Because copyright exists, I cannot own Naruto, which is the product of Kishimoto. The songs from the Phantom of the Opera belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, while the general storyline belongs to Leroux and the aforementioned Webber and Rice.
Sighing, she stared at the large stain on the front of the gown, wondering to herself when Tsunade-sama would cease drinking so much sake, at least for the sake of the costume department. Ah, well, Nohara Rin thought to herself as she dunked the evil-smelling garment into the crude tub . Sinking into the suds, the material seemed to hiss, as if perturbed by her impudence at attempting to clean it.
Love you too, Rin thought, smiling as her hands grabbed and twisted at the fabric of the dress, white soap suds dotting her palms.
She had never planned to work in the laundry of the Konoha Opera House. It had simply happened, one thing led to another, and her original plan had had to be abandoned thanks to reality. She thought this with no degree of false nonchalance. I could have been….it did no good to think of what could have been.
Once, Rin-chan had a father.
She had a father who taught her everything she knew.
And then her father died.
But he promised her one thing.
He promised to send her an angel.
Meanwhile in the grand entrance….
"Look at those ballet girls! How youthful!" Maito Gai whispered to his silver-haired companion, straightening his forest-colored spandex suit as he walked.
"That's nothing. Wait 'til we get to the singers! Those are some real fine figures of women, perfect for immortalization in those novels I'm planning to write…" Jiraiya whispered in response, tucking his wild silver ponytail into the collar of his elaborate suit-jacket, giving a slight chuckle at the tickle of hair against his skin.
Gai let out a short bark of a laugh as they both stepped onto the stage before the people whose livelihoods they now were in control of, the different faces and class distinctions suddenly so obviously drawn. The dull, tired-looking laundry-women clumped in the lower seats, whilst the lead tenor Dan Kato and lead soprano, Tsunade occupied the higher rungs of the theatre, an exercise in status in action.
"Hello, opera staff and stars! You're all so very youthful!" Gai gushed loudly, stunning the ears of the cast and causing no small amount of angry whispers from those clearly past their prime, who no longer had illusions about rejuvenating their youth.
"As your new managers, we would like to introduce ourselves! I am Maito Gai, that's Gai-sama to all of you youthful people, and this is Jiraiya."
"An up-and-coming semi-professional novelist!" Jiraiya shouted above the clapping that had been expected at the introduction. "If I ask some of you young ladies to meet with me in my writing room for some inspiration, you wouldn't mind, would ya?"He smiled winningly at the masses of women, winking as he did so.
"They might not, but I would." A particularly striking women wearing a dress that appeared to envoke the texture of bandages, with long ebony hair and strangely crimson eyes, spoke up. "The young ladies, as you so call them," she went on, glaring specifically in the direction of the corps de ballet girls, "are professionals with a job to do. Your inspiration will have to be derived from their performances. As head of the corps, and as an acquaintance of the laundry-room head and the costumers, along with the singers themselves, I must say that I speak for us all when I state: We are simply too busy to allow your request."
One of the young ballerinas, a petite, spiky-haired former street urchin by name of Anko, yelled raucously from the stands in approval, while the rest of the young laundry girls and costumers, Rin included, sighed and clapped their appreciation.
"You go, Madame Kurenai!"
And so Jiraiya never quite got the inspiration he planned for, however upsetting that was for him.
The next few days were a whirlwind of preparations for the upcoming production of Hannibal. Tsunade, resplendent in red and gold, would be singing the lead along with Dan, while some of the laundry girls were recruited as background props, to sway amongst the ballerinas in an attempt at a fuller cast portrait, onion-grass patches in a flower-covered meadow.
Rin tugged at the tight give of the costume she wore, while attempting to cover her bared midriff with one hand. Some of the other girls, namely her friend Anko, appeared to be delighted at showing off their bare, flawless skin as they leaped and crossed their legs in mid-air, however Rin could not shake the feeling that her own stomach, just a bit too plump, was somehow not a welcome addition to the flocks of perfectly flat boards offered by the rest of the corps de ballet girls.
Madame Kurenai was in fine form, disciplining and praising in turns, always fair but gently so, a real lady, as Anko whispered to Rin after having a failed arabesque smoothly corrected. Her wild hair barely contained by a bun, she moved slowly among the rows of dancers, crimson eyes omnipresent in the minds of every laundry girl and ballerina alike.
