Chapter Three: The Second Meeting
"And that's the endocrine system, understand maggots?" barked Mitarashi-sensei from the front of the room, her fists placed on the sides of her hips and appearing quite menacing.
"Hai, sensei." Several students droned.
"Speak up!"
"Hai, sensei!" It was more enthused this time around, a student up front even putting forth the effort for a salute. Mitarashi Anko had that effect on people from time to time.
Only one student failed to reply to the woman's drill sergeant commands. Said student was the one that Sakura, and about half of the class, was currently staring at.
Uchiha Sasuke. Star student, top ranked athlete, and one of, if not the, most handsomest boys in the school. He was sitting blankly, staring off into space and not giving any indication that he was registering their strange instructor's hollers. Sakura sighed slowly, cradling her cheek on the flat side of her palm. She used to have the biggest crush on him, not something entirely uncommon. In fact, many of the older girls joked that being attracted to Uchiha boys was just a step on the long, rocky road of puberty. Despite her brains, Sakura was not immune.
However, being seatmates for roughly four years had begun to change the feelings she had towards Sasuke. At first, she was a mere starry-eyed girl and he was a perpetually insensitive boy who gave all signs of being an asexual block of ice. But after being paired together assignment after assignment and having almost every class together for four years straight, things changed between them. Sakura was now a confident young woman whose attraction towards Sasuke had morphed into friendship, then respect, and now a fierce desire for his approval. Sasuke, in turn, had become a young man who was insensitive and gave all signs of being an asexual block of ice. However, he had a higher opinion of Sakura than the other mindless girls at the school. She wasn't nearly as annoying.
"Uchiha!" Rang Mitarashi-sensei, noticing that the boy was brooding again instead of heeding her every word, "Tell me what the difference between insulin and glucagon is!"
"Insulin decreases blood sugar, glucagon raises it," he spoke flatly, not even giving the consideration to blink.
"Hypothalamus and hippocampus?" She posed shrewdly.
"Hypothalamus controls involuntary body functions, hippocampus triggers memory. "
"Bicuspid and mitral valve?" Her tone was cold, and she knew that this one had him.
He turned his head to make eye contact for the first time, somehow looking incredibly annoyed even though his facial features hadn't moved a centimeter, "They're the same thing."
Mitarashi-san scowled, not liking that she missed the chance to humiliate a student for entertainment. Her light brown stare drifted to the clock, noticing that class was almost over. "Don't forget about your partner presentations, anyone handing in a late assignment will be docked by half. And don't give me the sad excuses of your partner's bailing out on you. Take initiative! Dismissed!" She said, even though the bell hadn't rung. The students obeyed anyway.
Sakura tucked a strand of slightly longer than chin length hair behind her ear, shuffling her textbook into her satchel. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sasuke doing the same, and she internally debated starting a conversation with him. She and Sasuke had a special kind of friendship, one that worked better for her when she didn't talk to him. Somehow, the wrong words always seemed to pour out. It was a habit she had started when she was twelve.
So preoccupied was she with mentally debating talking to her friend, that she didn't notice him walk over.
"Do you have plans this afternoon?" Came his low voice, and Sakura almost dropped her satchel in shock. Sasuke gave her an irritated glare as he watched her fidget and overcome the surprise of his initiating conversation.
"No, why?" She asked guardedly. A younger Sakura would have squealed in anticipation of a date, an older Sakura was skeptical.
"The project. Tonight's the only night I have off," Sasuke, like his all star older brother, was involved heavily in after school sports programs, and because of that, most of their shared assignments relied on their combined superior intellects to be completed within a fraction of the given time period. Sakura herself was busy with schoolwork from her accelerated classes, volunteer work at the hospital, and her karatedo sessions at the youth center.
"I can only work for a few hours-" she started, heaving her satchel over her shoulder after gathering her things.
"That will be enough," without waiting for elaboration, Sasuke started to stalk out of the classroom, knowing that Sakura would follow.
A flare of irritation quickly came and went through her pink haired head before she gave the long-suffering sigh of one constantly forced to work with the critically succinct. She brushed away the imaginary lint from her pleated school skirt, and straightened the red ribbon that tied her hair back before walking.
As she went after Sasuke, she couldn't help but feel the little nagging tug in the corner of her mind. One that insisted she was forgetting something.
The reception was far from warm. Treading the waters of the Artic Circle, to be precise. His footsteps echoed throughout the intimidating classroom, each movement sounding magnified and foreboding.
Five students were there, each sitting as far away from each other as possible with the exception of the comatose looking redhead and a blond boy who was glaring daggers at Namikaze's all star athlete. Itachi didn't appear to notice, appearing calm, dignified, and condescending of the classroom and its inhabitants all at once. The other new recruit, Kakuzu, sat at the far end, flipping distractedly through a black, leather-bound notebook. The only female present, Ame Konan, was staring straight through the poor principle expectantly, elegant disdain on her features. Jiraiya shivered slightly, she had been such a cute little kid when he had taught her in elementary-
"You are late," she said tranquilly, no accusation, just proclaiming a simple observation.
