A/N: This story may be a bit dark, so don't read it if you're in the mood for something more light-hearted or romantic. I was aiming for a different feel to the entire story, but I think I may have failed miserably. This is the first time I've tried to work with the Naruto characters, which might be part of the reason, so warn me if they're out of character, please. :

So anyway, I hope you enjoy, and have a lovely day.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of that. Just the story plot, I guess?

Under Summer's Breath

Once upon a time, there was a city called Konoha. This city was mysterious, hidden deep within the leaves and impossible to reach as a mere mortal, or so the rumors went. Speculation about this mysterious town swirled through the lands of Japan. Legends of white-eyed wraiths were whispered in the dark, of shape-shifters, healers, and inhuman warriors with shadow knives. Some called them demons. Some called them angels. Some even believed they were gods.

Within the depths of Konoha, there lived a clan by the name of Uchiha. This family was of a pure blood, powerful and elusive, disappearing in the night like a half-remembered dream. They had eyes like coal, eyes like blood, eyes like crimson embers. Skin, pale as the moon herself. Hair, dark as the shadows in which they stood.

The Uchiha clan was strong, and they guarded their secrets well. Secrets... secrets that drove them to insanity. For all their physical strength, their mental stability was not as great as they liked to believe, and they carried with them illusions of glory, of grandeur. They thought that they were superior beings, superior to their fellow people of Konoha, because they knew something that nobody else did.

Something dark.

Something important.

And so they began to plot, holding meetings in which they shared the thoughts spinning through their twisted minds. They began to plan to take over Konoha, and rule over it.

However, they did not realize the potential of their younger members. They overlooked the most important factor in all of this, and it proved to be their downfall. They forgot... forgot what it meant to be sane. Forgot that their children had not yet been poisoned.

The young genius, Itachi, betrayed them all.

All but one.

Standing in the blood of their family, the two brothers were silent. They knew what he had done. They knew that they were alone now, and so they walked their separate ways, never to meet again.

Rumor has it that Itachi still roams Japan, his own sanity deteriorating with every red sunset. His brother, however, disappeared. Some said that on that fateful night, Itachi killed him too. Others swore that the brothers moved as one. No one ever knew what happened to Sasuke.

And so, the secret disappeared with them.

Sometimes, though, deep in the forests of a small town far, far away, when children run by the little wooden house, laughing and stumbling in the dark, a whisper will swirl into the night air. Like an echo, the faint rush of a bird's wings.

There's no life for you there, he says quietly. Please don't run that way. Please go home.

And in the grey morning light, the church bells ring and the mothers cry. Soft, heavy sobs.

You were so young, he sighs, staring out his window at the faint bloodstains on the hillside. At the scarlet hues cast over jagged stones. Why did you have to run that way?

And still, the mothers cry their soft, heavy sobs.

Silence hung in every nook and cranny of the the small house. It settled on the cabinets with the dust, curling up in the little rooms, draping itself over the entire area. Only the sharp tapping of computer keys had enough gall to disturb such an eerie peace, emanating from a side room.

The computer was a slim silver laptop, glinting in the grey light filtering in through yellow curtains, which had faded with age until the bright, buttery sweetness had been entirely leeched from the fabric. The only furniture in the room consisted of a desk and a chair, both simple and functional in design without any added luxuries. In the far corner of the room, a black widow had made her delicate, lethal home.

All of this was ignored by the dark-haired man perched in the chair. His attention was focused on the text document on the computer screen as his long fingers flew quickly over the keys. Words, descriptive and blunt alike, poured into the white box.

So close, he thought to himself in a brief moment of frustration. One word would not come to mind. He could think of a thousand synonyms, but he wanted that specific word and he'd not settle for anything less.

Agitation had his coal-black eyes narrowed dangerously, fingers tapping in a restless beat to break the silence. No bird dared to interfere with an atmosphere like his, no rodent was bold enough to venture near. No creatures, but for the silent hunters and their senseless prey, lingered near the house. He scoffed to himself, eyes slitted even worse.

All those months spent writing this damned book, all that effort, and he was so close to finishing. But right at the end, that one word disappeared.

Quiet, almost timid, a small ticking sound made itself heard.

Sasuke breathed out a curse, eyes squeezing shut, and he dropped his head in his hands. He'd stopped looking for the clock a long time ago.

"No, no," he groaned, covering his ears. "Not again, please, gods, not again."

Muffled laughter worked its way through the cracks in the walls.

Laughing. Three boys. Come on, its right over there!

"Fuck!" He spat, frustration lacing his voice like acid.

Small sticks crack beneath bare feet. A thorn is lodged in his toe.

Water splashes

He was holding his ears

and falls.

tighter and tighter.

Over little hands and little feet, shaggy mops of

"No," he groaned again.

hair.

"Fucking hell!"

Lots of water, everywhere, in little

"Anathema!"

lungs.

"Anathema," he muttered to himself, placing his fingers back on the keyboard. The ticking quieted down and the tapping resumed. Within minutes, he was sending the manuscript to his editor and trying to calm down.

