Chapter Text
Sasuke glowed.
Naruto couldn’t stand it.
His raven hair danced in a gentle breeze as he jogged from the goal box where he’d catapulted the ball in a clean, impeccable arc. A stream of sweat ran down his pale neck to pool in his collarbones, sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. His teammates sprinted at him, slamming into him with hugs and clapping him on the shoulder. On the bleachers, what seemed like every girl in Konoha went berserk, cheering his name and jumping up and down in a frenzy. Naruto gritted his teeth as one girl even pulled up a sign with Sasuke’s name on it, adorned with hearts and stars. The obsession with Sasuke Uchiha was ridiculous.
Sasuke didn’t celebrate, though. He never celebrated, almost making a point of it. He jogged off into a leisurely walk towards the bench where some of the Konoha teammates were waiting for him with bottles of water at the ready, barely reacting at all. Like he was too cool to be happy about scoring a goal.
The referee’s whistle blew. The game was over. 1-3.
Naruto, doubled over and with a burning pain in his side from sprinting, clenched his teeth. His blond hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, threatening to cover his eyes. His cheeks were red, making their whiskerlike markings more prominent. Irritation prickled under his skin, his heart pounding in his ears.
Choji was lying down in the goal box, his pudgy stomach rising and falling with quick, defeated breaths. Next to Choji, the ball that had decided their fate was still rolling off languidly.
Damn you, Sasuke.
Naruto felt a presence next to him. Shikamaru’s hand clapped him on the shoulder. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”
“I can’t believe he scored–we could’ve blocked it–” Naruto said, still breathless.
“Really? It’s pretty believable to me.”
“I’m going–to kill–that bastard.” Across the pitch, Sasuke was drinking water with his back to Naruto, still ignoring shouts of praise from his adoring fans and the other Konoha teammates. He turned his head slightly, looking at Naruto from the corner of his eye with a stoic expression.
Naruto could do little to contain his anger, and when Sasuke turned back towards his teammates, it was with a smirk.
“We need a rematch,” spat Naruto. “That bastard was offside.”
“You do realize we’re all on the same team?”
“Come on, Shikamaru!” Naruto whirled around to face his teammate. “Are you seriously telling me they deserved to win? If I hadn’t been benched–if you had played as our striker–”
Shikamaru shrugged, looking bored. His longish, jet-black hair was tied back, and thin eyebrows framed his dark almond eyes, betraying no emotion. For the game, Shikamaru – along with Naruto and half the Konoha teammates – had worn garish training bibs over the old version of the Konoha jersey, orange and striped with moss green. Shikamaru’s was marked number 99, in the old, ugly font. “Can’t you just be glad we have somebody good? We can’t win that damned tournament otherwise.”
Naruto clenched his teeth. It had only been a friendly game against their fellow teammates, in preparation for the tournament that would take place a few short weeks from now. For the first time this season, they would be facing off against teams from other villages, ones they’d already heard bone-chilling stories about.
Naruto knew it was unreasonable to get so heated about a game only meant as practice – the real tournament would have everyone’s emotions running at a fever pitch. Maybe even Shikamaru’s.
And yet, Sasuke Uchiha got under his skin. It wasn’t just that everyone was obsessed with him, though that was annoying in and of itself. He was a prodigy, great at football since he was only a child. Naruto had clambered to keep up with him, his achievements overtaken by Sasuke, who always seemed to achieve them first and to a greater degree.
Their younger years had been spent in an unspoken rivalry, each passing milestone only a reminder to Naruto of how Sasuke had done it first, better, and while being effortlessly cool at that.
Now, they were finally footballers, playing in Konoha’s association, and despite playing for two years, it seemed like Naruto still couldn’t compare to the Uchiha golden boy, who took after his superstar older brother. Coach Kakashi had dedicated much of the time he could’ve spent with the whole team on Sasuke, drilling him, perfecting his moves, trying to recreate the magic of Itachi Uchiha in his younger sibling… and for the most part, that dream was coming true. It was as if everyone relied only on Sasuke to win, dismissing Naruto as an afterthought. Even the younger and newer players got more recognition than Naruto did, and it made his blood boil.
Especially knowing, deep down, that he was a match for Sasuke.
