AN:Oh my gosh, I've always wanted to write a story where Naruto and Sakura both fall for Sasuke, but Sasuke literally couldn't care less about either of their feelings. Like, not even a little. I'm talking about that otherworldly bad boy trope: you know, the dark, impossibly handsome, emotionally damaged, borderline insane type. The kind of guy who's so selfish, narcissistic, and enigmatic that everyone falls in love with him… but he's completely incapable of loving anyone back. That's the vibe.
The plan? To use this trope to utterly destroy Naruto and Sakura's sweet, wholesome friendship. Yep, I'm here to set their dynamic on fire and watch it burn while they both go through the chaos of being messy, dramatic teenagers. And honestly, isn't that what growing up is all about? Reality checks, heartbreak, and lots of internal screaming.
Before I dive into this, though, let's get a few things straight. First, this story will include both male/female and male/male pairings, so heads up. Second, the story will mostly be in Sakura's POV because I want to explore her inner thoughts and reactions, but I might switch perspectives here and there if the moment calls for it. After all, chaos loves a good POV shift.
Ch1: Tonight at Nuibari
I've always been a hopeless romantic—or maybe just hopeless. I expect too much from people, set my sights way too high, and then act surprised when they fall short. Shocking, right? People have called me a shallow bitch for as long as I can remember. And you know what? Maybe they're right. Maybe I am a shallow bitch. But can you really blame me? I was raised as an only child in a world where the sun practically shone out of my ass. Everything always went my way because there was no one else to share the spotlight with. So, yeah, I grew up thinking the universe owed me something—a throne, a kingdom, and a cast of perfect people to worship me. Sue me.
Fast forward to tonight, where that entitled mindset has led me here: drunk, mascara streaked, and drowning in the aftermath of the messiest, most public fallout imaginable. A shitty house party where the music's too loud, the drinks are too cheap, and the whispers about me are even louder. My best friend? Gone. My reputation? In shreds. And the guy at the center of it all? A complete dumpster fire of a human being wrapped in a package so good-looking it should come with a warning label.
They say teenagers are dramatic, but right now, it doesn't feel like drama—it feels like the end of the goddamn world. Everything's tangled, blurry, and way too messy to make sense of. I can't tell where my ego ends and my heartbreak begins.But you're not here for my self-pity or my half-drunk epiphanies, are you? You want the story. The details. The gritty, cringe-worthy play-by-play of how I managed to torch my life in a single night.
Fine. Let's rewind, back to where it all started—before the yelling, before the party, before I thought getting involved with a dark angel was even remotely a good idea.
Spoiler: it wasn't.
…
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the pasture as the cicadas buzzed their lazy symphony. I sat cross-legged on the hood of Naruto's car, my bare feet resting against the warm metal. Naruto leaned back on his elbows beside me, staring up at the streaks of orange and pink stretching across the sky. It was 6 p.m., that strange in-between time when the world felt both alive and on the edge of falling asleep.
"I swear, if I have to hear about that band one more time, I'm driving your car into the pond," I teased, scrolling through my phone with one hand while using the other to swat at the occasional fly.
"They're not just a band," he shot back, feigning offense, his sapphire-blue eyes squinting defiantly. "They're, like, a movement. A cultural reset. You'd get it if you actually listened to the lyrics instead of dismissing them as 'sad boy tunes.'"
I snorted, tossing my phone onto the dashboard and giving him a sideways look. "Naruto, you listen to the same three songs on repeat. Don't talk to me about cultural resets."
He grinned and lobbed a crumpled gum wrapper at me, the kind of easy, playful grin that made his blonde hair catch the sunlight just right. "Yeah, well, at least I have taste," he said.
I batted the wrapper away and leaned back, letting my head rest against the windshield. The faint smell of grass and engine oil filled the air, mixing with the sweetness of the late summer breeze. For a moment, neither of us said anything. We didn't have to. This was how it always was—quiet evenings spent in the middle of nowhere, talking about everything and nothing.
