The First Story: Not Just A Pretty Face… I Think.

Uchiha Sasuke had never, at any point in his young life, wanted fan girls.

He had, at one time, felt decidedly smug that he had gotten at least some undying attention from another human being (albeit a girl – a lot of girls) to make up for his father's Itachi-can-do-it-better attitude. But he soon realised that it was not, in fact, largely based on his top grades and rather awesome (if he did say so himself) weapon aiming. Most of his admirers were of the female gender; if that hadn't told him anything yet, he didn't deserve to be called a prodigy. No, it was mostly because of his nice-looking face that he had so many 'friends' vying for his attention. The fact he was best of the class only contributed that tiny little bit.

It was sort of depressing. For Sasuke, anyway.

But if there was one thing that little Uchiha Sasuke grew up wanting it was to simply beat his brother. It was getting rather annoying, he decided, that whenever he mastered a jutsu that should have been difficult for someone five years older than him, Itachi would go and save the universe from destruction that very same day.

Of course, what was learning a good jutsu next to the saviour of the universe? Not much, Sasuke knew.

He had never shown much emotion in his cool features, not even when…

-flashback-

"'Tou-san! 'Tou-san!" Sasuke ran as fast as his six-year-old legs could carry him into the house, thundering through the open door. "Watch, watch!"

After making a few complicated hand signs and biting his thumb open, he slammed his palm to the ground. "Kuchiyose no jutsu!"

His father watched in mild interest as a puff of smoke enveloped his almost-prodigy child. "Summoning? Well, very good, Sasuke, but-"

He trailed off as a bunny turned its face and twitched nervously at him before disappearing out the door in a flurry of fluffy movement. Sasuke grinned up at his father.

"Wait till 'Tachi hears about it! When did 'Tachi-san learn a kuchiyose no jutsu?" Sasuke asked, taking care to control the excitement in his voice. After all, Uchihas did not brag. Not that much. They said that they were superior to all others in an all-knowing tone. Definitely not bragging.

"When he was four," replied Fugaku, but Sasuke did not even have time to slump in disappointment before Itachi swept into the house, hair flying behind him like something in a shampoo advertisement. Not just any shampoo advertisement, mind you. A L'Oreal Paris one.

He didn't even look smug, thought Sasuke enviously as Itachi quickly began to retell the day's events which sounded nothing short of a shinobi-fied James Bond action movie. Without the things that go horribly wrong.

"Well done, Itachi," Fugaku said amiably.

Itachi wasn't even finished. He took out a scroll and explained in the most superior of tones that he now had a new summon.

"A one foot long dragon," Itachi announced. Sasuke almost couldn't hide his smirk. A one foot dragon wasn't anything to brag about. It wouldn't even come up to his knee. But then. Oh, yes. But THEN!

Itachi began forming the same seals as Sasuke had done just minutes earlier, only about fifty (million) times faster. Sasuke blinked, and the room was full of smoke – there was that little dragon, blinking its huge almond eyes, small whiffs of smoke curling from its nostrils. It sneezed, little head bobbing.

Ha, Sasuke thought. A little weeny drag –

"And its mother," Itachi said with a hint of triumph. There was an almighty roar from the front garden and the house shook. Sasuke looked out the window in a flash and saw his little summoned rabbit gone – down the throat of a very hungry, very large dragon.

-end flashback-

Anyway, aside from trumping Sasuke every time he managed to do something worth his father's eyes, Itachi was, contrary to everyone's beliefs, insufferably proud. He may be flawless at hiding it, Sasuke fumed, but he could tell from the way Itachi always had that stupid knowing smirk. Like the time his summoned dragon ate Sasuke's summoned rabbit.

"It's not fair," he said aloud, kicking at his bed. He reminded himself, irritably, that Itachi could turn his bed into splinters with a few well aimed, chakra-loaded strikes.

There had to be something. Itachi wasn't perfect. No one was. That also meant, sadly, Sasuke wasn't perfect either, but there had to be some weakness… Some jutsu that only seven-year-olds could master, that required the power of youth… Sasuke facepalmed himself for thinking like that ridiculous, bowl-haircut displaying green spandex wearing Gai-sensei.

