Of Geniuses and Haikus

Disclaimer: If I own PoT and Naruto then Sakura will have the biggest harem there is.

Summary: The moment Sakura opened the black envelope amidst the red, pink and white ones she knew it was bound to cause some trouble.

It was an ordinary day like usual except for the fact that she received a heck load of letters, chocolates and a few stuffed toys, more than the normal quantity she gets. It was a normal day except it's not. As much as she wants to act like everything is normal, she cannot for the constant eyes following her. It is even worse than the usual and that is saying something because of the fact that she had already gotten use to having the population of the student body watching her every move—waiting patiently for her to mess something up. Most of them anyway. The other half—the male half—are just plain ogling most of the times when they are not drooling. It was safe to say that Sakura is one of the most sought after if not the most sought after female in the school. Heck she had her own fan club, a fact that she did not like mind you.

Throwing another fleeting glance at the ivory paper with the impossibly neat—neater than her handwriting and she's a girl!—writing in the dead centre of the page as if it was printed. It was staring back at her blankly, brazenly. It looked like the paper was smug! Smug! How can an inanimate object be sending her a smug look?

It was a simple letter really, like the ones she received everyday from whoever sends her letters of confessions and flattery, the only difference is the sender. Fine, maybe the content of the letter is surprising too added to the identity of the sender. It was all because of him.

Who would be able to think that such a laidback, relaxed and happy person will ever show any interest in anything not related to tennis, his brother or the suffering of others?

On second thought, maybe the only reason this letter was created and sent is to see her fret and think about it until her head explodes. Metaphorically. On the other hand, by the rate of how much she's thinking then it might just be possible to make one's head explode without the help of any bomb. What a discovery that will be. The point is: he's winning. This only means that she, Sakura, is losing. Losing! She was losing for thinking about it too much but she will also be losing for ignoring it because she will have to make an effort to not think about it which means that she is still going to have to think about it. Either way she loses. So either way he wins.

Oh how she wants to hurt him so much right now.

Narrowing her glinting green eyes she bent her head down and read the haiku and the two letter initials underneath it once again.

The blossoms will fall,

They bloom and then they wither,

But you will stay here.


What was it even suppose to mean? That I don't die easily?

Sighing in exasperation, Sakura let her head drop to the table. Her head was cushioned by the book sitting squarely in front of her lessening the force of impact. It still hurt.

Using her arms to cover her resting head and smother the invading, annoying light that seems to be shining determinedly straight to her poor, poor retinas. She snuggled deeper into the book, as much as she can anyway, ignoring the slight chatters going on around here.

Why are they even chatting when they're in the library? Can they not get the idea of being quiet? Gah!

The annoying chatters were followed by a finger poking her shoulder. Deciding that if she ignores it then it will eventually stop, she did not do anything.

It continued.

The person did not indeed got bored of poking her. Instead he or she used another finger to continuously jab at her abused shoulder and back. Now there are two annoying fingers—that she swears to break—poking her back as if disturbing someone who is clearly ignoring you is something normal to do.

Quickly getting fed up of the constant annoyance bestowed upon her she swiftly turned around and made a grab for the fingers poking her. Missing completely because of the fast reflexes of the person she instead glared. She was greeted by a cheeky grin. She turned around and let her head fall to the table and her makeshift pillows. This however earned a confuse look from her assailant.

"Saku-chan! Why are you ignoring me?" Eiji Kikumaru whined, dragging out the 'e' in me. He pouted.

Sakura's answer was muffled by her hand, making it pure and utter gibberish when it reached the ears of others.

Brows furrowed when he did not get what his friend said, Eiji poked Sakura again asking what she said.

"I said," she started getting her head a few inches off the table "Go away!" she grumbled before going back to her previous position.

Her grumbled gibberish was answered with silence. Silence from the other party—namely her Eiji-senpai— since people still have not figured out that they should not be talking when inside the library. Sakura lifted her head enough to free her blocked sight to see Eiji's face. She was trying to gauge his expression; an expression that is currently expressing pure interest in something. Sakura followed his line of vision.

It led straight to the scrap of paper where the wretched message was written.

She scrambled to get it under her book pillow away from the curious, prying eyes of her senpai. Sighing, she straightened and stretched her pale, smooth arms up above her head to get her tired and sleepy senses to awaken.

"Look Eiji-senpai, if I give you this" she gestured to the plain maroon paper bag sitting on the chair beside hers, it was open showing the sweets and other things she got that day "will you please stop trying to make a hole through my head in attempt to read my thoughts? Seriously it won't work unless you have a machine that can translate electric impulse to coherent words."

Confusion greeted her.

"Nya! Saku-chan I just wanted to know who the letter was from. There was a poem in it too!" he tried to convince her; giving her one of his 'I'm innocent and adorable' looks.

It would have work too if she was not too use to it by now. Alas, she did not relent.

"No thank you Eiji-senpai. It's just a letter anyway. I fail to see the reason why you're interested in it when we both know that I receive poems in a daily basis."

"The difference is that you kept it this time Saku-chan, nya!" he rebutted knowing the girl's habit of not keeping any of the letters she receives after reading it. Or anything she gets from those admirers of hers for that matter. She reads them sure but not keep them. She also makes it a fact to not in any circumstances read any of her fan mail when she have something better to do—revision for the next Physics exam for example is something better to do—because apparently fan mails are great ways to relieve boredom. And she means it in the nicest way possible. Or so she says.

Coming closer to the unguarded bag of goods, Eiji dips his hand inside and grabs the nearest box of chocolates and sweets he can get his hands on. He pulls them out before stepping away from the glaring roseate who is trying and failing to get the sweets back from him. He beamed triumphantly at her.

