Chapter Text
“But I want to go to tennis camp!” Naruto yells, his eight-year-old body shaking with fury. “If I have to be away from you and Mom and Jiraiya-jiji, at least let me start training already!”
Minato sighs in frustration. “Naruto, you’re still only eight! It’s too—“
“Don’t tell me it’s too early to start! I’ll be nine in three months, and you started training when you were six!”
“And it was very, very difficult for me. I wish I hadn’t started when I was so young. I missed out on a lot of things because of it, and so did your mother.”
“But Dad!” Naruto whines, looking like he’s on the verge of crying. “How am I ever going to be better than you, or Mom, or Jiraiya-jiji, if I don’t start training soon?”
Minato’s face crumples for an instant, and from her place perched on the couch Kushina makes a noise of distress.
“Naruto, darling,” she says gently when Minato seems to have lost his voice, “you know that nobody expects you to be better than us, or even to play tennis professionally when you grow up, right?”
Naruto sighs in frustration. “But I want to, Mom! I want to be as good as the three of you some day, maybe even better! I can do it! You just won’t let me even try!” he yells, face set in a mulish scowl, and runs out of the room.
Minato looks at Kushina helplessly; his bright blue eyes are so sad and disappointed – in himself, Kushina knows, for not understanding his son’s feelings sooner, for letting him think that he didn’t believe in him enough to let him make his own decisions.
“Playing around with us isn’t going to be enough for him forever, love,” she says, her voice soft. “He’s growing up, fast. You know as well as I do that he shows promise.”
Minato scrunches his nose in a way that Kushina finds terribly endearing. “I don’t want him to have the same childhood as us, constantly training, no time for anything but his backhand and serve technique. I want him to have fun, to be a carefree child for as long as he possibly can. There’s enough pressure on him with who we are, no need to heap any more expectations on him. Tennis camp is sure to do that.”
“Oh, love,” Kushina sighs and reaches for his hand, drawing him down to sit next to her on their huge red couch. “He already knows who we are. You are his hero, you know that. Having the holder of more Grand Slam titles than Pete Sampras for a father is something to be proud of, but it is also something that he will try and better, consciously or not. You should show him that you are proud of him, too, whatever his decision,” she tells him, twining their fingers together.
“Have I been holding him back?” he asks her, subdued.
“No, not at all. But you will be if you don’t let him at least try it. It’s just summer tennis camp, it’s not like you’re pushing him into Orochimaru’s hands or something. He has to start somewhere, and if he decides that it’s not for him, we’re going to support his choice, agreed?”
Minato stretches across the sofa to lie with his head in his wife’s lap. The fingers of her free hand immediately tangle in his hair, stroking it soothingly. He sighs in defeat. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?” he asks, a smile curving his lips.
“No, love,” Kushina chuckles above him, leaning over to kiss him soundly, and the heavy curtain of her red hair falls around their faces like a veil, separating them from the outside world. “Now go tell our son that he’d better pack his bags properly if he’s going to be away for a full month.”
---
“Okay, son, you have everything, yes? Remember, if anything should happen, or if you need anything at all, you can call us whenever!” Minato repeats for the twentieth time that day.
“Yes, Dad,” Naruto tells him and rolls his eyes, but he hugs his father and mother tightly none-the-less.
“Listen to Iruka-sensei, sweetheart, and do as he says, okay?” Kushina admonishes him, tone resigned; Naruto will get in as much trouble as possible, anyway, she is sure.
“Sure, Mom!” he yells over his shoulder as he runs off towards where a group of children have gathered around several instructors brandishing clipboards.
“He’ll be okay,” Minato says, “And there’s no need to glare at the coaches like that, darling, they know their jobs. Iruka will take care of him,” he says, nodding over at the tall, brown-haired man, busy assigning kids to their dorms.
Kushina nods with a smile and they walk back to their car, hand in hand.
---
“Ow! You did that on purpose!” Naruto yells, rubbing at the back of his head where the other boy’s racquet had smacked him a moment before.
“Hn,” the other boy sniffs and turns his back on him. Naruto glares disdainfully at the dark hair sticking out of the other boy’s head, making it look like a duck’s backside. He grins cheekily and is on the verge of telling him so, when he notices Iruka-sensei watching him suspiciously from the other side of the court, and he stops himself with some effort.
I’ll get you back, he promises silently and turns back to practicing his grip.
---
“Pay attention, Naruto! You’re still not getting it! You need to place your weight further on your left foot, not just your right! Are you even listening to me?” Ebisu huffs, irritated.
Naruto scowls and tries again, and again, and again, but his backhand stroke isn’t getting any better. He hardly manages to hit the ball at all, let alone actually get it over the net. The more he tries and fails, the more frustrated he becomes. He’s making a spectacle of himself, he realises, when he notices that all the other kids have stopped and are watching him and Ebisu-sensei get tenser every minute, until at last Naruto swings so hard that he manages to wrench his shoulder in the process.
The racquet flies out of his hand and lands on the other side of the court half, bouncing off the turf. Naruto lands on his knees, gripping at his aching joint, angry tears streaming down his face. A giggle sounds from the sideline – Naruto freezes in place. Before anyone can react, he’s up and running in no particular direction apart from away. He catches a glimpse of the dark-haired boy from before watching him with unreadable eyes as he shoves past him; then he’s off the training grounds and into the trees that surround the camp.
