Chapter Text
I never understood why girls liked Sasuke Uchiha.
Maybe it was because he went to our rival academy and that somehow turned him into this untouchable badboy. Maybe it was because he barely talked, or the damn piercings, the stupid ink black wavy hair. Ugh! I couldn’t see the appeal in his perfectly symmetrical face or in the way he stood still before the opening whistle, like the entire field had to ask permission to exist. Seriously. It was almost laughable.
He was ridiculous.
“Naruto, stop staring at number eleven like you wanna murder him,” Shikamaru said, yawning, like we weren’t about to play the most important match of the semester. “This is just a friendly match, not a staring contest with the enemy, idiot.”
“First of all, I’m not staring at him,” I replied—while staring at him. “I’m… merely analyzing the opponent. And there’s no such thing as just a friendly match when it’s against them,” I muttered under my breath. “You know that.”
He hummed lazily in agreement. Shikamaru always understood the things I didn’t say. Friendly or not, this game was a message. A warning of what was coming later, when the real match happened.
I could see our school’s stadium packed through the locker room window. It felt like the whole school was counting on me, and the official fan club had already posted three tweets before warm-ups were even over. The Fox Fury was chanting my name, screaming like it was a pro league final.
On the other side, the opposing team looked like a coordinated shadow: smaller crowd, quieter, black and red banners—and him. Sasuke stood among them in his stupid number eleven jersey, his gaze sharp, almost feline, like a predator locked in.
Sakura finished tying her hair and met my eyes in the mirror.
“Don’t let him get in your head,” she warned. “You play better when you pretend he doesn’t exist.”
I almost laughed. Pretending Sasuke Uchiha didn’t exist was a skill I definitely did not have.
“He’s gonna try to mess with me,” I added, with a grumble. “He always does.”
“And you?” Shikamaru asked, smirking like he knew something I didn’t. That look always made me uneasy. “You gonna fall for it?”
I thought about it. About every tied match. Every headline. About how every time our eyes met, the field seemed to shrink and all I wanted was to punch him in the face.
Something in my expression must’ve given me away, because Sakura facepalmed like I was the biggest disappointment on Earth. I rubbed the back of my neck, not even trying to look sorry.
“No. Not today.”
When we walked out of the locker room, I saw him before I saw the field. Sasuke stood near the sideline, talking to someone on his team. Expression blank. Fully locked in.
Then he saw me.
Our eyes held for a second longer than necessary, and his face shut down completely, like my existence alone gave him a headache.
I felt a vein in my forehead throb. Seriously, that arrogant Uchiha—
“Dude, stop staring at him,” Kiba muttered as he passed me, clapping my shoulder. “You’re being weird.”
“He started it,” I shot back automatically, like I’d rehearsed the line. My eyes never left his.
Shikamaru sighed, looking at me like a disappointed dad. Man, what did I even do wrong today? I felt like a misbehaving kid getting scolded.
“You two are a disaster waiting to happen.”
Before kickoff, we stood face to face at the coin toss. The ref explained the rules. Sasuke said nothing. Neither did I.
But when he leaned in just slightly, it felt like he spoke just for me to hear.
“Don’t go all out today.”
I stared at him. Don’t go all out? Was he seriously underestimating me?
“Scared you’ll lose, Uchiha?”
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile, but I could taste the arrogance rolling off him. I wanted to punch him until that expression disappeared—but doing that would mean letting him win.
And that? Over my dead body.
I barely heard his next words, too busy thinking about how much I hated him. I hated him because he distracted me every single game. Because he was the only reason we always ended in a tie. I hated him so much that when I stood close to him, I couldn’t breathe.
“Just… curious.”
The whistle blew, ending the moment. He stepped back. I stayed frozen for a second, feeling the weight of that exchange. I wanted to push for answers, but it was better this way. Too many words before a match always turned into excuses afterward.
This isn’t the real game, I thought. But that doesn’t mean I won’t rub it in his stupidly pretty face when he cries after losing again.
And when the ball started rolling, I knew it.
Nobody was playing a simple friendly match.
[…]
The final whistle sounded like delayed relief.
A tie. Again.
I was drenched in sweat, exhausted, jersey stuck to my back, muscles burning in that specific way only intense matches cause. Still, my team celebrated like we’d won. Choji laughed loudly and promised barbecue on him, Ino argued over a play like it was a thesis defense, Sakura clapped enthusiastically, and Shikamaru… well, Shikamaru looked satisfied, which for me already counted as a win.