He started to eat some of the sweets ignoring the evil vibes that Sakura's letting out directly towards him.

When his mouth was empty and chocolate free again, he looked Sakura straight in the eyes, face serious. "Fuji's going to stay late after practice because he has to do something but Momo said that it's going to rain sometime later today. I say you should go before the rain starts." With the advice finished being advised Eiji grinned widely at Sakura.

Sakura smiled saccharinely and replied with a sickly sweet voice: "I'm sorry but don't know what you're talking about senpai. Now give me my freaking sweets back."

He in turn sighed dramatically as if in disappointment.

"I'm childish not stupid." He winked at her, "Oh and remember Saku-chan, Fuji's not the easiest person to understand so maybe it's better to take things into your own hands."

With that last statement Eiji turned on his heels, ignoring the demand for the sweets back, and left Sakura to her lonesome in the library.

Glacial green eyes trailed after the figure getting farther and farther away.

"I hate you..." she muttered venomously under her breath.

It would have been so easy for her to ignore it.

So, so easy.

But nooo. Her Eiji-senpai just needs to make her life miserable by telling her where Fuji will be after club practice. She could have done well without the knowledge; she would be blissfully unaware of where he will be hence she can always reason that she wanted to talk to him but she did not know where he was then coincidentally forget that she ever got a note-haiku-whatever like that by accidentally losing it therefore losing all reminders of it.

Yes she could have done that but now that is all impossible because of that annoying, prying, little bast—senpai of hers.

How she long to still be blissfully unaware of her hidden attraction to a certain someone.

Too late now.

Now she is painfully wrenched from her innocence and is currently subjugated to face the reality of making a decision. This is when her fight or flight instinct comes in. Either she goes out there and act or she goes out there and run as fast as she can to her house.

Hmmm. Decisions, decisions.

She is now back to the godforsaken phase one: Slumping down at the table waiting for a miracle to happen.

Sighing dejectedly to herself Sakura clasped her hands in irritation. Either for herself, for Eiji or for Shusuke Fuji and his stupid haiku bearing letters she did not know. All she knows is that she sure as hell won't be blaming herself.

The senpais it is!

Coming to a quick decision that may or may not be the right thing to do she settled her mind to a peaceful, calm state that only few can achieve when face with such dilemmas. Sakura made up her mind for her future actions—(This will be the death of me!)—but for now, she will revise. She will do something normal and not dangerous for her mentality.


...later she'll fight.


Eventually the few people inside the library became scarce and this did not go ignored by Sakura. Noting the time, she packed up her books and notes neatly into her green camouflaged messenger bag containing other notebooks and books for other subjects. She closed it with a mild tug in the zipper before slinging it over her head and onto her shoulder. Pushing her chair in, she slung the shoulder strap of her racket bag and grabbed hold of the maroon paper bag. Not forgetting the last things on the table that was hers Sakura daintily picked up her weapon, heading out and leaving the solace she found when inside the room full of books.

Arriving at the outside tennis courts where the regular and other members of the tennis club are practicing Sakura walked briskly to the caged court where the regular members are discussing their training regime for the upcoming regional. Picking up a tennis ball from the basket of balls on her way, she wrapped a lined paper that shows obvious signs of being rubbed out and rewritten in for more than a few times, squeezing it with all her might as if it is possible to make the paper stick like a layer of skin to the yellow-green ball. She only stopped venting her irritation on the squeezing when the paper was tightly wrapping the ball.

Narrowed green eyes trained solely on a tall figure standing amongst others; Sakura took her racket bag off and got out her favourite one with the mint green frame getting into one of her signature tennis stance aiming for the head of a certain someone. She served the ball.

'Please don't hit back, please don't hit back!' Sakura chanted inside her head knowing that if the ball is to be hit back to her then the whole purpose of it is useless.

The fast topspin served aimed straight for the face was intercepted by a racket only a few centimetres from the targeted bull's-eye. The ball spun before falling down to the awaiting hand of one Shusuke Fuji. His normally 'it-looks-like-they're-close' eyes are open showing everyone that he finds the situation of being targeted in the face serious. He glanced once at Sakura and then back down to the paper wrapped ball in his hand. He methodically unwrap the paper whilst the other members shift their eyes from Fuji to Sakura and back again.

Seeing that he got the paper in hand Sakura started to put her racket down and back inside the bag getting ready for her walk home. She ignored the curious gazes of the regulars also known as her friends that are being pelted at her back and continued to head out of the cage.

When she was out of their view she started to run like Cerberus himself is hot on her heels.


Meanwhile back in the tennis courts that Sakura just abandoned stands an open-eyed Fuji allowing the regulars to see his mirthful aqua eyes staring at a piece of crumpled paper. His lips twitch up in a smile; a true genuine smile that is not in any way connected to any person's suffering.

Eyes darted from the paper on Fuji's hand to his face.

Easy to say that they are all curious and are dying to know just what is written in that piece of ripped notebook paper that can make their resident genius sadist happy.




SF better stands for Shusuke Fuji or else I'm making a big fool of myself.

If that's the case then feel free to burn this paper as I wallow in self-pity.

If it's not then would you like to go out with me senpai?

Nine O'clock sharp tomorrow? I'll see you then!

PS. I do hope that you're expressing that you like me in that haiku and not that you want me to die because I'm living too long compared to my namesake. Or something.


Review Please?

I know that the haiku sucks but I never said that I was talented. I did try though.

A bit plotless but I wanted to type it out anyway.

So I guess this means: I'M BACK! FOR NOW.

This is what happens when I practice narrative writing and watch too much PoT.

Not romance material? That's hard you know! I'll still consider it romance 8)