He hears a shout of his name behind him, what sounds like Iruka’s voice, but he doesn’t stop, merely lowers his head and runs on. His injured shoulder is killing him, but he’s not going back. He can’t go back. They’d laughed at him. Clearly, he’s rubbish at tennis. He doesn’t know how he’s going to tell his Mom and Dad; they will be so disappointed.
He skids on some fallen leaves, landing at the foot of an enormous oak tree. The fall itself doesn’t hurt, but it batters his pride further. He slumps against the rough bark, leaning his head back on it and squinting at the sunlight that glints through the greenery way up above. The air is fresh, fragrant with the smell of leaves and grass and growing things, and there are birds chirping all around him. It’s soothing.
Eventually, he calms down enough to pay attention to the world again. His shoulder doesn’t hurt as much as he’d been afraid it would; maybe it’s just a minor sprain. He should go back, he knows; they’ll worry about him if he stays away from dinner.
He pushes himself to his feet, mindful of his injury, and trudges back down the path that leads to the camp. He’s not gone ten paces before he spots Iruka-sensei walking sedately towards him, a small case under his shoulder.
“There you are,” Iruka says gently. “Are you alright?”
Naruto nods, feeling foolish for running away like he was a child or something. He stops in front of the Head instructor, looking at his feet and missing Iruka’s warm smile.
“Come and sit down. Let me have a look at your shoulder. Ebisu mentioned that you’d overdone it earlier today.”
At the mention of Ebisu’s name Naruto scowls furiously. Iruka sighs.
“Oh, dear. I probably shouldn’t have placed you with him. He can be a little pedantic in his teaching.” At Naruto’s confused look, Iruka explains. “Pedantic means strict, too focused on small details. While it is a good quality to have in professional coaches, I think maybe Ebisu is taking it a little far with you younger kids.”
While he talks, he’s carefully moving Naruto’s shoulder, rotating it in all directions. Naruto bears it silently. In truth, the pain from earlier is almost gone; he only feels a little stiff.
“There we are, nothing to worry about. You must have overtaxed your muscles, which is why you felt the pain before. Was it a sharp, needle-like pain?”
“Yeah, how did you know, Iruka-sensei?” Naruto asks, eyes huge.
“I have some medical training. All of us instructors have to complete a physiotherapy course before we can teach here. Are you ready to go back now? There’s ramen for dinner.”
Naruto’s eyes light up immediately, but his smile dims a moment later.
“What is it, Naruto?” Iruka asks, concerned, as he puts a hand on his other shoulder.
“’S nothing,” Naruto mumbles, but he makes no move to leave.
“Is it the other kids?” Iruka questions shrewdly. Naruto nods, biting at his lip.
“Over half of them came to ask if you were okay after you ran off. You’ve made friends here, kiddo. Don’t let the odd unpleasant reaction convince you otherwise.
Naruto smiles tentatively up at him.
“That’s better!” Iruka says encouragingly. “Now, come along. Don’t know about you, but I’m starving. You kids are exhausting to run after!” he tells the giggling boy.
---
Iruka takes over his training after that, and his careful explanations and clear demonstrations have Naruto mastering the basics much quicker than he had so far. Iruka doesn’t stint on his praise, and the blond boy glows with happiness every time he does well.
The other kids warm to the newcomer quickly – for almost all of them this is their second year at the training camp, and for some, even their third. Every one of them has a connection to the world of tennis – for some of them, one or both of their parents play professionally, or are coaches, sports commentators, umpires, other kinds of officials – the list is endless. Naruto is not the only kid with famous parents, even if his are well-known to all of the staff members and the campers.
Iruka watches him carefully for a few days after the incident, monitoring his performance. He is usually busy with the older kids, but he makes time to assess this newest addition. Like his father, Naruto is fast, very fast indeed – he streaks down the court in a flash of yellow hair and orange T-shirt; his strikes are accurate enough, and he catches almost all the shots directed at him.
Like his mother, in the rare occasions when he does manage to line his position up perfectly, and remembers his instructions, the strength he hits the ball with is immense. Uzumaki Kushina is one of the most powerful players on the court, male or female. She has raw strength in spades, and it looks like her son has inherited it.
Naruto has difficulties with the more strategic aspects of his training. Frankly, his knowledge of theory is poor to non-existent, and his instructors can’t get him to sit still for long enough to make him remember it. He rushes in there with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop, all power and no finesse.
But, oh, does that boy have potential. Iruka has only seen two other students with so much promise in his career, and he’d only had a few years with one of them before he had been whisked away to bigger and better things. The second one is in this year, and Iruka can already see that he won’t be here for long, either. He wants to hope that Sasuke Uchiha has better sense than his brother when it comes to choosing his path in life, but he knows the Uchiha family too well. Being utterly focused on the game to the exclusion of all others makes for brilliant champions, but not for people particularly happy with their lives.
---
Naruto spends the second part of the month practicing until he drops into bed exhausted at night. He’s getting better, he can tell; already he can hold his own against most of the other kids, and he even beat Kiba and Shino today! Well, okay, it was only the one game, but the fact alone that he had won had made him so happy he couldn’t stop his smile from splitting his face in two. Everyone at the camp is brilliant; all of the kids his age are awesome. Even the girls are okay, they work as hard as all of the boys. He had tried teasing them only once, before Sakura had proceeded to wipe the floor with him and he hadn’t dared to try it again after that.
He knows that all of the kids here have been at the camp the year before, as well, and they are definitely ahead of him with training, but he’s nothing if not determined, and he can already hold his own against some of them.
