A/N:

It's SHOW TIME!

My internet's being a son of a bitch right now, but I'm heckling it to upload this properly. (Seriously, Japan, you're supposed to be on top of your technological shit.)

Anyway. Here is the set list as far as I'm concerned (all songs by Sum 41):

Underclass Hero
The Hell Song
Over My Head (Better Off Dead)
Walking Disaster
Motivation
Pieces
In Too Deep

Yup. I guess I should mention I don't own shit - not Naruto, not Sum 41's music. If I owned Naruto it would be way smuttier and if I owned Sum 41 it would be like...less shitty. I guess. (Lol hi flamers, clearly I like the band, but like, wow, I dunno, give me a break, they're not musical geniuses.)

ANYWAY. Chapter! Enjoy.

Maybe it was the alcohol. The nicotine. The fact that she hadn't gotten much undisturbed sleep of late. Maybe she was coming down with something, or hell maybe she had succumbed to some kind of genjutsu the boys were using, a trick to make everyone think their show was awesome – she wouldn't put it past them. Maybe it was a combination of all these things. Or maybe – just maybe – this was letting go. Sakura couldn't describe the sensation for the life of her, didn't recognize it at all as it took hold. All she knew was, from the first deafening clash of drums, the rapid intervention of the guitar, the understated proclamation of One, two, three – go! and the subsequent explosion of melody – intense, aggressive, yet exhilarating – she was gone.

In the space of a few seconds she completely lost track of herself, and when she came to she was laughing. A short gust of a guffaw, entirely inaudible between the crowd and the music, that escaped her so violently she jerked back into consciousness. Her drink, forgotten in her hand until this point, she brought to her lips and held there, pressed to her chin as she realized why she had chuckled: she couldn't believe they were this good.

The silly little boys she had grown up with (well, some sillier than others) had suddenly reincarnated as some species of badass, taken the stage in front of a crowd of strangers, and owned it. Maybe it wasn't exactly her type of music – she would never have listed 'hard rock' as an obvious favorite before – but nonetheless she found herself totally under its spell, frozen, struck dumb. There was no other way to put it: they were fucking killing it.

Just as she managed to shut her gaping mouth, she felt a tap on her arm and started – she had nearly forgotten there were other people in the room. Ino had appeared at her side, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She seemed to be yelling, but through the cathartic din Sakura could only just make out the words Let's get closer.

With a nod that betrayed her inexplicable enthusiasm, Sakura slid off her stool and, guided only by the tug of Ino's hand on hers, weaved through the undulating masses. Glass hugged to her chest lest it spill, she grazed past countless swaying bodies, skin dampening with sweat as they moved deeper into the crowd.

Suddenly she became aware of her rapidly racing heart. Had it been like this all night, pounding with all the force and magnitude of a bass drum? Was it simply the music – the volume, the chaotic pace – bombarding her senses, overwhelming her mentally and physically? Surely that was it, she thought, for as she neared the stage, she felt her pulse escalate anew, accelerating subtly with every step until finally they reached the front row.

There, before the merciless barrage of the speakers, in the unrelenting heat of the crowd, and the glare of the orange stage lights, she froze. Her senses overloaded. Her mind clouded with drink and her body feeling oddly estranged from the rest of her. Her heart pounding, pulsing in time with the music –

She smiled. Beyond her control or understanding, it spread across her entire face, making her cheeks ache. The sensation – whatever it was – had peaked. She felt like she was on the brink of something – and it felt good.

At that moment Ino turned to her, and once again she had to read her lips:

"Dance, you trollop!" she seemed to say, and without hesitation Sakura obeyed. She downed the rest of her drink and let the warmth fill her, down to the core, out through her limbs, the crown of her head. The movement came naturally, guided by every arc of melody, every emphatic downbeat. Her eyes had closed, and when she opened them what she saw shocked her anew.

She couldn't help but stare, her grin slowly morphing into an incredulous gape once again. Not four feet away from her stood the boy, the teammate, that she thought she knew so well; that she'd known since childhood; that she'd spent the past five years with in such proximity that she thought nothing he could do could surprise her – and she barely recognized him.

Were it not for the telltale orange pants and black T-shirt with the single red tomoe, she might not have known it was Naruto. Maybe it was just the mounting catharsis of the bridge – the superior elevation of the stage – the blinding colored lights – but he seemed (for lack of access to her usual vocabulary in her bewildered state) different, somehow. There was no goofy grin or comical awkwardness to be seen. No obnoxious perversion or inexorable childishness to be detected.

He seemed…confident. Strong. He was usually these things, she noted, but for some reason, this was different. It was as if his typical attributes were focused and magnified – by the lights, the stage, the attention of an entire room of stunned but cheering people. He seemed chill, collected, in a situation wherein Sakura realized she herself would be extremely nervous.

He seemed…cool.

An explosion of applause derailed her train of thought. The song was over, and there she was whooping and cheering with the others, screaming his name. Who would've thought she'd ever find herself doing that? she thought sadistically, her smirk making a triumphant return. World's most surprising ninja indeed.

They moved directly into the next song, managing to befuddle her once again. She would've thought, with all the distant mysteriousness they had maintained at the start of the show, that they would eventually address the audience, unable to resist an off-color comment or some other characteristic quip while they had everyone's attention. At least the names of the songs or an introduction to the band members or something.

But no. They carried on, one song after the other, one surprise after the next, until they were done. In the eruption of applause and approving shouts that followed, Naruto finally cracked a smile – not his usual flashy grin, teeth bared in an over-exuberant display of will, but a subdued version. A genuine one. A slightly sheepish, but definitely pleased, smile. With a mumbled utterance of "Thank you," he left the stage, Shikamaru and Kiba following suit.

Were it not for Ino's insistent exclamation of "Drinks!" Sakura might have stood there forever, paralyzed before the stage, a statue commemorative of their debut performance. But she tore herself away, mindlessly heeding her friend's commanding barks and snaking through the mob that had now gathered around the bar, her euphoria matched only by her confusion.