Definitely Maybe

A Naruto FanFiction by That.Other.Boleyn.Girl


Naruto. Sasuke. One night, one school, one secret... and one year to win a bet. Let the games begin. SasuNaruSasu

A/N: Edited version.

Chapter 1: Definitely Straight

Okay, so here's the deal.

I am most definitely straight. Like, definitely definitely. Not the definitely as in I-don't-really-mean-it-but-you're-forcing-me-to-say-it definitely; but as in, well and truly, I am definitely straight. I like girls. I like their curves, the way they think, the way they flirt. Everything. My sexuality's been tried and tested, and it's come out on top. No pun intended.

In fact, I even have a girlfriend to prove it. And since we're on the topic, I might throw out there that I've had a boyfriend too, but the only good he did was to convince me that guys really aren't for me. Not that I think Gaara is for anyone, but that's not for me to decide. He might find someone.

But I digress.

So since we've cleared that up, I can proceed with my story without any big blank gaps.

It's the start of Grade 12, last year of high school before we jettison off to Uni with big air bubbles in our brains. First day. Always the worst. First day is when the teachers feel they have to prove a point, and that point is that their subject is the most important (but really, who cares about Maths C? I mean, really. No-one.). So first day is when you get the truckloads of homework, which you actually need to do, because first week is when the teachers check. After first week, they don't give a goddamn whether you pass or fail, as long as you pay the school fees.

This year is no different. Mr Hatake is up in front of the class scribbling illegibly on a whiteboard, Shikamaru in the front row looks just about to hit the desk snoring, and the crows outside are screaming over food scraps. The usual. Me, I'm just about to do a Shikamaru as well. There's only so much Othello you can decipher before you allow the language overload to knock you into Dreamland. Only Sakura next to me seems to be taking anything in, but then again she's like a sponge, always listening to teachers, getting all the top marks. She doesn't let the schoolwork snuff out her social life either; she has plenty of time for movies and shopping and Facebook. She's beautiful, she's perfect, her dress sense is impeccable, and she has the greatest personality.

By the way, did I mention she was my girlfriend?

(Well, I have now.)

As soon as I start nodding off (don't blame me, blame the teacher), she turns and nudges me in the side with her elbow. It hurts like hell.


(Yes, I know, King of Wit right here.)

"Don't, Naruto, it's only the first day. How are you going to get anything above a B if he catches you snoring on the first day?"

"Ugh, it's his choice whether I sleep or not, not me," I say defensively.

She quirks an eyebrow. "His choice? Last time I looked, it was your head hitting the desk, not his."

"He chooses whether the lesson is interesting or not. Right now, he's chosen 'uninteresting'. Therefore, I sleep. QED."

I earn a sharp cuff to the back of my head for my smart-ass comment, which hurts all the more because I hadn't seen it coming. Being Sakura's boyfriend can be an Occupational Health and Safety nightmare. I probably should get insurance for my dwindling brain cell count.

"Hey, come on, babe, no need to pull out the boxing gloves."

"Then don't fail again this year, alright? You have to have at least an OP5 to get to UQ with me, okay?"

UQ. University of Queensland. You see, I love Sakura so much that I've made a pact with her: wherever she goes, I go. And the way Sakura is going right now, she's headed straight for a top-of-the-state OP1, which will probably land her in UQ doing Medicine. Considering the fact that I failed two of my subjects last year, it'll be tough going for me to live up to my promise. But really, last year I didn't try. This year, I'll pull through. You see? Optimism is good.

"Okay, fine, I won't sleep. I've missed all of Hatake's notes so far, though, so –"

I'm interrupted by the lunch bell, followed by a spontaneous eruption of students from their seats. I'm one of them. Hatake turns and blinks at us with his single visible eye, his other and the lower half of his face obscured by a mask. I don't think he cares whether we wait for him to finish teaching or not, he probably wants us out of here as much as we do. Sakura frowns at me disapprovingly as I stretch, face split with a yawn, and then begin to gather up my books.

"Naruto, you're gonna be a drop-out," she says, arms folded across her chest. Unlike the rest of the class, she's the only one still seated.

"Hey, don't take life so seriously." I bend down to kiss her cheek, sneakily trailing my hand over her side to tickle her at the same time. She shrieks and bats my hand away, but the next time I look she's smiling again.