Naruto was one of those people who felt larger than life. With his lean, muscular frame and those striking blue eyes, he could've easily been insufferable if he wasn't so completely... Naruto. There was an energy about him, an unwavering optimism that made you feel like the world wasn't quite as bad as it seemed.
I should've known better than to take any of it for granted. If I could freeze us in that moment, before everything got complicated and messy, I would've done it in a heartbeat. But life doesn't work like that. And looking back, I realize that sunset wasn't just the end of a day—it was the beginning of the end for us. I just didn't know it yet.
"They're playing a show here tomorrow night," Naruto said, poking my thigh with his finger, his voice practically vibrating with excitement.
"Cool," I deadpanned, not bothering to look up from my phone. I knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and I wasn't about to make it easier for him.
He poked me again, more insistent this time. "I got two tickets."
I swatted his hand away without missing a beat, still glued to my screen. "That's nice."
"Sakura!" he groaned, his tone slipping into the dramatic whine he used when he wasn't getting his way.
"What?" I snapped, finally turning to face my relentless perpetrator. "Can't you see I'm busy?"
Naruto rolled his eyes, flopping back against the hood with a huff. "Busy doing what, exactly? All you're doing is doom-scrolling on social media."
"Um, false," I shot back, sitting up straighter and holding my phone out like it was evidence. "I'm stalking someone for Ino."
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he couldn't decide whether to laugh or call me out. "God, I swear, the two of you are as toxic as ever. Weren't you guys fighting last week?"
I shrugged, flicking to the next photo on my screen. "It was all a misunderstanding. We made up. And right now, she needs me to stalk some skank who's allegedly been talking to the same guy she's currently talking to."
Naruto let out a low whistle, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Is that so?"
"Yes, it is so," I said with mock seriousness, pointing at him with my phone for emphasis.
"And you're just... okay with this? Assisting in whatever convoluted love triangle Ino's cooked up this time?"
"Obviously," I replied, smirking. "What are friends for if not petty espionage?"
Naruto shook his head again, muttering something under his breath about me being impossible, but his grin betrayed him. He shifted his position, sitting up and propping one arm on his knee, his other hand ruffling his already messy hair.
"Well, while you're busy destroying lives via Instagram, I'm offering you a night of actual fun. Two tickets. Me. You. Tomorrow." He leaned closer, his grin widening like he'd already won. "C'mon, Sakura. It won't kill you to try something new."
I arched an eyebrow, pretending to consider it. "Naruto, if I say no, are you going to keep poking me until I agree?"
"Absolutely," he said without hesitation, already gearing up for another jab at my thigh.
"Fine," I said, laughing as I swatted his hand away again. "But if they suck, I'm holding you personally responsible."
"Deal," he said, grinning like a kid who'd just won a prize.
The cicadas droned on around us as the conversation hung in the air. The soft hum of summer and the faint smell of earth and oil wrapped around us like a blanket. I couldn't help but smile as I leaned back against the windshield again, phone forgotten for now. For a moment, the world felt simple.
But, of course, nothing ever stays simple for long.
The next day, I met up with Naruto at his house. While I lived on the outskirts of the city on a ranch, Naruto lived in a two-story duplex in old midtown. The area was something out of an indie filmmaker's dream: lined with coffee shops, quirky mom-and-pop stores, and brick buildings with chipped paint that screamed artsy rebellion. It was the kind of place you'd expect to find poets and thrift store aficionados, not Naruto. But his dad, Iruka, fit right in. The man oozed proud townie energy, blissfully championing anything and everything local, from farmers' markets to obscure bands only five people had heard of.
"Yo, what's up, Iruka?" I announced as I stepped into the house, not bothering to knock. Naruto had given me the code to their front door ages ago, much to Iruka's eternal annoyance.
"Hello, Sakura," came his predictable grunt of acknowledgment from the kitchen. He didn't even look up from the newspaper spread out in front of him. "The brat's in his room."
I grinned, throwing him a finger gun. "Thanks, Pops."
"Don't call me Pops," he said, voice flat but fond in that way only Iruka could manage.
