![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sirona_ficsAuthor: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sirona_gs
Title: Advantage: Us
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and boys kissing.
Word Count: ~8,300 this part, just over 30K overall.
Summary: When your parents are world-renowned tennis players, it is natural that you would want to follow in their footsteps, Naruto reasons when he asks to be sent to tennis summer camp. What happens after that is all that bastard Sasuke’s fault. A tennis AU where both boys’ parents are still alive.
Warnings: none, apart from kids swearing
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'll put them back after I'm done playing with them, I promise.
A/N: In Part One.
Part One
Part Two
He’s not ready, he thinks as he faces Sasuke across the net with the crowd’s noise filling his ears. His hands feel clammy where they grip the racquet handle, and his heart is fluttering madly in his chest and trying to climb out of his throat.
Sasuke’s scowling at him as usual, but there’s something about his mouth that suggests the tiniest smirk. Strangely, it soothes Naruto’s frayed nerves. He nods and assumes his position at the baseline, awaiting Sasuke’s first serve, since he’d won the toss.
Sasuke throws the ball in the air, pushes himself off the ground, the racquet slams against the ball and they’re off.
---
…Goddamn, that serve is fast…
…where the hell did that forehand come from?...
…I bloody hate his volleys…
…oh no you don’t, you bastard, I got that drop ball…
…slice it, damn it, slice it…
…fuck! That’s 1:0 for him. Get it together, Naruto!...
…don’t jump smash, he’s taller than you, he’ll get it—oh, fuck it…
…that’s out, that’s bloody well out, seriously…
…YES! I love aces…
…careful with that backspin, careful, Naruto…
…now! Hit it now!...
…bloody fucking bastard hell! I cannot believe he saved that!...
…1:1, now focus…
…oh god, he’s gaining too fast…
…take that, arsehole!...
…Sasuke?
---
Sasuke is lying on the ground, clutching at the back of his right thigh and gritting his teeth in pain. Naruto snaps out of his ‘game zone’ and rushes forward. Iruka’s there first, though, and carefully feels along the muscle. His mouth tightens and Naruto knows it’s serious.
“What is it, Iruka-sensei?” he asks, heart in his throat once again.
Iruka ignores him and keeps checking the extent of the injury.
“Sasuke, when you move your knee, how much pain do you feel?”
“A lot,” Sasuke hisses. “It hurts when I try to fold my leg.”
“Is there a sort of ping when you move it?” Iruka continues.
“Yeah, like a twinge of elastic or something.”
Iruka leans back as Itachi and Fugaku make it to his side.
“How severe is the injury?” Fugaku demands.
“It’s a grade two pulled hamstring,” Iruka says, turning to look at him. “He needs immediate treatment. Go get Tsunade,” he tells Naruto, who is off like a shot.
He finds Tsunade in her office and barely manages to gasp, “Sasuke” and “hamstring” before she’s off the chair and striding away at speed.
She confirms the diagnosis immediately. “He needs four to six weeks recovery time. Surgery is not necessary, but he must not move about anywhere for the next five days. He must keep the leg elevated and put an ice pack on it for twenty minutes every two hours, and it must be bandaged by a compression bandage. Once the injury has rested, he can start therapy.”
Fugaku is nodding along; Naruto considers that he has probably done this before himself. Tsunade has Fugaku pick Sasuke up and bring him to the Infirmary. It would be funny, the way Sasuke stiffens at the smallest touch, if Naruto wasn’t feeling slightly sick.
“I concede the match,” Sasuke grits out once his father has picked him up.
“Don’t be stupid, it’s a draw,” Naruto protests. “We’re at 4:4 in the third set. We can schedule a rematch sometime—“
“No,” Sasuke cuts him off. “I lost.” The pain and disappointment in his voice make Naruto feel even worse.
Itachi is looking approvingly at Sasuke, though, and Naruto doesn’t get it, but Sasuke obviously does because he gives his brother a small nod that is returned.
---
A few hours later Naruto makes his way over to the Infirmary yet again, holding Sasuke’s obnoxious physics book against his side. He reaches the door and is just about to knock when he hears raised voices from the inside.
“I’m not coming back here!” he hears Sasuke say loudly. “You can’t train Itachi and me at the same time, so obviously I have to find myself a different coach. I’m going to speak to Orochimaru Sannin tomorrow and transfer to his academy in Scotland.”
“You will do no such thing,” Fugaku’s deep voice cuts through Sasuke’s words with a heavy finality. “If you want to start playing on the Junior circuit so badly, you will train under Kakashi or you will let me find you a different instructor.”
“What’s wrong with Orochimaru? He’s one of the best out there.”
“I disagree with his training methods,” his father drawls.
“Why, if they get results? Isn’t that all you care about?”
“Sasuke,” Fugaku drawls in warning, and a short silence follows. Naruto considers going in now, while they’re not saying anything else important, but the decision is taken from him when Fugaku speaks again.
“Come back here next year, for the last time. I promise I will have found a good coach for you by then.” Naruto thinks that Fugaku sounds almost pleading, if such a thing is possible.
“These camps are useless,” Sasuke snaps. “They can’t teach for shit if even a loser like that dead-last Uzumaki can beat someone as good as Gaara Suna is supposed to be. I’m done with them.”
Oh, is all Naruto can think for a moment. So that’s still how it is, is it? He’s won against the best player out there, but he’ll never be more than a dead-last loser to Sasuke.
The hard-cover book drops from his suddenly nerveless fingers and lands with an audible thump on the floor by the door. He dimly hears footsteps coming closer and the door opening, but he’s already walking away and doesn’t stop when someone calls his name, so he doesn’t see Itachi’s concerned face and Sasuke’s stricken look when he realises Naruto has heard every last angry, vindictive taunt.
He walks the rest of the distance to the VIP rooms, knocking on the door and entering when his mom’s voice tells him to.
“I want to leave,” is all he says, and something must have shown in his face because for once his parents don’t question him.
They pack his bags, say goodbye to Shikamaru, Iruka, Kakashi, and Tsunade, and leave that evening.
---
The next year Sasuke doesn’t show at camp. Naruto, who’s been worrying himself sick for the past month about how he should act towards him when he sees him, spends the next four weeks training himself into the ground.
---
When camp is over, Iruka takes Minato and Kushina aside.
“There’s nothing else we can teach him here,” he tells them. “It’s time for Naruto to get a professional coach and start playing the Junior circuit, if he still wants to.”
They nod in agreement; they’d come to that conclusion themselves.
“Frankly, I’m a little worried about him,” Iruka confides. “He’s not the same boy I saw last year.”
Minato and Kushina nod again. They’d seen this, too.
“He needs direction.”
“Yes.”
---
Naruto goes home and starts training with Jiraiya permanently.
---
From: Blond Ambition (superstar@foxmail.com)
To: Orochimaru’s buttmonkey (suchiha@snakemail.com)
Date: July 23, 2008
Subject: Happy 14th birthday, arsehole.
---
Excerpt from Wikipedia article (last modified 19th April 2009)
Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze
Son of Minato Namikaze, World № 1 for 3 consecutive years, the last British male to win Wimbledon, and Kushina Uzumaki, World №1 for 4 consecutive years, holder of 5 Grand Slam titles. At 14 years of age, a promising young player who has just won himself a place on the British Junior Davis Cup team…
---
Excerpt from The Times, Monday, 5th October 2009
Britain wins Junior Davis Cup, Uzumaki-Namikaze takes the last set from under Australia’s nose
The British Junior Davis Cup Team’s newest and youngest member, Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze, 15, played a brilliant game this Sunday to win the Cup from Australia in a five-set match that came down to the very last tiebreak. That Uzumaki-Naruto’s backhand is the deadliest on the Junior circuit was proved once again in this heated match that saw the British Junior Davis Cup Team’s triumphant claim of the № 1 spot for the first time in the whole of Junior Davis Cup history…
---
From: Blond Ambition (superstar@foxmail.com)
To: Orochimaru’s buttmonkey (suchiha@snakemail.com)
Date: July 23, 2010
Subject: 16, huh? At least now you’re legal.
---
Further excerpt from Wikipedia article (last modified 21st August 2010)
Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze
… Uzumaki-Namikaze finished ranked at number 1 in the Junior Circuit for 2009 after he lead Britain’s Junior Davis Cup Team to victory and won 1st place in the Junior Australian Open Championship and the Junior French Open Championship. He came in 2nd place in the U.S. Junior National Championship behind Lee Rock.
In an interview on 20th August 2010 Uzumaki-Namikaze said that he plans to debut on the professional tour as soon as he celebrates his 17th birthday, which will be on 10th October 2010…
---
From Wimbledon’s Official Web Site (17th June, 2011)
List of Qualifiers for the Gentlemen’s Singles, Wimbledon 2011
…
…
07. Neji Hyuuga, 18 (GB) (43)
…
…
…
11. Shikamaru Nara, 17 (GB) (0)
…
13. Lee Rock, 18 (GB) (58)
…
15. Sasuke Uchiha, 17 (GB) (0)
16. Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze, 17 (GB) (0)
List of Qualifiers for the Ladies’ Singles, Wimbledon 2011
…
…
…
04. Sakura Haruno, 17 (GB) (0)
05. Hinata Hyuuga, 17 (GB) (0)
…
…
08. Tenten Kunai, 18 (GB) (39)
…
…
…
12. Ino Yamanaka, 17 (GB) (0)
---
“My baby, about to play his first match at Wimbledon! Oh, love, you make me so happy!” Kushina gushes, gazing at her son adoringly as his six-year-old sister attempts to climb up his 6’1’’ frame. Naruto grins at her and swings her up quickly into his arms, making her giggle.
“How d’you like the look from up here, Koyuki?
“’S tall!”
“It’s ‘high up’, Koyuki, love,” Kushina patiently corrects her.
Naruto smiles at both of them and hands his sister over to their mom. “I have to go get ready now, Mom,” he tells her lightly and sidesteps her before she can try to muss his hair again.
Kushina sighs playfully. “You’re getting too fast for your old woman,” she laments and Naruto scoffs.
“Old woman?! What does that make me?” Minato whines from behind her. She turns to smile at him and Minato hands Naruto his bag. “Quick, while she’s distracted!”
Naruto walks away grinning, the sound of happy laughter echoing in his ears.
---
Shikamaru is already in the changing rooms, pulling his white shirt over his head.
“You’re cutting it a bit fine, mate,” Shikamaru observes and Naruto runs inside and tosses his bag on the bench, rummaging through it for his gear.
“I know, I know, it’s those children I have for parents,” he moans and tugs his top off, throwing it inside the bag. He unfolds his own white shirt with orange stitching along the side and flips it over in preparation for putting it on.
