I do not own any of the Naruto characters and most of the plot is my own. This story is in part based on a Sakunade's story, Bittersweet Symphony. A few years ago, I asked her if I could continue her story and she agreed. Unfortunately, I never got around to it and now I decided to create my own version that is loosely based on hers.
Prologue
In a back-alley of the Tokyo red-light district at midnight, an engine roars to life. A man and his motorcycle exit the alley and speed off, intent on delivering the message.
Gunshots ring out in the night and agonizing screams are heard. Empty shells fall on the docks and a man falls to the ground, never to wake up again. A man walks away with his pistol in hand and not a single drop of blood on him or his black suit. No emotion or regret is shown on his face.
A girl with long, silky, pink hair puts down her magazine and rises out of her chair. She gracefully walks to her closet and removes a black gown. Gently removing her clothes, she places them in her laundry basket and slides on the dress. It is simple yet elegant, with an empire waist and a skirt that ends at the middle of her calf. She notices how the skirt flows while she moves; like a black shadow that engulfs her form. She then moves to her vanity and carefully and delicately twists her hair into the stylish up-do she has done so many times before.
She then applies a light amount of make-up. Concealer hides a few small blemishes. A light coat of foundation and then some powder give her a nice even skin tone. Then some light purple eyeshadow and a few coats of mascara finish her eyes. After adding some blush to the apples of her cheeks and matte lipstick to her lips, she stares at herself in the mirror, saddened by the loss of the light tan she gained over the summer. She glances at the clock and freezes. She is about to be late. Lateness was not tolerated in the least. With a new sense of urgency, she slips on her black, high-heeled sandals and grabs her small black clutch. As she is racing to catch the elevator, she forgets to lock the door to her apartment.
When she finally reaches the lobby and sees a shiny black Bentley parked just beyond the doors. She becomes even more distressed. The owner of said car was not one to be kept waiting. Silently, she accepts her fate and slips into the car.
In a bar in Seoul, a woman sings on a stage. Afterwards, the entire audience claps, entranced by her beautiful melody. A black-haired man sits at the bar, unmoving. His eyes are a stony black and hardened by life he has suffered. He sips his drink. As the woman who sang moves to the back, he gets up and follows her. When he reaches her, they are alone. He leans down slightly and whispers in her ear. She blushes. He turns and walks towards the parking lot. Dutifully, she follows.