But not all, he scowls to himself when he gets ready for bed that night, about a week before he’s due to go home. There are bruises all over his body from today’s training, and he has lost count of how many times he fell over, trying to reach the volleys that bastard (he automatically winces, forgetting for a second that his mom isn’t here to bop him on the head for swearing) sent him over and over again. And when it wasn’t volleys, it was a backhand down the baseline; all his lunges had been useless against the other boy’s deadly accuracy.
“Well done, Sasuke,” Naruto sneers, mocking Kabuto-sensei’s simpering viciously. “That was a great shot, Sasuke! Nice volley there, Sasuke! It’s all Sasuke, Sasuke, bloody Sasuke all the time! I hate him!”
His roommate rolls over to face him from his position of lounging on his back on top of the bed. “Did you say something?” Shikamaru mutters and yawns lazily.
Shikamaru is not the most receptive of audiences, but Naruto needs to vent, and he’ll do. “It’s that stupid bastard Sasuke! He’s so damn perfect! He has everyone swooning over him! If it’s not those silly girls, it’s the teachers! I hate him,” he says again, in case Shikamaru missed his declaration the first time round.
Shikamaru sighs audibly, knowing he’ll have to say something back. He flops over to stretch out on his bed again. “It’s just Sasuke,” he says. “He’s been coming to the camp since he was five. Of course he’s going to be ahead of you.”
Naruto stares at him for a moment, eyes wide; then he throws his hands in the air dramatically. “Oh, oh that’s just great. How the hell am I supposed to catch up to him when he’s this far ahead of me?” he moans despairingly. Then his brain catches up with his ears, and he pauses.
“Wait. Did you say he’s been coming here since he was five?” he gapes. “That’s—that’s just—what about his parents?”
“What about them? His Dad is his brother Itachi’s coach, and he takes him to all the tournaments. His mom is an umpire, so she’s rarely home, too. When he’s not here, he goes to a boarding school up North.”
Naruto is flabbergasted. He can’t imagine only seeing his parents once in a while, being left behind like some useless piece of luggage. Even if his parents travel a lot, he’s always either with them or with Jiraiya. He’s never been left completely on his own, to fend for himself.
“How can they just leave him like that?”
Shikamaru cracks an eye open to look at him and shrugs. “It’s the Uchiha family. His father was on par with your dad before he retired because of a bad knee. Now he trains his eldest son, and he’s all Fugaku’s interested in. The family is rich, they can afford a few caretakers for Sasuke when he’s home at all.
Naruto’s heart squeezes in his chest when he thinks of not seeing his dad for months at a time. He has the strongest urge to call him, just to hear his voice.
“Wow,” he says, his voice soft. “Poor guy.”
Shikamaru snorts loudly. “You believe that, and you’ve already made your biggest mistake. Sasuke doesn’t care about any of that. All that matters to him is getting stronger, and one day winning against his brother. The Uchihas are not the closest family around; their rivalry between each other is legendary in the tennis world. Make the mistake of thinking Sasuke is soft, or that he has it hard; lower your guard around him even the tiniest bit and you will lose the game faster than you can blink. He is utterly ruthless. Winning is everything to him.”
Naruto is thoughtful when Shikamaru finishes talking. He’s still upset with how easy Sasuke had taken him down earlier, but he can see where his drive comes from now. He smiles grimly. Obviously, that is the solution. He must train hard until he wins against Sasuke, since Sasuke Uchiha is the boy to beat. Then everyone will acknowledge that he is a brilliant player.
---
“I’m going to miss you, Kiba! And you, too, Akamaru!” Naruto yells at full volume, even though the aforementioned duo are sitting right next to him, one smiling widely and one with his tongue lolling and tail wagging, attempting to jump up his body to lick his face.
“We’ll email each other every day!” Kiba promises, at much the same volume.
A bunch of the kids are clustered together, Naruto at their centre as they say their goodbyes. Shikamaru looks on from his sprawl on the grass beside them, Choji sitting next to him and chomping on a carrot sulkily. Choji’s been put on a diet for the entire time they have been at the camp, and is dying to get back to his chips, or so he tells Shino who is sitting near him, fiddling with the collar on his anorak and nodding back half-heartedly.
The girls are sitting not too far away, whispering to each other and throwing glances at Sasuke who’s standing close to the camp entrance gates with Neji. Naruto throws a scowl in Sasuke’s direction. His plan has not been going well. He had trained harder than ever for the past week, but he was still nowhere near Sasuke’s level. And, the bastard had been ignoring him! When Naruto had tried talking to him, all he had gotten for his efforts had been a sneer!
“Stupid Sasuke,” he mutters under his breath, and cringes when the girls turn and glare at him menacingly.
Not long after that the parents arrive, and in the chaos he misses Sasuke slipping away. All he sees when he thinks to look is a large black Rolls Royce that speeds away in the distance.
---
The next twelve months pass in a rush of travelling, school and training. Minato finally relents and lets Naruto start training properly at the nearby tennis academy, provided that he keeps his grades at school to above average. The teachers at the tennis academy are not particularly good, but Naruto spends every spare minute out on the courts, anyway, whenever he gets the chance – or thinks he can get away with the minimum amount of homework for the next school day. Even when he is away with his parents for a week or two he tries to practice his grip, his stance, and his shot technique.
Minato is a little worried about how seriously Naruto is taking tennis all of a sudden.
“Did something happen at camp?” he tries asking once, but Naruto just smiles and says, “No, Dad, camp was great. It’s just amazing, finally learning how to play properly!”
And if Naruto suddenly starts following the junior tour a little too closely, and watches every match he can get to that Itachi Uchiha plays in, Kushina and Minato are just happy that he finally has an outlet for his inexhaustible energy, and leave it at that.
