FULL SUMMARY : The Nakanishi Clan, a prosperous clan with a history of talented women who entertain wealthy visitors from across the world, has a new rising star, the daughter of the leader. Her name is Yasuko and she is promised the teahouse and a future as her birthright. When she is out one afternoon and meets Uzukmaki Naruto who she immediately falls for, she starts to experience many encounters with who should be her fiance, Uchiha Sasuke.
Sasuke is merely an avenger who is curious about (and nearly smitten) with the girl with the golden voice that he heard one night beneath her window. With a little bit of blackmail, she could be his.
She has lived a stressful life from day one and years later, when enough is enough, she runs away and discovers herself becoming somebody different - somebody deadly. Yet she still wonders if she will ever meet the love of her young life again.

A/N: THIS IS A REWRITE. EXACTLY the same as the first one, just it was first person before. Now it's third person...

PS. Perspectives will alternate between Yasuko and Sasuke, I believe...

PART 1

~Chapter 1 - He Walked Past the Window~

Kimonos were restricting. So restricting that even though she was running, she wasn't breathing nearly as hard as she wanted to and wasn't going one-tenth as far as she wanted to. When you're taking such small steps, you couldn't possibly escape from the vast Ayazawa estate. Aside from this, the ground was freezing and layered with flaky puffs of snow which almost made it impossible to trudge through. It made Yasuko want to give up running and give in to the temptation to collapse on the floor.

Training was training and several times had people warned her about the difficulties she had to overcome. Still, it was all too hard. There was too much pressure bearing down on a girl who was at such a tender young age of 5. A 5-year old should never feel how she felt, she thought with tears springing to her eyes.

She stopped running when she approached an icy wooden bench that overlooked a small frozen pond. In the summer, the pond was still a quaint little thing with lush green reeds surrounding it and lily pads gliding over the glittering water. But in this bitter winter it was just a barren patch of ice.

Yasuko sat on the bench for a long while kicking her feet which didn't exactly touch the floor.

"Yasuko-chan?"

"Mother..."

The benevolent woman was so graceful that it seemed as though she didn't walk - but flow across the snow sprinkled ground. She sat beside her daughter. "Are you tired?"

Tired was an understatement. Her head was aching, she was hungry and dizzy and her blistered feet were soaking wet and had lost all feeling. "Yes."

"That only means you aren't understanding our teachings," she chuckled. "The gist of elegance is not about putting painstaking effort into being graceful. Grace is natural. It's as natural as a subtle, close-mouthed smile. When you've truly mastered this art, you will be graceful even as you sleep."

Poise. Elegance. Refinity.

All were the price to pay in the making of a perfect woman.

"More tea, sir?"

"This will suit me just fine."

She smiled and bowed, taking the pot of steaming tea back into the kitchen. Once finally out of view of the clients, she sighed and relaxed myself onto a wooden chair that was leaning against the wall. She could just barely see from a certain angle, the man that she had just serviced. A ninja, obviously. His face was deformed with a prominent scar; a harsh battle wound running down the side of his face. The man was merely passively sipping at his piping hot tea cup. Even so, she couldn't help but feel immensely threatened.

In fact, just his presence in the teahouse was unnerving to her.

Perhaps it was just that she didn't like the look in his eyes.

Although, she didn't trust the look of any ninja really. Yasuko had quite a bit of respect and admiration for all of her relatives and other ninja in the village, however, when she stared at them for far too long, she would start to overthink things and let her imagination run wild. They came into the teahouse and she was obligated serve them humbly, but had they just come back from a mission? Who had they killed? Who had deserved it?

When they stared her dead in they eye, it was almost as if she could see the lives that they had taken. And then she began to imagine a glint of murderous intent. Horrible, gut-wrenching thoughts would go rolling through her mind. Then the fear would kick in. That crippling fear that made her knees, the weakest part of her body, buckle and thus a gigantic hole is punched through her perfect pretense of politeness.

The whole profession was barbaric, wasn't it? Killing and killing and barely surviving. Being a human weapon. In Yasuko's opinion, there was no such thing as a 'villainous ninja'. They were all the same. The ones considered 'villains' are the ones who aren't on your side. Or, perhaps an even more frightening thought, the ones driven insane by the killing who discovered some sick pleasure in suffering.

Nevertheless, murderers were murderers.

She felt lucky to not be subjected to that primitive life.

However, she would never dare show my contempt for ninja. They were responsible for her being alive, for the safety of the village and they were about 50 percent of her own clan.

"Yasuko," somebody beckoned just before entering the kitchen. "Yasuko, why are you resting right now?"