His hair is everywhere, there’s sweat trickling down his sides and he’s struggling to toe off his scruffy trainers as fast as he can, trying to get rid of all his clothes at once. He is, in other words, a mess, which is of course the exact moment that Sasuke Uchiha just has to walk through the damned door for the first time in six years.
Naruto freezes, one foot half-way out of a shoe and a hole in the toe of the other’s sock, shorts falling down his legs at the worst possible moment. At least he has clean underwear on, he thinks foggily and promptly blushes as the thought registers.
“Um,” he says eloquently, blue eyes widening as he takes in the one person he’s never quite managed to throw out of his head. A person he’s not seen for over half a decade, but about whom he somehow knows almost everything there is to know.
Or so he’d thought, but the man standing in front of him right now might as well be a stranger. He’s in a flimsy white shirt that conceals nothing whatsoever of his long torso, a pair of loose black trousers, and the weirdest purple belt Naruto has ever had the misfortune to encounter.
“What in the name of sanity are you wearing?” he blurts out and immediately wants to sink through the floor with embarrassment. ‘Great job, Naruto. He hasn’t spoken to you in six years; go ahead and remind him exactly why not.’
Sasuke lifts a perfectly-shaped black eyebrow and Naruto’s short-circuiting brain wonders whether or not Sasuke tweezes them.
“Quite a bit more than you at the moment,” Sasuke drawls, and his voice is the same, yet not. It’s—deeper, more resonant somehow. It does funny things to Naruto’s currently very much overexposed body.
Naruto is dimly aware of Shikamaru leaning against his locker, showing every sign of enjoying his mortification.
“Not to break up this heart-warming reunion, but we’re due out on court in five minutes,” Shikamaru finally comes to Naruto’s rescue.
“Fuck!” Naruto yelps and goes back to frantically stripping his old clothes off and pulling on his match outfit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Don’t just stand there, Shika, grab the bags and let’s go!”
He ignores Sasuke’s smirk mainly because he can’t afford to look at him again just now, or he’s going to get thoroughly distracted all over again. He sneaks a glance at him from the corner of his eye. He’s stripping, his brain supplies, and Naruto’s whole face flames bright red.
“Come along,” Shikamaru’s exasperated voice comes from the door; Naruto snaps out of his daze at last. ‘Game zone’, he reminds himself. Yeah.
He’s rushing along the corridor, not really looking at where he’s going, when he slams full-length against another person. There’s something familiar about his frame, Naruto thinks as he looks up into Itachi Uchiha’s face.
“Ah, Naruto! Delightful to see you again. Best of luck for the game! Perhaps you and I might go for a drink later on?”
Naruto’s mouth opens and closes a few times without his permission. It doesn’t bear thinking about what he looks like to Itachi.
“Yeah, okay, maybe,” he stammers and shies around Itachi to make his way to the courts. He has no idea what he’s just agreed to, but he can’t think about that now. He has a match to win.
---
He does win, but it’s all a blur. Later on, when he thinks back to it, he can’t recall any detail of it other than that the man he plays has the same colour hair as Sasuke and Itachi. He resolutely refuses to think about what that might mean. Fugaku’s words from so long ago echo in his ears: The Namikazes and the Uchihas are quite unable to stay away from each other for some reason. He tries and fails to suppress a shudder down his spine at the memory.
To top it all, he has to go back to the changing rooms to get his stuff. He considers just leaving it, in there, but that’s his favourite orange T-shirt and he’s not making that sacrifice for Sasuke.
He’s supposed to hate the bastard, he thinks. The old hurt of Sasuke’s dismissal has healed over – Naruto has proven himself over and over again to be a brilliant player, with heart as well as technique – but sometimes a journalist would look at him in the piercing way that such professionals have, and the pain and insecurity would flare back to life with a vengeance.
Naruto has accomplished many things in the past six years, but all of his victories have had a hollow feel to them that no amount of celebrations could erase – because the one person whose approval he craves the most hasn’t even spoken to him for six years, never replied to any of his (barbed) emails, never looked him up at all.
Naruto’s head is a mess, he knows that; he also knows that he should avoid seeking out Sasuke when he’s in this state, but he doesn’t seem to be able to help himself. Going without seeing him or speaking to him for over half a decade is painful, but fine; knowing he might be in the next room over and not going to him is unsupportable.
…Does Sasuke still hate him?
Naruto sneaks into the changing rooms like he’s doing something wrong rather than just picking up his things. He’s not convinced that he isn’t doing anything wrong; though more likely what he’s doing is just stupid. He just wants to get this over with – he’s absolutely starving, always is after a game, and he could murder a sandwich.
The changing rooms are empty. Naruto doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or happy about that. Fuck, it’s only been four hours and already Sasuke’s presence has him back to being an eleven-year-old confused kid.
He goes in to find his bag that he’d forgotten to lock up in his rush, and get changed from the sweaty, grimy white T-shirt and shorts that he’s still wearing, too much of a coward to face Sasuke post-game. He unzips the large holdall, dirty shirt already in one hand, when he stops in his tracks. He stares at the small rectangle wrapped in a napkin and placed next to his bottle of water. He knows for sure he didn’t put it there, and his parents are waiting outside for him, so it can’t be them. Shikamaru would never go to this much trouble; neither of them uses napkins, anyway.
A half-forgotten memory teases at his mind, of a tall glass of water on a bedside table, covered by a napkin so no dust or insects get in it. He unwraps the package and stares some more at the sandwich laid neatly in the centre of the unfolded napkin. Another look reveals it to be a bacon and tomato one.
He looks around once again, but the room’s still as empty as it had been when he came in, so he’s not too worried about anyone teasing him for the way his jaw drops at the discovery.
There is only one person that would know that he’d make the connection.
---
Their group is sitting in the Wimbledon Hotel lobby bar, nursing water and fruit juice because most of them are still underage, and those who aren’t prefer not to get pissed while the others are there, sober enough to pull devious pranks on them.
Naruto doesn’t know what the chances are of almost the entire group from England’s junior tennis camp to qualify for Wimbledon – most of them in their first year of turning pro, too – but he wishes he’d known that they were trying out so that he’d have placed a bet on them making it and made a fortune.
Shikamaru kicks his leg under the table none-too-gently. Naruto jerks his head up from where he’d been staring into his pineapple juice and scowls at him. He doesn’t realise that everyone’s looking at him until Shikamaru nudges his head pointedly at them.
“What?” Naruto blurts out, off-balance.
“What is up with you? You haven’t been listening to a word we’ve been saying, and you haven’t bragged about your win once!” Sakura points out, poking at his arm.
“’S nothing. I’m just tired, is all,” he mutters, hoping against hope that they’ll take his word for it.
No such luck.
“Naruto ‘Whirlwind’ Uzumaki-Namikaze is too tired to rehash the match?! Pull the other one, it’s got bells on,” Ino scoffs.
“Is something the matter, Naruto?” Hinata’s softly-voiced enquiry comes from across the table, and Naruto appreciates her newfound confidence enough not to want to avoid the question. He still hesitates, though.
Neji sighs in exasperation “It’s Sasuke, isn’t it,” he says bluntly, and Naruto glares at him. He thought they’d agreed not to talk about Sasuke amongst their group.
“Of course it is,” Sakura sighs in resignation. “What else could it possibly be?”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Naruto growls at her.
She just raises her eyebrows at him. “I rest my case,” she says. “No one else can make you this grouchy.”
“I haven’t even seen him in six years!”
“Your point?” Sakura asks sweetly.
Naruto wants to yell at her, but that won’t make the slightest bit of difference. He deflates, plopping his arms onto the table and burying his head in them.
“He made me a sandwich,” he mutters.
Ino’s disbelieving voice shatters the resulting silence. “Come again?” she squeaks. “I must be delusional, because I think I just heard you say that Sasuke Uchiha made you a sandwich.”
“He did,” Naruto nods his head, still hiding his face in his arms. “It was delicious, too.”
“You ate something Sasuke Uchiha made for you,” Gaara’s voice could dry out the Atlantic Ocean. “How did you know it was him, anyway? Did he give it you?”
Naruto gives up and sits straight again. “No, I found it in my holdall. I know it was him because… you know what, never mind. You’d never get it,” he sighs dejectedly.
“Is that right,” Neji’s voice is dangerously silky. Naruto cringes. If anyone can unravel the whole thing in one go, it’s bloody Neji.
“Look, just take my word for it, okay?” he avers.
“Fine,” Sakura rolls her eyes. “So! Naruto, Sasuke Uchiha made you a sandwich!” she squeals, delighted. All the girls perk up immediately.
Naruto’s face flushes bright red, and he scowls at them darkly. “I think I liked you better before, when you were suspicious,” he mutters under his breath.
“What is with that attitude, Naruto? You should embrace this wonderful opportunity to heal the rift between you and your dearest friend! You must not hold such grudges in the springtime of your youth, but rather spread your joy and good humour to those sorely in need of them!”
Naruto groans and thumps his head back on the table. “Someone, anyone, please, for the love of god have mercy and shut him up!” He raises his head and throws a suspicious look at everyone around the table. “Alright, you scoundrels, own up. Who gave Lee sugar?”
The mood lifts, as he had known it would; he does enjoy listening to his friends laugh.
“Aren’t you even a little curious why he did that?” Sakura, however, is relentless. She reminds Naruto of his mother – which is probably the reason why he’s never tried to date her.
He considers playing dumb, but there’s a militant light in her eyes that warns him not to even try it.
“Yes,” he sighs, defeated. “Yes, of course I’m curious, but you should know by now the futility of trying to second-guess Sasuke Uchiha,” he tells her. “Remember what all of us used to think about the Uchiha family? Remember how well that went?”
Everyone cringes. Shikamaru, unusually, had told everyone else about Naruto’s misguided attempt at moral support for Sasuke, as well as the outcome of it. Naruto hadn’t spoken to him for a month because of that.
His friends drop it; Naruto is grateful for small mercies.
---
That is, until he comes back from winning his 2nd Round match to find Itachi sitting by his locker, flipping curiously through a large book with hard covers. Itachi looks up when Naruto stops in front of him and smiles slightly.
“I didn’t know you were interested in Medicine,” he comments lightly.
Naruto bristles. “Why would you? I don’t recall having had contact with any of the Uchihas for quite some time.”
Itachi’s smile doesn’t quite slip, but the corners of his mouth tighten ever so slightly. “Point taken,” he murmurs. “This is yours, I believe,” he says and stands to go, handing him the book.
“Uh, no, it isn’t,” Naruto says impatiently, fed up with Itachi’s game, whatever it is.
Itachi looks at him for a moment, then flips the front cover open and turns the book to face him.
Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze, he reads written in black ink at the top left-hand corner of the inside cover, clear as day – a spiky handwriting that he’s never seen before, but feels quite certain he could match easily given something to compare it to.
He takes the book from Itachi’s hands and stares at it some more. He flips to the title page – Sports Medicine and Rehabilitation: A Sports Specific Approach, he reads, getting more and more confused with every minute. Why is Sasuke doing this? If it is Sasuke – but it must be, right?
As he turns a few pages a note falls out, written in the same spiky handwriting. 16.30, Court 1 it says; Naruto stares some more.
Itachi is gone by the time he looks up; he wonders vaguely why he’d been here in the first place. He debates not going – it’s 15.30 now and Court 1 is miles away on the other side of the complex – but he’s not particularly fond of mind games, and he just wants to know what’s going on – is that too much to ask?
He flips his phone open. He needs some moral support, damn it, and this time he’s actually going to ask for it. So he calls Sakura.
---
Calling Sakura, he should have realised, also means calling Ino, and Hinata, and Tenten, and Shikamaru, and… Anyway. The entire group is here, even Kiba, Shino and Chouji – who hadn’t managed to qualify to play this year – and Gaara – who is already seeded at (23) and as such does not need to go through the qualifiers to play.
Naruto knows this had not been Sasuke’s intention when he sees the narrowed look Sasuke shoots at the twelve-strong group from his chair at the sideline, waiting for play to start. Naruto smirks vindictively at him – his message is clear. He’s not going to roll over and beg just because Sasuke deigned to contact him at last.
He sees Sasuke’s lips press together into a thin line and a shiver of apprehension slithers down his spine unpleasantly. What if Sasuke decided Naruto’s not really worth the trouble?
“Naruto, you idiot,” Sakura scolds, and it’s a moment before Naruto realises he must have said that last one out loud. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop thinking like that? You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, you’re a brilliant player. Anyone who doesn’t see that is either blind or stupid, and you know Sasuke’s neither.”
Naruto smiles a little at her vigorous defence of his finer qualities when it hits him. “Wait. What does me being gorgeous have to do with him wanting to be friends with me?” he says, baffled.
Sakura gives him that particular look she saves for when he’s being insufferably dense about something.
“What?” he asks, even more confused. “Sakura, what, damn it?!”
Sakura shares a long-suffering look with Ino, who’s sitting on his other side and listening to every word; then, both of them turn to look at him.
“He made you a sandwich, because he obviously remembers you get hungry after playing,” Sakura starts.
“He gave you a book on sports medicine, because he remembers you’re interested in it,” Ino points out.
“He asked you to come and watch him play,” Sakura adds, eyebrows raised pointedly.
Naruto keeps looking between the two of them. “Yeah? And?”
“We’re going to have to have to spell it out to him, Sakura. He’s a bit slow when it comes to things like this.”
Sakura shakes her head and tries one last time. “Naruto, think about the situation, but now imagine if you were a girl.”
“What?!” Naruto is aghast. “Sasuke thinks I’m a girl?!”
Sakura puts her face in her hands, shaking her head despairingly.
“Sasuke thinks what?” Kiba asks, bemused.
From Kiba’s other side, Neji looks at him pityingly. “For god’s sake, Ino, just tell him. He’s going to break himself trying to get it.”
“Sasuke fancies you,” Ino says slowly.
Naruto blinks at her. “He does? What on earth for?”
Even Lee groans out loud this time.
“Shika, you tell him,” Sakura pleads, exhausted. “You always seem to be able to explain stuff so he gets it.”
“Hey, leave me out of this,” Shikamaru says, a slight panic in his voice.
“Shikamaru, look at him. He’s gonna hyperventilate any minute now. Have mercy on him,” Shino drawls from the row above them.
Shikamaru lets out a much put-upon sigh.
“Naruto,” he says quietly, and Naruto gives him all his attention. “You made him a picnic for his birthday when he was eleven years old and no one thought there was more to him than his name. You stood up for him when his father and brother came to the camp, no matter how misguided. You went to see him at the Infirmary after your match, even after he told you to stay away—yes, everyone knows that’s why you left, don’t gape like that.
“The point is that all this obviously meant something to him, even back then. All his gifts – they’re meant to tell you that he remembers what you did for him, and that he appreciates it. And maybe he wants to apologise, too. You’ll have to ask him about what he’s trying to do here. But you can safely assume that he does like you, maybe more than likes you.”
It’s a lot to take in, and Naruto is still in denial about Sasuke meaning any of that, but the rest of the group are nodding sagely to Shikamaru’s words, so he thinks there’s probably some truth to them.
They only realise the match is starting when the umpire calls for silence. Naruto looks down at the court, at Sasuke staring straight at him. The sight of him standing tall on the green court, dressed head to toe in pristine white – a poster boy for the Wimbledon class and finesse – makes Naruto’s chest tight for some reason. How is he ever going to be able to talk to Sasuke, when all he wants to do is hide and make all this confusion go away? He tries to send Sasuke a ‘good luck’ smile, but he’s afraid it comes out as more of a grimace. Sasuke’s face is a long way away, but Naruto thinks he sees it soften slightly before he turns his attention to the match.
---
Six years ago, Sasuke had played with a single-minded determination to win. Naruto had thought him a machine, perfect in every shot, every jump, slice, spin.
Naruto realises now that at eleven, he’d had no idea what perfection even meant. This is perfection. Sasuke moves like a predator that has the prey well within his sights, that’s playing with his food just because he can. Naruto watches as he effortlessly confuses his opponent, forcing him to make simple mistakes that no one at this level of playing the sport should be making any more.
His shots are placed with such precision that the Hawk-Eye is called on again and again, only to show the ball catching the smallest possible fraction of the line. In any other player it would be luck; in Sasuke, Naruto knows, it’s the way he’d intended the ball to land even as he was preparing to hit it back.
It is a massacre – 6:1, 6:0, 6:0, three sets to nil with only one game lost due to Sasuke’s frequent glances at the stands at the start of the game, before he’d hit his stride. Sasuke strides off the pitch with nary a glance around, as if he’d proven his point.
Naruto is more confused than ever.
---
3rd Round, and Naruto is playing Germany’s Philipp Petzschner, seeded at (33) in the rank list. In 2010 Petzschner had got to the 3rd round, but was defeated by Rafael Nadal in a five-set match that had tested both players’ abilities.
“He’s a tough opponent,” Jiraiya tells him gravely, and then he and Minato proceed to point out all of Petzschner’s weaknesses so that Naruto can take advantage of them.
One of Naruto’s greatest strengths is his stamina. He can play for up to four and a half hours with only the standard breaks in place, so he can outlast many seasoned pros if it comes to the duration of the match. There is a reason for his nickname, ‘whirlwind’ – he has seemingly unlimited energy stored in his toned body.
So when the match against Petzschner goes into its third hour, Naruto is still going strong while Petzschner is starting to flag. His shots lack the force they abounded with at the start; once Naruto takes the third game in a row, the match is pretty much over. Naruto wins, three sets to two, and proceeds to the 4th round.
---
By now their group is generating quite the buzz. Eight young British players, five of them unseeded, are cutting a swath through the championship. Justine Henin, seeded at (14), has already been knocked out by Sakura Haruno, and so has Lleyton Hewitt, seeded at (30), by Neji Hyuuga. The sports writers are starting to pay attention, and journalists are frantically trying to work out where these young people came from.
Naruto’s record is dug up and splattered over the front pages – ‘Britain’s youngest hope’, he’s dubbed, on the heels of Andy Murray’s loss to Rafael Nadal in four sets. The papers have also dug out Sasuke’s name, brother to Itachi Uchiha, the (5) seed at Wimbledon, a strong contender to take the title away from Nadal and become the newest British champion now that Minato Namikaze has retired.
The group is not quite hounded, but it’s a close call. Including them, Britain has fourteen participants in the 4th round of Wimbledon that starts on Monday. That they are ‘a sensation’ is an understatement.
---
Sunday is the official day of rest, and everyone and their families congregate for a light lunch in the restaurant of the Wimbledon Hotel where all of them are staying. Naruto tries to relax as much as possible, knowing that he has to play Spain’s David Ferrer (9) tomorrow and knowing that last year Ferrer had knocked out the (6) seed on his arse. Like him, all the other players are nervous and trying not to show it.
He watches his mom cutting up Koyuki’s meal for her and his father chatting amiably with Jiraiya while trying to pretend he isn’t throwing nervous glances at his son every few minutes, and resolves to go for a good long run once lunch is over – he needs to get rid of the abominable tension stiffening his shoulders somehow. Alone, he reiterates to himself when he catches his dad at it again.
It’s not until forty-five minutes later that he manages to ditch the rest of them, and with a relieved sigh he changes into a pair of off-white shorts and his favourite battered orange-on-black Rollerball T-shirt and his oldest, scruffiest, most comfortable pair of running shoes. He sticks a twenty in his pocket – just in case he gets lost and has to take a cab back – as well as his mobile, jots down a quick note to his parents and leaves the hotel by the back entrance.
He sticks his earphones on, plays the Kick-Ass soundtrack on his phone, picks a direction and he starts running. The repetitive, calming feeling of the ground pushing against his feet is incredibly soothing to his frayed nerves. If nothing else, at least he knows how to get lost inside his own head while the rhythm of running takes over his body without a need for any higher brain functions.
He runs. The soundtrack finishes; he plays (500) Days of Summer. When that finishes, he plays The Beach. By this time he’s well out of the city centre, passing enormous villa-like houses with gorgeous, perfectly maintained gardens he catches glimpses of through wrought iron fences. He loves houses like these – white, Grecian-style columns franking the entrances, or simple façades with lovingly carved, heavy wooden doors.
He loves the smell of earth after rain – it figures that on the one day they have a break it would pour down all morning – but the aftermath is a fresh, fragrant scent that flushes his cheeks and makes his eyes sparkle with pleasure.
To his shock, he catches sight of Rafael Nadal walking through the front door of one of the houses – so these must be the ones rented out to players, then. One day, he promises himself, he’ll be good enough and famous enough to afford to rent one of these lovely houses to come home to for the two weeks while he plays on the Wimbledon courts.
He has no idea where he is anymore, but he’s still in the same friendly neighbourhood and he figures he’s done five miles by now. He stops at the end of the street to catch his breath and stretch a little, preparing for the run home. He changes the music to Everything But the Girl’s Walking Wounded trip-hop-inspired album and starts back the way he came. The miles fly away under his feet and he feels happier and more relaxed than he has since the week started.
The door to one of the houses on his right opens and a familiar figure appears, a rubbish bag in his hand. He’s dressed all in black for a change, loose trousers and an even looser T-shirt, black hair damp as if from a shower. Naruto is transfixed. Sasuke looks like something straight from his imagination, perhaps a bit more dressed than he usually imagines, but no less alluring for it.
