Naruto 1. Chapter 1: The Four Fools

The thousands of droplets of water cascading over the clouds fell to the ground, as if the gray floaters were shedding the entirety of their burdens upon the world below. And it was that their burdens could not disappear, only capable of falling,

falling,

falling;

and be taken upon the shoulders of another being.

So they fell from the heavens, an army of luminescent angels losing their wings to splash to the barren earth searching for life. The entire landscape of the fire nation was drenched in the cape of old man winter, frozen, bitter and forlorn. Winter's approach was the farthest in the minds of the citizens; for war's approach was so much quicker on its feet. It had completely dodged any obstacles, and hurtled forward, finding a home hidden from the cold in the recesses of the minds and hearts of shinobi and civilian alike.

It returned with a vicious vengeance at the early dawn and never ceased its attack through the black midnight, its onslaught carrying into dreams turned nightmares. Its clutches could be defeated if only there was more faith. Perhaps in the future present it would be, when villages could rally together; but further forward in time, when the summer solstice would bring its rays of unjustified peace and foolish hope.

The word 'war' was never anywhere in the presence of conversation, but biting at the bit to reach the tips of everyone's tongues. And blame was quick to jump to its feet, citizens pointing fingers, scapegoats being brought to light. Only four, however felt most responsible. It was a tremendous feeling, in size and stature, the torrents of water releasing its weight upon their shoulders. In many ways, they were blamed, and were to blame. For they were three fools, and the fourth a master of fools. But regardless, war may have begun earlier if not for these three jesters and their equally foolish master who could never learn had not been present in the village of Konohagakure.

They began to break apart, tearing slowly at the seams; ripped and shredded pieces of fabric left to blow about in the gusts of the frigid tempests. And they followed their own paths, directions they had been blown haplessly in, results of consequences of actions from so long ago. Four shinobi who each viewed life in vastly alternate dimensions, frames, and perspectives. However different they may have been, they had all come upon some level to accept the blame as the cause of the war. How regretful they were over the matter was a different story. And with relationships that branched like delicate spiderwebs, connected them to each other with strings of fate, despite how far they would venture.

When these threads would be pulled taut, and fall into disrepair from misuse, four shinobi would be drawn irrevocably together again.

* * *

A/N: This will be a short five-chaptered fic, with four chapters from the point of view of the lovely Team 7 and how they view the impending war. It takes place in the Naruto timeline somewhere after they fight with Sasuke, but before all the fighting nonsense. The chapters will be a bit longer than this introductory one. Sorry for so much, for lack of better term, purple prose, but I need to put it somewhere since I cannot speak like this in the real world. Otherwise people would look at me funnier than they already do :) Please follow and review if you liked it, or if you did not.

Happy trails?

~Narutard77


	2. Chapter 2: The Avenger

Chapter 2: The Avenger

* * *

"_We are brothers. I am the wall you must climb over, so you and I will continue to exist together._"

* * *

Perhaps, in a different existence; a different dimension, things would not have become such. There would not be bloodshed or sorrow, death and destruction. But instead, there was crimson spilling from speechless lips and tears falling from empty eyes.

Scarlet and ebony eyes glanced about the clearing as the raven-haired shinobi cast a gloomy atmosphere upon the surroundings. The snow upon the ground which may have once been a pure white was stained black, and turned to slick ice. The trees stood tall, dark with the absence of leaves who had long since fled. The clearing was hidden among the snow-laden forest and frozen fields, empty save a lone being sitting listlessly upon a outcropping. The frost in the air bit at any exposed skin, as if in vengeance for attempting to thwart its efforts to chill its victims into a cold and dreamless sleep, never to reawaken.

The droplets of water falling from the skies had frozen, the tears of the clouds bitter and angry, creating a world covered in permafrost. The lamenting beings of heaven spun delicate patterns that were impossible to see, appearing as a blanket of white to the land below. The coverlet of snowfall from the previous blizzard was not to cleanse the world of its sins, but left as a painful reminder of the burgeoning consequences as the populations prepared for war.

The frigid flurry left naught but frostbitten toes, drafty hearths and snowflake covered lashes, glad to be rid of the earth in the midst of its chaos. Left in its place, only the wind whipped about the abandoned clearing as pale hands pulled and onyx coat closer to his body in a vain attempt to preserve any warmth left in the barren landscape.

For even those who appear of frozen hearts seek the warmth in the hopes of a melted and thawed life. And he may have had ownership of it once. Instead, he had traded it for one of solitary companionship.

Now, as he sat in the chilling winter, he allowed himself a brief period of regret. He had not done this often, or ever since the lost days of his childhood. It left him with a powerful mixture of emotions, of unadulterated conscience, bitterness, and anguish. It was crippling, and weakened whatever resolve he had left. Perhaps it was the howling wind that had broken through his last defenses, but he was unable to resist the temptation to experience feelings again after so long.

