I've had the idea for this fic kicking around in my head for some time now, and I thought it was time to get it out of my brain and into yours:) This is going to be a more serious work, for those of you who might be more accustomed to my crack fic, but there will for sure be light moments in it too.
Summary: Naruto has just defeated Madara Uchiha and Sasuke- Sasuke, now blind, is brought back to the village and sentenced to 15 years in prison. What will Sakura do to bring back her friend's soul, now that Naruto has brought back Sasuke's body? The answer lies in a blue guitar... Rated T for violence, language, adult themes. Drama/Romance Sakura x Sasuke and possibly other couples as the work progresses.
There is a playlist on grooveshark that goes with this story- check out my profile for the link, and look for the playlist named "Aint Nobody Who Can Sing Like Me." I'm still working on the playlist, fyi, and you're welcome to recommend songs to add to it!
Read and review my pretties, read and review, and I shall reward you with a happy dance!
Prologue: Ain't Nobody Who Can Sing Like Me
Every night, she'd stealthily hide by his window, his window lined with prison bars, and listen. She didn't know that he knew she was there- at least, not at first...
He played the words, thoughts and feelings he didn't know how to express- the entirety of his loneliness, the stench of death, the murder of his older brother at his own hands, the empty grasping for power-or vengeance- and the soft yearning for her. And she knew, she understood everything, and when he played the guitar her body became the strings and her blood sang with the melody.
The iron bars of his cell wept at the sound, hardened criminals in the other cells cried and embraced the figments of their memory, the guards had to close their ears or risk going deaf, or insane. But the pink-haired girl just listened, and vibrated along with the stars and the frequency of the guitar, and she waited. She came to his window every night for fifteen years.
At first she said nothing to him, even though... but then she started leaving trinkets, a guitar pick, a new package of strings, cigarettes, a pink rhinestone lighter, a watch with a picture in relief of an anatomically correct heart, a locket with a strand of her hair...
And he played for himself, and he played for her, for themselves alone every night. And suddenly she knew. And he knew.
When he was released, the pick guard on his guitar was worn and scratched.
She met him at the gates.
"I love you,"
They said together, at the same time.
They replied, in-synch.
They embraced, and the strings on the guitar all broke simultaneously.