My Naruto High School Romance With a Mannequin

The day before the other soccer teams were bound to arrive, both the boys and the girls’ soccer teams were practicing for the impending matches. This meant that I had no one to talk to as all of my friends were on the soccer team. Earlier this morning, Hinata suggested that I come and watch them practice. I agreed to go since I had nothing better to do.

So, after dinner in the Great Hall, I followed the girls out to the field with my sketchbook in hand. I was told that practices ranged in general from one to two hours.

I made myself comfortable in the stands about halfway up and began to sketch each of my new friends as they stretched. After so many minutes I got completely caught up in my drawings that I didn’t notice Sakura calling my name.

“Hey, Miyako!”

I jumped, closing my sketch book, eyes darting to and fro quickly.

Sakura laughed. “Geeze, Twitchy,” she called up at me. “I was only going to see if you could go get me water out of the machine.”

I sighed, setting my sketchbook to the side. “Sure!” I called back to her, “I’ll be back in a second.” I hopped down the metal stairs taking two at a time.

The vending machine was located in the hallway of the large stadium-like structure. It was directly across from the girl’s locker room and to the right of the boy’s locker room.

Cramming a dollar and two quarters into the machine, I punched in the number I wanted, A2, and waited for the drink to be dropped into the underhand compartment.

Finally, drink in hand; I made my way back to where Sakura was waiting impatiently for me.

“Here ya go, Pinky,” I said playfully, “here’s your water.”

“About time,” Sakura said, punching me on the lightly (or what she considered lightly and I considered being hit by a car). “Thanks, Davinci.”

“Have fun!” I called over my shoulder, headed back to my seat in the bleachers.

This time, though, I noticed a boy I hadn’t seen before. He was sitting two rows above my spot, staring intently at the notebook he held in his hands. The boy had pale skin and a head of spikey red hair. From what I could tell, he was pretty cute. I also noticed that he was wearing a red and black soccer jersey.

By the time I reached my previous seat, I had already decided to ignore the boy,
but apparently he has other ideas.

“Is this supposed to be art?” he asked. His voice was deep, but devoid of any emotion.

I turned around to stare at him. “What?” I asked, confused.

He held up his notebook which looked suspiciously like my sketchbook. “Is. This. Supposed. To. Be. Art?” he asked again, only slower. His eyes, green, by the way, stared intently into my own.

Realization dawned on me. “What are you doing with my sketchbook!?” I called out, alarmed. “That’s private!”

The red-head smirked. “Then perhaps you should not have left it lying out in the open.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well, most people have the decency not to go through other people’s things,” I snapped.

His smirk grew. “Yes,” he conceded, “but I’m a criminal, I don’t follow the rules.”

My eyes widened. I vaguely remembered Sakura freaking out this morning about the arrival of the boys from the Akatsuki School of Juvenile Delinquents. Mostly I just remember thinking that Sakura’s voice was very annoying.

“You’re from the Akatsuki School?” I asked uncertainly.

“Does that scare you?” he asked, getting up from his seat and making his way toward me. His movements screamed predator and I was his trapped prey.

“No!” I snapped, standing my ground. It actually did kind of scare me, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.

He now stood directly in front of me, his shoulder, which was eye-level with me, was only two inches away. I could feel the heat coming off of his body; smell the scent that could only be him (cinnamon and vanilla).

I lifted my head to glare up at him defiantly. His green eyes were dark and he had a smirk on his face that promised danger.

I watched as he lowered his head, placing his mouth near my ear. “It should scare you,” he murmured. His voice was dark and strangely sensual. Suffice it to say, it kinda turned me on.

He drew back from me and turned to leave. I noticed that he still had my sketchbook in his hand, but I was still reeling from our encounter, so I didn’t say anything.

“See you around, Miyako,” he said.

I gasped. How did he know my name? “Wait!” I called after him. He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. “Who are you? How did you know my name?”

He half turned to look at me. “Sasori,” he said, then turned and left.

“Sasori,’ I mumbled, testing the name out. It fit him nicely.

~Sasori~

I left the soccer stadium with the girl, Miyako’s, sketchbook in hand. I had only been teasing her when I accused her of having no talent. Her drawings were actually quite good.

“What was that all about, Sasori?” a voice called out to me.

I stopped and turned to face the intruder. “What are you doing here Deidara?” Said person was leaning against the outside of the stadium with a smug look on the half of his face that I could see.

Deidara smirked and pushed off of the building, making his way toward me. “I was just getting a feel of the campus,” he said, “when I saw a certain friend of mine playing with a cute Konoha girl.”

I sneered. “I wouldn’t call her cute,” I told him. ‘No, she's more that cute.' I shook my head to clear those ridiculous thoughts.

“Whatever, man. You were totally into her,” Deidara said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have kept her sketchbook.”

~Miyako~

“Who was that?” Hinata asked in her quiet voice as we lay in our dorm room. After practice had ended, I followed the girls back to the girls’ dorm building.

“He said his name was Sasori,” I told her. “He’s one of the Akatsuki boys.”

She gasped. “What did he want?” she asked. She sat up to face me.

I shrugged my shoulder, getting up as well. “I don’t know.” I thought back to our brief encounter. “It seemed like he was just trying to get on my nerves.”

“Did he threaten you?” she asked. She sounded very concerned.

“No,” I assured her, “but he did tell me that I should be afraid of him.” I remembered how the heat of his body washed over me; how the feel of his hot breath hit my ear as he told me to fear him.

Hinata shook her head wonderingly. “I can’t believe you talked to an Akatsuki boy.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “well, I can’t believe he took my sketchbook with him.”