---
It’s two weeks before tennis camp is set to start and Naruto is already insufferable. He is bouncing off the walls with energy, and has already insisted on repacking his bags twice. Kushina is at the end of her tether, and on the verge of starting to shout herself; the idea terrifies Minato, so he decides that getting Naruto out of the house is essential to good marital relations.
“Let’s go, kiddo,” he tells him and throws a pair of trainers at his feet. “We’re going for a run.”
Naruto whoops and hurries to put them on and fasten the laces. Minato does the same with his and goes outside to stretch and wait for the little whirlwind to get ready. Naruto bounces out of the house, face bright with anticipation.
“Have fun, boys!” a relieved-sounding Kushina calls out of the kitchen window, and Naruto waves at her energetically. “Bye, Mom!”
“All right, all right, let’s go,” Minato urges, and takes Naruto to the end of the garden path, where the two of them stretch some more before jogging the short distance to the local park.
They start off fairly slowly, just fast enough for their muscles to stretch and warm up. Ten minutes later Minato decrees some sprinting is in order and the two fly down the jogging path, circling around the more sedate runners and moms with strollers, relishing the burn in their lungs and their legs, the wind rushing through their hair and cooling their flaming faces.
Looking at the two of them together it’s impossible to mistake the family resemblance, down to the very determined expression on both faces. Naruto puts in a final burst of speed and shoots ahead of Minato at the last moment, collapsing on the grass by the tree that had been the finish line. He pants heavily, trying to catch his breath as his father comes to a stop next to him, bent in two with his hands braced on his knees.
They recover in comfortable silence, broken only by the usual sounds of the park – the yelling of playing kids, the chirping of birds, the barking of overexcited dogs. Minato shuffles to lie in the sunlight, closing his eyes and inhaling the soothing scents of a summer afternoon in the fresh air.
“Hey, Naruto,” he says, aiming for vague and only partially succeeding. “Who’s top of the rankings in the junior tour at the moment?” Minato tries not to cringe. His subtlety leaves a lot to be desired.
Fortunately, his son has inherited his sense of subtlety from him, which is to say, he wouldn’t know it if it dropped on his head. “I’ve no idea,” Naruto mumbles.
Minato’s eyebrows scrunch close together. “But you’ve been following it closely all year! How can you not know?”
Naruto turns his head to face him lazily. “Oh, I know who was, but Itachi went pro last month and I’ve no idea who’s taken his place.”
“I see,” Minato mutters, not seeing at all. “Is that Fugaku’s boy you mean?”
Naruto pushes himself up on his elbows, looking down at his sprawling father. “You know Fugaku Uchiha?” he says in astonishment.
“Well, of course I do,” Minato huffs. “We used to be doubles partners, didn’t we? Before he got that nasty knee contusion and had to retire.”
“You were?!” Naruto’s mouth is hanging open. “How come I don’t know anything about that?”
“Why would you? You were only two at the time, you wouldn’t have remembered even if you did know.” Minato frowns. “That was a spot of bad luck he had that last tournament,” he muses. “Slipped and took a right nasty fall, almost ripped through his thigh muscle, let alone the ligament. He’s been coaching Itachi, last I heard.”
“He has, too!” Naruto launches enthusiastically. “Itachi is awesome, Dad! I bet he’s going to kick even the pros’ ass! His backhands down the sideline are unbelievable, and he’s got a serve that almost tops two hundred miles per hour! “
“Is that right?” Minato says weakly. He’s none the wiser from before. “Dare I ask where that sudden interest in all things Uchiha came from?”
Naruto’s eyebrows scrunch together in an imitation of his father’s frown. “Sasuke Uchiha was in the camp last year,” he says quietly. “He’s a right bastard, but—Ow! Dad!”
“Watch your mouth,” Minato says mildly, not holding out much hope. Naruto is Kushina’s son, after all.
Naruto rubs at the side of his head where his dad cuffed him, even though it merely stings. “Anyway, Shikamaru was telling me about him. Um. Dad?”
Minato looks up, wary at Naruto’s tentative tone. Naruto looks at him from under lowered eyelashes. “I heard his mom and dad leave him alone for almost the entire year. He goes to some boarding school, and he barely sees them.” Naruto’s hands are twisting in his lap. Minato grimaces.
“Yeah, I heard that, too,” he tells the slumped-over boy. “That injury did more than just end Fugaku’s career. It made him obsessed with his elder son’s success. He bullied and badgered Itachi until that boy knew nothing but training and sleeping. Unfortunately, that also means that his younger son was left at the sideline, so to speak. Mikoto tries, but – well – I won’t lie to you. Sasuke’s had it a bit rough.”
Naruto looks at him with huge blue eyes. “I can’t imagine not seeing you or Mom every day. Even when you’re away, we still talk every night,” he says, voice subdued. He has pulled his knees up and is hugging them to his chest; Minato’s heart squeezes at the dejected picture he presents.
“I know, kiddo,” he says helplessly. “Maybe you could try being friends with this Sasuke?”
Naruto’s eyes narrow, his old defiance coming back in a flash. “He’s still a bastard, Dad,” he grumbles and jumps away from Minato’s long reach, giggling cheekily. Minato sighs in relief. This Naruto is much easier to deal with than the uncertain little boy from a moment ago. He jumps to his feet and chases his shrieking son all the way through the park, dunking his hair in the fountain for good measure.