So his mind wandered, encouraged by the stretch of deafening silence betwixt the regular cacophony of his thoughts. He thought of warmer days of summer, after the destructive tragedy that was his family, when he had fallen headfirst into his next family, all members broken, but the four pieces had made a whole. He thought of the time he had jeered at jester that had the audacity to proclaim he was lost on the road of life, but then again, weren't they all? He thought of his former sensei, the last part of a family gone wrong and surviving remainder of a team. Of how he had felt akin to this strange man, who seemed at first glance to have no priorities, but rested with the weight of the world upon his shoulders. He thought of the girl named after the cherry blossoms blooming in the thawing spring, another lost being. How he had envied her, with a perfect family, and how easily she was willing to sacrifice it all, to come with him. In one of his moments of weakness that could be counted on one hand, he hadn't let her make that mistake. She couldn't see where she was destined to be, following the conventions of society and her closest friend. And the last. The boy whose namesake was of the bravest shinobi in all the world. Who he had believed could not possibly understand. As if knowing and losing were not the same as having lost. He now knew, and now he regretted. Their furious bickering would have become friendly banter and smirks into smiles. Threats would have become challenges, and single words, conversations. Hatred turned friendship.

He missed the races with the rest of his classmates up large hills, the distinct scent of pine trees and fresh dirt clinging to every inch of his clothing, and the heaving of his chest as adrenaline and deep breaths rush through him. He missed nights out at the ramen stands with old friends, when the world seemed too huge to possibly comprehend. He missed night skies and stargazing with a girl he cared deeply for, and the possibilities of gentle caresses of lips sometime in the future. He missed coming home after a long day, to find friends waiting for him with sake and more food and joys of companionship than he could ever possibly have.

But how could he miss comrades he has never had? How could he miss races he had never run? Ramen he had never tasted? Lips he had never kissed? Happiness he had never felt?

None of it mattered. He had left the village in a furious storm, never turning back. He had left with cutting words, and a scratch upon his brow. And he had turned. To a life he couldn't have possibly created anything from. But he had been so blinded with a thirst for revenge, so utterly consumed.

He had gathered strength and power, and the same eyes as his sibling. And he had destroyed him. The truth had been told too late. Unbeknownst to any witnesses, Itachi had told him the truth as they sparred, but it wasn't until it was too late that Sasuke believed him. And with a cry of 'When will I ever see you again?' came an all too certain response of 'How often do you close your eyes?'

It had been true. Every single last bit of it. Itachi haunted his memories and dreams turned nightmares every evening.

And he had been left alone. Again. Desperate for a family, he had searched for them, and once gathered, he called them Taka. But it was not the same. Detached from his emotions, until this very moment.

For the third time in his life, he cried. The tears froze quickly, and stung his cheeks, leaving red trails upon too-white cheeks. They were soundless sobs, that wracked his entire frame. He wept for what he never had. If he had resisted a little longer, relented in his misery and pain, he could be in the village of Konoha, and may not have been the catalyst for this war. The war he dreaded with every fiber of his being. The war that would tear apart so many more families and nations needlessly.

He didn't see the snow swirling around him, hair whipping in the wind, cloak billowing behind him as he remained motionless. All he saw were the possibilities of futures he had not known existed. That were no longer possible. Fingers wrapped in bandages swept under unseeing eyes to wipe away the fallen liquid pain. Impossibly his heart wrenched, as he stood, begging him to stay in the clearing, to end his pathetic existence. Willing him to stay in the ice and freeze, allowing the moments of feelings that were welcomed like a refreshing monsoon in a desert that had gone far too long without water. The embrace of an endless slumber beckoned with outstretched arms, but he resisted. For the chances of a future so slim, it could pass through the fabric of space and time.

And so he left the clearing, his black cloak a shadow, followed him. His mind still played the deeply rooted memories that had never existed, like a bird's tune flying high above a village in the summertime, upon the back of blue feathered wings as children ran about its green hills and civilians walked through tiny alleyways and crowded streets beneath the eyes of four watchful village leader immortalized in stone. His mind still played the deeply rooted memories that had never existed, more beautiful than bird's song on a summer's day.

* * *

I take back Sasuke being a complete jerk. ;-;

All of a sudden in the latest chapters of the manga he has feelings. And I was kinda intrigued by them.

So R & R please!

Thanks!

~ Narutard77


	3. Chapter 3: Cherry Blossoms

Chapter 3: Cherry Blossoms

* * *

_"On that day, you taught me that solitude is painful. I understand that so well right now. I have family, and I have friends but if you're gone... To me... It will be the same as being alone."_

* * *

She glanced from right to left, emerald eyes scanned the landscape from beginning to end. If the kunoichi had not known better, or perhaps she had not been the student of her shishou, the village appeared peaceful.