It was Yasuko's mother, Chou, who appeared a trifle miffed. Yasuko dearly admired her mother for her incomparable grace. With long straight brown hair, tightly in a bun all the time with her trademark butterfly broach. Although her face was worn and tired from many years of experience, a smile was always on her face and mirth always in her eyes. "Mother, I'm only relaxing for a little bit. Nobody needs serving right now."

She tisked. "Yasuko, you're never finished serving. It's only a little past lunchtime. Don't you think those people out there would like to hear your music?"

"I thought I was playing later tonight?"

"Tonight," her mother leaned forward and pressed her lips against her forehead. "you'll be dancing. We're having a special guest. Hokage-sama wanted to pay us a visit. Your father was telling her what a fine young lady you're becoming."

'Hokage-sama? Lady Tsunade?' If there was anybody that Yasuko absolutely adored as much as her mother, it was Tsunade-sama. It was a foreign concept to her, for a female to be in such a high place of power. For this, Yasuko envisioned her to be kind and firm and wonderful. A smile touched her lips, just barely, not accurately reflecting the flurry of emotions that stirred within her. To break her facade now, in front of her mother, would be pointless to say the least.

"Thank you very much."

"Don't thank me. It's about you, honey. It's about you doing your job."

'My job?' She nodded absentmindedly and began to ponder that phrase, slipping into a mild trance while staring into a jagged crack in the wall.

When she noticed that she had slacked off again, Yasuko's mother ordered for her to return to the guests with a violin in her hand. Yasuko was to obey, but had to mentally admit the truth—she was exhausted. The past few nights have become increasingly difficult for her to sleep. It could be related to the fact that a bird had made it's nest in the crook of two branches on the tree just outside her window, although, she'd never minded the twittering of birds before. Granted, this bird did tweet night and day.

Also, her had bed felt strangely lumpy and impossible to lie in lately. She thought, perhaps, she was just being over-imaginative again. 'Maybe I'm just restless.' About a week ago, when she had a day off from her practice, she was allowed into the village to the marketplace. It seemed that enough customers had requested her that she had accumulated enough personal tips to buy myself things that shecould enjoy for myself.

Going into the village wasn't a common occurrence. And something happened that was even more delightfully out of the ordinary...

"No time for that now, Yasuko!" She begrudgingly lifted herself from her seat.

After retrieving the violin that rested in the corner of the kitchen, she returned to the customers who were kneeling cozy in the teahouse. She cast her glance over each individual face. 'The usual,' she regarded.

The customer population normally ranged from business and political men to wealthy housewives, lords and ladies to high-ranked ninja seeking refuge from long, strenuous missions. It was extremely uncommon for any young people to drift in.

They seemed very eager when they saw her. She heard a few men in the back quietly conversing. One of them murmured this sentence, "Impressive for a girl of 12." That was all she needed to hear.

She began to play, keeping a steady hand on her bow as it rubbed along the threads of the violin, filling the room with gentle music. The song she was playing reminded her of spring; it was jovial and tranquil at the same time. Spring was just a sweet thought at this time. It was autumn. Soggy autumn.

When Yasuko finished, she bowed while people applauded lightly. When she raised her head, she saw something that caught her attention. Somebody was passing by the window, lingering longer than he should have. Then she noticed that he began to clap calmly. Then they met eyes.

Yasuko had trained for many years in the art of maintaining emotions. Or rather boxing them up and storing them away so that they're undetectable.

Maybe that was why it was so frustrating. She could distinguish nothing — not even a gleam of emotion when he stared back at her. He was effortless. Shewas vulnerable. She felt exposed because she knew that her true emotions were being displayed through her eyes, breaking her long-standing record of impeccable self-control.

And he could see it.

It was so easy for him to not show emotion that she had to simply assume that he had none.

Then, the boy walked past the window. It was almost as if out of existence; nobody noticed him, everyone seemed to look through him and even in her mind, the vision of his desolate eyes was becoming something of a vague memory. Although it really didn't feel like a memory at all. More like a dream. Yasuko could only pray it was a dream. That boy made her shudder.

"Honey, you don't seem well," Chou finally said after she staggered off into the kitchen following the performance. "You should really go up to your room and rest."

"Mother, I'm okay. I'm just a little tired."

She didn't seem to believe her and suggested that she lie down until dinner. "You don't want anything to happen during your performance tonight," she said.

Without protesting further, Yasuko retired to her room. In truth, she was thankful for being allowed time to rest. Her joints were aching and her eyelids were drooping and threatening to shut. Still, sleep wouldn't be as satisfying as she wanted as of that moment; she was thinking too much.

Instead, Yasuko sat at her vanity to examine her reflection. She lifted her jewel-encrusted hairbrush and began to sweep it through her locks of bronze hair in ringlets, cascading down the front of her chest. Her bangs were pulled back and clipped by a glass accessory, a white azalea. It was her trademark; her identification of being in the main branch just as was my mother's butterfly broach.