---
They start training in doubles for the first week of camp. The boys and girls are lined up in long rows down the court, hands behind their backs, feet jiggling impatiently for their name to be called out. Naruto’s all the way down the end of the line, in between Kiba and Shino, and for some reason he has a bad feeling about this. He watches as the options dwindle the further down the line Iruka-sensei gets. Across from him Sasuke stares straight ahead, face impassive. Naruto is sure he’s already done all this, and he’s just waiting to get it over with.
Iruka’s eyes glint warmly when he gets to Naruto, who grins at him widely. “Go on, Iruka-sensei, tell us who’s going to be lucky enough to get paired up with me!” he yells.
Iruka makes a face. “Naruto, you are not in the middle of a field. There’s no need to shout like the village herald!”
Naruto pouts, but shuts his mouth. In the next line over, Sasuke smirks. Naruto scowls at him.
Iruka looks between the two of them a moment, unobserved. His mouth twitches; he makes a quick notation on his clipboard, and—
“Naruto, you’ll be training with Sasuke for the next two weeks.”
Naruto’s eyes threaten to pop out of his head. “I’m not training with him!! He’s a boring bastard with no sense of humour. I’m going to be too much for him to handle!”
It’s Sasuke’s turn to scowl at him. “Shut up, dead-last. You can’t even keep up with me, let alone actually hold up your own in a match!”
“Now, now, boys,” Iruka admonishes, holding on tight to Naruto’s collar as he tries to get at Sasuke. “You will have to learn that you must do your best no matter who you are paired up with. You will not always be able to choose your partners in real life.”
“What is this, psych week?” Sasuke sneers.
“Don’t speak to Iruka-sensei like that, asshole! I’m gonna beat you up! Let me go, Iruka-sensei!” Naruto yells, almost spitting in fury.
“You’ve hardly given me incentive to do so, if all you’re going to do is jump on Sasuke and pummel him into the ground! You need to cool off, Naruto. Five laps around the court! You too, Sasuke,” he says firmly when Sasuke snorts at Naruto’s gaping mouth.
The two frowning boys set off, their chins lifted at a defiant angle. It doesn’t take long before that, like everything else, turns into a competition between the two of them. One glare out of the side of Naruto’s eyes, one sneer on Sasuke’s face, and they’re off. They sprint around the court, pushing and shoving at each other to gain an advantage. Sasuke is tall and wiry, and Naruto may be skinny, but he has been training heavily all year and can more than keep pace with him.
A nasty shove at his side leaves Naruto bruised and trying to catch his breath, but he sets his shoulders and puts on a burst of speed to catch up and even leave Sasuke behind for a moment. The two reach the last corner together, and leg it down the width of the court in one last surge. Naruto’s feet pass the last line seconds before Sasuke’s do. Naruto flops on the ground, exhausted.
“Heh, asshole, I win!”
“In your dreams, usuratonkachi. My head was well ahead of you.”
“Yeah, it would be, since it’s as big as the court itself. I’m amazed you manage to keep it on your neck!” Naruto retorts, but he’s smiling none-the-less.
“Whatever,” Sasuke drawls. “You’d better be on the court at five p.m. sharp, or I’m dragging you on it by your hair.”
“Fine,” Naruto yells at his back. “I will be! And I’m gonna kick your ass again!”
Sasuke doesn’t deign to answer.
---
They are squaring up against each other on opposite sides of the court, Naruto yelling and Sasuke merely raising an eyebrow at him, winding him up even more, when a mild voice interrupts.
“Ah, you must be my students for the month.” It belongs to the weirdest-looking stranger Naruto has ever seen. White, gravity-defying hair, a mask made of lycra over the lower half of his face, the man is covered from top to bottom in a navy blue tracksuit and is holding a battered green book in one hand, the other tucked away in his pocket.
“Who the hell are you?” Naruto wants to know.
Sasuke merely sighs. “Kakashi. I wondered when you’d finally get here.”
“What?! You know this guy?” Naruto turns to him.
“Unfortunately. He’s meant to be one of the best instructors in the country, though I have no idea where he gets that reputation, he’s a lousy teacher.”
“Sasuke.” Kakashi’s voice must be wired directly into Naruto’s spine, because he literally snaps to attention as soon as Kakashi speaks in that tone. Sasuke looks unimpressed, but he does come closer.
“Now then, children,” Kakashi beams at them. “Shall we play a game?”
Naruto and Sasuke are both told to go in the same half of the court; Kakashi nabs a racquet from Sasuke’s stash on the sidelines and faces them from the opposite side of the court.
“Let’s see what you’ve got!” he calls out to them, tosses a ball in the air and serves.
The serve is so powerful, it almost blows Naruto away in its path. He has to duck sharpish to avoid a broken nose.
“Bloody hell,” Naruto breathes. This guy is something else!
Sasuke just looks resigned.
Kakashi work them hard; no matter how fast they lunge, or how well-placed their returns are, Kakashi is everywhere. He saves shots that have no right to be saved, his volleys are so deadly that even Sasuke misses them, and his drop-shots make Naruto want to scream in frustration – even throwing himself full-length on the court, he still can’t reach them in time.
Naruto is dead on his feet by the time Kakashi is done torturing them. Sasuke’s hair is plastered to the back of his head with sweat; gone is the duck’s backside – now it just looks like any other haircut, if a little longer in the back. Naruto wonders why he notices.
“Not too bad,” Kakashi muses from across the net. He looks completely unruffled, no sign of exertion anywhere on him. Naruto hates him. “You’ve got the basics covered, but you certainly need more practice for your accuracy; you in particular, Naruto. Sasuke – that was better.”