Once upstairs, I "lightly" kicked Naruto's door open, the force sending it smacking against the wall.
"What the hell?!" Naruto yelped, his blonde hair a blur as he half-flipped, half-fell off his bed in a heap on the floor.
I doubled over, laughing so hard I had to clutch my stomach. "Oh my God, your face! You looked like a deer about to get hit by a truck."
Frowning, he scrambled to his feet, brushing imaginary dust off his sweatpants. "You've gotta stop doing that shit. I swear, one day I'm going to have a heart attack, and you'll feel bad."
"Doubt it," I shot back, plopping myself down on his bed like I owned the place.
Naruto looked me up and down, his face scrunching up in what I assumed was meant to be disgust. "Uh, what the actual hell are you wearing?"
My jaw dropped. "Excuse me? What the hell makes you think you can comment on my outfit, you gremlin ?"
"Because you look like some preppy bubblegum hooker out of a schoolgirl parody porn," he said, deadpan.
"You did not just say that!" I screeched, smacking him with one of his pillows.
"Tell me I'm wrong!" he countered, laughing as he tried to dodge my halfhearted assault.
"You are so wrong!" I said, throwing the pillow back at him for good measure. "I look hot, and you know it."
His smirk faltered for just a second, his eyes flicking down to my bare legs, my midriff, and the cleavage I had meticulously achieved with my new push-up bra. He quickly looked away, scratching the back of his neck like it itched.
"Yeah, hot mess maybe," he mumbled, turning toward his desk and fiddling with something that didn't need fiddling.
Naruto's room was exactly what you'd expect—chaotic but somehow organized in its own way. Posters of bands he swore were underrated covered the walls, interspersed with random sports memorabilia and shelves stacked with video games. His desk was cluttered with everything from tangled headphones to random bits of sheet music he probably forgot he owned. The bed, however, was impeccably made, as if he'd tried to balance out the rest of the chaos.
"Whatever, jackass," I said, rolling my eyes as I leaned back on his bed, crossing my legs. "So What's the plan? Are we gonna rock out, or are we just sitting here while you lose at Call of Duty again?" I threw up some devil horns, stuck out my tongue for emphasis, and made an exaggerated rockstar face.
Naruto turned to me, unimpressed. "Please don't do that… it's too cringe. And for the record, I don't lose at Call of Duty . I let people win. Big difference. Also, I need to change."
"Oh my gosh! Let me pick out your outfit," I said, clapping my hands together like I'd just been handed a golden ticket.
"Um, absolutely not," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not trying to look like a Ken doll tonight, thank you very much."
"Excuse me," I shot back, hand on my hip. "My style is impeccable."
"Yeah, sure," he said, already grinning like he was about to drop a bomb. "It's not every day my best friend cosplays Regina George, leader of the Plastics, from Mean Girls ."
My jaw dropped, and I gawked at him in pure, unfiltered offense. Naruto burst into uncontrollable laughter, collapsing onto the floor and rolling around like he'd just heard the joke of the century.
"You're such an ass!" I shouted, stomping over and trying to kick him, though he dodged me with surprising agility for someone still giggling like a child.
"Sorry, sorry!" he said, sitting up and wiping a tear from his eye. "I swear I'm joking. However…" He paused dramatically, his grin turning sly. "Your outfit might make you stand out... and not in a good way."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped, crossing my arms.
"It's an underground rock show, Sakura. Like, I know you're a country girl and all—"
"Am not!" I cut him off, narrowing my eyes.
He raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "You literally live on a farm."
"Homestead," I corrected, lifting my chin indignantly.
"Same difference," he muttered, waving me off. "Anyway, I think you look great. I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable, that's all."
I huffed, uncrossing my arms but not quite ready to forgive him. "Fine. I see your point."
Naruto must have sensed my mood souring because he jumped to his feet and offered, "Okay, you can pick out my outfit."
Instantly, I lit up, bolting to his closet like it was Black Friday.