“I’m getting that gold for us if it’s the last thing I do,” said Naruto, and whirled around to stalk off across the field in the direction of the benches, leaving Shikamaru sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Konoha teammates were scattered around the field and on the benches, still celebrating the end of a particularly grueling day of practice. Rock Lee, one of the newer and more promising players on the team, was bent forward, pouring a squeeze bottle of water over his neck. Water streamed down onto the grass from his shiny black bowl cut.
Kiba had gotten ahold of a spare football and was dribbling with Akamaru, the small dog he sometimes brought to practice with him. His brown hair was damp with sweat against his forehead; his already-red cheeks looked even more aflame with the crimson, triangle-shaped markings on them.
Neji was sitting on the bench with his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers interlaced in front of his mouth, his pale gray eyes staring at the field, deep in thought. His black hair was the longest on the team, and though the coaches insisted he tie it back more diligently, he still kept it in a low knot tied near the ends, falling to the middle of his back. It never seemed to hold him back, anyway.
But Naruto was fixated on Sasuke, still drinking water with his back to him. Naruto strode toward him, seeing red. He wore the newer, nicer jersey design – mostly shades of vibrant green with accents of sunset orange. Across his back, his jersey read “UCHIHA” in clear, taunting print. Below it, his jersey number: 01.
Sasuke seemed to sense Naruto coming up to him, turning around to face him with a scowl…
Coach Kakashi materialized between them, almost sensing what was about to happen. He grabbed Naruto by the shoulder and pulled him brusquely into a side hug that probably looked natural to the other teammates, but severely limited Naruto’s movement.
“Hey!” Naruto protested with a grunt, the wind knocked from him.
“Great job, everyone!” Kakashi said cheerily, the mask that covered his nose and mouth doing little to conceal the smile that reached his eyes. The team snapped to attention, the players huddling in a wide circle around Kakashi as he spoke. “It was a really good game today. I have some notes for you all.”
He rattled off observations for most of the players, still keeping Naruto in a death grip against his side. Naruto fumed, his face hot, trying not to elbow Coach Kakashi in the ribs.
“Choji, your stance could’ve been lower,” Kakashi was concluding. Choji had moved from laying down in the goal box to laying down near the circle of teammates, but he gave a thumbs-up like he understood. “And Neji–”
“–I know,” said Neji, still sitting on the bench and staring fixedly into space.
“–You know, I guess. We’ll leave it at that for today. Everyone, come ready tomorrow. Be on time, please.”
At that last remark, the teammates groaned and shuffled off to the locker rooms, laughing and shoving each other as they went. Naruto’s eyes found Sakura, the team’s assistant coach, her pink hair looking ablaze in the setting sunlight. She pointed at Naruto, signalling that they would have a talk later, and stalked off to the locker rooms with the rest. Oh, great.
Sasuke spared Naruto one last intense glare before he too turned and strode off towards Konoha’s gym.
Kakashi finally freed Naruto from his death grip. Naruto pushed away from him with a grunt.
“What was that for?!”
“You have to learn to control yourself,” said Kakashi. Though a black mask shielded the lower half of his face, and his left eye was also hidden under a black band, Naruto felt he could almost see his disappointed frown. “The thing about a team is we actually have to work together. You do understand that, right?”
Naruto bristled. “Maybe I could do something if I weren’t benched for half the game!”
“It’s not about that. This is about Sasuke–”
Naruto wiped sweat from his eyes and pointed an accusatory finger at his coach. “It’s always, ‘Sasuke, Sasuke’ with you! If you actually did your job and spent more time coaching me–”
Kakashi’s one visible eye narrowed. With the light of the sunset as a backdrop, his face was cast in shadow. “You’re benched because you’re too impulsive on the pitch. You expend all your energy in minutes. I’m going to need a striker who can actually play for most of the game. And maybe someone who won’t drive the ball into his own teammate’s head?” He cocked his eyebrow.
“You know I’m a great striker. I’m the only one on the whole team who’s scored a hat trick.” Naruto puffed up his chest.
Kakashi paused, but couldn’t deny it. During the last few games against other teams in Konoha, Naruto’s performance had been the best of the season. His three goals in the last game hadn’t just been the only hat trick scored by Konoha’s team; it had been the only hat trick of the whole season. That day, Naruto’s blind rage, raw speed, and aggression on the pitch had sent a shiver down Kakashi’s spine. It was as if he had been possessed or something.