Let's see now…

Kunai throwing? Itachi effortlessly owned him.

Awesome jutsu skillz? Well, if the dragon-bunny thing hadn't already been enough…

Flashy kung-fu moves? It really didn't help that Itachi towered over him and would probably mistake him for a cockroach that needed roundhouse kicking.

There really was absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. Beside a gravity-defying hairdo (Sasuke knew, as a fact, that Itachi woke up two hours earlier than anyone else in the house to make sure his hair shone brilliantly in the sunlight. Please. Sasuke didn't even need to use GEL and his hair stuck out like a duck's ass, not a boring, girly ponytail. How do you like that, big bro? Hmm?), which was no use anyway, Itachi trumped Sasuke in every category…

Speaking of hair…

The idea, ironically, hit him in the face. His beautiful, perfectly carved, handsome featured face, which might be his own weapon against his brother. Framed with raven-black hair and obsidian eyes to match, it was a true work of art. Yes, Itachi also had stunningly good looks, but he also had big fat lines going across his face. Who wanted a guy with premature wrinkles? No one. Sasuke surveyed himself in the mirror, trying on various model pouts, a Gai-esque grin and the typical Uchiha look – the one that said, 'I-am-a-superior-Uchiha-so-suck-it-up-princess'.

It was settled, Sasuke thought smugly. Tomorrow – how conveniently it was to be Valentine's Day, a real lucky coincidence – he would bring home hordes of girls and rub it so hard in his brother's prematurely wrinkled face that his lines would rub right off.

"So there."

"So there."

Itachi flicked his pony tail back, just to see it shimmer in the dim light. He knew girls loved that kind of stuff – silky, glossy black hair, something they could run their fingers through and bury their face in. He imagined someone attempting to run their fingers through his idiotic brother's hair and snorted. And then composed himself, looking around wildly to see if anyone had caught him snorting.

And sighed in relief, because there wasn't anyone up at three in the morning.

Itachi resumed petting his ebony tresses. Today, he was going to show Sasuke who was simply the better Uchiha brother. The more popular. The smarter. The real prodigy. The first child.

The chick-magnet.

He smugly pictured Sasuke's face when he arrived home from school and saw the crowd of girls surrounding his older brother, all begging to have his babies and such mad love declarations as that. Itachi would smirk, nod and wink.

And he'd say: "Sometimes, brother, I wish I was as plain looking as you. Because then I wouldn't have a mass of squealing females hounding my every step."

Oh, snap!

So why was he doing this? He had everything already. Beautiful hair. An awesome reputation of godliness all over Konoha. Any girl he wanted would be his with a wink and a smile. Oh, and he was a kickass ninja, but nobody really noticed that until he was about to kill them.

In truth, Itachi just wanted to win.

And seeing the expression on Sasuke's face was worth a whole year's supply of L'Oreal Paris Shampoo and Conditioner, really.

Sasuke was drowning.

He was drowning in a sea of screams, squeals and love declarations. He was being chucked at with chocolates, pelted with pretty pink paper hearts, flattened by flowers and his experiences were a victim of very bad alliteration.

Being a romantic interest was harder than he thought. For one, when he said, "EXCUSE ME!" half his admirers somehow mistook this for "I LOVE YOU AND PLEASE JUMP ON ME AND SCREAM SIXTEEN TIMES LOUDER".

And it was only nine o'clock.

He dragged himself through the sea of girls, being careful to avoid his two biggest fans, a blonde with an endless supply of flowers and a pink-haired girl with an endless supply of forehead (he hadn't decided which he detested more). Grabbing hands tore his bag from him, and cries of triumph pierced the background screams.

"I got Sasuke's book! HE WROTE HIS NAME ON THE FRONT PAGE, OMIGOD, OMIGOD, OMIGOD…!"

"Yeah? Well I got Sasuke's PENCILCASE! HE PUT HIS HAND IN THIS, OMIGOD, OMIGOD, OMIGOD…!"

