"What did you do this time?"

Deidara scoffed and stubbornly folded his arms across his chest.

Or tried to.

He winced in discomfort as his twin casts made the movement nigh-impossible.

Itachi's voice remained calm, but Deidara knew better than to push his luck this time. "There was an accident with the latest shipment of fireworks, yeah; but it is all fine, I can still make it to Saturday night's-."

"You can't even hold your drumsticks, let alone play."

"Can, too!"

Itachi held Deidara's desperate gaze a moment, not bothering to lower his gaze to the other man's burned, broken limbs. It was painfully obvious Deidara was in no condition to work, let alone play a stage show, and after a minute or so of tense silence, the blond huffed and swore, turning away.

"Find a replacement by Wednesday, and they'll only be a temporary replacement," Itachi said levelly, and pushed away from the warehouse wall. They'd been renting the space for several months since their band, Akatsuki, had been formed, and it had served them very well as they prepared for the annual Konoha Battle of the Bands competition. Major labels sent scouts there every year, and this year there were rumours they'd already had their eye on the Akatsuki members thanks to their success in smaller, underground live shows at local clubs. Not that Akatsuki had any interest in signing or going pro—most had 'day' jobs or responsibilities outside the band they couldn't abandon—but they had their own standards, and weren't about to play at a sub-par level for any reason.

Deidara's reckless stupidity included.

"Wednesday isn't much time, yeah," grumbled Deidara to Itachi's back as the dark-haired man walked towards the rear exit, pulling out his phone.

"You may use whatever means necessary to find a suitable substitute. I'm going to send the word out to everyone else to keep their ears to the ground for leads."

"I can do it myself!"

"Consider this insurance."

Now, it wasn't that Deidara didn't try — he really, truly did. He just wasn't having much luck on his own because damnitallbastardUchiha was right, he needed help. He couldn't drive, he couldn't type, and he could barely answer his phone, let alone send out texts to his usual hangouts looking for a back-up drummer. Without the use of his hands and arms, he really was stranded.

But like Hell he was going to let that stop him. He just needed someone with free time, who knew music, who had the resources to organize a search like this, who was familiar with Itachi's standards, who may have friends who'd know someone, or someone who'd have no qualms trying to one-up the Uchiha to…

Deidara felt the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as it struck him; of course.

Who better than that bratty little brother Itachi adored so much? He'd never reject someone his beloved little 'otoutou' had found, if they had even a smidge of talent. (And Deidara wasn't going to lie — he really didn't want his replacement to have more than a smidge of talent — he wanted them to be 'maybe passable' at best. As much as he complained about the other members of the band, he really loved playing with Akatsuki and didn't want to see it disbanded.)

So, where could he find the little tool?

Sasuke's supercilious eyebrow arched scathingly when he caught sight of the annoying blond who had called him to the front lobby of the dojo.

"What did you do this time?"

Deidara's face ticked, but he pasted on a fake smile regardless.

As expected, it irritated Sasuke further.

"Spit it out. What do you want?"

"How are you and Itachi getting along these days, 'otoutou'?"

"None of your business," Sasuke replied, and turned to walk away. "'Later."

"Wait!" Deidara growled, reaching out painfully—so very, very painfully—to stop him. "We need a spare drummer for the Battle. It's a temp gig. Itachi has given everyone until Wednesday to find someone."

At that tidbit of information, Sasuke stilled, and slowly turned to watch Deidara carefully.

"Why are you telling me? What do you think I can do?"

Mentally cheering, Deidara schooled his features. "You may hate your brother, but you don't want to see him fail; you would love to be the one to save his ass for once and indebt him to you; and you would relish the chance to find someone better, who could do something better, than he could."

They watched each other a moment or two, measuring the words that lay between them. Sasuke was in fact surprised that Deidara had pegged him as accurately as he had; it irritated him initially, but he set that aside as a reminder to work harder at being less transparent. Obviously it could be used against him. However, that didn't mean it would be a one-sided exchange.

"So you're saying you know you've botched this and you need my help?" he said smugly.