"Nonsense," Jiraiya said, quickly moving towards the podium in the center of the room before one of the more smart-ass of children decided to read the time off of the clock, which would then cause Jiraiya to inform them that it was actually twenty five minutes fast, which would embarrass the poor kids and Jiraiya couldn't have that.
On the podium an index card, pen and clipboard were laid out parallel to each other in an orderly fashion. Jiraiya blinked in awe, because he had never seen organized office supplies in his thirty years of being on the Namikaze staff. Slowly, he picked up the index card, reading off of it carefully.
"Welcome to the first meeting of…" Jiraiya squinted to read the name that was meticulously printed on the note card, "Akatsuki?"
"It's the second meeting, un," said the blond sitting in the back of the room, arms across his chest and a sour expression on his face, an occasional side glare being sent at the Uchiha.
Jiraiya ignored him, turning instead towards a clipboard that held a roster, names written with careful, even penmanship just like the note card that was left on the podium.
"Roll? Who does roll for a club-?" he felt the Ame girl's detached but horribly expectant stare on him again, "Er, of course. Roll." He cleared his throat,
"Ame Konan?"
"Here," she was either paying vast, scrutinizing attention to him or had found the spot on the wall near his head immensely interesting. Jiraiya suspected that she was aiming to intimidate him by faking the first, but was really doing the second.
"Iwa Deidara?"
"Un." He said noncommittally through clenched teeth, looking like he was about to explode in anger any moment.
"Sabaku Sasori?"
The coma boy slowly looked at the ticking time bomb, then slowly faced the front. All of his movements seemed to linger and drag in a manner that both forced someone to watch the process with bated breath, and also made them incredibly annoyed, "I am here."
The principle nodded, and marked down his name.
"Uchiha Itachi?"
Itachi said or did nothing, merely remained in place, assuming that everything would be taken care of.
The corner of Jiraiya's mouth turned down slightly, but he quickly placed a marker next to the boy's name before proceeding to the next one.
"Kakuzu?"
The sound of paper being quickly ruffled through was the only response.
Jiraiya sighed, clearing his throat, "Kakuzu?"
The sound continued.
Jiraiya's eyebrow twitched, "Kakuzu!"
The sound stopped, and the only response was a truly acidic glare over the top of the black notebook. Jiraiya, despite himself, felt a tingle of fear and he awkwardly placed a checkmark next to the surly boy's name.
"I can't make out this name…" He said, a prompt for someone to jump in and volunteer the information. No one did, not even Konan, which assured Jiraiya that she really was only staring intently at the wall and not at him. "Naga- no, that's not it…Yahik- no…" he sighed in frustration, there appeared to be multiple names written down on top of each other. He finally settled on the letters that looked most legible, "Pein?" His eyes scanned the room, doing a head count. Everyone had already been accounted for.
"He is indisposed at the moment," came Konan's placid drawl.
Jiraiya eyed her questionably, "Indisposed, how exactly?"
Konan didn't answer the question, once again reverting to the unnervingly passive-aggressive stare of hers. Jiraiya repressed the urge to beat his head against the wall in frustration. After a few seconds of awkward silence and tension, Jiraiya gripped the clipboard, and looked at the roster once again.
"That appears to be everyone…" He trailed off, "Except for…Haruno Sakura?" He ventured, it registered a familiarity, but he found himself unable to put a face to the name. A glance around the room informed him that none of the students in attendance knew who she was either. "Right then…" He forced a friendly smile onto his face, determined to make the most of this art club and its socially demented students, "Well, how about an introduction from me? My name is Ero Jiraiya, but you can call me Jiraiya because Ero is an unfortunate last name and being called sensei makes me feel old." He paused, rubbing a finger over his chin, "Actually, Jiraiya-sensei will be just fine since it demands respect and authority."
It would be nice to say that he held their undivided attention. But that was far from the case, as only Sasori seemed to be listening out of a sort of forced, strained politeness. Itachi was listlessly eying the ceiling, apparently thinking this club to be a waste of his time, while Deidara continued to attempt mental strangulation on him through one-sided eye contact. Konan was still blankly gazing at the wall, and Kakuzu hadn't looked up from his notebook once throughout the entire meeting.
With a sagging sort of defeat, Jiraiya retreated to behind the desk, slumping down in the plush chair. With one last try at enthusiasm for this obligatory club mentorship position, he cleared his throat, "Now, make art!"
He never knew it was possible for stares to be deadpan.
Apparently he had a long way to go.