Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. :p
Title: President Of My Fan Club
Summary: I think I have a problem. Firstly, it turns out that the president of my fan club doesn't like me at all. Not one bit. The second is that she's a money hungry girl who's making profit off of me. And the third? I think I'm falling for her. SasuSaku.
By the way, while the summary is in Sasuke's POV, the story will be in Sakura's. Just thought I'd give you guys a warning so you won't be like WTF? when you read this. :)
The assortment of coins fell from my hand, making a melodic noise of chattering metal. Normally, this would have produced relief in me, seeing how it would have been going into my pockets. Today, however, that was not the case. And why is that, you ask? I stared grimly at the metal compartments of the cash register. The twenties sat tightly in a bundle in the right-most corner. I forced myself to tear my gaze from it back to the customer, lest one of my co-workers (or my customer, who was beginning to stare at me oddly) think I was going to grab it and run out, right then and there.
"Your change is five dollars and sixty five cents. Thank you for coming to MacDonald's." The edges of my mouth curled into a practiced smile- just the right amount of happiness without looking superficial. My hand shut the cash register with an unsatisfied slam. The customer stared at me once before taking their tray and walking off. This was a process repeated more times than I could count during my ten-hour shift in this hell hole of a job. And each time the register opened or closed with a cling, I cursed MacDonald's for being such a fattening, unhealthy, and utterly selfish corporation. There was plenty of money in that stupid thing. Why can't they just let me take some for the Saturdays I give up to work here?
Sighing, I leaned against the counter, feeling my bangs cover a bit of my forehead. Ten hours I work here- ten long, grisly, tedious hours- and all I get from this stupid job was a hell of an ache in my legs and seventy-five dollars. Okay, so that's not that bad for one day, but not worth giving up every single Saturday of my life for. As I saw a customer approach my register, I straightened immediately. My mind formed the same phrase in my head as I spoke it aloud, the same smile on my face: "Welcome to MacDonald's. How may I help you?"
A few hours later, as I trudged home with my poor, abused legs struggling to stand, I thought I needed to find a new job. I didn't live very far from the restaurant, thankfully. But it would've been nice if my dad could pick me up and drop me home... Mentally, I smacked myself. How could I think that? My dad worked on the weekends too and came even later than I did. I shouldn't trouble him with anymore of my problems when he did so much for me. For all of my family. Unknowingly, I felt my mouth tilt downwards.
The rest of my walk home, I couldn't think of coherent thoughts, just silences that seemed to explain so much without saying a single word. The mere thought of my bed felt like heaven to me. But before I could collapse in it in a heap, I had one more final job to do. I tied an apron around my waist. The refrigerator mocked me with its lack of ingredients, and I groaned as I realized my father had forgotten to go grocery shopping. Again. But I was Haruno Sakura- I could make a meal out of anything!
The door to the house opened silently. The presence of my father was unknown to me until he placed a kiss on my cheek. "My, that smells good," he said, ruffling my hair affectionately. Leaning over me, he reached a hand into the pan and scooped a little out to taste. Laughing, I swatted my wooden spoon at him.
"Hey, hey, you're hands are dirty!" He chuckled before disappearing into the bathroom. The sound of running water was heard. My father's name was Haruno Atsushi, meaning "Blooming Field" and "Industrious," in that order. While the name put together didn't make much sense, Atsushi fit my father well. He was a diligent middle-aged man, with white hair and bright green eyes. I always thought his hair was too pale for his age, and I was right. My father had an odd case, in which his hair lost its color very quickly. So, even when he was twenty or so, he looked like an old man. (Well, his hair, anyway.)
I didn't see my father much. He was always somewhere making money. Our nightly dinners were our traditions, a way to keep the bond between us strong. The last thing both of us needed was seeing a stranger in place of a loved one. It was an unpleasant experience, and I didn't wish to feel it again. When my father came back, I set the table. "Ahh," he said as I placed the plate between us, "I can't seem to recognize this- what is it, Sakura?"
"Depends- was that a compliment or an insult?" I asked. He laughed good-naturedly. The relationship between my father and I was rather informal. Some would cringe at the tone I spoke to him with. It was not disrespectful, however; my father had a playful disposition, and took my comments with amusement. There was a great distance between insolence and enjoying someone's company. I stayed on the latter with my father.
"Hmm, then I suppose I will be brave." With a grimace, he poked the food on the plate once, looking at it questioningly. My anger failed me as a laugh escaped my lips. Carefully, my father placed a piece of it into his mouth, chewing slowly. "It is good. How many ingredients did you use this time, Sakura?"
My lip twitched to hold back a smile. "Four," I answered him, "Eggs, Spam, mushrooms, and some cockroaches I found near the stove." From across the table, my father gagged on his food dramatically, placing two hands on his throat, choking. "Otou-san!" I laughed, "Don't joke around like that!" He wiped his mouth with a napkin, eyes twinkling. And so, the rest of the night was filled with good humor.
All thoughts of finding a decent job left me as I laughed the night away with my father, mirth filling me to the brim, replacing the emptiness routine gave me before. It was like usual. And on Monday, I went to school with a smile on my face. I had no idea I would find the job of my dreams that day.
It was halfway through my freshmen year.
Haha, you like it? Normally, I don't really like SasuSaku. I got sick of it, really. But I had this idea from a while back, and it came to me again with lotsa inspiration, so I had to write it. I guess this chapter's kinda like a prologue, hmm? I bet you're all wondering where the SasuSaku action is. So am I. :P It'll come out soon, promise! Actually, it HAS to be next chapter or you'll all kill me. Anyways, if you liked this for a starting of an AHMAAAZING story, please review! It's the button down there that taunts me in my dreams.
Questions? Comments? Flames? Messages, even? I'll take 'em all! Esp. the messages. I've been DYING for one. I feel so lonely...And it doesn't help with the fact that my grammar is deteriorating. Really bad. *pouts in corner* Screw you, English. :O
-loooooove, Moodyaura. :)