She stared myself in the eye for a long while. Nobody could tell just how beat down she was. Or just how happy she was. They were simple, shallow gray orbs. Excellent.

While humming a lovely song and choosing which jewelry to don for her audience with the Hokage, she began to fantasize. Fantasize about the week before. Her visit in the market.

Meeting Pure Blue.

"Honey, be careful. Don't talk to any strangers, but always be polite," her mother gently caressed the top of her head. "Remember that just because you're not in the teahouse, it doesn't mean that you forget the teachings. Small steps, chin up and bow graciously if you're ever to cross paths with somebody important."

"Yes of course," Yasuko deadpanned. Chou didn't appreciate the slip of attitude but before she could be scolded any further, Yasuko fled the teahouse and headed for the marketplace.

It was that dreaded time of year on her calendar. When the leaves slowly turn from their healthy lush green colour to a crumpled brown corpse. The air was crisp and the days were always the same. Bitter mornings that would redden your nose and brisk afternoons; the nights would still be the coldest of them all, covering all the windows in the house with a thin layer of spindly frost like outstretched feathers stuck to the glass. Autumn - just before the snow.

She wasn't unnoticed in the streets. Some of the more wealthy citizens of Konoha recognized her from the teahouse as Nakanishi's White Azalea - the precious daughter of Shoutaro and Chou. They bowed and nodded and she did the same back. However, most people did not identify her as anybody particularly special, aside from the fact that she was still wearing the heavy layers of a lavender kimono.

In the marketplace, there were many sorts of people. Merchants and nomads and con-mans and few consumer chumps. She spied a man being deceived by a sketchy seller in a cloak who was insisting that supernatural misfortunes would fall upon him if he didn't purchase a special watch, which had pictures of the moon and the sun printed on the face, as well. A tiny, plump women who carried around baskets of eggs and loafs of bread to the hefty men who lugged around wooden wagons of goods had a cheerful grin on her face.

Yasuko strolled through, feeling like just a spectator.

Being in the marketplace didn't make her just like everybody else. It didn't even make her look like everybody else. In reality, she couldn't participate in the daily life. And moreover, she stuck out like a sore thumb by wearing such an extravagant kimono.

Still, it was fun to pretend and take a breather from the suffocating silence of the teahouse. In the village, everybody spoke so freely (and at any volume they pleased) so the sounds were exploding in her ears.

Yasuko stopped at a stand that was selling jewelry and hair accessories. The woman running the shop was delighted that she had been looking and had taken to suggesting that she buy a pair of emerald earrings and an amethyst necklace.

They were gorgeous and sparkling.

She bought them both. Along with a few charms, trinkets and braided leather bracelets.

Then she became aware of a certain craving. She had been craving it ever since she performed at the latest festival; candies. Usually Chou didn't allow her to eat chocolates or candies. She was concerned that if she ate these things, she sink into gluttony and then hwe slim figure would go to waste.

But it wouldn't be the first secret that Yasuko withheld from her mother. It was a sick pleasure, she knew, but for some reason, there was nothing more exhilarating than succeeding in deceiving her mother. Surely keeping it a secret would make the candy taste much better.

She was continuing to explore the marketplace, targeting the best place to get my fix when she spotted a stand where they sold candy-coated apples! Chocolate covered apples! Even the velvetty and sweet caramel covered apples!

Her mouth watered and she blindly headed for it.

Perhaps too blindly.

She collided with somebody else in my chocolaty-feverish state. She rebounded off of this person and very clumsily tumbled to the floor. But just after she felt the impact of the ground, something snatched her hand and hauled her to her feet.

"Are you okay, lady?"

"Ehh..."

A blonde boy with the eyes of the purest blue gawked at her. "I'm sorry! I was running and I totally didn't even see you!"

This boy looked utterly ridiculous! He was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and his hair was the most obscene colour of blonde Yasuko had ever seen. He was a spark of vibrant colour in this crowd. And the loudest one among them all, as well.

She vaguely noticed that the villagers were giving him stares of familiarity, and of the utmost disdain.

"O-oh! Th-that's really okay! It was mostly my fault!"

'Did he even hear me?' He just continued to babble on with an apology. "Are you hurt? Is your kimono dirty? Are you sure?" It was halfway through his incoherent babbling when she noticed that the blonde boy with the eyes of purest blue had yet to let go of her right hand.

His hand was coarse but the way his fingers were clutching on to hers was gentle. It was the first time she had ever talked to a boy around her age outside of the clan, let alone touch. 'I never imagined that it would feel so soothing.'