His closet was a chaotic mix of clothes—band tees, sports jerseys, hoodies, and the occasional flannel. After sifting through the options, we eventually settled on a white graphic band tee his dad had bought him, some faded gray distressed jeans, and a long light blue shacket. I made him pair it with black boots for the final touch.
"Very handsome, if I do say so myself," I said, stepping back to admire my work.
Naruto blushed, his face turning a faint shade of pink. He quickly turned away, mumbling, "Not bad," as he adjusted the shacket.
"Not bad? Excuse me, you look amazing," I said, rolling my eyes. "Now put on that silver chain I got you for Christmas, and I'll grab some of Iruka's rings."
"I'd rather you didn't," he said, side-eyeing me. "The last thing I need is Iruka up my ass about taking his stuff."
"It'll be fine!" I waved him off and darted out of the room before he could protest further.
When I came back, Naruto was in the bathroom, brushing his hair in front of the mirror. I set the rings down on the counter and rummaged through his closet again. An idea struck me, and I grabbed a pair of his jeans and a belt.
I slipped out of my skirt and pulled his jeans on, fastening the belt tight enough to keep the oversized pants from sliding off. Paired with my pink tank top and a red flannel I draped over it, the look was effortlessly cool—or at least I thought so.
"How's this?" I asked, stepping into the bathroom just as Naruto finished brushing his teeth.
He turned, his face lighting up as his eyes flicked over me. "I don't know how you do it," he said, grinning. Then, quickly adding, "But you cannot take any of my stuff home tonight. You have a problem returning the things you borrow."
"Whatever," I snarked, grabbing one of Iruka's rings from the counter and slipping it onto my finger.
"And you definitely can't take that home, either," he said, narrowing his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time." I glanced at the phone he had propped against the mirror. "Doesn't the show start at 7? It's literally 7:30."
"The first band starts at 7," he explained. "The main act doesn't go on until 8:30 or 9, so we're good."
"If you say so," I said, walking out to flop back onto his bed. While Naruto finished getting ready, I returned to my phone to do some more "investigative work" for Ino.
"Okay, let's go," he called out around a quarter to 8.
"Finally! God, you're worse than me!" I exclaimed, pushing off the bed and slipping my phone into my new, baggy, jean pocket.
Naruto smirked as he grabbed his keys from the desk. "Now you know that's a lie. You take forever just to pick out shoes."
"Excuse me, it's called having standards. Something you clearly wouldn't understand, considering you've been wearing the same sneakers since sophomore year."
"They're broken in," he argued, holding the door open for me as we headed downstairs.
"They're broken, all right," I shot back, brushing past him.
As we made our way out, Iruka glanced up from the couch, where he was nursing a mug of coffee and flipping through the TV channels. His eyes flicked between Naruto and me, then landed on the rings I was now shamelessly wearing.
"Is that my ring?" he asked, voice dangerously calm.
I held up my hand, feigning innocence. "Borrowing, Iruka. Don't be dramatic."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Just make sure it actually comes back this time."
"No promises!" I called out, darting out the door before he could respond.
Naruto followed, laughing under his breath as we climbed into his car. "You're gonna seriously piss him off one day."
"Please. He secretly loves me," I said, tossing my bag onto the floorboard.
Naruto glanced at me as he started the car, his blue eyes soft in the dim light of the dashboard. "Yeah, well, you're hard not to love."
I froze for half a second, caught off guard, but quickly brushed it off, rolling my eyes. "Flattery won't save you if this show sucks, blondie."
He grinned, shifting the car into reverse. "Oh, it's gonna be epic. You'll see."
The venue we were headed to was in an area everyone called The Cellars or South City, the murky underbelly of Ceramic Village—our hometown, a place with just enough personality to masquerade as something larger than it really was. Ceramic Village had a peculiar charm, offering three distinct vibes depending on where you found yourself.
Out on the outskirts or the "Boonies", where I lived, it was all wide-open fields, winding dirt roads, and the occasional tractor rolling down the highway like a forlorn beast. My family's homestead sat on acres of land dotted with hay bales and fences that looked like they might collapse any day now. It was peaceful, sure, but also isolated. If you weren't into farming or stargazing, you had to drive into town to find anything remotely entertaining.