"Damn you, Uzumaki," she says as she starts to pack up, but I hear the smile in her words.

I laugh, shoving my pencil into my pant pocket. "Damn you too, Haruno."

"Had enough courtship time there, you two? Can we move on outside, or do we have to wait the ritual out?"

I roll my eyes as my best friend, Kiba, bounces up next to me, a mock-irritated look on his face. His brown hair is piled messily on his head and his books are dog-eared already. His uniform looks like it's been through a corn crusher and the less said about his shoes the better. The Marshall will be onto him soon, not that he'll care.

"Shut up, Kiba," Sakura retorts, tucking her chair in. "You're just jealous."

"Of what? Getting my head bashed in every five minutes?"

Like me, Kiba has a smart mouth. Like me, Sakura has unwritten permission to bash him up whenever she has the whim, but unlike me, Kiba has better reflexes and can dodge most of the incoming missiles before they land a hit. This time, however, he hasn't had a whole term to practise (it's only the first day of school) and he ends up howling, with a bump the size of Mt Everest on his head from Sakura's pencil case.

"Hey! Abuse! Rape!"

"Oh, shut up," I say, grabbing his elbow and yanking him out of the classroom, a fuming Sakura in tow. "You're wasting lunch. I'm starving."

He rubs his head, whining like a dog. "You're starving? I'm getting clobbered to death by your girlfriend, and all you can think of is your own stomach? That's harsh, man. I'm cut."

"If you ever need it, you can borrow my razor," I say.

The corridors are crowded with Juniors rushing about aimlessly. The Grade 8's are particularly bad; most are new, fresh out of Primary School, and have that I'm-so-cool-I-graduated-into-Senior-School swagger about them. Most don't yet reach my shoulder, and their maturity's about there on me too. There's so many of them, the Tuckshop line is choked full. I decide to go with my packed lunch, but Kiba opts for a Cafeteria ham and cheese toastie, so me and Sakura leave him in the line ("Hey, you can't just ditch me, man!") and go to the Old Jacaranda.

The Old Jacaranda's where our group's been sitting since... well, since ever. In spring, it breaks out in beautiful purple blossoms that drift down with the wind, leaving a sweeping lavender carpet on the grass where we sit. The branches are long and the rain doesn't get us. We're on a hill too, so the water drains and we don't get soggy butts. There's a nice view of the Oval, so on Carnival days we don't even have to move to get a glimpse of the action. The hill is quite steep though, and last year a Junior tripped on a tree root and went hurtling down it head first, spraining an ankle and breaking two ribs. We're not that stupid, though that's a stretch with someone like Kiba.

The gang's already there by the time me and Sakura arrive, with Kiba the obvious exception. My customary seat in the circle, the one nestled in against the tree trunk itself, has been left empty for me. I drop into it.

"Ugh, I should've dropped Physics," TenTen mumbles.

"I hope that conclusion has nothing to do with my arrival," I say playfully, unwrapping my homemade cheese sandwich. The sun is out full-tilt, and I shuffle backwards to avoid the glare from the Reception Block windows.

"Nah, though it sucks how I'm not in your class. Guess I'm stuck with Neji for another year."

Neji looks up from his pasta salad, his fork poised. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"At least you guys don't have Asuma," drawls Shikamaru. Considering he's two metres away in the grass, on his back with his arms over his face, it's a miracle we can still hear him.

"What's wrong with Asuma? I heard he's a genius with Quantum Physics. Didn't he work for the government a few years ago?"

"Got kicked out, didn't he, though?"

"Dunno what you're talking about, Chouji, the guy told our class he quit."

"Why would you quit a government job?" Sakura muses. She's met with incredulous stares, and rushes to elaborate. "No, I mean, at least you have job security. And constant promotions."

"Who on earth told you that?" Neji says. "My dad doesn't get constant promotions, or else we wouldn't be here. We'd be somewhere in Barbados, catching some proper sun."

I snort into my sandwich. For some reason, the notion of Neji on a beach somewhere, "catching sun", strikes me as ridiculously funny. Neji's the kind of guy who does his hair every morning, gets sunburn every other day and knows the periodic table off by heart. Not a nerd – no way – but definitely not the "catching sun" type.