"I beat both of youbecause I got Sasuke-kun's spare headband… OH. MY. GOD, THERE'S A STRAND OF SASUKE'S HAIR, OMIGOD, OMIGOD, OMIGOD…!"

The idiot who had declared her recent possession of a strand of hair was buried under a pile of ferocious girls who wanted a piece of Sasuke's hair, and the said boy took his chance to slip into the classroom and make his way to his desk, only to find that –

"Sauce-kay-kun… Oh, my god, Sauce-kay-kun," bleated a love-struck kunnoichi. "I'm sitting where you sat…" She started to cry with delirious happiness. "I'm in heaven!"

"She doesn't even go here," remarked Shikamaru, who seemed totally unfazed by the pandemonium, if not slightly annoyed.

Sasuke massaged his temples. "Do you even go to this school?"

"No… I just have a lot of feelings," she sobbed and stumbled from the room.

Sasuke stared at his recently vacated seat and wondered why his desk had been painted pink with alternating purple and red love hearts.

Sasuke's Popularity Quiz: Are You As Beautiful As Uchiha Sasuke?

1. What happens when you walk into a room?

a) Somebody dies.

b) Nothing.

c) You find it has been decorated in your honour.

d) Every girl flings themselves at your feet and bombards you with their Valentines, and you find that they have painted your desk a hideous combination of colours that make your eyes water, though whether it's because of pity for the person who thought it was good to put bright red with fuchsia pink or because you want to die, it's not quite clear.

2. You walk by a row of garbage cans. What do you notice?

a) They smell like you.

b) Nothing.

c) Hands poke out of the top and confetti is thrown over you.

d) Holes have been cut out in the bottom and sides, and arms and legs are poking out of them, most of them holding cameras and/or chocolates with badly written poems on them. As you walk, the row of garbage cans follows you and one of them even starts to sing. And they've been painted so that when they all sit in a straight line, they spell 'S-A-S-U-K-E'.

3. You find that you need to answer the call of nature (you need to pee). As soon as you begin in the general direction of the nearest bathroom, the following occurs:

a) Everyone in the bathroom leaves the building, throwing you disgusted looks.

b) Nothing.

c) A red carpet is rolled out for you and a urinal has even been polished to sparkling consistency. You'd rather not think who did that.

d) Hushed whispers bounce from every direction and within half a minute, everyone steps back to create a path from you to the bathroom door. And you decide to hold it until you can shake your fan club off, because the moment you even reach for your pants cameras are going off and even when you retreat to a locked cubicle, you swear that (pink) security camera hovering above you wasn't there last time…

4. You attempt to walk home from school and find a mob of girls following you. How do you react?

a) They're probably wielding pitchforks and knives and want to kill you.

b) They're probably there because Sasuke is walking behind you.

c) Smile and wave, because you know you're hot. Strike a pose or two.

d) Invite them over, because you know you have a brother who would love to see how popular you are, which is much, much more than him. At this, they all either faint from pure ecstasy, or deafen you with shrieks of glee and try to grovel and worship the ground you walk on. And you decide next Valentine's Day, you are not. Going. To. School.

RESULTS:

Mostly a's: You are extremely unpopular, stinky, and generally hated by the female population. You are not anything near Uchiha Sasuke. You had better start taking regular showers,.

Mostly b's: You are either apathetic, care-free or really, really boring. The female population probably doesn't know you exist. You are not anything near Uchiha Sasuke. Uchihas can stand out without having to do anything, because they are just that pretty.

Mostly c's: You are pretty popular with the girls and are worthy of their attention. Most of them are willing to go out of their way to earn your respect. You are not anything near Uchiha Sasuke, though closer than the other two. Maybe you're a Hyuuga.

Mostly d's: You are Uchiha Sasuke. Though next year on the Fourteenth of February, it would be wise to mysteriously disappear for the day or commit suicide. It will save a lot of trouble.

And your brother sucks.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Sasuke, Itachi was gathering his own army of girls. It wasn't hard, really, to simply take off his jacket and shirt, 'misplace' them somewhere and parade through the streets publicly announcing his loss.