Naruto was one of the main players that catapulted their team into qualifying for the Konoha Cup. Not even Sasuke matched up, when Naruto’s focus was wholly on the match. The problem was…
“You’re too inconsistent,” Kakashi said flatly. “You’re staying in the midfield.”
Naruto blinked at the words, feeling an ache swelling in his chest. But he pushed through it. “Put me in,” he said, raising his chin to stare his coach dead in the eyes. “I’m going to get that gold for us.”
Kakashi turned, seeming like he was about to dismiss Naruto again, but something in Naruto’s stare held his gaze. He looked back at Naruto for a long moment, and then sighed.
“Fine,” Kakashi said, not sparing Naruto another glance, and started to walk towards Konoha’s gym. “I’ll put you in next time, Naruto. You’re a forward. Don’t make me regret it.”
Kakashi disappeared inside the gym’s doors, and Naruto heaved a shivering breath.
A forward. This was his chance to score some goals, bring home the gold…
…and showing up Sasuke wouldn’t hurt, either.
Naruto’s anger at Coach Kakashi and having lost the practice match earlier in the day managed to boil into an obnoxious determination. Shouting through mouthfuls of noodles, he slurped his ramen and slammed his fist down on the table, exclaiming about the team’s upcoming victory.
Most of Konoha’s teammates were seated or standing at the counter at Ichiraku, a small ramen stall with not nearly enough seats lined up at the counter. Most of everyone had already finished save for Naruto and Choji, who were both on their second bowls. Coach Kakashi’s treat, they figured. If the coach bothered to show up at all, that was.
The strong scents of the ramen broth and seasonings wafted amidst them as they talked, the hanging tapestries on the open side of the stall doing little to shield their backs from the brisk breeze of the night. The heat of the ramen stews, however, made up for it, and kept their cheeks aflush. Outside, Konoha was dark, little points of light from buildings and shops looking like glowing stars from the safe, warm interior of Ichiraku.
“Naruto!” exclaimed Sakura. “Gross! You’re getting ramen all over me.” She was in the middle of arranging the sauces on the table to map the team’s strategy for the next game.
“Can I be the sesame oil?” asked Choji between mouthfuls, pointing to the condiment’s bright yellow cap.
“No,” said Sakura. “That one’s Naruto.”
“Which one is Sasuke?” asked Ino with a sly smile, her long blonde ponytail whipping flirtatiously over her shoulder. Shikamaru, seated beside her, rolled his eyes.
“Quiet,” said Sakura, rubbing her eyes. When she pulled her hand away, Naruto noticed that her eyes, usually a sparkling green, were swollen, and marked with deep bags from lack of sleep. “Everyone, listen. We’ll be up against Sunagakure in the tournament.” She moved some extra bottles and a napkin holder to the other side of the ‘pitch’ on the counter, choosing to ignore the ramen chef’s scowl. It was the team from the Sand Village. She took her own empty bowl and Shikamaru’s, and put them on either side of the map, representing the two goals. “We’re told their defense is a strong point, but their offense might not be so good. We have to pass fast and often.”
Sakura took the bottle of sesame oil and the bottle of soy sauce and moved them both towards the opposing team’s side. The team members leaned in, imagining a little football bouncing between the bottles. “Our wingers will be key in that game,” she said. “We’re passing short, we’re moving always, and our wingers will create as many chances as they can.” She picked up the bottle of sesame oil and pointed its yellow cap at Naruto. “Naruto, you’re passing the ball to Sasuke every chance you get. Got it?” She lightly clinked the soy sauce and sesame oil bottles together.
Naruto scoffed, pushing his bowl of ramen away. “No, I’m not. Kakashi made me a forward. I’m gonna be the one scoring.”
Sakura looked dubious. “No shot.”
“Dude, Naruto,” sighed Shikamaru, leaning forward to look at him across Sakura’s display. “No offense, but you’re better as a winger. We need someone more accurate, especially against Sunagakure.” He took a stout bottle of rice vinegar in his hand and moved it towards the other team’s bottles. “Lee and Sasuke as strikers. Naruto and I are wingers. We get possession of the ball however we can. We pass. We score. We all go home and sleep.”
“How did you decide that I am the rice vinegar?” asked Rock Lee, piping up from behind Sakura’s shoulder.