Naruto reaches the edge of the property and pulls the headphones away from his ears. “Hi,” he says; he’s still gulping down air, so it comes out a lot breathier than it normally would.
Sasuke starts, then turns around slowly, as if he’s not sure Naruto’s really there. Naruto feels awkward and underdressed, standing in front of him in his scruffiest clothes, sweat pouring down his face and neck; and Sasuke keeps staring at him.
“I was just going for a run,” Naruto adds lamely, anxious to break the silence but not knowing how to be cool or sophisticated about it.
“I can see that,” Sasuke drawls back – it’s neither snarky nor unfriendly, and it makes Naruto feel a little better.
“So, how are you doing?” Naruto asks, going for ‘light’ and reaching as high as ‘nervous’.
“Okay,” Sasuke says, and he sounds it.
“I’m glad,” Naruto smiles at him – not as widely as he would have once, but friendly enough.
“Yeah,” Sasuke murmurs; his eyes fall to Naruto’s T-shirt. “And you say I have bad taste in fashion,” he drawls again, and this time Naruto can hear the laughter being suppressed.
“It was a present, okay?” he grumbles. “Besides, I like Rollerball. I’m surprised you even know that’s where it’s from!”
“Credit me with some pop culture knowledge,” Sasuke says mildly.
The exchange is probably the friendliest they’ve ever had. Naruto shuffles his feet a little, then takes the plunge.
“Thanks for—you know.”
“I do?” Sasuke’s expression is flat, but Naruto recognises his baffled look.
He glares at Sasuke for making him say it. “The sandwich. And the book.”
Sasuke’s widening eyes indicate that he hadn’t thought Naruto would ever say anything about it.
“You’re welcome,” Sasuke says quietly.
“Um. Why—why did you give them to me?” Naruto asks tentatively.
It’s Sasuke’s turn to shuffle his feet, something Naruto doesn’t think he’s ever seen him do before. He opens his mouth, closes it.
Naruto wonders if this is one of those times Sasuke can’t say what’s on his mind, that it’s too big a step for him. So Naruto decides to meet him half-way.
“Shikamaru said that it must have been because you—appreciated what I did, before, even though I don’t know what the big deal was about what I did, anyone would have done it for you—“
“Not anyone,” Sasuke interrupts almost inaudibly. He’s looking everywhere but at Naruto when he says, “It was a lot. I—It was hard, back then. But. Uh. Thanks.”
Naruto scratches the back of his head, uncomfortable with how much weight Sasuke is placing on a few simple things that hadn’t been all that important. He’d just wanted to make Sasuke happy. Hadn’t everyone?
“It’s okay,” Naruto says at last. “You don’t have to do all that stuff for me, though. I mean, it’s great, but— just, you don’t have to.”
Sasuke’s lips curl in a small smile, and for the first time he looks Naruto in the eye. “I know,” he murmurs, and Naruto is completely bowled over by how much the expression changes Sasuke’s face, softens it, makes it—him—look – warm. Friendly. Approachable. Happy.
“Uh. Okay then,” Naruto mumbles, still staring at Sasuke’s face like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Sasuke must have seen something in his eyes that makes him come another step forward, shorten the distance between them.
“I also wanted to say ‘sorry,’” Sasuke’s voice is lower than before. He’s standing quite close to Naruto now. Why is he standing so close? Why can’t Naruto breathe properly?
“For what?” it comes out as a squeak and his face flames in embarrassment. He clears his throat awkwardly.
“I know you heard what I said to my father that time in the Infirmary,” Sasuke tells him, and Naruto’s expression shutters closed. But wait – he’s apologising for it?
“I was angry. I didn’t mean it. You’re not a loser. You’re one of the best players out there.” His voice is still low, but all the more sincere for it.
Naruto can’t move, not to nod, not to step away, or closer, though he’s not too sure where that last thought comes from. He just looks at Sasuke and lets the lingering hurt from years ago dissipate under the quiet praise.
“Why did you never reply to my emails?” Naruto asks, voice a little hoarse with emotion.
“Orochimaru’s policy. We were supposed to cut the rest of the world off, not think of anything other than training. Going to him – it—might have been a mistake,” Sasuke admits and Naruto is well aware how much saying that costs him.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Naruto tells him; this time the wide, bright, no-holds-barred smile takes over his face completely and he’s powerless to stop it.
Sasuke smiles back, a real smile this time, and his eyes fall from Naruto’s to fasten lower. Naruto has the strangest feeling that Sasuke might actually kiss him; it scares him that he has not the slightest desire to move away.
“Sasuke?” a feminine voice comes from the still partially open front door and Naruto jumps away, startled. He looks around Sasuke to see a tall, graceful, dark-haired woman standing at the threshold. “Is everything—Oh! Hello! You must be Naruto!”
She strides forward to stand next to a flushed Sasuke. Naruto almost can’t take his eyes away from him; the sight makes something in his chest tighten and relax all at the same time.
“Mother, this is Naruto. Naruto, my mother.”
“Mikoto, Naruto. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” she says amiably, and Naruto can see where the Uchiha brothers get their smooth charm from.
“You too, ma’am,” Naruto replies, taking the hand she’s holding out to him and shaking it gently. She has a strong, firm grip that surprises and reassures him.
“I think I see what all the fuss is about,” she murmurs to herself before giving him a charming smile. “Won’t you join us for tea?” she invites, and Naruto wants to accept, so much, but his clothes are filthy and he smells of sweat and exertion. He doesn’t want to offend Sasuke’s mother, though… He looks down at himself despairingly.
“Don’t give it another thought,” she says lightly with a graceful wave of her hand. “You can shower, if you like, and borrow some of Sasuke’s clothes. I’ll call your mother meanwhile, so she knows you’re here, and they can come and pick you up – or we can drive you back to the hotel.”
Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Naruto to know that Sasuke’s mother and his are friends. In fact, he thinks, it would be more surprising if they weren’t.
---
Sasuke’s room is just as perfectly organised as everything about him. His host opens a drawer in one of the large cherry-wood armoires and offers him a pair of sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt.
“There’s fresh towels in the bathroom,” he tells Naruto and shows him the way. At the bathroom door he lingers for a moment, just looking at him, then seems to shake himself and turns to go downstairs.
Naruto watches him walk away for a moment, then screws up his courage, reaches for his arm and tugs him back. He’s overdone it a little, however; Sasuke loses his balance, slips on the carpet and starts to fall. Naruto reaches to catch him, tangles his legs with his and they both land on the floor with a hard whoosh of air from their lungs.
“Crap,” Naruto says, conversationally. “Not quite what I meant to do.”
“What did you mean to do?” Sasuke enquires from beside him, amusement clear in his voice. “Only you can be so nimble on court and trip over your own feet in private,” he snorts.
Naruto wants to scowl, but he’s smiling too widely for it to work. “That’s me,” he quips lightly.
He turns to face him just as Sasuke rolls his head towards him. They are so close that their noses are almost touching, and Naruto feels breathless all over again. Tentatively he shifts on his side and touches his nose to Sasuke’s cheekbone, the pale skin so smooth and warm. Sasuke waits, unmoving. Naruto pulls away to look at him properly, a question in his eyes. Sasuke nods, sneaks an arm around Naruto’s shoulders and pulls him down.
The first touch of their lips is unsure, strange, exhilarating. Naruto makes a small noise in his throat and presses closer, putting more pressure on Sasuke’s mouth, tilting his head hesitantly to kiss him deeper. Sasuke moves his lips under him and, oh god, Naruto is not prepared for the burst of satisfaction that tiny move sends through him.
He is suddenly reminded that this is Sasuke. Sasuke who drives him insane most of the time, Sasuke whom he can’t quite work out at the best of times, Sasuke who can’t say what he means but shows it instead with thoughtful gifts from times long past, Sasuke who stands in front of him and protects him from the ball that’s going to bruise him and then leaves him water so he doesn’t have to get up and stumble around on a broken ankle to get some; Sasuke who hurts him without meaning to and can’t let things rest before making amends.
Sasuke who is pulling him closer and slipping a tongue out to lick at his bottom lip, asking him for entrance he gladly grants, Sasuke who breaks the kiss to look at him with dark eyes Naruto has never seen so warm.
“My mother is going to come up to check on you any moment now. Go take that shower, you smell,” Naruto is told fondly; when he makes to get up, he is tugged back down, kissed soundly once more and shoved upright by a smirking Sasuke who is looking like the cat who got the cream and the canary.
Naruto can’t stop his smile from splitting his face, even though his cheeks are flushed and his shorts feel too tight. He laughs outright when Minato’s voice calls for Sasuke from downstairs and Sasuke shoots to his feet, cheeks just as flushed as Naruto’s. Naruto doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of the way Sasuke looks at times like this. He’s eagerly looking forward to finding out just how low that blush reaches, but he keeps his thoughts to himself for now. And if he admires Sasuke’s backside a little too closely as he walks to the stairs – well, he isn’t telling.
---
Several times during the evening Naruto wants to turn to Sasuke and say, ‘Dude, your parents are nice,’ just to share the shock of his discovery with someone. Kushina and Minato arrive not too long after he goes downstairs, fresh from his shower, and tea turns into one of those ‘family dinner’ affairs Naruto has only seen on TV. Koyuki is a little wary of the strangers at first, but she soon latches on to Itachi like a limpet, demanding stories. Naruto looks at Sasuke biting his lip and knows that Sasuke would be laughing himself silly at Itachi’s face if he ever allowed himself to lose that much control.
To his surprise, he loves it. He loves getting to know Sasuke’s parents, talking to Itachi, poking at Sasuke under the table when he sees the beginning of a scowl on his face at some of his mother’s stories of him as a child, seeing his dad and Sasuke’s talking quietly to each other, the exchanged handshake, a clap on the other’s shoulder, the smile on his dad’s face, his mom’s relieved sigh and the exchanged long look between her and Mikoto.
When it’s time to go, he almost doesn’t want to. Sasuke’s looking at him like that again, affection clear in his eyes, and he never wants to leave. But both of them have gruelling matches tomorrow – Sasuke’s is against the (5) seed, Andy Roddick. It will be a miracle if Sasuke can pull this one off.
Part Four
sirona_gsTitle: Advantage: Us
Rating: PG-13 for swearing and boys kissing.
Word Count: ~8,300 this part, just over 30K overall.
Summary: When your parents are world-renowned tennis players, it is natural that you would want to follow in their footsteps, Naruto reasons when he asks to be sent to tennis summer camp. What happens after that is all that bastard Sasuke’s fault. A tennis AU where both boys’ parents are still alive.