Women from every household were claiming their knowledge of his articles of clothing's whereabouts:

"Itachi-kun! I run the local dry-cleaners, and I know you left them there with me: want to come pick them up?"

"She lies, Itachi-sama! I have witnesses – you specifically asked me to keep them at the bottom of my pool. I'm afraid you'll have to retrieve them yourself."

"Yuki, no one's going to buy that stupid story! No, Itachi, they're in my bedroom, along with your pants. You left them there last night."

By the time he had garnered a reasonable amount of smitten women, it was only three in the afternoon, and all of them were more than willing to spend the rest of the day partying at the Uchiha compound. Itachi figured out, with his genius IQ, how to work the Jacuzzi, and with Fugaku out on 'urgent business' he could play his Britney Spears as loud as he wanted to.

It was the middle of 'Toxic', he remembered, that Sasuke arrived home from the Ninja Academy.

"Brother, what is up with this music? It's so out-dated. I guess I didn't expect anything… more from… you… oh."

At this point, Sasuke's jaw hit the ground and his foot froze mid-way to the fourth step outside the back door. Eyes bulging, mouth twitching and eyebrows positively comical, for a minute Sasuke lost his Uchiharian composition as he surveyed the scene of bikini-clad females dancing around, most of them trying to catch his elder brother's attention.

"Do you like it, Sasuke?" Itachi asked, waving his arms grandly for another excuse to flex his biceps. "They simply began to follow me as I walked down the road. I didn't know where to put them, so I thought, why not treat them at our place? I mean, I didn't think you'd mind… Sasuke."

A lot of thoughts were racing through Sasuke's mind right now, and most of them concerned Itachi dying a slow and painful death (the rest were jealous thoughts about Itachi's defined body physique). Clenching his jaw and making sure not to display any more emotion, Sasuke said: "Oh, no, Itachi. Not at all, not at all. After all, I brought along a few girls of my own." He turned around, patted his hair and called out: "You can come in now!"

So they did.

(It shall not be described in great detail, but let's just say that Sasuke would have to spend all of his pocket money and be in debt for a year or two to pay for the complete demolition of the back wall.)

(And Itachi didn't look quite so as smug.)

If one were to describe the current scene, it would be as follows:

An older, more mature and self-satisfied looking young man with a rather feminine pony-tail, wearing nothing but tight pants and a glittering necklace, hair blowing in the sudden, unexpected wind was standing atop an outdoor Jacuzzi. Behind him, a crowd of women were either passed out cold with huge smiles plastered onto their faces, suffering from a profusely bleeding nose or bowing low to the ground, on their knees and worshipping him like a god.

Opposite him was a younger boy with similar features but more, eh, original hair. He would rather not strike a pose like his brother but had a 'brave-hero-about-to-sacrifice-his-life-in-order-to-save-the-universe' aura surrounding him, with clenched fists and determined black eyes. However, this projection was probably ruined by the equally as large mob of young girls squealing, cheering or attempting to recite a marriage proposal behind him, many of them standing where a wall had been a few seconds before.

This serious and solemn setting was completed by the strains of 'Oops I Did It Again', turned down only slightly because of a grumpy request from Neji Hyuuga, who preferred Christina Aguilera.

"Well. Brother," spat Sasuke, duck-ass hair resolutely staying like a duck-ass despite the breeze. "It's come down to this."

"Indeed it has," Itachi replied gracefully. "A contest of recognition. And there can only be one winner. Who takes it? Which Uchiha will reign supreme?"

"...The loser will have to pick up the champion's toenail clippings."

"It's on."

Dead silence for just a split second. Then –

"Yo Momma's so fat, when she stepped on an aeroplane it turned into a submarine!"

"Oh yeah? Well yo Momma's so fat, I took a photo of her last Christmas and it's still printing!"

"When she steps on a scale it says 'to be continued!"

"When she walked past the TV you missed a whole season of Gossip Girl!"

"When she takes a shower her feet don't get wet!"

"The only thing stopping her from getting into the gym is the door!"