Sasuke nods at him and walks off to pick up his stuff. Naruto looks up at the tall man, feeling lost and defiant and despondent all at once. Kakashi looks down at him impassively. “You’re Minato and Kushina’s kid, aren’t you?”
At Naruto’s uncertain nod, Kakashi hums pensively. “You’ve got your father’s speed, and you’ve got your mother’s power, but you’ve a long way to go yet before you’re anywhere near as good as they were at your age. Well, Jiraiya did say you’ve got the potential. Let’s see you work it the next couple of weeks,” he tells him and meanders aimlessly away, nose back in his book.
Naruto sits on the court for a long time before making his way inside, through the falling dusk and in to dinner.
---
Playing as a team with Sasuke will never be easy, Naruto ponders, but it will be challenging. Sasuke berates him constantly.
“I’ll not be made to look like an idiot because you’re below par. You’ll get that backhand sorted if it’s the last thing I’ll do.”
Half of the time Naruto has no idea what the stuck-up boy is saying, but he gets the gist: Sasuke doesn’t think he’s trying hard enough. The thought makes him furious, and he stomps away with a mutinous set to his shoulders. In just under an hour he’s worked out what he’s doing wrong; the next time Sasuke sends him a forehand, Naruto’s backhand slams down the sideline, perfect to a fraction of an inch.
Sasuke watches him with wide eyes; Naruto is ecstatic, and disappears to show his newfound understanding to everyone else.
---
By the time the final week rolls about, Naruto’s performance at doubles has improved beyond recognition. He’s been spending almost all his time training with Kakashi, Sasuke, Sakura and Ino – another team Kakashi claims has been foisted onto him. The girls are really good, too, but if Naruto’s being honest with himself, he hardly notices anyone’s performance other than Sasuke’s.
Kakashi isn’t nearly as obsequious as Kabuto had been. He doesn’t shower Sasuke with empty praise – doesn’t praise him at all, most days. However, Naruto is learning, and he knows that the dip of Kakashi’s head means more than Kabuto’s most flowery compliments.
Sasuke improves at a steady rate that Naruto tries and fails to copy. When Naruto does understand something, it happens in a burst of inspiration that barely lasts a moment before he’s on to the next hurdle. Still, it works for him.
To Naruto’s consternation, his attempts at befriending Sasuke, lame as they have been, have all been met by an impenetrable wall of disdain. The entirety of their interaction consists of a grunt here and there, and the inevitable insult: ‘moron.’ ‘Idiot.’ ‘Usuratonkachi,’ and okay, he does know a little Japanese, but if he hadn’t heard Jiraiya using that one a few months back, Naruto would have had no idea that he was being called an idiot yet again, and in a different language as a bonus.
He doesn’t understand why Sasuke is so hostile towards him. Sure, they fight and compete against each other constantly, but he does the same thing with Kiba, and Kiba doesn’t hate him. He’ll be damned if he asks the bastard himself, though. To say the least, he’d never work up the nerve, in case the answer is, “because that’s what you are, moron.”
He’s okay with being called names – well, not ‘okay’, because that would imply that his heart doesn’t twist in his chest every time Sasuke does it, but he’ll tolerate it if it means that Sasuke would at least speak to him. However, knowing Sasuke really does think that’s all Naruto is – ‘loser’, ‘dead-last’, ‘stupid’ – he doesn’t know if he can handle that from the best player his age he has ever seen on the court.
---
He gets up early the next morning, too wired to stay in bed. The end of month’s games start this morning, and he wants to get in some warm-up time before the others get in. They’re going to be playing a doubles tournament, and since there’s not too many teams when they are divided, there’s going to be three games to start with.
Naruto doesn’t yet know who it is him and Sasuke will be playing against, but it could be any one of the other five doubles – Kiba and Shino, Chouji and Shikamaru, Ino and Sakura, Tenten and Hinata, or Lee and Neji. Whoever it is, it’s going to be a tough game, he’s sure.
He gets to the court, swinging his racquet and stretching his upper body muscles along the way. It comes as no surprise and only mild irritation to see that his teammate is already there, battering his serve down the line.
“Mornin’,” Naruto yells.
Sasuke hardly pauses in his swing, blue shirt scrunching up under his armpits to expose his skinny stomach and ribs. A grunt comes from his direction that by some stretch of imagination could be taken as a reply. Naruto rolls his eyes; he may be a bit grumpy in the mornings, but Sasuke is grumpy all the bloody time. It’s annoying as hell.
“Asshole,” Naruto grumbles under his breath, but goes to join him on court.
They practice in near silence for half an hour, before the first stragglers of their competition start arriving. A bleary-eyed Tenten shuffles onto the court, doing squats and stretches to wake herself up. Hinata looks much more alert, long black hair caught at the nape of her neck in a marked change from the usual curtain – it’s the first time that Naruto has seen her exhibit any determination. Most of the time, he wonders what she’s doing at tennis camp – since she doesn’t seem so keen on it – not this time, though. It’s a good look on her, and he grins at her broadly, receiving a tentative smile in return.
“Do your best, Hinata!” he encourages, and she flushes with pleasure.
“You too, Naruto,” she says softly and turns away to join Tenten at the other end of the court.
---
The first match doesn’t start until almost midday, when everyone has warmed up and is getting antsy. The sky is overcast, light grey clouds tangling with one another as the wind twists between them, reforming their whimsical shapes and teasing at the hair of the lined-up kids. It’s cool for early August – perfect playing conditions.