Old Midtown was where most people ended up—an area full of life, with streets lined by mom-and-pop shops, cozy coffee houses, and diners that hadn't changed their menus in decades. Naruto and I spent a lot of time there, not because it was exciting, but because it was comfortably predictable. The buildings were older, the sidewalks were wide, and you couldn't go a block without someone waving hello. It was the kind of place where you knew the owner of every store by name, and they probably knew all your embarrassing childhood stories too.
But The Cellars? South City was a whole different animal. As the sun dipped lower, the warmth of midtown's brick storefronts and familiar charm gave way to graffiti-splattered walls, flickering neon signs, and an unmistakable edge. It wasn't polished or quaint. It was gritty, loud, and unapologetically raw. The streets were narrower, the sidewalks cracked, and the people here didn't offer friendly waves—they offered attitude. Dive bars spilled patrons onto the pavement, and the air carried a mix of weed, cheap beer, and a faint metallic tang I couldn't place. It wasn't bad, exactly, but it was intimidating.
Naruto, of course, thrived on it. He drove like he belonged here, drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of some obscure indie song and yelling out lyrics like he was auditioning for a band that didn't exist. "This is a banger!" he shouted, completely in his element as I rolled my eyes.
"It's obnoxious," I shot back, leaning my head against the window. But deep down, I envied how he could fit in anywhere. Whether it was the open fields of my homestead, the cozy charm of Old Midtown, or the jagged edges of South City, Naruto made himself at home.
Naruto leaned over and started flipping through the playlists on his phone while driving one-handed. "What do you wanna hear?"
" This one," I said, snatching his phone and scrolling through his endless lists until I found a country song we both secretly loved but would never openly admit to liking.
He gave me a side-eye, smirking. "I can already see where this is headed"
"Is that so?" I said, grinning as the familiar twang filled the car.
By the second verse, we were both belting it out, completely out of sync but having way too much fun to care. Naruto threw in exaggerated hand gestures, and I rolled down my window to let the wind whip my hair around as I mimicked a dramatic country ballad performance. For a few minutes, it didn't matter that I felt like I was headed straight out of my comfort zone. Naruto had a way of making everything feel okay, even when I was way out of my depth.
As we pulled up to the venue, my stomach tightened. It was a small, squat building with walls plastered in mismatched posters advertising everything from upcoming shows to protest rallies. The windows were blacked out, and a crooked neon sign above the entrance buzzed faintly, reading "Nuibari." People milled around outside, most of them in ripped denim, band tees, and outfits that screamed, I don't care, but I definitely do. A girl with purple hair and combat boots leaned against the wall, smoking, while a guy with tattoos covering every visible inch of his skin adjusted the straps on his guitar case.
"This is so not me," I muttered under my breath as Naruto parked the car.
The air outside smelled like cigarettes, sweat, and the faint tang of something metallic. I stuck close to Naruto as we walked toward the entrance, instinctively reaching for the sleeve of his shacket. I didn't exactly blend in, with my makeshift outfit of his baggy jeans and flannel, but I was glad for the cover.
Naruto, on the other hand, fit right in. He greeted people with casual nods, like he'd been coming here for years. I couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he adapted to every situation, how he seemed to belong no matter where he went. He was a chameleon, blending into any environment while still somehow standing out.
Inside, the venue was dimly lit, with string lights draped haphazardly across the ceiling and walls painted in dark, peeling colors. The air buzzed with the sound of guitars tuning and snippets of conversation overlapping into a chaotic hum. A small bar hugged one side of the room, its sticky counter lined with half-empty glasses and a bartender who looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.
The stage was tiny, barely big enough to hold the drum set and amps already crammed onto it. Posters and graffiti covered every inch of the walls, and the faint smell of spilled beer clung to the floor. People packed in tight, chatting loudly, their laughter cutting through the ambient music playing over the speakers. It was messy and raw, the kind of place that felt alive in a way that was both thrilling and a little intimidating.
