class. I'll see you tomorrow."

Like a tired scarecrow, Sakura gathered her books and made her way for the lunchroom. She had a feeling that today was just not going to be her day.

"Have you had a boyfriend yet, Forehead?" Ino asked in honest curiosity, though it came out airy and carefree, conversationally. She grasped an apple from the basket they were offered in, smiling as she handed the lady working the cash register a quarter. The woman smiled back; looking like Ino's payment with a grin had brightened her day. It probably had. Ino had that kind of effect on people.

However, Sakura was, like, immune to it.

"Shut up, Ino-pig, I thought that we went through this already."

She slumped so that her red lunch tray tilted toward the ground, her carton of milk tumbling to the ground consequence to gravity. Sakura almost cursed, pissed that she was going to have to actually bend down and get the cursed milk that fell down, when that would only make the rest of her food tumble to the ground too.

Instead, her milk was placed on the tray, and she glanced up, partially speechless, to see one of the most gorgeous boys in the school. Well, he wasn't a student. A teacher, actually. More specifically, teacher's assistant. Either way he was hot.

"Here you are, Sakura-san," Itachi-sensei said with a small grin, placing the dairy back.

Sakura's heart skipped a beat, and she giggled goofily. "Thanks…ha," she looked at the milk, specifically the purple cow adorning it, then smiled, "Cool cow, huh?"

The TA stared at Sakura awkwardly; mouth slightly agape in shock, charcoal brown eyes widened considerably. "Sure," He grinned just to grin, you know, that type of smile someone smiles just to fill empty, tense space, and then turned to leave, not a sound trailing after him. What did make a noise was the whole student body, unanimous gasps, scattered snickers, plastic spoons and forks dropping to the ground. She even heard Ino slap a hand to her forehead.

Something akin to pity filled Ino's voice. "It's senior year, Sakura-honey."

The rosette just sent a rather agitated glance toward the blonde girl, and then huffed, storming to the normal lunch table toward the rear entrance of the lunchroom.

Ino grumbled, chasing after her friend, successfully weaving through the usual milling in the area. She sped until she was in front of Sakura, a gush of wind following. Sakura took in the slight disarray of Ino's usual perfect hair, the angry red blush splaying on her cheeks, and the straight line her lips made. If there were no tray in her hands, rest assured, her arms would be crossed.

Sakura sighed, preparing herself for the oncoming onslaught of Ino's 'Words of Wisdom'.

"Sakura, this is our last year in high school and my boyfriend ratio compared to yours is ridiculous. My relationship ratio is even higher than yours is," A porcelain hand patted onto Sakura's shoulder, easily guiding her through a path that appeared out of nowhere, and led right to the lunch table.

The girl just grumbled, "I didn't know you were keeping track."

Ino laughed. "Yes, I was, actually. Currently I'm in the lead by twenty-one to your pathetic zero." Sakura started to interrupt, but Ino held up a finger, "Now, the main fun in high school is to flirt, get a boyfriend—lose your virginity! I mean, hey, we'll be eighteen this year, officially legal, so why not?"

She slapped the red lunch tray onto the circular table, a satisfactory grin painting her face. "So, what do you say to trying not to be such an antisocial study buddy and becoming some special guy's fuck buddy?" Ino grabbed Sakura's cheeks, pinching them like a baby's cheeks, "Come on, Saku; what do you say?"

Sakura scoffed, throwing her tray down and plopping into her seat. "I say you're a slut."

Sakura couldn't focus during the entire lunch hour on eating her hamburger, her friend's laughter and chides were distracting her. It felt like they were laughing about her, when in reality, they were really laughing about the latest episode of some MTV show that was on last night.

It could be possible that Ino was right, which isn't much of a feat to say. The blonde girl was almost always correct when it came to social matters, a reason why some people say they fit together like a puzzle. Sakura was the brain, the academic half that knew why the sky really was blue and knew the square root of pi like the back of her hand; Ino was the smile, the charismatic half that knew every episode of every season of ever episode, when and where a party was, and why the latest break up occurred.

Sometimes, once every blue moon, Sakura would wonder how her life would be different if she only went home to read, lock herself up in her room, and charge her cell phone that would never ring. Perhaps she would be the one running in and out of front doors to go to this mall and that, to hang out at this park, watch the boys play basketball at this person's house, all the while being able to fill awkward silences in conversation with a funny word.

She supposed it was justified, too, why people wondered how she and Ino were even friends to begin with. Ino was the embodiment of every child's thought of 'The Perfect Girl'. She had long, gorgeous legs, bright blue, cherry eyes, and a Cover Girl smile with teeth not too large nor too small, not a gap or incorrect angle in sight. Her skin was always clear, she was athletic, and hand the most envied body in high school because she had a flat, toned stomach, yes, but she wasn't lacking— flaunting a higher C cup. The Yamanaka was the cheerleading captain, yet she wasn't a bitch because of that. Almost everyone was her friend.