Warnings: none, apart from kids swearing
Disclaimer: Not mine. I'll put them back after I'm done playing with them, I promise.
A/N: In Part One.
Part One
Part Two
He’s not ready, he thinks as he faces Sasuke across the net with the crowd’s noise filling his ears. His hands feel clammy where they grip the racquet handle, and his heart is fluttering madly in his chest and trying to climb out of his throat.
Sasuke’s scowling at him as usual, but there’s something about his mouth that suggests the tiniest smirk. Strangely, it soothes Naruto’s frayed nerves. He nods and assumes his position at the baseline, awaiting Sasuke’s first serve, since he’d won the toss.
Sasuke throws the ball in the air, pushes himself off the ground, the racquet slams against the ball and they’re off.
---
…Goddamn, that serve is fast…
…where the hell did that forehand come from?...
…I bloody hate his volleys…
…oh no you don’t, you bastard, I got that drop ball…
…slice it, damn it, slice it…
…fuck! That’s 1:0 for him. Get it together, Naruto!...
…don’t jump smash, he’s taller than you, he’ll get it—oh, fuck it…
…that’s out, that’s bloody well out, seriously…
…YES! I love aces…
…careful with that backspin, careful, Naruto…
…now! Hit it now!...
…bloody fucking bastard hell! I cannot believe he saved that!...
…1:1, now focus…
…oh god, he’s gaining too fast…
…take that, arsehole!...
…Sasuke?
---
Sasuke is lying on the ground, clutching at the back of his right thigh and gritting his teeth in pain. Naruto snaps out of his ‘game zone’ and rushes forward. Iruka’s there first, though, and carefully feels along the muscle. His mouth tightens and Naruto knows it’s serious.
“What is it, Iruka-sensei?” he asks, heart in his throat once again.
Iruka ignores him and keeps checking the extent of the injury.
“Sasuke, when you move your knee, how much pain do you feel?”
“A lot,” Sasuke hisses. “It hurts when I try to fold my leg.”
“Is there a sort of ping when you move it?” Iruka continues.
“Yeah, like a twinge of elastic or something.”
Iruka leans back as Itachi and Fugaku make it to his side.
“How severe is the injury?” Fugaku demands.
“It’s a grade two pulled hamstring,” Iruka says, turning to look at him. “He needs immediate treatment. Go get Tsunade,” he tells Naruto, who is off like a shot.
He finds Tsunade in her office and barely manages to gasp, “Sasuke” and “hamstring” before she’s off the chair and striding away at speed.
She confirms the diagnosis immediately. “He needs four to six weeks recovery time. Surgery is not necessary, but he must not move about anywhere for the next five days. He must keep the leg elevated and put an ice pack on it for twenty minutes every two hours, and it must be bandaged by a compression bandage. Once the injury has rested, he can start therapy.”
Fugaku is nodding along; Naruto considers that he has probably done this before himself. Tsunade has Fugaku pick Sasuke up and bring him to the Infirmary. It would be funny, the way Sasuke stiffens at the smallest touch, if Naruto wasn’t feeling slightly sick.
“I concede the match,” Sasuke grits out once his father has picked him up.
“Don’t be stupid, it’s a draw,” Naruto protests. “We’re at 4:4 in the third set. We can schedule a rematch sometime—“
“No,” Sasuke cuts him off. “I lost.” The pain and disappointment in his voice make Naruto feel even worse.
Itachi is looking approvingly at Sasuke, though, and Naruto doesn’t get it, but Sasuke obviously does because he gives his brother a small nod that is returned.
---
A few hours later Naruto makes his way over to the Infirmary yet again, holding Sasuke’s obnoxious physics book against his side. He reaches the door and is just about to knock when he hears raised voices from the inside.
“I’m not coming back here!” he hears Sasuke say loudly. “You can’t train Itachi and me at the same time, so obviously I have to find myself a different coach. I’m going to speak to Orochimaru Sannin tomorrow and transfer to his academy in Scotland.”
“You will do no such thing,” Fugaku’s deep voice cuts through Sasuke’s words with a heavy finality. “If you want to start playing on the Junior circuit so badly, you will train under Kakashi or you will let me find you a different instructor.”
“What’s wrong with Orochimaru? He’s one of the best out there.”
“I disagree with his training methods,” his father drawls.
“Why, if they get results? Isn’t that all you care about?”
“Sasuke,” Fugaku drawls in warning, and a short silence follows. Naruto considers going in now, while they’re not saying anything else important, but the decision is taken from him when Fugaku speaks again.
“Come back here next year, for the last time. I promise I will have found a good coach for you by then.” Naruto thinks that Fugaku sounds almost pleading, if such a thing is possible.
“These camps are useless,” Sasuke snaps. “They can’t teach for shit if even a loser like that dead-last Uzumaki can beat someone as good as Gaara Suna is supposed to be. I’m done with them.”
Oh, is all Naruto can think for a moment. So that’s still how it is, is it? He’s won against the best player out there, but he’ll never be more than a dead-last loser to Sasuke.
The hard-cover book drops from his suddenly nerveless fingers and lands with an audible thump on the floor by the door. He dimly hears footsteps coming closer and the door opening, but he’s already walking away and doesn’t stop when someone calls his name, so he doesn’t see Itachi’s concerned face and Sasuke’s stricken look when he realises Naruto has heard every last angry, vindictive taunt.
He walks the rest of the distance to the VIP rooms, knocking on the door and entering when his mom’s voice tells him to.
“I want to leave,” is all he says, and something must have shown in his face because for once his parents don’t question him.
They pack his bags, say goodbye to Shikamaru, Iruka, Kakashi, and Tsunade, and leave that evening.
---
The next year Sasuke doesn’t show at camp. Naruto, who’s been worrying himself sick for the past month about how he should act towards him when he sees him, spends the next four weeks training himself into the ground.
---
When camp is over, Iruka takes Minato and Kushina aside.
“There’s nothing else we can teach him here,” he tells them. “It’s time for Naruto to get a professional coach and start playing the Junior circuit, if he still wants to.”
They nod in agreement; they’d come to that conclusion themselves.
“Frankly, I’m a little worried about him,” Iruka confides. “He’s not the same boy I saw last year.”
Minato and Kushina nod again. They’d seen this, too.
“He needs direction.”
“Yes.”
---
Naruto goes home and starts training with Jiraiya permanently.
---
From: Blond Ambition (superstar@foxmail.com)
To: Orochimaru’s buttmonkey (suchiha@snakemail.com)
Date: July 23, 2008
Subject: Happy 14th birthday, arsehole.
---
Excerpt from Wikipedia article (last modified 19th April 2009)
Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze
Son of Minato Namikaze, World № 1 for 3 consecutive years, the last British male to win Wimbledon, and Kushina Uzumaki, World №1 for 4 consecutive years, holder of 5 Grand Slam titles. At 14 years of age, a promising young player who has just won himself a place on the British Junior Davis Cup team…
---
Excerpt from The Times, Monday, 5th October 2009
Britain wins Junior Davis Cup, Uzumaki-Namikaze takes the last set from under Australia’s nose
The British Junior Davis Cup Team’s newest and youngest member, Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze, 15, played a brilliant game this Sunday to win the Cup from Australia in a five-set match that came down to the very last tiebreak. That Uzumaki-Naruto’s backhand is the deadliest on the Junior circuit was proved once again in this heated match that saw the British Junior Davis Cup Team’s triumphant claim of the № 1 spot for the first time in the whole of Junior Davis Cup history…
---
From: Blond Ambition (superstar@foxmail.com)
To: Orochimaru’s buttmonkey (suchiha@snakemail.com)
Date: July 23, 2010
Subject: 16, huh? At least now you’re legal.
---
Further excerpt from Wikipedia article (last modified 21st August 2010)
Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze
… Uzumaki-Namikaze finished ranked at number 1 in the Junior Circuit for 2009 after he lead Britain’s Junior Davis Cup Team to victory and won 1st place in the Junior Australian Open Championship and the Junior French Open Championship. He came in 2nd place in the U.S. Junior National Championship behind Lee Rock.
In an interview on 20th August 2010 Uzumaki-Namikaze said that he plans to debut on the professional tour as soon as he celebrates his 17th birthday, which will be on 10th October 2010…
---
From Wimbledon’s Official Web Site (17th June, 2011)
List of Qualifiers for the Gentlemen’s Singles, Wimbledon 2011
…
…
07. Neji Hyuuga, 18 (GB) (43)
…
…
…
11. Shikamaru Nara, 17 (GB) (0)
…
13. Lee Rock, 18 (GB) (58)
…
15. Sasuke Uchiha, 17 (GB) (0)
16. Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze, 17 (GB) (0)
List of Qualifiers for the Ladies’ Singles, Wimbledon 2011
…
…
…
04. Sakura Haruno, 17 (GB) (0)
05. Hinata Hyuuga, 17 (GB) (0)
…
…
08. Tenten Kunai, 18 (GB) (39)
…
…
…
12. Ino Yamanaka, 17 (GB) (0)
---
“My baby, about to play his first match at Wimbledon! Oh, love, you make me so happy!” Kushina gushes, gazing at her son adoringly as his six-year-old sister attempts to climb up his 6’1’’ frame. Naruto grins at her and swings her up quickly into his arms, making her giggle.
“How d’you like the look from up here, Koyuki?
“’S tall!”
“It’s ‘high up’, Koyuki, love,” Kushina patiently corrects her.
Naruto smiles at both of them and hands his sister over to their mom. “I have to go get ready now, Mom,” he tells her lightly and sidesteps her before she can try to muss his hair again.
Kushina sighs playfully. “You’re getting too fast for your old woman,” she laments and Naruto scoffs.
“Old woman?! What does that make me?” Minato whines from behind her. She turns to smile at him and Minato hands Naruto his bag. “Quick, while she’s distracted!”
Naruto walks away grinning, the sound of happy laughter echoing in his ears.
---
Shikamaru is already in the changing rooms, pulling his white shirt over his head.
“You’re cutting it a bit fine, mate,” Shikamaru observes and Naruto runs inside and tosses his bag on the bench, rummaging through it for his gear.
“I know, I know, it’s those children I have for parents,” he moans and tugs his top off, throwing it inside the bag. He unfolds his own white shirt with orange stitching along the side and flips it over in preparation for putting it on.
His hair is everywhere, there’s sweat trickling down his sides and he’s struggling to toe off his scruffy trainers as fast as he can, trying to get rid of all his clothes at once. He is, in other words, a mess, which is of course the exact moment that Sasuke Uchiha just has to walk through the damned door for the first time in six years.
Naruto freezes, one foot half-way out of a shoe and a hole in the toe of the other’s sock, shorts falling down his legs at the worst possible moment. At least he has clean underwear on, he thinks foggily and promptly blushes as the thought registers.