Holiday season had arrived and passed, a time all too short when the inhabitants of the village needed it for much longer. It brought the festivities of the season, and instead of simply going through the motions, civilians and shinobi alike threw themselves into celebration.

For anything to distract the rampant thoughts of minds in turmoil was a welcome sight, the sight of shore after being drowned far too long in dark ocean waters. The kunoichi of cherry blossoms was no stranger to the emotions overwhelming her, as the powder snow fell from the heavens. The old year had come to pass, and with it, everything that she knew. The new year was welcomed quietly, swept under the rug, as it was the bearer of times and feelings no one wished to endure.

Her perspective fell upon the hushed village, villagers struggling through the blankets of soft snow, which would certainly harden and turn to ice by the morning next. It was coming, sooner than anyone could have possibly expected. Preparations and rations, weapons and tools were readied. The sharp winter chill was gone, and in its place, the numb feeling of frozen feet, and faces left exposed to the frosty air. Unintentional deep breaths were released, causing puffs of warm air to appear. The wisps of heat soon disappeared into the rosy morning beyond.

Jade eyes were the only colors to present themselves, besides the world covered in white and gray, the sky a delicate shade of pink. Morning was slow to wake, and convince itself of its importance as the first day of a new year. The first morning of a new era.

The young woman sat upon her bed, eyes gazing out the window to view the streets below. The window was barely visible from the streets, but any shinobi running along the rooftops could easily see the cozy room.

The window had been the first thing she had seen, opening her eyes to the world some sixteen years ago. It had been her window to the world, when she had refused to leave her room, her first love gone from every place but her heart. It held a perfect view of the stars, diamonds scattered among the folds of the velvet backdrop of night.

Now, its outlook seemed dim, the ever-lonely sentry's post. The sentry left alone with the sky, the ever-present sky. And her ever-tumultous emotions. Sometimes the sky colored itself with an artist's mediums. Soft washes of pink and orange watercolor, the bold reds and striking acrylic hues of sunset. Every shade of blue pencil, and sometimes, the spilled black of a knocked over inkwell. And all the sentry at her post could do was stand, and bear witness to the colorful images of the heavens, hundreds of miles above. Consumed by the fate of her isolation and thoughts.

Consumed by the _what ifs_.

She did not blame herself, for how could she have saved someone who did not wish to be saved? But rather, what if she had begun at a different point? When her eyes had first landed upon the demon child, as others viewed him with scorn and contempt, she silently pondered how it came to be him. If circumstances had been just slightly different. She could have been born the jinchuuriki. If it had been anyone else. Anyone but the Fourth's son. They could have easily hated the world. Lost, lonely, distraught. But he stood straight and tall, met everyone with a smile, as it was his way. Not his ninja way, but the way he treated life like it was something precious.

How could something so precious be so fragile? She had hated it with her entire being, wishing the beginning of her life had never begun. She had hated it, until not so long ago. Desperate for a place in the world, left behind by her teammates, and then he had appeared again. And she wasn't alone. Though the seventh team was not whole, the three were there, together. She falsely proclaimed her love, and it was with a heavy heart that she forced herself to utter the words, and push them past her lips. He was there, and reaching out with his hand, lighting the world. Maybe she had been too lonely, for too long. Perhaps he made everything wrong right again. But if one loved another, they wouldn't try to destroy them. With those words, she felt that she had been branded an outlaw. Someone who committed an unspeakable act. He didn't listen to her false words and empty promises. He understood.

She felt lonely, but was ashamed to admit it to those who loved her. Her family had never uttered a cruel word in her direction, or treated her with anything other than loving care. Her friends had not abandoned her when she had most needed it. She had never been the product of a terrible tragedy akin to that of her three teammates. So the young woman felt that she would be judged. How wrong she had been.

She wondered what would have happened if she had managed to stop him, from leaving the village, the people who truly cared for him, from leaving the only life he had ever known.

They were so different, like the sun and the moon. Too unique to be compared. When she had fallen into darkness, as the light of the moon left her spirit, the sunlight appeared more luminous than ever. She craved the bright light of day, and the peaceful sounds of birdsong. But she never left her dark nights, as they whispered secrets into her listening ears.

It was him.

It had always been him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the call of her name. Cherry blossoms. How apt. She let her hand fall against the cold windowpane, tracing little swirls into the condensation onto the cold surface. The village had awoken, people beginning to mill about the streets, leaving footprints in snow banks. The teenager unfolded her feet from beneath her blanket, and slipped them into her shoes. Her mind slowly rifted as she pulled the sheets taut, and fluffed her pillow before opening the door to her bedroom and descending the stairs to breakfast. To her family, and the welcome warmth of company. She wondered what kind of day it would be.

Some days, all she wanted to do was to build bridges. Others, it was all she could do not to jump off them.

* * *

**A/N: Anyone get the Tyler Knott reference? No? D'aww. **


End file.