Deidara's pasted-on smile tightened.

"Here's your chance to one-up your precious big-brother, Sasuke," he snapped, smile still fixed in place. "And think of how proud he'd be of you. It'd be perfectly disgusting."

"You trying to manipulate us is perfectly disgusting," Sasuke retorted, but nodded once to himself. "But I do just so happen to know a few people—drummers—who would kill to have a shot at one of the top spots in the Battle, especially with Akatsuki."

Someone from the hallway called for Sasuke, and he poked his head out the door, "I'll be there in two minutes," he called, and turned back to Deidara.

"So Wednesday, huh?"

Deidara grit his teeth at Sasuke' confident tone.

"Think you can do it, Uchiha?"

"You'll have your replacement served to you by Tuesday afternoon, Deidara. Enjoy your recovery," he smirked. "Take some time to look for new things to do, with your new-found free time. There's going to be more of it."

The same voice from the hallway called for Sasuke again, and Sasuke returned to practice.

Deidara felt sweat slick down his spine at the pain his twisted fists jolted through him in their tension, but told himself it would be worth it when he got to kick out the mini-Uchiha's little drummer when he took his spot back.

Stupid accidents. As fun as it would be to see Sasuke lording his self-importance over his brother, the two of them were insufferable enough to begin with.

"Heal faster, damnit!" he hissed at his arms as he left.

Sasuke slapped his phone down onto his lap and glared at it hatefully.

"Busy."

"Away."

"Already playing."

"Surgery."

The list went on.

What the hell?! These same people had begged him to introduce them to his brother for auditions to his band over the past few months. Now every single one was unavailable? This had to be karmic for something he'd done, somewhere, at some time that he couldn't remember. There was no other explanation.

Running a distracted hand through his thick, dark hair, Sasuke considered his options.

"Are you waiting for me or ignoring me?" an amused voice asked from behind him.

He grunted in her direction before shrugging and turning to look at her, his arms crossed over his chest. "Both."

Sakura frowned. "What happened?"

"That famous music academy you go to — are there any half-decent drummers in your program?"

Sakura slipped her gi on over her t-shirt and knotted her belt around her waist. Her pink-ponytailed head tilted to the side as she thought it over. "Yes, but it depends what kind of style you're looking for. Could you be more specific?"

"Good. Loud." He paused. "That's about it. Having two strong arms in good working condition is a bonus."

Her brow furrowed. "You have no idea what you're looking for, do you?"

Refusing to agree with her, exactly, Sasuke huffed. "Itachi's band needs a back-up drummer for the Battle this weekend."

Sakura tightened her ponytail one last time before taking a stance across the polished wood dojo floor and raised her hands. "If it's just for the weekend, I could do it?"

Sasuke's hands were already raised, an automatic response after so many years of practice, but even he gawked at his team mate a moment.

"You?"

Her brows drew together in another frown—this time insulted.

"Is there a problem? I can play drums."

"Your strengths were piano, voice and guitar, though. I thought…"

Sakura's mouth tightened. "You think I can't do it?" she asked, full of challenge.

Her fist lashed out quickly in a feint, and Sasuke swiftly dodged.

"No, it's just it isn't your kind of thing, and—."

"What isn't my kind of thing? Music is my thing, Sasuke. I'm a prodigy, remember?" she said coldly, and went to sweep his feet out from under him.

Sasuke leapt out of the way, more focused, but still a bit clueless as to why Sakura was acting so insulted.

"Look, it's an all-guy band, Sakura—apart from Konan sometimes backing them up with vocals, and she's dating their manager—and they're just older and—."

"You just asked me if any of my friends from school could do it — what makes them 'older' than I am?"

Quickly losing control of the argument and the fight—as Sakura made several connecting hits in quick succession due to Sasuke's distraction—the young man tried to smooth her ruffled feathers before Naruto returned to practice. Heaven help them all if Naruto threw more octane on the smouldering fire that was Sakura's current temperament. (Really, what was up her butt today, he wondered?)