I stood a little apart, trying to catch my breath. The tie didn’t hurt—but it didn’t excite me either. It didn’t have the sweet taste of victory or the bitter sting of defeat. It was just more proof that this rivalry wasn’t getting resolved anytime soon.
That’s when a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed my wrist hard. The touch was cold, like a ghost crawled straight out of hell and decided I was the easiest target.
“Hey—!”
I didn’t have time to react or complain; I was yanked out of the celebration, dragged across the field toward a quieter area, far from voices and raised phones. When I was finally released, I already knew who it was before I even looked up.
Sasuke Uchiha stood in front of me, wearing the same neutral expression as always, like he hadn’t just pulled me away from my team. For a second, I wondered if he wanted to fight, or throw out some arrogant comment, or do any of the things I assumed Uchihas did for fun.
“What do you want?” I asked impatiently. “Here to complain about the tie or pretend you won?”
He stared at me for a few seconds before answering, like he was weighing every word. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, as emotionless as ever—but there was something different underneath it.
“It’s not about that.”
I frowned, folding my arms as the exhaustion hit again.
“Then spit it out,” I snapped. “I don’t usually leave my team’s celebration for post-game small talk—especially with a rival.”
Sasuke ignored the comment, his eyes flicking briefly toward the field before returning to me.
“The next game that actually matters won’t just be between Konoha High and Uchiha Academy,” he said after a short, calculated pause. “The regional championship confirmed Sand Village High.”
The name landed between us with weight. I knew it. Everyone did. One of the few rivals we both shared.
“Against Suna High…” I murmured.
Sasuke’s expression shifted subtly—just enough for me to notice. It wasn’t the usual coldness aimed at me. It was heavier.
Seeing him pissed about something that wasn’t me felt weird.
“There’s a guy there,” he said bluntly, like I was stupid and needed it spelled out. “His name’s Gaara. And I hate him more than I hate you.”
“And I’m supposed to feel good about that?”
“He plays different,” Sasuke continued, ignoring me—probably it is his favorite hobby. “Doesn’t respect rhythm. Doesn’t respect limits. This tie? It means nothing in the real game. What comes next is what decides everything.”
I glanced back at my team, still laughing, still celebrating like the score had gone our way. Wow, thanks for noticing I’m gone, guys. If this Uchiha turned out to be a secret cannibal who wanted to skin me alive, no one would even know.
For the first time since the final whistle, I understood why that friendly had only been a warm-up.
“So why are you telling me this?” I asked, looking back at him. “We’re not exactly on the same side.”
“Not yet,” Sasuke replied. “But we’re gonna have the same enemy.”
We stood there in silence for a few seconds—two rivals tied, staring at a bigger problem on the horizon. The fatigue weighed on me, but this new tension kept my mind sharp.
“Don’t confuse this with friendship,” I said finally. The words came out late, like a thought that took too long to find a voice. It didn’t fix anything in my head—if anything, it made things worse.
Everything I thought I knew suddenly felt like a lie. I just wanted things to go back to normal. Simple. Predictable. One rival was enough—two felt like overkill.
The corner of his mouth twitched again. A smile. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Sasuke Uchiha smile before—and it was so… irritating.
“Cute,” he said calmly, which somehow made it worse. “Almost sounds like you want to be my friend.”
My stomach flipped.
“But relax,” he continued, tilting his head slightly. “I never thought about that. Unlike you.”
The hit wasn’t loud. It was precise. The kind that echoed long after the person walked away.
Except he didn’t walk away right away. He seemed to wait for me to say something. I would’ve—if my brain hadn’t completely short-circuited. No matter how much my mind screamed, my body wouldn’t move.
I wished I’d never seen Sasuke Uchiha smile. Just one more thing that would ruin my day every time I remembered it. The damn smile widened, like he’d won some secret game only he knew we were playing.
Sasuke — 1 Naruto — 0
He finally turned and walked off without saying goodbye, leaving me standing there, trying to figure out why that sentence had knocked me off balance more than any trash talk on the field.
It wasn’t anger.
It wasn’t just wounded pride.
It was the realization that, no matter how hard I tried to shove everything back where it belonged, Sasuke Uchiha always found a way to mess things up—and walk away like nothing had happened.
I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to kill Sasuke Uchiha or beat him in a way that had nothing to do with soccer.
I’m voting for the first option. For now, it still feels like the right one.