Alternatively, you have her. Not Sakura, because no one knows her name when she's walking down the hall with her best friend—it's always that girl with the pink hair, or, the one that's always with Yamanaka. More often that not, it's the genius, the girl who's taking college classes with near perfect grades in each, never dropping lower than a B average, that being her off-day. She had long hair, too, yet it was pink; target for most gossip being on whether it was real or died, if she had a special mental gift and it was shown threw her pink hair, if she was just plain weird. Her forehead was overly large, taking up over half of her face, eyebrows were—if left untamed—quite frankly a jungle, her lips weren't as pouty as Meagan Fox's or Angela Jolie's; they were too full and pillow-like, adding to the innocent doe look she had going on. Her huge, alien eyes were just another thing to add to the list, being so large and wide when normal that she made a conscious effort never to widen them in shock, for she would look like some sick cartoon.

One of the few things she liked about herself—her eye color. A gorgeous emerald green with grassy, vermillion, and jade accents, a little gold circling around her pupil was the color, and she was quite proud of that uniqueness. Green eyes that pure were a rarity.

However, her body was not. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't skinny, she was flat, but she wasn't upper-level blessed, her hips weren't round like TenTen's, and her waist wasn't as tiny as Hinata's, her legs like wooden planks when compared to Ino's legs.

Sometimes she felt bad comparing herself to her friends, and other times she found herself wondering if they ever compared themselves to her—in a positive way. Instead of saying, 'It's not as bad as Haruno' when they mess up a dye job on their hair, or 'I'll borrow Sakura's pants' when they're particularly bloated, they would say 'I want to be as uniquely beautiful as her' and 'I wish I was smart and pretty like Sakura-chan'. That would be a thing to hear, a thing she really wouldn't believe upon first hearing, and, she probably would never believe it.

Without a single parcel of food eaten off of her lunch tray, Sakura shot up immediately after the bell signifying lunch's ending, tossed all the food in the garbage, threw the plastic tray into the small pile with much noise, and stormed out of the lunch room, not a single goodbye to her friends.

There was too much on her mind to deal with anything but herself right now.

In Gym class, it was a type of adventure, some would say, to Sakura. It was the end of her usually, if not for today's upsets with her incorrect answer, Ino's boy pestering, her brooding, and the normal teasing and stares amplified, glorious and successful journey called a school day. Soon she would be heading home, but not sweaty, musty, and exhausted as most people would be.

She could hardly remember the excuse she came up with to avoid this month's rigorous activities, maybe it had something to do with a broken baby toe and a forged signature of her father, but she could care less. Her back was against the diamond patterned metal—or was it that fake metal?—fence, a 200-page red notebook resting on her legs that would otherwise be pressed against her chest.

As the pencil twirled between her fingers at a speed only gained by practice, she wondered what most girls would do if they were in the same 'blessed' situation as she. Sakura was in Sasuke's gym class, which meant many things if the right season came around. She could sneak peeks of him during the swimming unit, muscular torso glistening with pool water, she could awe at his ball handling skills during the basketball unit, or, if the situation called, she could just stare.

Staring was what she was doing, if that is what it's called instead of ogling, instead of studying for her upcoming Physics Test in a few days. She watched, awestruck at his ability to just do, and do successfully, every move he took graceful, each hesitation step before he kicked the white and black patterned soccer ball into the net confusing the defense, including those who played for the team last year, of which clenched 1st place at the championships. The sun was beating down and it would make sense that he was sweating, but what confused her was how he managed to make something as grimy—albeit helpful toward homeostasis—as perspiration attractive.

After yet another goal, sending the game score to 0-4, and more cheering from the winning team of boys, groans from the girls, Sasuke glanced in her direction.

She cowered immediately, slapping her notebook up so to cover her beet red face, not of heat but of embarrassment. She had to be staring at him for at least fifteen-minutes at a time, Gym class was almost over, and this was the fourth time he'd caught her. What was her problem? Why was she just sitting here in the shade, underneath a big Oak tree instead of actually participating in Gym, making herself look like a lazy lard because everyone except Gai-sensei knew her toe was perfectly fine? Why was she doing all this when she could be talking to him, when she could be making an imprint on his memories of the day?

Almost answering her question or maybe it was a weird twist of destiny, a gust of wind blew on the field that was once nothing but dry air and sunrays. The cool wind flipped the pages in her open notebook with ruffling noises until it stopped at a list she had made last gym period.