"I don't want you to get disappointed in the auditions," he amended, his voice placating. "There are going to be a lot of really good musicians trying out, and you know how well you deal with disappointment—."

Sakura's eyes burned before she smashed his nose in.

"You're so right, Sasuke. There will be, at least one, really, really good musician trying out. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the weight room to work out some of this 'disappointment' on a punching bag that doesn't fall down on its first real strike."

With that she spun on her heels and stalked out of the practice room, through the students that parted quickly for her in their terror. Sakura's temper was legendary—as were her and Sasuke's frequent sparring matches. No doubt the weight room would become her private venting arena for the next little while as she burned off what was left of her mad.

Which left Sasuke grasping his bloody face, glaring darkly at the students who still stood around gawking at him.

"50 laps, full weights on. Go!" he ordered.

"Someone got their butt handed to them," he heard one of them mutter, and glared even more hatefully at them.

Gods, he hated Deidara. This was all his fault.

"Next."

(5 minutes later)

"Next."

(5 minutes later)

"Next."

(3 minutes later)

"Thank you very much, we appreciate you coming out. We're just going to take a short breather and come right back," Itachi told the latest audition contender politely, ignoring the hopeful look of anticipation on the young man's face.

When the last contestant had exited the room and they'd barred the door, Itachi came back to sit at the table again with his colleagues and their notes.

"Seriously. How could that much suckage not create a blackhole, huh?"

"This is your own fault, Deidara. And I'm starting to wonder if you maybe went out looking for bad drummers," said Sasori, his amber eyes not looking up from his clip-board of notes. "Which makes this, in fact, a reflection of your efforts."

"We do have a few more left; and there's always tomorrow; the band's name is already signed up for the Battle, we just need to confirm member names by Wednesday at midnight," reminded Itachi tiredly, and internally he had to remind himself that agreeing with either of the two temperamental artists in the group would result in nothing but childish retaliation between the two of them. He glanced over at his tea and noted it needed to be heated again; slowly he stood back up and walked back to the hot-water dispenser. His ears hurt and his head ached and he was tired of being ogled and admired all day by musicians and wannabe-musicians. Some of them had had talent, others had had experience, and their confidence levels had been all over the map—but none had shown that spark, that showmanship, that professionalism he required of his fellow members.

He heard a tap on the door, and Kisame went to answer it.

"Yeah?" his gruff voice answered.

"Two more just left—they said their mom called and told them to be home by dinner or they were grounded."

Itachi wasn't sure whether to chuckle or weep. On the inside, he went with simple gratitude. He continued listening, his back to the conversation—they would call him over if they needed him for anything.

"How many's that leave us?" Kisame asked next.

"One, but you may want to skip her entirely."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I think she's just here for the image."

"She signed up like all the others," said Itachi from his spot at the counter, still not looking at them. There was something familiar niggling at the back of his mind about the woman's name, but he was too tired to call it up from memory at the moment. "Anyone else?"

"No, that's it."

"Okay, well, bring her in. Let's finish up and we'll set up more for tomorrow," he said, already decided in spite of the fact he'd just agreed to give her a chance to prove herself. At the end of such a long, disappointing day, his patience was starting to wear a little thin. And tonight just happened to be family dinner night, which meant he was heading to his parents' home after this. He had a schedule to keep. If this girl didn't impress them within the first 2 minutes, they'd just cut things short. It wouldn't be the first time that day…

As he came to sit again, Itachi barely glanced up at the girl's entrance; he was too busy pulling out the standard Q & A adjudication sheet he'd prepared for each person who'd wanted an audition. Each musician had completed the form and e-mailed it back to him, providing him with some background info on their talent and qualifications. In truth, he hadn't gotten to read the girl's until now, what with the other auditions having taken longer than he'd expected.

So he was quite surprised, and impressed, when he realised she had been attending the Royal Academy of Music since age three, and had extensive performance and theory experience.

… but not in drumming…

Stifling the urge to sigh, Itachi finally looked up at Deidara's cat-call, Kisame's whistle, and Sasori's immediate straightening in his seat as she took her place in front of Deidara's spare drum-set before them. He had a feeling that they were reacting to her physical appearance—and in another setting, he would have shared that appreciative response.