It didn't always happen like that. It didn't usually happen like that. For some reason, though, when a death was very near, the happenings would force themselves into his head. What's worse, when that happened, it wasn't so much like a vision as the normal episodes were. No, when it was forced, it was an experience. He could feel the death as though he weren't just a spectator.

And the fear.

And the resignation.

It was the most painful when they hoped that someone would save them. But no one ever did.

Sasuke pulled himself out of his seat, and stood in the middle of the room. A morbid curiosity dragged him to the single window, and he tucked the curtain out of his way. He knew this would hurt. He knew it.

Three little boys were running by.

Water splashes, and falls.

"Fuck," he whispered, dropping the curtain back into place. Like he had the last few decades here, though, he knew it was best to keep it out of mind. No one could stay sane if they dwelled on those experiences.

Then again, as he stepped into his empty hallway, it was difficult to stay sane when there was no one to talk to. Inventions of the modern day were very handy, granting him the ability to at least message a mass of people. There weren't many he contacted, but it was better than before, when he had fancied himself a loner and refused to make any hint of human contact.

It got old, after a while.

The narrow hallway stretched to the front door, opening up on the right to a living room, which in turn was connected to a small kitchen. Everything about the house was very simple, without many unnecessary decorations. The living room consisted of a single, soft couch. A flat-screen TV was hung on the wall. In the kitchen, there was a matching wooden set of table and chairs (or, to be more precise, one chair).

There were a few cabinets, occupied by three or four glasses, some plates and bowls, and one of the drawers was home to a few utensils and cooking knives. The fridge was stocked with bottled water and various fruits and vegetables. A loaf of bread was on the counter, along with an empty wooden bowl.

Sasuke glanced at the bowl, then headed for the fridge, pulling it open and peering in. A frown tugged at his lips. He reached in and nudged aside a bag of spinach, pushing some asparagus in the same direction. He poked under the lettuce, rejected the carrots, and shut the door with a frown.

Where were the tomatoes?

He'd apparently gone through more than he thought over the past week, so he'd either have to head into town to restock, or he'd have to wait for the next drop-off from the local grocer. But that would be next week, and he really wanted his tomatoes.

A troubled sigh revealed his frustration, and he glared out the window.

Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow I'll get some more.

Summer in Moseley had finally arrived. For a month or two, the weather had been hot, humidity high, and sunshine bright. The trees were leafy and green, the water was warming up, and the school buses had stopped running a week ago. But all of that didn't really mean summer. No date could define the moment when Summer itself had arrived.

There was a certain sense of lazy euphoria carried on the warm breezes and drifting clouds, somehow mingling with an energetic sort of freedom. The quiet humming of little insects, chased by vibrant jays and sparrows, was never so noticeable than when Summer had truly settled in.

Or, in Naruto's case, wandered in.

He'd always enjoyed Moseley. Small towns had a cozy feel to them, and everyone knew each other. Sort of like... a family.

The blond man went mostly unnoticed as he strolled along the cracked sidewalks. There were fewer people out and about than he'd seen the other years, and he craned his neck trying to see around all the corners, searching for a certain kid he'd been visiting every year for a while. This would probably be the last time he could come before Jackson realized that the man never aged.

Humans grew up. Naruto knew that. He just didn't like it, was all, and whether or not it would've been smarter to just refrain from getting close to the beings, he wasn't going to stop himself. He liked humans.

A younger girl, maybe in her early teens, wandered by. Her dark brown (maybe even black?) hair was carefully curled, hanging in her face. She wore a knee-length black dress, and her brown hands were wringing in barely-contained distress. Naruto stared at her, wondering how she could possibly be comfortable in such a dark color when the sun was so hot. At least she could've tied the hair up.

She didn't seem to notice him, like most people, so he trailed after her, wishing he could understand why she carried such a sad aura with her. In his presence, most humans felt happier. Not... not so depressed.

He chewed his lip, realizing she was headed for the cemetery, where a small group of people had gathered around a dirt mound. A thin cloud drifted in front of the sun, dimming the light a bit, and he followed the girl into the field of graves.

When they had joined the group, an older woman wrapped an arm around the girl, and Naruto peered at the gravestone.

Jackson Wells

October 9, 2001 - June 17, 2011

Heavier clouds began to block the sun, and the man stood there in silence.

Maybe... not all humans grew up.

For a man who was tired of crying, the skies obliged. Drops of rain leaked from the grey clouds, and another man, presumably Jackson's father, let out a bitter laugh.

"Fitting, isn't it?" He muttered. "Like the weather is mourning, too."

Not the weather, Naruto absently thought. Just the season. He raised his eyes to the family of his friend, and knew that they needed every ray of sunshine they could get, every gust of warm wind to comfort their chilled bones. He gazed into the sky, and as quickly as the rain started, it cleared.

Blue eyes glinted at oceanic stretches of sky glittering in the golden light, threatened only by the occasional wisp of a storm cloud.

Just yesterday, the church bells were ringing.