Naruto nudged me gently, his grin impossible to miss even in the dim light. "So, what do you think? Cool, right?"
I glanced around, feeling more out of place with every passing second but unwilling to let it show. "It's… very you," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm, though deep down, I meant it.
He laughed, shaking his head. "You're terrible at lying, you know that?"
"Shut up," I muttered, but a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips.
As much as I hated to admit it, this was Naruto. His ability to jump headfirst into new things, to embrace whatever life threw his way, was something I'd always admired about him. Even here, in this grungy, chaotic venue, he seemed completely at ease. And as out of place as I felt, I couldn't help but feel just a little bit safer sticking close to him.
The lights dimmed slightly, signaling the start of a show, and the buzz of conversation turned into cheers. I stayed close to Naruto as the crowd surged forward, and for the first time that night, I let myself relax—just a little.
"Wanna sit at the bar?" Naruto asked, tilting his head toward the counter. "Don't care much for the band that's on right now."
"Sure," I shrugged. It didn't really matter what we did, as long as I wasn't left alone to fend for myself in this crowd of grungy, tattooed rock enthusiasts who all looked like they'd stepped straight out of an Urban Outfitters ad.
We made our way to the bar, where Naruto greeted one of the bartenders like they were old friends. The guy—Genma, apparently—looked like he'd walked straight out of a noir film, with a lazy smirk, a toothpick dangling from his mouth, and a sardonic air that immediately made me suspicious.
"This is Sakura," Naruto said, gesturing toward me as we slid onto the barstools. The music was loud however because we were near the back of the building it wasn't impossible to hold a conversation so long as you projected your voice.
Genma gave me a quick once-over, his smirk widening slightly. "Huh," he said, looking back at Naruto. "Didn't think this was your niche, kid."
Naruto chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like he was embarrassed. "She's, uh, broadening her horizons."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm right here, you know."
Genma laughed and started wiping down a glass, his toothpick bobbing as he leaned against the bar. "So, what do you think of the place?"
"It's... interesting," I said, my voice as flat as the soda I wished I was drinking.
"She's a work in progress," Naruto added, earning an elbow to the ribs from me.
Genma chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "You into music?"
"Oh, definitely," I said, trying to sound confident. "As long as it's on the Billboard Top 100."
Naruto snorted, quickly covering his mouth to stifle a laugh. Genma, however, paused mid-wipe, raising an eyebrow as he exchanged a glance with Naruto.
"You serious?" Genma asked, clearly trying to gauge if I was joking.
"Completely," I replied, lifting my chin.
Naruto couldn't hold back anymore and burst out laughing. "She's from the boonies," he explained, his grin wide. "A bit of a country bumpkin, so please ignore her."
"Excuse me?" I snapped, glaring at him. "I'm sitting right here!"
Genma smirked. "….. Anyway." He set the glass down and leaned casually against the counter. "Did you hear about the show Last week? Easily one of the best nights we've had in months. The MCs were insane—some of the most talented performers I've ever seen."
"MCs?" I asked, tilting my head. "What's that?"
Genma blinked, his toothpick pausing mid-chew, while Naruto turned to me with an expression of pure disbelief.
"She's not kidding," Naruto said, laughing as he gestured toward me.
"An MC is a rap performer," Genma explained, though his tone suggested he wasn't entirely sure how I didn't know this.
"Rap artist ," Naruto corrected, leaning forward on the bar. "Anyone can call themselves a rapper, but an MC is a whole different level. They can work a crowd, freestyle, perform—it's an art form."
Genma nodded. "Exactly. It's all about the energy, the flow and lyricism. These guys had it."
I nodded, pretending to understand but still feeling completely out of my depth. "Interesting," I said flatly.
"You sure she's your type, kid?" Genma asked, giving Naruto a pointed look.
Naruto rolled his eyes, his cheeks faintly pink. Sarcastically he answered, "Absolutely."