Tsunade made her entrance through a loud blare from the orchestra, dressed in a decadent red and gold gown and elaborate headdress. The headdress, with six heavy tiers aching with gems and brass, seemed to Rin to almost dwarf the normally tall diva, though she acted as though it weighed no less than a gilded feather, singing through the arias with expert precision, giving every note her signature trill on the end, thrilling Rin so much with its power that she received a reprimand for nearly toppling over in the midst of the song.
Suddenly, the orchestra ceased playing, and the long, sour note of Tsunade's voice rang throughout the opera, a shrill caw that resonated around the theatre.
"Why have you stopped?! I just began that aria!" She waved at the conductor imperiously. "Play through it once again!"
The conductor looked shakily to Jiraiya, who, sighing, relinquished his plush seat and stood to face the furious diva.
"The notes were off, I take it?" He said to Tsunade, whilst the conductor nodded his head in panicked agreement.
"An outrage!" Tsunade shrieked. "My notes are never off!"
"Maybe after those trills your voice gave up, Blondie." Jiraiya smiled, staring in the direction of Tsunade's perfectly-shaped chest. "But you're still a star in all our books…"
Dan Kato, noticing the look with which Jiraiya flashed at Tsunade's breasts, pushed her aside and turned towards Jiraiya, angry pride dotting his features.
"Well, are you saying that you will replace her in the lead role?" Dan laughed, a short sharp bark. "Who could replace Tsunade?"
"Nohara Rin could!" Anko shouted, waving her hands up and down in a coarse effort to be recognized, spiky, barely there bun already coming lose in tendrils of ink-black hair.
"Anko!" Stunned, Rin turned to the staff, all of who had followed her voice to find a scared, skinny-looking young girl with mouse-brown hair, cute in a childish sort of way, they thought, but not diva material, not like the statuesque Tsunade. Tsunade even let out a snort as Dan hung his arms around her, staring daggers at Rin that made her hunch further inward, a mad attempt to obscure herself from their view.
"Rin's been taking lessons." Anko continued, oblivious to Rin's complaint and the cruel eyes of the crowd. "She's got a great teacher and she's really been improving. She sings a lot in the laundry room, when I go there to pick up my costumes and stuff."
"That's just a hobby…"Rin whispered, silently staring towards the eyes.
It's nothing more than what I always wanted.
"Let her give it a shot, Jiraiya-sama, Gai-sama!" Anko darted through the crowd with the expertise of a weaver stitching a new thread through a tapestry, the smile on her face large, a genuine Chesire-cat grin.
"Can't hurt." Gai turned to Jiraiya with a shrug. "She is youthful-looking anyway."
"Fine, if you like that better than raw sex appeal…" Jiraiya muttered under his breath. Realizing the look of barely-disguised hurt on Rin's face, he guiltily shouted at the conductor to begin the aria.
Rin took a breath.
The sweet murmurings of a violin played by calloused hands.
The Yellow Flash, they called him, because his playing was fast and elegant, a stone skimming water.
He wasn't her relation, but he was Father.
And there were two other students….two boys….
Remembering the past and those she no longer had, Rin felt the ever-present sadness in her chest blossom again, and the melody simply rang out from the past she remembered, sadly soft and true, with no decoration of the notes but the emotion in her voice, which soared high and sweet.
Think of me, think of me when we said goodbye.
Imagine me, once in a while, please, promise me you'll try.
When you find that once again you long,
To take your heart back and be free,
If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me…
The music ceased and Rin felt the release, the release of the song's power still ringing in her ears.
At least I did it. At least I sang for them just once.
In the silence, applause erupted from the stands, laundry women and corps de ballet girls cheering, Anko and the two managers leading the clapping, standing….
For her.
Rin stood there, elated but awkward, a serving girl elevated to queen.
Silencing the audience with wing-like hand-waves, Jiraiya spoke in a business-like tone.
"How many hours do we need to make her presentable for this role?"
Rin's heart nearly soared from its chest.
Thank you, she whispered, knowing that her benefactor had heard her song.
Thank you.