Iruka flips through his clipboard and clears his throat. “Neji and Lee, you’ll be playing Naruto and Sasuke. Chouji and Shikamaru, you’ll be playing Kiba and Shino. Girls, you’ll start off by playing each other.”
Neji smirks unpleasantly at Naruto and Sasuke, and Naruto has to stop himself from decking him one. Sasuke eyes the competition shrewdly, and Lee gets way too overexcited, as usual, launching into his favourite speech about youthful vigour and team spirit; everyone but Naruto tunes him out.
Lee has no connections to the world of tennis, apart from an insatiable drive to prove that even someone not born to tennis-mad parents can succeed and become a great player through perseverance and hard work. He is an energetic boy with a slightly obsessive personality, and is extremely loyal to his friends. Naruto likes him very much, and it really does his head in to see Neji belittling him all the time for his lack of connections.
Neji himself is not the most pleasant of individuals – a snob with a huge chip on his shoulder because of his uncle – who happens to be Hinata’s father. When his father and his uncle had been young, his father had given up his tennis training so that his brother, Hinata’s father, could carry on with his when money had been tight.
Now Neji believes that he is doomed to be forced to do the same for Hinata, despite his obvious talent. In self-defence, or so Naruto presumes, he treats her like crap. His past is no excuse for Naruto, but Neji is a year older than him and he intimidates Naruto with his palest of pale grey eyes and his curtain of long black hair that he shares with his cousin. When Neji looks at him Naruto feels exposed, stripped bare and hideously vulnerable. So he says nothing to him, and hates himself for his cowardice.
The four of them take their places on the court, staring each other down. Lee and Neji win first serve, and Neji starts the match as it is to go on – vicious, merciless, absurdly fast and brutal. The score quickly settles in Lee and Neji’s favour – they are playing two sets out of three, and in no time at all the opposition has taken the first set and made a decent headway into the second set. Only Sasuke and Naruto’s quick reactions hold it back from becoming a massacre. Slowly but surely, they claw their way back to take the second set and the two already exhausted teams plunge head-first into the third and deciding set.
And then disaster strikes. Naruto leaps to reach a backhand volley down his half of the court and lands badly; there is a sickening crunch and Naruto screams in pain as his ankle crumbles beneath him. He’s managed to hit the ball back over the net, but it’s nothing particularly challenging. Lee hesitates, obviously worried about his friend, but Neji has no such qualms and returns the ball full-strength – straight back at Naruto, who is still sprawled on the turf lying on his side and clutching at his ankle.
Naruto sees the ball heading for him, but there’s no time to roll out of the way, even if he could make himself move without passing out from the pain. He curls in on himself, and spares a vague thought for how much this is about to hurt.
A sudden rush of air and Sasuke’s there, squaring his narrow shoulders right in front of him and shielding him with his body. He whacks the ball back over the net, a deadly forehand that flies well past Neji and slams a fraction of an inch within the confines of the court, scoring them the point to take the game for a 4:3 lead, Naruto realises hazily.
Sasuke turns, looks down into eyes dull with pain and drops his racquet carelessly to the side. He crouches down, gently feeling Naruto’s leg and ankle. It still hurts like a bitch, and Naruto lets him know this rather vocally. Sasuke looks back up at him, eyes unreadable, just as Iruka runs up and crouches by them, shooing Sasuke back.
A few minutes later the verdict comes back just as nasty as everyone already suspects – Naruto has broken one bone in his ankle and fractured another. It means at least two months of rest and physical therapy.
The pain of the fall had brought tears to Naruto’s eyes, but it’s only now that he lets them fall, bitter disappointment curling in his gut. He’s let their team down; worse, he’s let Sasuke down. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them again, he can see a ring of concerned faces looking down at him with surprisingly similar expressions of worry. His eyes search for Sasuke along the throng; he finds him standing closer than the rest, just to the side of where Iruka is packing ice on his injury to contain the swelling.
Sasuke’s arms are crossed over his chest and his foot is tapping impatiently. He’s staring down at Iruka with a scowl; Naruto almost flinches when the dark eyes snap up to look at him.
“I—I’m sorry, Sasuke,” he mumbles, miserable. Sasuke’s pissed, of course he is; he’s just been dropped out from the competition through no fault of his own. Naruto hangs his head.
“Idiot,” Sasuke says. It takes a moment for Naruto, sunk in his dejection, to realise that while the insult is the same, the tone is nothing like what it usually is – irritated, angry, superior. No, Sasuke sounds – almost mild, like he’s saying it out of habit, not because he means it.
Naruto stares up at him; Sasuke shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly. “’S not your fault,” he mutters almost inaudibly.
Naruto nods, because he certainly can’t speak, not with the huge lump stuck in his throat that constricts his air.
“We have to move you, Naruto,” Iruka says and beckons someone forward. The crowd parts for Kakashi-sensei and Gai-sensei, Lee and Neji’s instructor. Kakashi looks bored as always, but there’s sharpness to his gaze that betrays his worry. Gai-sensei has a grim look on his face, lips pressed tightly together and no sparkle in sight.
They prop Naruto up just as the first drops of rain spatter the ground. They carry him past the line of his anxious friends and in to the nurse’s office where Tsunade, the old lady who runs the camp, is waiting. She’s one of the top sports physicians in the country (or so Jiraiya has told him) and Naruto feels calm enough – he’s in good hands.
---
“Brat, what have you done now?” she snaps as she quickly assesses the damage.