Her green eyes analyzed it, light eyebrows furrowing at the turn of coincidence with her thoughts.

Reasons Why I love Uchiha Sasuke was the heading, written in concentrated perfect cursive, centered almost to exact measurement. Below it were reasons listed one through forty-five, all differing, some lengthy and detailed, some short and to the point. That, though, brought no surprise to her, but on the backside of the page, also turned by the wind, was a short, short, list, only one reason why Uchiha Sasuke would love her on it.

With a new sort of determination, she slapped shut the notebook in cue with the ringing of the last bell.

If she wanted that list to get any longer, she would have to go to the source itself.

She circled around Sasuke's block seven times, drawing closer to actually unbuckling her seatbelt each time, only to decide to go to Ino's house and ask—no, beg—for forgiveness, mercy, and assistance.

Not shortly after her finger left the small sphere of a bell, a grinning Ino donned in some fleece shorts and a tank top answered the door. Sakura almost asked if she had been waiting by the door, but the blonde beauty yanked her in, dragging her up the curving staircase before she could utter a word as short as 'Hi'.

Her heart pounded in her ears from the sheer distance being covered in such a short amount of time, and she'd never be more grateful that Ino's room was the closest in the hallway.

The big white bedroom door slammed shut as soon as Sakura staggered in.

"What was that about, Ino?" She rasped, pressing a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing pulse. "You know I am out of shape!"

The Yamanaka smirked, lips curving upward primly. "Oh, you are in shape—a circular one, actually."

Sakura growled, "Whatever," before taking a big, soothing breath. "I came here to ask you for help…with, you know…"

A smile as bright as the sun fell onto Ino's face as she clapped, sprinting around her room in a blur, grabbing brushes, combs, pins, make-up, nail polish, accessories, a curling iron, and a silver contraption Sakura had never seen before in her life. Before she could ask, Ino pushed her into a seat, right in front of her vanity, where all of her 'materials' were placed.

"With B. O. ? Or with one little boy in particular?" She skipped around Sakura's chair and then into her closet, "Because if I have an idea of who, like, I don't know, Sasuke—?"

Something ripped in Sakura's spirit, something extremely delicate, and she swished around in the chair, rising out of it and stomping into the closet. She screamed to the closed door, interrupting her best friend, "INO! Gah, I am over him!"

A blonde head popped out from the door, not even revealing a segment of the walk-in. She looked at Sakura, looked her up and down, at the serious façade she was trying to pull off. Her lip was pulled into a tight line, so tight all color left them, her eyes narrowed into small little green lines, hands forced into shaking fists at her sides. Despite what is recommended to do in any situation involving angry best friends, Ino laughed in her face.

"What do you mean, Sakura-chan? You love him—now, try this on."

Clothes, more accurately crumpled up into a ball dresses, shorts, t-shirts, and more dressy shirts, were thrown at her face, and, to her poor reflexes, they all plopped to the ground. Sakura groaned, "What am I supposed to—"

Ino repeated herself, popping her head back out of the closet, "Try them on! And these shoes; I'll do your—"

"Why though?" Sakura pronounced, growing agitated because she, for one, hated trying on clothes. There was no point whatsoever, and, they weren't even hers so why should they fit on her? For another, she hated trying on clothes without reason. She could understand if it were for a graduation, or a wedding. That had enough reason. However, just for fun, zipping up, unbuttoning, pulling over, and slipping off clothes?

It. Was. Troublesome.

Besides that, she still had homework to do!

The blonde girl stepped out of the closet, revealing a cute outfit of dark wash jeans and a plain red shirt in the front, the back having all sorts of cuts and rips running down it. She threw her hands out dramatically, "Tada! Acceptation?" Ino asked, doing a little twirl for extra effect.

Sakura shrugged. "It's pretty. Are you going somewhere tonight?"

Ino laughed, picking up the clothes pile resting at Sakura's feet and placing it back in her hands, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "No; we're going out tonight. Now, hurry up—I've always wanted to play Barbie with a real person."

The rosette grunted before entering the bathroom. So now, she was a doll. How fun.

"Where are we going?" She made sure to put extra emphasis on the pronoun.

Ino tried to control her smile. "Study party for that English test at the Uchihas!"

...The...Fuck...? "I HATE YOU!" Sakura yelled out of impulse before storming into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

A/N: New idea that came out of nowhere! OMG; I need to stop. But I can'T! LOL.

Okay, so, update status on this? Eh, maybe, at least, every two weeks. That's the minimum. This took me a whole month, though, so don't be surprised.

REVIEW! ALERT! FAVE!

~KeepItLEGIT (ryan)