But what caught his attention immediately were her well-defined arms.

She was strong.

"Name?" he asked as she pulled a pair of drum sticks from her knapsack.

"Haruno Sakura," she said, adjusting her seat slightly.

"Qualifications?"

"15 years experience in advanced theory and performance at Konoha Royal Academy of Music; 10 years' experience in concert performance; 4 years' experience with solo career work, and contribution to two albums published under major records."

He glanced down immediately.

"I didn't write it on there."

She held her hand—she was gauging his reaction, he realised.

He nodded once.

"Is there anything you'd like to share before you start?"

"Nope. Just let me know what you'd like me to play."

"Are you familiar with our work?"

"Most of it, yes."

Another point in her favour, but he'd wait and see how 'familiar' she was… 'familiarity' had been very loosely applied that afternoon.

"Let's hear Dawn of the Red Clouds, starting a few beats prior to the chorus."

Sakura nodded, and her eyes gleamed with determination.

Poised in her seat, she took a breath, started the count in her head, and then…

… sprang.

Her arms, thin but well-defined from years of martial arts training and music, reached fluidly out to tap the first beats, the last 'calm' notes before the heavy chorus began. Her strokes were sure, her wrists loose, her whole body perfectly aligned as she warmed herself up to the main event. It sounded like an ocean wave, building slowly until it hovered on the cusp of crashing down, cresting higher and higher as the chorus approached.

And when it did, she unleashed it all upon them.

Sasori stilled in his seat, and Deidara's mouth dropped open as Sakura's small, fit body moved with the music she created, her leg striking the booming notes of the baseline while her arms flew around her in a whirlwind, smashing and crashing and hitting every note with mastery which rivalled its original interpreter, Deidara. She was a perfect storm in her furious, wild energy—every eye in the room was on her, including Kisame's when he'd walked in from the door to see what the Hell had happened.

And Itachi could only stare.

Sakura felt their eyes on her and didn't relent in the slightest; she may not have been an expert in her current instrument, but she'd learned, practised and performed with them enough to have more than a casual understanding of their application. She was obsessive in her pursuit of musicianship, and had left no facet of her education unpolished.

And she was going to prove it to them.

After the first 30 seconds, they still had not told her to stop, so she continued on, occasionally adding a small, subtle flourish, but nothing over the top. From what she'd observed at the band's performances in the past, when she and Naruto had accompanied Sasuke, they were professional, but they weren't in-your-face. Even Deidara, one of the more eccentric members of the band, she'd noted, had focused on his playing when he'd been on stage. His talent was obvious through his playing, not his acting. (Most of the time.)

So she followed his style as best she could, and when the song started to wind down, she decided to change it up, just a bit, just to really show them what she could do.

When the last song entered its last minute or so of play, she closed her eyes, took a breath, and smiled as she switched to her own personal style. Slightly smoother, but more powerful; graceful; and full of vitality. Her arms flew in a torrent of volleys across the drum set, begging her listeners to not just listen, but feel her music.

She finished with a crash, chest heaving, and waited.

Her eyes opened when she heard the first chair scrape across the floor, and she heard loud, single applause from the doorway where the tall man with the blue-gray hair stood, a wide grin on his face.

Across from her, Sasori stood, his expression clearly impressed, nodding and communicating silently with Itachi with his eyes, while Deidara looked absolutely aghast.

And Itachi…

Heart in her throat now that butterflies had suddenly invaded her, Sakura turned her eyes to look at the leader of the Akatsuki.

He made a short note on a new piece of paper, and put his pen down atop it, and pushed it to the edge of the table towards her. (She would find out later he'd been verifying her date of birth from her form.)

"Sign here."

AN: I do not own Naruto or any of its affiliates. This was written for fun, not profit. Originally wrote this back around 2012, never got around to finishing it. Posting it here for you now for some fun. :) Don't let others underestimate you, darlings.