“Hey Lee, you’re offside,” said Kiba, pointing to the rice vinegar bottle.
Naruto stood and grabbed the sesame oil from Sakura’s hand, placing it dead in the center of the opposing team. “I’m a forward for this game. Kakashi already said it. You pass the ball to me, we win.”
“Stubborn bastard,” muttered Shikamaru.
“All I know is,” said Sakura, smacking Shikamaru’s and Naruto’s hands away from her makeshift strategy map, “if we are up against the Sand Team for the first game, we’re in big trouble. They are the favorite to win the tournament.”
“They have a new starlet,” said Neji, his pale eyes staring into Naruto’s. “Apparently, we can’t take any chances with him.”
A new starlet…?
“The friendly will be our chance to scope them out before the tournament,” said Sakura. “Because if we lose–”
“–Come on,” said Naruto, rolling his eyes. “We’re not going to lose. We’re way better than those bastards. I’m telling you guys, if you just put me in as a forward, we’re scoring three goals.”
“Sit down,” Sakura snapped, meeting Naruto’s eyes with a glare, and her tone was intimidating enough to make him obey. I guess if I’m not careful, she’ll just bench me.
“Just because you scored a hat trick once doesn’t mean you’ll do it again,” Sakura said when she was sure Naruto wouldn’t interrupt. “It was impressive, but it was one time. Sasuke is our most consistent forward.” At Naruto’s dejected expression, Sakura’s own face softened. “We have to see how these weeks of practice go.”
Consistent. There it was again. Why couldn’t they just say they didn’t believe in him, so he could prove them wrong?
“Yeah, but come on,” insisted Naruto. “We don’t need–”
“–Sasuke!” exclaimed Ino, and the team’s heads whipped around to see Sasuke, pushing up one of the tapestries hanging by the entrance and stepping into the warmth of the ramen stall. He had put on his Konoha team quarter zip to fight the chill of the night, the swirling logo branded on his chest. He looked freshly showered; his dark, black hair had a wet sheen in the warm light.
Naruto bristled at the sight of him, irritated at how eager the girls were to see him. Sasuke Uchiha didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for his spot on the team; it was inherent, granted to him without a second thought. Naruto clenched his teeth.
“Team meeting?” he said.
“If you’d bother to check the group chat, you’d see we were going to meet at nine,” said Shikamaru, turning his back to him again. “You’re as late as Kakashi usually is.”
“Sakura,” said Sasuke, ignoring Shikamaru completely, “any orders for the Sunagakure game?”
Naruto was about to wonder how Sasuke had known they had been talking about the Sunagakure team, but then realized that Sasuke would have already been briefed on the management’s worries during the many private minutes he got with Kakashi.
But there was one thing he wouldn’t yet be privy to.
Sakura, flushed at being addressed so directly, was about to answer, but Naruto stood up from his seat to meet Sasuke’s glare eye to eye. “Yeah,” Naruto said, before Sakura could protest. “Coach Kakashi made me a forward.” Naruto grabbed the bottle of sesame oil and pointed it directly at Sasuke, the yellow lid inches from his nose.
Sasuke’s almond-shaped eyes darted to the bottle being held threateningly at him, and then met Naruto’s with a stare, his brows furrowing into a frown. “Is he finally losing his mind?” Sasuke said.
Something about Sasuke’s challenge made Naruto smile. He could not say if it was the itch to fight, or if it was the fluidity with which Sasuke rose up to meet Naruto wherever he was. Even now, after a full day of practice under the sun, with Naruto’s muscles aching for icy hot creams and deep, dreamless sleep, it made Naruto want to get out onto the pitch and stand toe to toe with him.
“No,” answered Naruto with a smirk. Something ineffable in Sasuke’s eyes glinted. “He’s finally come to his senses.”
Sasuke blinked, appearing dazed at Naruto’s answer for a second, but regained his coolness. “You’d better not pull your usual shit then, 09,” he said, his voice low. They were words meant only for Naruto, a threat only Naruto could hear.
“We’ll see on the pitch,” said Naruto. That fiery determination was welling up inside him again, and he found himself anticipating Sasuke’s answer. Sasuke matched Naruto’s smirk, his dark eyes looking Naruto up and down before he answered.
“We’ll see on the pitch,” Sasuke Uchiha agreed.