The rain falling on the city was the kind with a purpose: to beat upon the windows and the sidewalk until the world was raw and smelling of gasoline mixed with rainwater, trash, and smoke from a hundred cigars. No one was outside of their apartments or offices; the city's lights were all on, fighting back the nighttime blackness, the dimmed warriors glittering gold and red. A haze hovered over the place from the factories, and a air of depression shrouded the few who were out.

On the north side of town sat a large building, towering over the others. It was granite gray, with few windows and only one large, heavy door to get in. A sign to the right of the door read Uchiha Financing; where you really matter. In fact, that was a total lie, but the dark-haired Uchiha had never cared to change the slogan since he inherited the company. He'd owned it six of his twenty-nine years. A time spent sitting at a desk on the top floor, getting his secretary to take phone calls from various businessmen.

Inside his office, he sat across from a pink-haired woman, dressed up in a crimson coat, lined with some kind of fur. He wasn't sure what kind of fur it was, but what ever it was, she looked like she could have killed it herself. Her shoulders were thrown back proudly, she was sitting on the edge of her chair, and her long, red nails were clicking steadily on the wooden table. Her lips were impossibly pink and pouted in anger. Her hair fell elegantly around her pale face, cupping her strong chin and dusting her small shoulders.

"I don't think you understand the situation, Mr. Uchiha. This is strictly business," she said, her voice at a low purr as she stood and swooped gracefully to his side of the table, where he was lounging in his usual chair. The room was long, like the table, and the walls were bare, with no indications of anything but a tall, metal door and one dirty window. It was prison-like inside. She refused to allow the shiver running up her back show. She sat down on the table a few feet away from him. "The two of us--you and I--we're the same. I'm strong, and you're powerful. Similar. Well, maybe not the same thing, but close enough, right?"

He nodded slowly, surveying each movement, watching the way her body curved elegantly. He could feel the gun in it's holster under his shirt, and knew exactly how to reach it if the situation called for it. He'd heard rumors about her: how she would do anything to achieve her goals, even if it meant abandoning words and using a more violent sort of persuasion.

She leaned back, a smirk playing on her lips. Her hair fell momentarily away from her face, showing a scar on her right temple. It looked like she'd been struck by someone with the barrel of a gun, but it was hard to tell, for she hid it a moment later. "Another thing. I know you like winning. I like winning, too. I... eliminate the people who get in my way. So do you. Remember Kirabi? He was big. Popular. You took him down easily. You'd do that to me. I know you would."

Without a word, he put a hand to his holster, over his jacket. His mouth twitched . "So I brought something with me you might find interesting." She stood again and shifted her dress so the slit in the side opened to reveal a small pistol against the background of her pale thigh. "I can reach mine just as fast as you can reach yours," she whispered, nodding to his hand. He withdrew it, leaning back into his chair, interested now. "So I'll give it to you straight.

"I need cash. I'm looking for a way into the big-time, and I can't do it without and financing from big men like you," she said. He stood, unspeaking, and walked briskly past her, to the other side of the room to stare out the single window into the inky black. Side-stepping in between him and his view of the sky, she smiled. "So? Are you going to give me the money or not?"

At the same moment, they both drew their guns, Sakura's pointing into Sasuke's head, Sasuke's at her stomach. He'd drawn first, hoping to scare her, but not kill her. Clearly, she had other ideas. At the very least he could wound her before she could eliminate him. Both of them seemed to stop breathing for a moment, and then Sasuke finally spoke in a deep gravelly voice, "Miss Haruno, what do you have to gain from shooting me now?"

Her lips curled up again, cat-like. She twisted the gun in his temple, making the skin there ache from the cold, cocked metal. In his mind, he tried to calculate the possibility of him making it out alive if she decided to shoot him before he decided to shoot her. Not very likely, he concluded. Wishing his secretary would receive a call from someone soon, he let his pitch-black eyes flick to the door to his office. It was impossibly still in the room, his words still echoing off the cavernous walls.

"There are hundreds of other rich men in this city that are much more willing then you to support me," she said calmly, gaze unwavering as his. "The question is: What do I have to lose?" Removing the gun from his head, she pushed his lightly away from her side. "Good night, Mr. Uchiha. I'll expect a reply from you within the week." With that she was out the door, and he watched the window until he saw the crimson blur that was Sakura, clamoring into the stout black automobile she drove.

She stepped on the gas and it screeched into action, pulling down the rainy street on it's shaky wheels. Sticking her hand in her purse, she dug around until her fingernail bounced off of a metal surface. She grasped it and pulled it out: a brass pocket watch she'd borrowed from Naruto. Clicking the lid open, she checked the time, and then sighed. Late was one thing she preferred not to be, but it had been important and hopefully fruitful.