“Um,” he says eloquently, blue eyes widening as he takes in the one person he’s never quite managed to throw out of his head. A person he’s not seen for over half a decade, but about whom he somehow knows almost everything there is to know.
Or so he’d thought, but the man standing in front of him right now might as well be a stranger. He’s in a flimsy white shirt that conceals nothing whatsoever of his long torso, a pair of loose black trousers, and the weirdest purple belt Naruto has ever had the misfortune to encounter.
“What in the name of sanity are you wearing?” he blurts out and immediately wants to sink through the floor with embarrassment. ‘Great job, Naruto. He hasn’t spoken to you in six years; go ahead and remind him exactly why not.’
Sasuke lifts a perfectly-shaped black eyebrow and Naruto’s short-circuiting brain wonders whether or not Sasuke tweezes them.
“Quite a bit more than you at the moment,” Sasuke drawls, and his voice is the same, yet not. It’s—deeper, more resonant somehow. It does funny things to Naruto’s currently very much overexposed body.
Naruto is dimly aware of Shikamaru leaning against his locker, showing every sign of enjoying his mortification.
“Not to break up this heart-warming reunion, but we’re due out on court in five minutes,” Shikamaru finally comes to Naruto’s rescue.
“Fuck!” Naruto yelps and goes back to frantically stripping his old clothes off and pulling on his match outfit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Don’t just stand there, Shika, grab the bags and let’s go!”
He ignores Sasuke’s smirk mainly because he can’t afford to look at him again just now, or he’s going to get thoroughly distracted all over again. He sneaks a glance at him from the corner of his eye. He’s stripping, his brain supplies, and Naruto’s whole face flames bright red.
“Come along,” Shikamaru’s exasperated voice comes from the door; Naruto snaps out of his daze at last. ‘Game zone’, he reminds himself. Yeah.
He’s rushing along the corridor, not really looking at where he’s going, when he slams full-length against another person. There’s something familiar about his frame, Naruto thinks as he looks up into Itachi Uchiha’s face.
“Ah, Naruto! Delightful to see you again. Best of luck for the game! Perhaps you and I might go for a drink later on?”
Naruto’s mouth opens and closes a few times without his permission. It doesn’t bear thinking about what he looks like to Itachi.
“Yeah, okay, maybe,” he stammers and shies around Itachi to make his way to the courts. He has no idea what he’s just agreed to, but he can’t think about that now. He has a match to win.
---
He does win, but it’s all a blur. Later on, when he thinks back to it, he can’t recall any detail of it other than that the man he plays has the same colour hair as Sasuke and Itachi. He resolutely refuses to think about what that might mean. Fugaku’s words from so long ago echo in his ears: The Namikazes and the Uchihas are quite unable to stay away from each other for some reason. He tries and fails to suppress a shudder down his spine at the memory.
To top it all, he has to go back to the changing rooms to get his stuff. He considers just leaving it, in there, but that’s his favourite orange T-shirt and he’s not making that sacrifice for Sasuke.
He’s supposed to hate the bastard, he thinks. The old hurt of Sasuke’s dismissal has healed over – Naruto has proven himself over and over again to be a brilliant player, with heart as well as technique – but sometimes a journalist would look at him in the piercing way that such professionals have, and the pain and insecurity would flare back to life with a vengeance.
Naruto has accomplished many things in the past six years, but all of his victories have had a hollow feel to them that no amount of celebrations could erase – because the one person whose approval he craves the most hasn’t even spoken to him for six years, never replied to any of his (barbed) emails, never looked him up at all.
Naruto’s head is a mess, he knows that; he also knows that he should avoid seeking out Sasuke when he’s in this state, but he doesn’t seem to be able to help himself. Going without seeing him or speaking to him for over half a decade is painful, but fine; knowing he might be in the next room over and not going to him is unsupportable.
…Does Sasuke still hate him?
Naruto sneaks into the changing rooms like he’s doing something wrong rather than just picking up his things. He’s not convinced that he isn’t doing anything wrong; though more likely what he’s doing is just stupid. He just wants to get this over with – he’s absolutely starving, always is after a game, and he could murder a sandwich.
The changing rooms are empty. Naruto doesn’t know if he’s disappointed or happy about that. Fuck, it’s only been four hours and already Sasuke’s presence has him back to being an eleven-year-old confused kid.
He goes in to find his bag that he’d forgotten to lock up in his rush, and get changed from the sweaty, grimy white T-shirt and shorts that he’s still wearing, too much of a coward to face Sasuke post-game. He unzips the large holdall, dirty shirt already in one hand, when he stops in his tracks. He stares at the small rectangle wrapped in a napkin and placed next to his bottle of water. He knows for sure he didn’t put it there, and his parents are waiting outside for him, so it can’t be them. Shikamaru would never go to this much trouble; neither of them uses napkins, anyway.
A half-forgotten memory teases at his mind, of a tall glass of water on a bedside table, covered by a napkin so no dust or insects get in it. He unwraps the package and stares some more at the sandwich laid neatly in the centre of the unfolded napkin. Another look reveals it to be a bacon and tomato one.
He looks around once again, but the room’s still as empty as it had been when he came in, so he’s not too worried about anyone teasing him for the way his jaw drops at the discovery.
There is only one person that would know that he’d make the connection.
---
Their group is sitting in the Wimbledon Hotel lobby bar, nursing water and fruit juice because most of them are still underage, and those who aren’t prefer not to get pissed while the others are there, sober enough to pull devious pranks on them.
Naruto doesn’t know what the chances are of almost the entire group from England’s junior tennis camp to qualify for Wimbledon – most of them in their first year of turning pro, too – but he wishes he’d known that they were trying out so that he’d have placed a bet on them making it and made a fortune.
Shikamaru kicks his leg under the table none-too-gently. Naruto jerks his head up from where he’d been staring into his pineapple juice and scowls at him. He doesn’t realise that everyone’s looking at him until Shikamaru nudges his head pointedly at them.
“What?” Naruto blurts out, off-balance.
“What is up with you? You haven’t been listening to a word we’ve been saying, and you haven’t bragged about your win once!” Sakura points out, poking at his arm.
“’S nothing. I’m just tired, is all,” he mutters, hoping against hope that they’ll take his word for it.
No such luck.
“Naruto ‘Whirlwind’ Uzumaki-Namikaze is too tired to rehash the match?! Pull the other one, it’s got bells on,” Ino scoffs.
“Is something the matter, Naruto?” Hinata’s softly-voiced enquiry comes from across the table, and Naruto appreciates her newfound confidence enough not to want to avoid the question. He still hesitates, though.
Neji sighs in exasperation “It’s Sasuke, isn’t it,” he says bluntly, and Naruto glares at him. He thought they’d agreed not to talk about Sasuke amongst their group.
“Of course it is,” Sakura sighs in resignation. “What else could it possibly be?”
“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Naruto growls at her.
She just raises her eyebrows at him. “I rest my case,” she says. “No one else can make you this grouchy.”
“I haven’t even seen him in six years!”
“Your point?” Sakura asks sweetly.
Naruto wants to yell at her, but that won’t make the slightest bit of difference. He deflates, plopping his arms onto the table and burying his head in them.
“He made me a sandwich,” he mutters.
Ino’s disbelieving voice shatters the resulting silence. “Come again?” she squeaks. “I must be delusional, because I think I just heard you say that Sasuke Uchiha made you a sandwich.”
“He did,” Naruto nods his head, still hiding his face in his arms. “It was delicious, too.”
“You ate something Sasuke Uchiha made for you,” Gaara’s voice could dry out the Atlantic Ocean. “How did you know it was him, anyway? Did he give it you?”
Naruto gives up and sits straight again. “No, I found it in my holdall. I know it was him because… you know what, never mind. You’d never get it,” he sighs dejectedly.
“Is that right,” Neji’s voice is dangerously silky. Naruto cringes. If anyone can unravel the whole thing in one go, it’s bloody Neji.
“Look, just take my word for it, okay?” he avers.
“Fine,” Sakura rolls her eyes. “So! Naruto, Sasuke Uchiha made you a sandwich!” she squeals, delighted. All the girls perk up immediately.
Naruto’s face flushes bright red, and he scowls at them darkly. “I think I liked you better before, when you were suspicious,” he mutters under his breath.
“What is with that attitude, Naruto? You should embrace this wonderful opportunity to heal the rift between you and your dearest friend! You must not hold such grudges in the springtime of your youth, but rather spread your joy and good humour to those sorely in need of them!”
Naruto groans and thumps his head back on the table. “Someone, anyone, please, for the love of god have mercy and shut him up!” He raises his head and throws a suspicious look at everyone around the table. “Alright, you scoundrels, own up. Who gave Lee sugar?”
The mood lifts, as he had known it would; he does enjoy listening to his friends laugh.
“Aren’t you even a little curious why he did that?” Sakura, however, is relentless. She reminds Naruto of his mother – which is probably the reason why he’s never tried to date her.
He considers playing dumb, but there’s a militant light in her eyes that warns him not to even try it.
“Yes,” he sighs, defeated. “Yes, of course I’m curious, but you should know by now the futility of trying to second-guess Sasuke Uchiha,” he tells her. “Remember what all of us used to think about the Uchiha family? Remember how well that went?”
Everyone cringes. Shikamaru, unusually, had told everyone else about Naruto’s misguided attempt at moral support for Sasuke, as well as the outcome of it. Naruto hadn’t spoken to him for a month because of that.
His friends drop it; Naruto is grateful for small mercies.
---
That is, until he comes back from winning his 2nd Round match to find Itachi sitting by his locker, flipping curiously through a large book with hard covers. Itachi looks up when Naruto stops in front of him and smiles slightly.
“I didn’t know you were interested in Medicine,” he comments lightly.
Naruto bristles. “Why would you? I don’t recall having had contact with any of the Uchihas for quite some time.”
Itachi’s smile doesn’t quite slip, but the corners of his mouth tighten ever so slightly. “Point taken,” he murmurs. “This is yours, I believe,” he says and stands to go, handing him the book.
“Uh, no, it isn’t,” Naruto says impatiently, fed up with Itachi’s game, whatever it is.
Itachi looks at him for a moment, then flips the front cover open and turns the book to face him.
Naruto Uzumaki-Namikaze, he reads written in black ink at the top left-hand corner of the inside cover, clear as day – a spiky handwriting that he’s never seen before, but feels quite certain he could match easily given something to compare it to.
He takes the book from Itachi’s hands and stares at it some more. He flips to the title page – Sports Medicine and Rehabilitation: A Sports Specific Approach, he reads, getting more and more confused with every minute. Why is Sasuke doing this? If it is Sasuke – but it must be, right?