"Perhaps not Barbados," says Hinata shyly from her cousin's side. She pulls her knees under her chin, staring meekly at the ground. "Maybe Japan somewhere. That would be nice. All the cherry blossoms and things."

"Japan, eh?"

Kiba's back. He's already demolished half of his long-anticipated sandwich in the short walk from the Tuckshop to the Jacaranda and he's licking the grease off his fingers.

"I'd take you there, Hinata," he says. "Just you and me."

Sakura rolls her eyes, pausing momentarily in her eating to fix Kiba with a you-are-such-an-idiot look. "Yeah, real smooth there, Kiba. Real smooth. Great way to get a girl."

Hinata turns a bright shade of pink. Kiba opens his mouth to retort (probably with the F-word thrown in somewhere) but I beat him to the chase, jogging his elbow and yanking on his trouser leg to get him to sit down.

"Quit it, Kiba, you know it's true."

"Hey, man, you're not supposed to take a girlfriend's side over your best friend."

Sakura puts her Tupperware down and throws her arms around me, almost knocking me over. "It's 'cause he loves me, dumbass." She smiles at me. "Don't you, Naru-chan?"

It's strange how Sakura calls me that. She's never lived a day in Japan all her life. Last time I asked her about it, she said that she'd done Japanese in Primary and so was used to sticking Japanese suffixes on the ends of things.

"Of course I love you," I say, pecking her on the cheek while Kiba makes retching motions.

"Geez," he says when I pull away. "You two are insane. Get a room already."

"Hey Kiba," Ino cuts in from her seat next to TenTen, probably to stop Sakura overheating (she's got that furious look on her face already); "You seen the new exchange student yet?"

It works. You can almost hear Kiba's attention go whooshing away from Sakura and onto Ino. Kiba's really good with new students, and great at making friends. If there's a newbie, chances are Kiba's already on best-mate terms with him.

"What exchange student?"

"What's-his-name. The hot one."

"Oh quit it, Ino," says Chouji irritably. "He looks like someone's rolled him in black paint."

Ino pulls a handful of grass out by the blades and throws them at Chouji's head, showering TenTen with dirt in the process.

"Just 'cause he's sophisticated. You're just jealous, Chouji."

"Just 'cause he's probably suicidal," Chouji mutters. Luckily for him, Ino doesn't hear.

"Black paint? I haven't seen anyone with black paint."

"Don't be an idiot, Kiba," Sakura snaps. "He doesn't actually have black paint. It's Chouji's way of saying he's suicidal and depressed and all-round Emo."

Kiba blinks. "Oh. Right. Well, why didn't you say so, man?"

"I guess he overestimated your cranial capacity," I sigh, scrunching up my sandwich crusts and standing up. As I do so, the end-of-lunch bell rings; back to lessons, and back to boredom. I look down at Sakura's shock of pink hair, and resist the urge to laugh. It didn't really matter whether I fell asleep in class or not; I had Sakura; I had Kiba; and I had my circle of friends. I had this frame of reference, this school, everything that was familiar.

What on Earth can possibly go wrong?

A/N: Yes, I know. Another Konoha-High-esque FanFic (as if we don't have enough of them already). But I just had to write this, it came splurging right out of me during my Exam Block – it's what happens when I'm under stress, I develop Naruto-schizophrenia – so here it is. Plot? Hmm. Well, you'll just have to wait and see if I have/develop one, because right now I'm in Exam fever and plots... don't come easily, let's just say. There will be SasuNaru, however (I've already warned you in the Summary, and if you can't tell from the name of this Chapter what Sasuke and Naruto's future relationship will be... then I have nothing to say to you).

Next update will probably be in a week or two, no guarantees though. Like I said, I'm in exams.

Another thing, I'm borrowing characters from Naruto, not necessarily plot. And anyway, I haven't seen Shippuden, so my plot-instincts aren't that up-to-date in the first place. So if somebody dies in the real Naruto or whatever, I'm not saying it'll happen in this Fic, because frankly, I'll have absolutely no clue that they died anyway.

Just warning you, that's all! beams

Anyway, love you all lots for reading, but now that you're here anyway, PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW!

See ya next time!