Slipping into her reserved spot in the parking lot, she let the car shudder to a stop. Diving into the back, she withdrew her nighttime costume. A composition of black lace corsets and pin-up stockings. Pulling her coat back on as she walked briskly inside, she pushed the door open. Lights blinked over her head, spelling Lumiese. Inside was warm with the muggy smell of beer and cigars. People were scarce inside, but those who had shown were sitting about round tables set around a large, empty stage. The fluorescents inside were dim, and she slipped into the red-velvet back room before she was seen.

Behind the curtain, the band was fiddling with their instruments, honking and squeaking into tune and harmony. Bouquets of flowers from the previous night were still there, making the air even more sickly sweet with their pollen. She sneezed twice, giving away her position. Some of the band members turned and looked at her, others ignored her completely.

She was attacked by behind by Naruto, who clasped her waist and pulled her into his barrel chest with one hand, while the other held his saxophone protectively to the side. "You're late. Need me to get your coat before Mr. Hatake comes and bothers you about not being ready?" he asked, smiling at her. She nodded briskly and removed her coat, handing it to him. He took it off and returned a moment later, followed closely by Shikamaru and Kiba--each with their own instrument, a trombone and a trumpet.

"Hello, my little flapper girl," Kiba said, shaking hands with Sakura. She snorted ungracefully and sent a whack into his shoulder, at which he flinched, although she knew she couldn't hurt him. "Hey, I've got to use that later." He rubbed the spot where her hand had made contact. "Let's not bruise the first trumpet."

Ever since Kiba had been promoted to first trumpet--since the original first trumpet had gotten himself in trouble with the Akatsuki and been murdered--he had started bragging about it to anyone who would listen. This only earned him another, harder, slap to the arm. Grumbling, he staggered off to rejoin the rest of the band. Shikamaru took this moment to remove a set of wrinkled papers from a pocket on the inside of his coat and hand them to Sakura. "I wrote a song for you last night," he said. "I couldn't sleep until I got it down."

She smiled. "Thanks," she said, taking them and unfolding them. Her eyes scanned the page for a moment, and she nodded slowly, mouthing the words. "Yes! My little musical genius, you've come through for me again." She kissed his cheek and then turned to Naruto, who looked highly unhappy about the attention that he wasn't getting.

"What about me?" he asked.

Sakura thought for a moment. "Have you written me any music in the past few days?"

It was Naruto's turn to think about his answer. "Yes," he said decisively. "It was all moans, but it was still music." Sakura shook her head and smiled; Shikamaru gave a disgusted snort and sauntered off along to warm up his trombone. From somewhere inside the theater, Kakashi could be heard telling everyone that there would be a conference after Sakura's number.

Sakura stuck towards the back of the stage towards the most part, staying weary of the drunken men in the front row who grabbed at her stocking-clad ankles whenever she got too close. She disappeared the instant the cheering was over, sending one short wave over her shoulder. With the small crowd of regular stoners behind her still roaring drunkenly, she walked purposefully into the back room, where there was a group of tattered, miss-matched sofas and a stained, cluttered coffee table.

The ensemble filed in one by one, complaining about their instruments, joking, the boys pushing each other into walls while the girls giggled at their outright immaturity. Naruto flung himself down next to her, one arm draped over her pretty shoulders. Sweat glistened slightly on his brow, and he was grinning. "You were great tonight."

"You say that every night."

"Because you're always great."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," she simpered.

"No way!" he argued.

"I missed an entrance."

"So?"

"That's not great."

"I know. But you looked great." Before she could think of a comeback, Kakashi snapped the door shut. The frown on his face made a hush fall over the room. Outside, the waitresses could be heard asking for orders and feet could be heard trampling on the floor to the beat of a song, filled with loud brass trumpets, blasting from the record player in the corner.

Kakashi rubbed his temples and sat down on the arm of a chair, next to Kiba. "There's barley enough money left in the account to continue this business. The stage is about to fall apart, and the door squeaks, but we only have enough to pay rent. And that's only sometimes," he said slowly, looking up at his employees for support.

No one said anything, the silence lay heavy over the small, cramped room, until Sakura stood, pulling herself to her full height, slender legs peeking out from the slit in her dress. "Well, I'm not giving up on this place," she said, eyes blazing while she looked over her colleagues. "I'm going to fight until they have to drag me out of this place."

Again, no one spoke, knowing just how literal she was. "You keep this place running for a week, and I'll get all the money we need." Her eyes swept the room one more time, watching all the half-nods, landing on Naruto, who looked worried. As people filed out, he grabbed her arm and pulled her off to the side. Most of them had wrinkled brows, their jokes having ceased. They had been unwaveringly in debt for the past year in a half. Those who had families were working double shifts in day jobs in search of extra money, and those who didn't tried their hardest to help.

"Don't do it," he said. "Whatever you're thinking, stop. It's dangerous. It's stupid. What can I say to make you not do whatever it is you're planning on doing?" She frowned at him and pulled her arm away from his hand.

"I'm doing it. Nothing is changing my mind," she said. He opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him with a look. "I'll meet you at home. I've got some things to tend to here."