Finally, the blonde boy seemed to have noticed. He yanked his hand away and his face became a deep shade of red. This time when he apologized, it was only an embarrassed mutter, "S-sorry."

"I'm fine, thank you. No need to apologize." She regained her composure. 'I let it slip, haven't I?' she thought in a panick. She'd shown her surprise, her desire to touch him again.

Just when the boy with the eyes of purest blue (who Yasuko had been calling Pure Blue in her mind for quite some time now) was about to surrender and stop apologizing, he gasped in horror when he gazed upon her left hand. "You're bleeding!"

"O-oh? I didn't notice..." It was true. In the whole mixup, she didn't even notice that her hand had scraped the rough floor in an attempt in break her fall. The thick streams of blood were now curling around her fingers.

'Bleeding? Oh, I must get home!' She desperately wanted to escape the uncomfortable situation but before she could just go home to save what little dignity she still held, Pure Blue dragged her away. Away from the marketplace, away from the candy covered apples and further away from the teahouse and compound than she had ever dared to go.

He didn't take her to his house (and not the hospital either, thankfully) but to a small spot in the forest where there was a stone bench and a fountain, gushing bubbly water. "Here, we can wash it off here!"

The two of them perched on the edge of the fountain while Pure Blue rinsed the blood from the hand beneath the fall of the bubbly water. Then, from his pocket he drew a roll of bandages. He began to wrap up her hand, layer after layer.

And then it finally occurred to her that normally people wouldn't carry rolls of bandages around with them. Unless, of course, they were a ninja. And then she noticed something that was quite obvious that she had not noticed before, in all the commotion. Pure Blue wore a hitai-ite. A shinobi headband.

'How could somebody like this be a cold-blooded murderer? Somebody with such a tender touch? Somebody who barely looked and sounded more than a child?' She wanted to recoil from him. Those hands that he was touching her with held knives, knives that drew blood and ended lives. The fear kicked in. The fear was paralyzing. The fear was making her knees quake.

"Lady?"

Yasuko froze.

"Are you okay?"

She had made a mistake. She should have escaped from him and continued to believe that all ninja were brutal murderers. But she let him in. Pure Blue stared at her, directly in the eyes. In him, she couldn't see the lives that he'd taken. She couldn't sense murderous intent. Only an impossible purity that she'd never seen before in anybody. Naiveté. It suddenly became quite clear to her that maybe not all people were more than what they seemed; Pure Blue was simplicity.

And the next thing she did also felt very simple.

Yasuko leaned in toward him and thrust her lips upon his. She remained there for a few moments with her hands clasped tightly on the front of his jacket, longing for closeness. No matter how close she got to him, it wasn't enough. Her lips were still brushing against his - still it wasn't enough.

"Wh-what..." Pure Blue mumbled before sinking into another kiss, seizing me by the shoulders.

Suddenly, her mother's words echoed through her empty head. 'If there's one thing you want to control in this world, it is your love. Do not give your love away so freely because it's one of the easiest things to regret and you shall never get it back,' she told her once before. It was on the afternoon when Yasuko asked her why she was expected to be a virgin when she was married off.

She pulled away from Pure Blue. "Oh please! I-I have to go!"

"Wait!"

It was too risky to remain there any longer. "I have to go home!" She was dashing away only as fast as my kimono and sandals would let her go.

"When will I see you again?" He shouted after her.

This made her pause for just a moment. 'He wants to see me.' Her heart was pounding; she clinched my chest and prayed that it would ease. "Meet me here. I-in 1 week! At night time!" Night time was the only window of opportunity Yasuko would ever have of sneaking out.

So she left. She felt that Pure Blue had ripped something away from her and now had it for himself. A part of her was empty now - but it was left with the warm glow from when he touched it; a fragment of his spirit dwelling in her body now, filling that blank space. However, her blissful state was short-lived. As she was trekking back through the forest, nearly slipping on the overgrown moss covered tree roots trying to navigate her way back to the village, she was halted.

Somebody was there.

He stood solid in front of her, carefully measuring her with his obsidian eyes. "I saw everything."

Her stomach was in knots as she hopelessly fantasized about the events of last week. Tonight was the night she was supposed to visit beloved Pure Blue at the fountain in the forest and she still couldn't shake a feeling of dread that plagued her.

'The boy with no emotions knows everything,' she thought with a tearful sigh. Yasuko slowly eased herself to lie down on the futon holding her hands over her hard-thumping heart. 'I sensed something bad from him... like hate. Why did he hate me so much? Or why did he hate Pure Blue...? Who could?'

With final thoughts of Pure Blue, she was transported from the most pleasant daydream to the most sweet sleep she'd had in days.