As he turns a few pages a note falls out, written in the same spiky handwriting. 16.30, Court 1 it says; Naruto stares some more.
Itachi is gone by the time he looks up; he wonders vaguely why he’d been here in the first place. He debates not going – it’s 15.30 now and Court 1 is miles away on the other side of the complex – but he’s not particularly fond of mind games, and he just wants to know what’s going on – is that too much to ask?
He flips his phone open. He needs some moral support, damn it, and this time he’s actually going to ask for it. So he calls Sakura.
---
Calling Sakura, he should have realised, also means calling Ino, and Hinata, and Tenten, and Shikamaru, and… Anyway. The entire group is here, even Kiba, Shino and Chouji – who hadn’t managed to qualify to play this year – and Gaara – who is already seeded at (23) and as such does not need to go through the qualifiers to play.
Naruto knows this had not been Sasuke’s intention when he sees the narrowed look Sasuke shoots at the twelve-strong group from his chair at the sideline, waiting for play to start. Naruto smirks vindictively at him – his message is clear. He’s not going to roll over and beg just because Sasuke deigned to contact him at last.
He sees Sasuke’s lips press together into a thin line and a shiver of apprehension slithers down his spine unpleasantly. What if Sasuke decided Naruto’s not really worth the trouble?
“Naruto, you idiot,” Sakura scolds, and it’s a moment before Naruto realises he must have said that last one out loud. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop thinking like that? You’re smart, you’re gorgeous, you’re a brilliant player. Anyone who doesn’t see that is either blind or stupid, and you know Sasuke’s neither.”
Naruto smiles a little at her vigorous defence of his finer qualities when it hits him. “Wait. What does me being gorgeous have to do with him wanting to be friends with me?” he says, baffled.
Sakura gives him that particular look she saves for when he’s being insufferably dense about something.
“What?” he asks, even more confused. “Sakura, what, damn it?!”
Sakura shares a long-suffering look with Ino, who’s sitting on his other side and listening to every word; then, both of them turn to look at him.
“He made you a sandwich, because he obviously remembers you get hungry after playing,” Sakura starts.
“He gave you a book on sports medicine, because he remembers you’re interested in it,” Ino points out.
“He asked you to come and watch him play,” Sakura adds, eyebrows raised pointedly.
Naruto keeps looking between the two of them. “Yeah? And?”
“We’re going to have to have to spell it out to him, Sakura. He’s a bit slow when it comes to things like this.”
Sakura shakes her head and tries one last time. “Naruto, think about the situation, but now imagine if you were a girl.”
“What?!” Naruto is aghast. “Sasuke thinks I’m a girl?!”
Sakura puts her face in her hands, shaking her head despairingly.
“Sasuke thinks what?” Kiba asks, bemused.
From Kiba’s other side, Neji looks at him pityingly. “For god’s sake, Ino, just tell him. He’s going to break himself trying to get it.”
“Sasuke fancies you,” Ino says slowly.
Naruto blinks at her. “He does? What on earth for?”
Even Lee groans out loud this time.
“Shika, you tell him,” Sakura pleads, exhausted. “You always seem to be able to explain stuff so he gets it.”
“Hey, leave me out of this,” Shikamaru says, a slight panic in his voice.
“Shikamaru, look at him. He’s gonna hyperventilate any minute now. Have mercy on him,” Shino drawls from the row above them.
Shikamaru lets out a much put-upon sigh.
“Naruto,” he says quietly, and Naruto gives him all his attention. “You made him a picnic for his birthday when he was eleven years old and no one thought there was more to him than his name. You stood up for him when his father and brother came to the camp, no matter how misguided. You went to see him at the Infirmary after your match, even after he told you to stay away—yes, everyone knows that’s why you left, don’t gape like that.
“The point is that all this obviously meant something to him, even back then. All his gifts – they’re meant to tell you that he remembers what you did for him, and that he appreciates it. And maybe he wants to apologise, too. You’ll have to ask him about what he’s trying to do here. But you can safely assume that he does like you, maybe more than likes you.”
It’s a lot to take in, and Naruto is still in denial about Sasuke meaning any of that, but the rest of the group are nodding sagely to Shikamaru’s words, so he thinks there’s probably some truth to them.
They only realise the match is starting when the umpire calls for silence. Naruto looks down at the court, at Sasuke staring straight at him. The sight of him standing tall on the green court, dressed head to toe in pristine white – a poster boy for the Wimbledon class and finesse – makes Naruto’s chest tight for some reason. How is he ever going to be able to talk to Sasuke, when all he wants to do is hide and make all this confusion go away? He tries to send Sasuke a ‘good luck’ smile, but he’s afraid it comes out as more of a grimace. Sasuke’s face is a long way away, but Naruto thinks he sees it soften slightly before he turns his attention to the match.
---
Six years ago, Sasuke had played with a single-minded determination to win. Naruto had thought him a machine, perfect in every shot, every jump, slice, spin.
Naruto realises now that at eleven, he’d had no idea what perfection even meant. This is perfection. Sasuke moves like a predator that has the prey well within his sights, that’s playing with his food just because he can. Naruto watches as he effortlessly confuses his opponent, forcing him to make simple mistakes that no one at this level of playing the sport should be making any more.
His shots are placed with such precision that the Hawk-Eye is called on again and again, only to show the ball catching the smallest possible fraction of the line. In any other player it would be luck; in Sasuke, Naruto knows, it’s the way he’d intended the ball to land even as he was preparing to hit it back.
It is a massacre – 6:1, 6:0, 6:0, three sets to nil with only one game lost due to Sasuke’s frequent glances at the stands at the start of the game, before he’d hit his stride. Sasuke strides off the pitch with nary a glance around, as if he’d proven his point.
Naruto is more confused than ever.
---
3rd Round, and Naruto is playing Germany’s Philipp Petzschner, seeded at (33) in the rank list. In 2010 Petzschner had got to the 3rd round, but was defeated by Rafael Nadal in a five-set match that had tested both players’ abilities.
“He’s a tough opponent,” Jiraiya tells him gravely, and then he and Minato proceed to point out all of Petzschner’s weaknesses so that Naruto can take advantage of them.
One of Naruto’s greatest strengths is his stamina. He can play for up to four and a half hours with only the standard breaks in place, so he can outlast many seasoned pros if it comes to the duration of the match. There is a reason for his nickname, ‘whirlwind’ – he has seemingly unlimited energy stored in his toned body.
So when the match against Petzschner goes into its third hour, Naruto is still going strong while Petzschner is starting to flag. His shots lack the force they abounded with at the start; once Naruto takes the third game in a row, the match is pretty much over. Naruto wins, three sets to two, and proceeds to the 4th round.
---
By now their group is generating quite the buzz. Eight young British players, five of them unseeded, are cutting a swath through the championship. Justine Henin, seeded at (14), has already been knocked out by Sakura Haruno, and so has Lleyton Hewitt, seeded at (30), by Neji Hyuuga. The sports writers are starting to pay attention, and journalists are frantically trying to work out where these young people came from.
Naruto’s record is dug up and splattered over the front pages – ‘Britain’s youngest hope’, he’s dubbed, on the heels of Andy Murray’s loss to Rafael Nadal in four sets. The papers have also dug out Sasuke’s name, brother to Itachi Uchiha, the (5) seed at Wimbledon, a strong contender to take the title away from Nadal and become the newest British champion now that Minato Namikaze has retired.
The group is not quite hounded, but it’s a close call. Including them, Britain has fourteen participants in the 4th round of Wimbledon that starts on Monday. That they are ‘a sensation’ is an understatement.
---
Sunday is the official day of rest, and everyone and their families congregate for a light lunch in the restaurant of the Wimbledon Hotel where all of them are staying. Naruto tries to relax as much as possible, knowing that he has to play Spain’s David Ferrer (9) tomorrow and knowing that last year Ferrer had knocked out the (6) seed on his arse. Like him, all the other players are nervous and trying not to show it.
He watches his mom cutting up Koyuki’s meal for her and his father chatting amiably with Jiraiya while trying to pretend he isn’t throwing nervous glances at his son every few minutes, and resolves to go for a good long run once lunch is over – he needs to get rid of the abominable tension stiffening his shoulders somehow. Alone, he reiterates to himself when he catches his dad at it again.
It’s not until forty-five minutes later that he manages to ditch the rest of them, and with a relieved sigh he changes into a pair of off-white shorts and his favourite battered orange-on-black Rollerball T-shirt and his oldest, scruffiest, most comfortable pair of running shoes. He sticks a twenty in his pocket – just in case he gets lost and has to take a cab back – as well as his mobile, jots down a quick note to his parents and leaves the hotel by the back entrance.
He sticks his earphones on, plays the Kick-Ass soundtrack on his phone, picks a direction and he starts running. The repetitive, calming feeling of the ground pushing against his feet is incredibly soothing to his frayed nerves. If nothing else, at least he knows how to get lost inside his own head while the rhythm of running takes over his body without a need for any higher brain functions.
He runs. The soundtrack finishes; he plays (500) Days of Summer. When that finishes, he plays The Beach. By this time he’s well out of the city centre, passing enormous villa-like houses with gorgeous, perfectly maintained gardens he catches glimpses of through wrought iron fences. He loves houses like these – white, Grecian-style columns franking the entrances, or simple façades with lovingly carved, heavy wooden doors.
He loves the smell of earth after rain – it figures that on the one day they have a break it would pour down all morning – but the aftermath is a fresh, fragrant scent that flushes his cheeks and makes his eyes sparkle with pleasure.
To his shock, he catches sight of Rafael Nadal walking through the front door of one of the houses – so these must be the ones rented out to players, then. One day, he promises himself, he’ll be good enough and famous enough to afford to rent one of these lovely houses to come home to for the two weeks while he plays on the Wimbledon courts.
He has no idea where he is anymore, but he’s still in the same friendly neighbourhood and he figures he’s done five miles by now. He stops at the end of the street to catch his breath and stretch a little, preparing for the run home. He changes the music to Everything But the Girl’s Walking Wounded trip-hop-inspired album and starts back the way he came. The miles fly away under his feet and he feels happier and more relaxed than he has since the week started.
The door to one of the houses on his right opens and a familiar figure appears, a rubbish bag in his hand. He’s dressed all in black for a change, loose trousers and an even looser T-shirt, black hair damp as if from a shower. Naruto is transfixed. Sasuke looks like something straight from his imagination, perhaps a bit more dressed than he usually imagines, but no less alluring for it.
Naruto reaches the edge of the property and pulls the headphones away from his ears. “Hi,” he says; he’s still gulping down air, so it comes out a lot breathier than it normally would.