Naruto feels that’s a little unfair, especially since he’s never been brought to her before – any minor sprains and bruising he incurs seem to heal quickly enough on their own. He opens his mouth to tell her so – and gasps in pain as she feels the break carefully. She lets him go and sighs, reaching for the X-ray Iruka had taken a few minutes earlier and sticking it under the light.
“I have to realign the broken bone just here, see?” she throws over her shoulder at Naruto, shrugging as she points out the break. “This is gonna hurt, kid,” she tells him in her no-nonsense way as she walks back over to him. “Now, this is incredibly fiddly work, so stay very, very still for me,” she cautions.
She takes hold of the foot and ankle securely; Naruto whimpers from the shock this sends through the injured leg. Tsunade starts rotating the foot very, very slowly – Naruto grits his teeth, tears running down his cheeks. Then she does some complicated move, half-rotation, half-pull and there’s a click under his skin.
Naruto’s scream of pain brings Sasuke running in from the outside.
“What are you doing in here?” Tsunade asks him, irritated at having her space invaded. She’s wiping her hands off on a towel and glaring at him.
Sasuke doesn’t answer, eyes glued to Naruto’s pasty, sweat-soaked face. Tsunade looks between them and snorts.
“The worst is over,” she tells the two tightly strung boys. “I’m just going to put it in a cast, and then you can finally have some painkillers and go back to your room. Sasuke will help you there, won’t you, Sasuke?” she says sharply, catching Sasuke as he’s trying to slip out of the door unnoticed.
Naruto turns his head to look at him, sweaty hair plastered to his forehead, and Sasuke makes a face but nods reluctantly.
Tsunade quickly applies the cast and sends Naruto on his way with a pair of crutches that he braces on heavily. Sasuke hovers at his side as he makes his way very slowly back to his and Shikamaru’s room. They can still hear the sounds of the next match going on, since the rain had stopped as quickly as it had started. The cool, fresh air feels good on Naruto’s clammy face, and he closes his eyes and leans into it just for a moment.
When he’s ready to carry on he looks at Sasuke again, standing there waiting patiently, and sends him an awkward smile. Sasuke shifts on his feet and just turns back in the direction of the flats, throwing a look over his shoulder to see if Naruto is following. He is.
Once they get to his room Naruto collapses on his bed with a groan. Sasuke hesitates at the door, uncertain whether he should come in or leave.
“I’m okay, you don’t have to—“ Naruto stops and huffs. “You can go if you want. You probably want to watch the other games.”
Sasuke still hesitates. “If you pass out on the way to the bathroom, Tsunade’s going to skin me. I should stay just in case you need to go somewhere, or I’ll never hear the last of it.”
Naruto stares at him just for a moment until Sasuke clears his throat uncomfortably. Then he blinks and shakes himself.
“Fine,” he says on a huff; but really, he’s grateful not to be left alone.
Sasuke settles into one of the two straight-backed wooden chairs in the room, in the corner by the open window. Naruto squirms to a more comfortable position on the top of the bed, drawing a blanket clumsily over himself. He lies there, looking at the ceiling and listening to the way the chair creaks when Sasuke shifts his weight, the soft thump when Sasuke stretches his legs out in front of him, the chirping of the birds outside.
Eventually, he sleeps.
---
He wakes up to an empty room and the sound of many footsteps drawing near, loud voices drifting through the open window. He rubs the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand and wonders how much of it was a dream, and how much of it was real. Sasuke couldn’t possibly have seen him home and sat with him while le slept, right?
His eyes fall to the side table by the bed where a tall glass of water with a napkin on top of it waits on top of another napkin. He doesn’t own any napkins and neither does Shikamaru; and in any case neither of them is quite that anal. He feels his mouth curve in a small, startled smile just as the door opens to admit the rest of his friends and his roommate.
---
His parents show up the next morning, Kushina in full ‘babble masking her concern’ mode and Minato with a tightness at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m fine,” Naruto says over and over again, squeezing his mom’s hand in his reassuringly, until the tightness on Minato’s face disappears to be replaced by the much more familiar exasperated fondness that his wife and son bring out in him. He leaves them for a while to go talk to the instructors while Kushina quickly and efficiently repacks the mess that is his luggage.
Naruto is unhappy that he has to leave four days early, but his ankle needs constant rest and complete immobilisation for the time being, and to top it all it is in quite a bit of pain this morning, so his protests lack the force necessary to derail Kushina from her goal.
“… likely will be retiring this year or next, depending on the circuit and that damn bastard Federer,” Minato’s voice comes from just outside the door; a moment later he steps in the room, Kakashi at his heels. “All set?” he asks them, and they both nod.
“I just want a word with Tsunade before we go; you can take the bags to the car and take Naruto to say goodbye to his friends,” Kushina directs as she passes him, smoothing down her lemon-coloured cotton dress.
“Yes, dear,” Minato sighs and Kakashi chuckles. Kushina ruffles his white mop of hair as she walks past and he ducks out of the way with a practiced motion, his eyes crinkled in a smile.
“Come on, kiddo, let’s make the most of our short time before your motor-mouth mother comes back to hassle us,” Minato quips.
Naruto hates goodbyes, so he just promises to email and chat online, and laughs around with them until his mother and Tsunade return.
“See you next year!” he yells and waves with one hand to the chorus of goodbyes as his dad braces him to sit in the car.
He turns around to look back as they drive away – the guys have gone back to their practice; all but Sasuke, who is looking after the car with a strange expression on his face. Kakashi steps up next to him and places a hand on his shoulder, nudging him gently. Sasuke looks up at him, smiles faintly and turns away.