Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. If I did the title would totally be 'The Life and Times and Lovers of Hyuuga Hinata' or my second, though no less enthralling title 'Sakura Should Die.' It's a toss up really……

Note: My muse is everywhere lately. Between work and school I can't find anything to really inspire me to write….. until earlier this evening. I finally got a chance to sit down and kick up my feet and as I flipped on the TV what else but a laughably cheesy Spaghetti Western (hence the title) would be blaring back at me. And ta-da! Inspiration! Weird eh? It just hits me at the oddest of times. For those of you who have been patiently waiting for the next chapters of my other stories; don't worry, they're coming! Just let me get this out before my head implodes….ew…. Imagine the clean up…. Again, ew……

Prologue:

Saloon Cinderella:

"And this time, be sure to press my garters." Sakura snarled throwing her undergarments over her shoulder. The soaring lingerie narrowly missed the cheap, electric chandelier before landing perfectly on the dangerously high pile of dirty garments supported by a quivering pair of pale forearms.

Hinata breathed heavily from somewhere under the weight of layered silk, velvet and fake pearls. "Y-yes, S-sakura." She stuttered out, adjusting her hold, her back bending in an uncomfortable position.

"This is where you leave." The pink haired saloon girl paused mid-puff, glaring at the reflection of the petite servant in her embellished mirror. Hinata continued to fumble her way to the door, one hand looking for the knob, the other arm struggling to balance the pile of clothes.

"S-sorry." The Hyuuga panted. "I-I can't f-find t-t-th-"

"God, you're pathetic." Sakura sighed dramatically, throwing down her face powder and stomping over to the door. She threw open the slate of cherry and oak before forcibly pushing the bluette into the hallway. "There. You're welcome." The premier 'performer' of Kurenia's Cat House snickered watching the younger girl stumble over her feet before landing flat on her face on the thinning carpet.

Hinata sat up on her knees, the slam of Sakura's door behind her making her jump slightly. She took a deep breath as she gazed halfheartedly at all the scattered unmentionables that now littered the corridor floor. The Hyuuga absently noted the apprehensive creaking of a nearby door.

A crown of blond hair popped out and into the servant's line of sight. "You okay?" Ocean pool eyes traversed the ground before finally settling on the kneeling Hyuuga. "Did that pink cow hurt ya again?"

"N-no," Hinata looked up and met Ino's demanding yet oddly protective stare. "I-I just f-fell a little."

Ino leaned against her door frame crossing her arms, idly watching Hinata crawl around in her baggy skirt and blouse, gathering up the various panties, corsets, and stockings lying about. She shook her ponytail of straw locks. "Ya need to start standing up for yourself, girl or that fat fore-headed whore'll keep stepping all over you."

"T-thank you, b-but I can m-manage."

"Whatever." Ino shrugged, "I gotta get going anyways. I'm due on stage in a couple minutes."

"G-good luck." Hinata bowed her head, twirling a long flyaway strand of hair that escaped her white headscarf.

"Luck?" Ino snorted stepping out into the hall and adjusted her cleavage before straightening the large feather protruding from her crown. "I don't need luck, kiddo. I just need those dogs downstairs drunk and horny as hell."

A frighteningly hot blush worked its way up Hinata's face before blossoming across her cheeks. The blond chuckled.

"You're way to innocent, Hina. It's a good thing Madame Kurenai keeps you in the kitchens and out of laps. See ya." And with a twirl, Ino and her fishnet-stockinged legs disappeared around the corner.

"B-bye." Hinata gathered up the rest of the clothes, silently musing on Ino's departing words. Around her she could hear the shuffling feet of rushing dancers racing to get to their places downstairs. Everyone ignoring her as she weaved by, clothes balanced precariously in her arms.

It really was a good thing that Madame Kurenai had decided to assign Hinata to maid service instead of entertainer when she was first sold to the saloon six years ago. The now 18 year old couldn't even begin to imagine the horror of singing and dancing and, if requested, specially favoring the men that waltzed into the bar.

She made her way through the maze of hallways and stopped, wheezing heavily, not realizing she had paused next to the curtain of beads that separated the main saloon floor from the dormitories. Hinata rested her back against the curling crimson wallpaper, trying to catch her breath. She once again adjusted her hold on the clothes; sweat seeping into the seam of her headscarf, face flushed from exertion.

Suddenly a figure burst through the beads, making Hinata squeak in surprise, nearly causing her to lose hold on the garments.

"Hinata!" Madame Kurenai reprimanded, her exotic red eyes widening as they moved back and forth between the saloon door and the maid uneasily. "You shouldn't be here. How many times have I told you not to tarry around the bar?"

"S-sorry, Madame. I w-was j-just resting." Hinata straightened, bowing her head as best she could behind the clothes.

"Very well." The older woman nodded, tucking a piece of her perfectly tousled brown locks behind her ear. "But don't let me catch you hovering around here again."

"S-sorry." Hinata frowned guiltily. Why can't I do anything right?

Kurenai sighed with a wistful smile. She reached out a tan palm and lifted Hinata's heart shaped face. It never ceased to amaze her how truly beautiful Hinata was. Large, alluring opal eyes shimmering a light lavender; flawless, pale complexion; unusually colored indigo hair; naturally pink, full lips. And though it was currently smothered by ill fitting layers, a body that would knock a man literally from his horse.

The Hyuuga could have easily been one of her greatest attractions, as beauty like hers was impossible to come by. Sure, Ino, Sakura, and newly arrived Temari, were beyond gorgeous by way of physical appearance, but they lacked the sincere purity that seemed to radiate from the young maid. The same purity that immediately made Kurenai's maternal instincts kick into high gear when the girl landed on her doorstep all those years ago.

"Don't worry, Hinata, I'm not mad at you. I just worry." The Madame let her thumb caress the girls cheek affectionately. "You're far to delicate to be exposed to men of this.....caliber." She admonished with a motherly tone. She paused in her scolding, allowing Hinata to listen in on the background noises of male catcalls, encouraging whistles and perverse comments that leaked out from beyond the curtained threshold.

Hinata blushed under her employers knowing gaze. "I-it won't h-happen again."

Kurenai stood straight, nodding resolutely. "Make sure it doesn't. The last thing I need is my best maid being whisked off by some lecherous outlaw."

He passed under the familiar archway, his ebony steed Shisui, standing tall at 18 hands, steadily cantered forward. Both man and horse made an imposing combination of sleek muscle and deadly cold demeanor against the fading sunset. It had been six years, but he managed to find himself crawling back to the town of his birth.

Sasuke Uchiha leaned forward and slapped his horse reassuringly on the neck as they continued down the bustling western city street, the oil lamps flickering to life on either side. He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding as he pulled the raven black Stetson lower on his face.

"Well, we're back."

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~Ambroisa