Sasuke starts, then turns around slowly, as if he’s not sure Naruto’s really there. Naruto feels awkward and underdressed, standing in front of him in his scruffiest clothes, sweat pouring down his face and neck; and Sasuke keeps staring at him.
“I was just going for a run,” Naruto adds lamely, anxious to break the silence but not knowing how to be cool or sophisticated about it.
“I can see that,” Sasuke drawls back – it’s neither snarky nor unfriendly, and it makes Naruto feel a little better.
“So, how are you doing?” Naruto asks, going for ‘light’ and reaching as high as ‘nervous’.
“Okay,” Sasuke says, and he sounds it.
“I’m glad,” Naruto smiles at him – not as widely as he would have once, but friendly enough.
“Yeah,” Sasuke murmurs; his eyes fall to Naruto’s T-shirt. “And you say I have bad taste in fashion,” he drawls again, and this time Naruto can hear the laughter being suppressed.
“It was a present, okay?” he grumbles. “Besides, I like Rollerball. I’m surprised you even know that’s where it’s from!”
“Credit me with some pop culture knowledge,” Sasuke says mildly.
The exchange is probably the friendliest they’ve ever had. Naruto shuffles his feet a little, then takes the plunge.
“Thanks for—you know.”
“I do?” Sasuke’s expression is flat, but Naruto recognises his baffled look.
He glares at Sasuke for making him say it. “The sandwich. And the book.”
Sasuke’s widening eyes indicate that he hadn’t thought Naruto would ever say anything about it.
“You’re welcome,” Sasuke says quietly.
“Um. Why—why did you give them to me?” Naruto asks tentatively.
It’s Sasuke’s turn to shuffle his feet, something Naruto doesn’t think he’s ever seen him do before. He opens his mouth, closes it.
Naruto wonders if this is one of those times Sasuke can’t say what’s on his mind, that it’s too big a step for him. So Naruto decides to meet him half-way.
“Shikamaru said that it must have been because you—appreciated what I did, before, even though I don’t know what the big deal was about what I did, anyone would have done it for you—“
“Not anyone,” Sasuke interrupts almost inaudibly. He’s looking everywhere but at Naruto when he says, “It was a lot. I—It was hard, back then. But. Uh. Thanks.”
Naruto scratches the back of his head, uncomfortable with how much weight Sasuke is placing on a few simple things that hadn’t been all that important. He’d just wanted to make Sasuke happy. Hadn’t everyone?
“It’s okay,” Naruto says at last. “You don’t have to do all that stuff for me, though. I mean, it’s great, but— just, you don’t have to.”
Sasuke’s lips curl in a small smile, and for the first time he looks Naruto in the eye. “I know,” he murmurs, and Naruto is completely bowled over by how much the expression changes Sasuke’s face, softens it, makes it—him—look – warm. Friendly. Approachable. Happy.
“Uh. Okay then,” Naruto mumbles, still staring at Sasuke’s face like it’s the first time he’s seen it. Sasuke must have seen something in his eyes that makes him come another step forward, shorten the distance between them.
“I also wanted to say ‘sorry,’” Sasuke’s voice is lower than before. He’s standing quite close to Naruto now. Why is he standing so close? Why can’t Naruto breathe properly?
“For what?” it comes out as a squeak and his face flames in embarrassment. He clears his throat awkwardly.
“I know you heard what I said to my father that time in the Infirmary,” Sasuke tells him, and Naruto’s expression shutters closed. But wait – he’s apologising for it?
“I was angry. I didn’t mean it. You’re not a loser. You’re one of the best players out there.” His voice is still low, but all the more sincere for it.
Naruto can’t move, not to nod, not to step away, or closer, though he’s not too sure where that last thought comes from. He just looks at Sasuke and lets the lingering hurt from years ago dissipate under the quiet praise.
“Why did you never reply to my emails?” Naruto asks, voice a little hoarse with emotion.
“Orochimaru’s policy. We were supposed to cut the rest of the world off, not think of anything other than training. Going to him – it—might have been a mistake,” Sasuke admits and Naruto is well aware how much saying that costs him.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Naruto tells him; this time the wide, bright, no-holds-barred smile takes over his face completely and he’s powerless to stop it.
Sasuke smiles back, a real smile this time, and his eyes fall from Naruto’s to fasten lower. Naruto has the strangest feeling that Sasuke might actually kiss him; it scares him that he has not the slightest desire to move away.
“Sasuke?” a feminine voice comes from the still partially open front door and Naruto jumps away, startled. He looks around Sasuke to see a tall, graceful, dark-haired woman standing at the threshold. “Is everything—Oh! Hello! You must be Naruto!”
She strides forward to stand next to a flushed Sasuke. Naruto almost can’t take his eyes away from him; the sight makes something in his chest tighten and relax all at the same time.
“Mother, this is Naruto. Naruto, my mother.”
“Mikoto, Naruto. It’s a pleasure to meet you at last,” she says amiably, and Naruto can see where the Uchiha brothers get their smooth charm from.
“You too, ma’am,” Naruto replies, taking the hand she’s holding out to him and shaking it gently. She has a strong, firm grip that surprises and reassures him.
“I think I see what all the fuss is about,” she murmurs to herself before giving him a charming smile. “Won’t you join us for tea?” she invites, and Naruto wants to accept, so much, but his clothes are filthy and he smells of sweat and exertion. He doesn’t want to offend Sasuke’s mother, though… He looks down at himself despairingly.
“Don’t give it another thought,” she says lightly with a graceful wave of her hand. “You can shower, if you like, and borrow some of Sasuke’s clothes. I’ll call your mother meanwhile, so she knows you’re here, and they can come and pick you up – or we can drive you back to the hotel.”
Somehow, it doesn’t surprise Naruto to know that Sasuke’s mother and his are friends. In fact, he thinks, it would be more surprising if they weren’t.
---
Sasuke’s room is just as perfectly organised as everything about him. His host opens a drawer in one of the large cherry-wood armoires and offers him a pair of sweatpants and a fitted T-shirt.
“There’s fresh towels in the bathroom,” he tells Naruto and shows him the way. At the bathroom door he lingers for a moment, just looking at him, then seems to shake himself and turns to go downstairs.
Naruto watches him walk away for a moment, then screws up his courage, reaches for his arm and tugs him back. He’s overdone it a little, however; Sasuke loses his balance, slips on the carpet and starts to fall. Naruto reaches to catch him, tangles his legs with his and they both land on the floor with a hard whoosh of air from their lungs.
“Crap,” Naruto says, conversationally. “Not quite what I meant to do.”
“What did you mean to do?” Sasuke enquires from beside him, amusement clear in his voice. “Only you can be so nimble on court and trip over your own feet in private,” he snorts.
Naruto wants to scowl, but he’s smiling too widely for it to work. “That’s me,” he quips lightly.
He turns to face him just as Sasuke rolls his head towards him. They are so close that their noses are almost touching, and Naruto feels breathless all over again. Tentatively he shifts on his side and touches his nose to Sasuke’s cheekbone, the pale skin so smooth and warm. Sasuke waits, unmoving. Naruto pulls away to look at him properly, a question in his eyes. Sasuke nods, sneaks an arm around Naruto’s shoulders and pulls him down.
The first touch of their lips is unsure, strange, exhilarating. Naruto makes a small noise in his throat and presses closer, putting more pressure on Sasuke’s mouth, tilting his head hesitantly to kiss him deeper. Sasuke moves his lips under him and, oh god, Naruto is not prepared for the burst of satisfaction that tiny move sends through him.
He is suddenly reminded that this is Sasuke. Sasuke who drives him insane most of the time, Sasuke whom he can’t quite work out at the best of times, Sasuke who can’t say what he means but shows it instead with thoughtful gifts from times long past, Sasuke who stands in front of him and protects him from the ball that’s going to bruise him and then leaves him water so he doesn’t have to get up and stumble around on a broken ankle to get some; Sasuke who hurts him without meaning to and can’t let things rest before making amends.
Sasuke who is pulling him closer and slipping a tongue out to lick at his bottom lip, asking him for entrance he gladly grants, Sasuke who breaks the kiss to look at him with dark eyes Naruto has never seen so warm.
“My mother is going to come up to check on you any moment now. Go take that shower, you smell,” Naruto is told fondly; when he makes to get up, he is tugged back down, kissed soundly once more and shoved upright by a smirking Sasuke who is looking like the cat who got the cream and the canary.
Naruto can’t stop his smile from splitting his face, even though his cheeks are flushed and his shorts feel too tight. He laughs outright when Minato’s voice calls for Sasuke from downstairs and Sasuke shoots to his feet, cheeks just as flushed as Naruto’s. Naruto doesn’t think he’s ever going to get tired of the way Sasuke looks at times like this. He’s eagerly looking forward to finding out just how low that blush reaches, but he keeps his thoughts to himself for now. And if he admires Sasuke’s backside a little too closely as he walks to the stairs – well, he isn’t telling.
---
Several times during the evening Naruto wants to turn to Sasuke and say, ‘Dude, your parents are nice,’ just to share the shock of his discovery with someone. Kushina and Minato arrive not too long after he goes downstairs, fresh from his shower, and tea turns into one of those ‘family dinner’ affairs Naruto has only seen on TV. Koyuki is a little wary of the strangers at first, but she soon latches on to Itachi like a limpet, demanding stories. Naruto looks at Sasuke biting his lip and knows that Sasuke would be laughing himself silly at Itachi’s face if he ever allowed himself to lose that much control.
To his surprise, he loves it. He loves getting to know Sasuke’s parents, talking to Itachi, poking at Sasuke under the table when he sees the beginning of a scowl on his face at some of his mother’s stories of him as a child, seeing his dad and Sasuke’s talking quietly to each other, the exchanged handshake, a clap on the other’s shoulder, the smile on his dad’s face, his mom’s relieved sigh and the exchanged long look between her and Mikoto.
When it’s time to go, he almost doesn’t want to. Sasuke’s looking at him like that again, affection clear in his eyes, and he never wants to leave. But both of them have gruelling matches tomorrow – Sasuke’s is against the (5) seed, Andy Roddick. It will be a miracle if Sasuke can pull this one off.
Part Four
Tags:
no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 11:13 am (UTC)But he finally helped himself to some Uzumaki-Namikaze sugar. I'm totally jealous.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-28 02:02 pm (UTC)The chapter was a nice mix of tennis action and personal drama. I loved how his gang of friends showed their support. Of course it was Shikimaru who had to explain everything. The Rollerball T-shirt link was a nice touch. I like those little details.
Nice update. I'm sure I'll be grinning like an idiot for quite a while.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 06:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 01:51 am (UTC)HOW IS THIS SO GOOD ON THE EIGHTH READING? I DON'T EVEN KNOW.
no subject
Date: 2010-09-29 06:29 am (UTC)