Neither brother had yet to realise they both shared the same mother, so regardless, they continued to hurl their deadly arsenal of attacks.

"When she went missing they had to use all four sides of the milk carton!"

"She has more Chins than a Chinese phone book!"

Eyes swivelled from one brother to the other, their voices rising with each word missile.

"When she went to the beach, Greenpeace tried to haul her back into the water!"

"When she wakes up, she gets out of bed on both sides!"

Neither of them seemed to look as if they would run out of ammunition anytime soon. One could almost imagine spit flying from their mouths with every insult – but of course, Uchihas never spat. It was terribly undignified.

Time had almost frozen on the battlefield and sometimes, one brother would trump the other, only to be hit with a Hokage-worthy comeback seconds later. It was uncertain whether this great war would end in a minute, or an hour, or a day or two… Their voices never wavered as they fought valiantly on.

Until…

"What is the meaning of this?"

Fugaku pushed his way through the crowd of Sasuke's fangirls, face livid with a touch of confusion. The brothers stopped at the sight of Big Daddy Uchiha, who they both feared and respected.

"I can explain!"

"No, I can explain better!"

"My explanations have always been superior to yours!"

"Oh yeah? You-"

Fugaku held up his hand, which was equivalent to splashing a cold bucket of water into their faces.

"You both have gravely disappointed me," he began in a terrible voice. "I expected better from my sons. You have let down the Uchiha clan. You have failed."

"Otou-san…"

"Let me finish," said Fugaku sombrely. "Next year… Next year, on Valentine's Day, I expect something a little more like this."

Bewilderment swept across the brothers' faces. Did Fugaku have some kind of secret wall-repairing clean-uppering fangirl-disappearing no jutsu?

"FUGAKU-SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMA!"

The cry which arose from the streets could not have been described in words, but it blew them away.

Literally.

Sasuke and Itachi were lost under the stampede of women that squashed the (concrete, reinforced and decked with barbed wire) fence in a few seconds flat, their beautiful faces stomped on rudely and clothes torn to shreds as the mass of women spilled in from the streets.

And Fugaku? He was absolutely swamped, picked up and carried upon the shoulders of his devotees, who in turn tried to kill each other for a chance to brush the hem of their beloved Fugaku-sama's shirt. War-cries filled the air, along with the sound of dresses ripping and hair being pulled out by the roots. The procession of insane females continued down the street, stretching endlessly on, marching past and chanting their hero's name. It was incredible. The amount of women and even a couple of men that marched past them couldn't even be counted by the Sharingan.

"Fugaku-sama! Be mine tonight~! Fugaku-sama! Be mine tonight~!"

Sasuke and Itachi could do nothing but start glassy-eyed, Itachi lamenting the time he would have to spend in order to make his hair look remotely nice again. The Uchiha compound was deserted except for the two figures lying, exhausted, on the battered grass, forgotten.

Itachi was the first to speak. "Brother. We… We…" He closed his eyes, unable to go on, pain etched on every line on his extremely liney face.

"Yeah, Itachi, we got beaten by a middle-aged man that resembles you," muttered Sasuke, turning his head gingerly. He could feel the imprint of a foot on his cheek, squeals of 'Fugaku-sama! I love you!' still ringing in his ears.

"We did."

"Yeah."

The brothers contemplated this for a moment, Itachi also wondering how he was going to get the dirt out of his nails. The sun above them began to set, dying the sky a million different hues of orange and red. Wind whispered through the leaves of the trees, caressing their upturned cheeks with the gentleness of a loving mother leaving her sons for the last time. The air was almost sighing in contentment.

"Brother… I have one last thing to say to you."

Sasuke was silent. Savouring the cool feeling of the grass on his bare limbs, he lifted his head and finally, after years of jealousy and spite, his eyes met his brother's completely hatred-free. They were united by the humiliation of being utterly pwned like n00bs by their father, of all people. "What… what is it, Itachi?"

"You… you…"

Dramatic pause.

"Your mother is so ugly they hang a picture of her on the mantelpiece to keep kids away from the fireplace!"

-end?-