"I'm everyone's type," I interjected, grinning. "Including Naruto's. He's just too pig-headed to admit it."
Naruto laughed. "You keep telling yourself that, missy."
Genma shook his head, chuckling. "Well, you two are definitely entertaining, I'll give you that."
Naruto threw me a playful side-eye, his grin softening in a way that made my stomach twist uncomfortably. I stuck my tongue out at him, hoping to break whatever weird moment that was. For a second, I almost forgot how completely out of place I felt.
But then I glanced around the room again—the mismatched furniture, the flickering lights, the crowd of impossibly cool people chatting and laughing like they belonged—and the discomfort crept back in. I shifted a little closer to Naruto, silently grateful for the familiarity of his presence, even if he was a complete ass half the time.
"Ready to check out the band?" Naruto asked, tilting his head toward the stage.
"Not really," I muttered, but I slid off the barstool anyway.
"Don't worry," he said, nudging me lightly as we wove through the crowd. "I've got you."
For all his teasing and antics, Naruto had a way of grounding me. Even here, in this grungy, alien venue, he somehow managed to make me feel like I wasn't entirely out of my depth. But I definitely was.
As we stepped closer to the stage, the music grew louder and more chaotic, assaulting my ears with what I assumed was supposed to be a melody. I squinted, trying to make sense of it, but the shrieking guitars and guttural vocals felt more like an auditory ambush than a performance. Naruto, of course, looked like he was having the time of his life, grinning and bobbing his head to the beat like this was Woodstock 2.0.
The band on stage was giving it their all—like, really putting in the effort—but the whole thing screamed try-hard. The lead singer was a wiry guy in a tattered leather jacket and skinny jeans so tight they looked painted on. He had this wild look in his eyes, like he was channeling a mix of Jim Morrison and a caffeinated squirrel. He swung the mic stand around like it owed him money, occasionally screaming lyrics I couldn't decipher over the chaotic mess of sound behind him.
The guitarist was no better, thrashing around like he was being electrocuted, his long hair whipping back and forth in a way that made me genuinely concerned he might take out someone in the front row. The drummer? A sweaty blur of limbs pounding on the kit like it had personally insulted his mother. And then there was the bassist—a guy who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, plucking at the strings with all the enthusiasm of someone filing their taxes.
I glanced around at the crowd, trying to figure out if anyone else thought this was as ridiculous as I did. Nope. Everyone looked entranced, swaying and headbanging like this was the second coming of Nirvana. A girl with neon green hair and fishnet tights screamed along to the lyrics, while a guy in a patched-up denim jacket threw up devil horns so aggressively I thought he might sprain his fingers.
Meanwhile, my brain was spiraling. What the hell is this? Is this music? Why does the lead singer keep making that face—does he need a bathroom break? And why is everyone acting like this is a religious experience?
I leaned over to Naruto, raising my voice to compete with the cacophony. "When does the band you actually like come on?"
He turned to me, grinning like an overexcited puppy. "Right after these guys! Aren't they awesome?"
I blinked at him. "Naruto, this sounds like a herd of raccoons fighting over a trash can."
He laughed, shaking his head. "You just don't get it. It's raw, you know? Authentic."
"Raw?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "This is raw like undercooked chicken—unpleasant and potentially dangerous."
Naruto just chuckled, turning his attention back to the stage, where the lead singer had now dropped to his knees and was clawing at the air like he was summoning spirits.
Oh my God, he's summoning the ghost of every musical note this band has murdered, I thought, crossing my arms and leaning back slightly.
The song finally ended, and the crowd erupted into cheers that were honestly way too enthusiastic for what we'd just witnessed. The lead singer stood, raising his arms like a victorious gladiator, sweat dripping down his face as he screamed, "HOW'S EVERYONE DOING TONIGHT?"
The crowd roared, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. I'll tell you how I'm doing—overstimulated, mildly confused, and desperately in need of earplugs.
Naruto nudged me with his elbow. "Lighten up, Sakura. It's all part of the experience."
