The Notes of Love: The Forbidden Tale of Boruto and Sarada

Chapter 4: The First Fight

(A/N: play the song during the fight, imagine the fight longer🥲)

The Tokyo arena pulsated with energy, a symphony of cheers and anticipation as Sarada Uchiha stepped into the spotlight. The neon lights flickered, casting an electric glow on the combatants. Sarada, with her raven-black hair and the Sharingan ablaze, exuded an aura of determination that filled the air.

Her opponent, a seasoned fighter known for his mocking demeanor, circled her with a smirk playing on his lips. The crowd's excitement grew, sensing the impending clash.Opponent: "Look who we've got here, folks. The new girl thinks she can dance with the best."Sarada, unfazed, tightened her grip on the kunai in her hand. "Save the chatter for after the fight. You're going to need it."The tension snapped, and the arena erupted into cheers as the first strike was thrown. The clash of metal echoed through the air as Sarada and her opponent engaged in a furious dance of combat. The atmosphere crackled with intensity as they dodged and parried, each movement calculated, each strike a testament to their skill.Opponent, taunting: "You're not bad, kid, but you've got a long way to go."Sarada's eyes gleamed with determination as she countered, "I learn fast."The battle intensified, the combatants pushing each other to the limits. Sarada's agility and precision were on full display as she seamlessly transitioned from defense to offense. Her opponent, realizing he underestimated her, grew more aggressive.Opponent: "I thought you were supposed to be special. Is that all you've got?"Sarada, her eyes narrowing, replied, "I'm just getting started."With a burst of speed, she unleashed a flurry of strikes, catching her opponent off guard. The crowd roared in approval as she gained the upper hand. However, the seasoned fighter wasn't one to concede easily.Opponent, sneering: "You think a few good moves will impress anyone? You're just a rookie."Sarada's Sharingan flared, and she retorted, "Maybe. But I don't plan on staying a rookie for long."Their battle reached its climax, the combatants locked in a fierce exchange of blows. The arena fell into a trance, spectators holding their breath. Sarada, fueled by determination, executed a series of acrobatic moves, disarming her opponent with a final, powerful kick.Sarada, standing tall: "Respect is earned, not given."The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, the arena transformed into a cacophony of admiration. Sarada, victorious and unbroken, had proven herself against the mockery. As she exited the arena, the neon lights flickering overhead, she left an indelible mark on the stage, a testament to her strength, skill, and unyielding spirit.As Sarada exited the arena, the echoes of the crowd's cheers still reverberating in the air, she found herself in a dimly lit alley adjacent to the bustling Tokyo streets. The neon lights from the arena's vicinity flickered, casting long shadows as she caught her breath.Suddenly, a mysterious figure emerged from the shadows, their face concealed by the brim of a hat. The figure extended an envelope towards Sarada, a subtle glint of curiosity in their eyes.Mysterious Figure: "Impressive performance in there. You've got potential."Sarada, taken aback, eyed the envelope cautiously. "Who are you, and what's this for?"Mysterious Figure: "Consider it a token of appreciation for a job well done. You're not just a fighter; you're an artist in the arena."Sarada's skepticism lingered, but curiosity got the better of her. She cautiously accepted the envelope, fingers tracing the crisp edges.Sarada: "What's the catch?"Mysterious Figure: "No catch. Just a benefactor who recognizes talent when they see it. Use it for something that'll further your journey, kid."With that enigmatic statement, the mysterious figure melted back into the shadows, leaving Sarada standing in the alley, the envelope in her hands. She could feel the weight of the bills inside, a mysterious gift from an unknown source.As the neon lights continued to paint the city in hues of blue and red, Sarada pondered the mysterious encounter. The money, a token of acknowledgment, raised more questions than answers. It was a scene that added an intriguing layer to her night—a night where the arena transformed into a stage, and the mysterious benefactor played a role in the unfolding drama of her life in Tokyo. But Sarada know fighting is not what she want