I gave him a look. "If the experience is tinnitus and existential dread, then sure, I'm having a blast."
He laughed again, clearly amused by my suffering. And as much as I hated to admit it, his excitement was kind of infectious. Kind of.
The band launched into another song, this one somehow even louder and more chaotic than the last. I sighed, resigning myself to my fate as I mentally composed a list of everything I'd rather be doing: cleaning the chicken coop back home, flossing my teeth, filing taxes for strangers. But Naruto was grinning, his foot tapping to the beat, and for whatever reason, I couldn't bring myself to drag him away.
For now, I'd endure. But if the next band turned out to be anything like this one, I was definitely sneaking back to the bar to try and convince that smug, toothpick-chewing bartender to slip me a shot of vodka. Never mind that I was only 18 and absolutely not allowed to drink—it wasn't like I cared much about rules at this point. Besides, Genma seemed like the kind of guy who might do it just to see me cough and splutter on my first illegal sip.
When the show finally ended—thank god!—the band on stage immediately started tearing down their setup, and I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. It was chaotic, with wires and drum stands being yanked around like a tornado had hit. Confusion crept into my brain as I grabbed the hem of Naruto's shacket and tugged.
"Wait, isn't there another band playing? Why is everyone packing up?" I asked, half annoyed and half baffled.
Naruto glanced down at me, casually rocking on his heels. "Sometimes when the headliners are about to play, they bring in their own stage sets. They usually switch out the drum kits too. Think of it like an intermission."
"Oh," I muttered, watching the band scatter offstage like ants retreating from a ruined picnic. I wasn't particularly interested in this "intermission" phase, but Naruto seemed excited, so I leaned against the wall and half-heartedly observed as the band hauled their gear out through a side door.
As the departing band disappeared, the next group started filtering in, carrying equipment like it was an Olympic sport. And that's when my eyes landed on him . With two guitars slung across his back like the weightless swords of a rock-and-roll knight, there stood, without question, the most breathtakingly attractive man I had ever seen in my life.
And I mean ever .
He wasn't just attractive. No, this guy looked like a model who'd fallen out of a high-fashion catalog and landed here by accident. His black hair, messy yet somehow deliberate, caught the stage lights in a way that screamed mysterious bad boy vibes. His sharp jawline could have sliced through steel, and don't even get me started on his eyes—icy black, piercing, and so intense they could probably melt glaciers. The black button-up he wore hung slightly open at the collar, revealing just enough of his chest to make me question every life choice that had led me to this point.
I blinked, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Did the gods hand-craft him in their spare time? Is this what perfection looks like?
"Is… is that guy in the band?" I asked, my voice uncharacteristically shaky as I tried to keep my cool.
Naruto followed my gaze and laughed. "Him? Nah, he's not in the band. He's probably a roadie or something."
"Oh." Relief and excitement washed over me simultaneously. He wasn't part of the band, which meant I had a shot at talking to him—no crowds of screaming fans in the way, no chaos to navigate. Suddenly, being at this grungy, chaotic venue didn't seem so bad. Scratch that—it seemed like the best place on Earth. My discomfort melted away, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose.
Naruto noticed my sudden change in demeanor and grinned. "Wow, look at you. You're finally into the venue vibe, huh?"
"Yup," I said, popping the "p" as I adjusted my posture and pushed my hair over my shoulder. Confidence surged through me. I was Sakura Haruno. I was charming. I was captivating. I could make this happen.
"Wow," Naruto said, raising an eyebrow. "What brought on this change of heart?"
"Oh, nothing," I replied nonchalantly, even as my mind was already scheming. I needed to meet him, but how? Maybe I'd casually bump into him while "accidentally" walking past the stage area. Or I could ask Naruto to introduce me—no, that might give away my intentions too soon. I'd figure it out. I always did.
For now, I stood straighter, chin held high, plotting my move. Naruto, clueless as ever, just seemed thrilled that I was suddenly so enthusiastic about being here. Pushing my bra up I put on my most seductive smirk.
This night had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.