Sasuke hated when the church bells rang on any day but Sunday. Yesterday, they rang, and yesterday, a boy was buried.

Hopefully, the family would have left the cemetery by the time he went to pick up his tomatoes. He'd stalled for a while, not willing to admit to himself that he couldn't handle going to town only to see more death.

Unfortunately, during times like these, the grocer forgot that he had a delivery every other week, and as predicted, no one had come by with his food. He didn't blame them, but he was still pissed. The hassle of subjecting himself to the company of such temporary beings just couldn't be worth it.

But it was. He kept searching the fridge, as though his tomatoes would magically show up as a reward for his dedicated checking. The world would never really work like that, of course, but he couldn't help hoping.

Agitation had him sitting in his small den, in front of the fireplace. He was closer than he should've been, but his skin, his bones, possessed an all-too familiar chill. It was so difficult to get rid of, and even the heat of nearby flames never got him warmed up as much as he'd have liked. But it helped, and that was what mattered.

So he sat there, slightly hunched, staring into the flames. The biting contrast of cold and hot was painful, miserable, and bitter. He hated these sensations, but they came with the so-called gift bestowed upon his clan. Immortality, too, was the plague of the Uchihas.

True, it was an incomplete immortality (as Itachi had proved), but it was still a pain. Sasuke wouldn't lower himself enough to commit suicide, as he told himself every day, while he stared into the fire and wondered what it would feel like to burn.

Something to be understood in regards to his life was that he had been alive for longer than he cared to know. He had seen many changes in the world, and he took it to mean that he'd been around for a few decades at least, if not a century. During that time, he had never quite grown used to his curse. He worked around it, but he could never suppress the pain his visions evoked. Most of his family hadn't either, and they had eventually gone insane.

He had fled Japan, arriving in America many years ago. He'd settled into Moseley, Virginia, where he was able to avoid most human contact. But he was never happy. He couldn't be, when he was never allowed to see life and its beauty. Death overwhelmed his mind.

Suicide, however, never worked. He couldn't bring himself to do so, and he considered it to be a cowardly act. Sasuke Uchiha was no coward, as he insisted to himself every day.

So he continued on, sometimes wondering why he hung around anywhere. What was the point? But such thoughts were only ever going to add to his troubles, and he repressed them constantly. As his mind began drifting toward that train of thought, he grumbled to himself and stood up.

Those tomatoes weren't going to wait, so he was just going to have to get them himself. Dread curled in the pit of his stomach, but he pushed it aside. Just a few people. A few. Moseley wasn't very populated.

A rush of warm air overcame Sasuke as he stepped outside, running a hand through his hair in a display of subconscious vanity. He wasn't used to the heat, having been in an air-conditioned house for so long, and he wasn't entirely sure he liked it. But he had tomatoes to get, so he steeled himself for a walk into town.

The path he took was well-trodden, presumably by the generations of deliverymen traipsing up and down it. Leafy plants rustled with the slightest motion from the air, dangling obtrusively in the middle of the trail. The Uchiha pushed past them all, and it wasn't long (ten minutes, perhaps?) before the town itself came into view, in the form of the first shop along the road.

So far, no one was outside. Sasuke couldn't help but feel relieved as he pressed onward, stepping off the lane, which had slowly formed from his forest path, and onto the sidewalk. He kept his eyes downcast as he noticed a shadow of a person. His dignity felt wounded by having to avert his eyes, but he knew it was worth it.

Coal eyes perused the network of cracks, piercing the grey concrete. Step on a crack and you'll break your mother's back.

He frowned. The rhyme was rather morbid. Must kids really sing about that? Of course, his life being as consumed with death as it was, his perspective was a little different. They probably didn't understand it.

He risked a glance back up at the town. No pedestrians. The grocer's shop was maybe one-hundred feet away, on the other side of the street. He checked for cars, and waited for a cherry red Cadillac to pass by. 1965 Eldorado, Sasuke noted to himself, remembering when that thing was new. He'd wanted one, but those damn salesmen...

Soft crying drew his attention, as he crossed the road. A girl had wandered out from the church, dressed in black and hurrying to get out of public. Only the faintest hints of a figure taking its last, peaceful breath invaded his mind, which he was grateful for. She had a long time to live.

The graveyard wasn't far past the grocery store, and Sasuke hesitated. He could just grab the tomatoes on his way back, of course. No need to get them right away.

Resignation settled in his chest, and he walked past his previous destination.

Polished stones and mossy angels rested on the hills of the cemetery, and Sasuke wandered toward a fresh grave. It looked almost ethereal, gleaming white in the sunshine that almost seemed focused on it.

He stood there, silently, looking at the etched name.

Pale hands began to shake, remembering the water in his lungs, the frantic grasping for air, the desperate-

A warm hand landed on his shoulder and he froze, eyes wide in horror. Shit, shit, shit! Sasuke whirled around, tearing himself away and hissing, "Dobe!"

A blond man was standing there, surprised and confused. His sparkling blue eyes were staring straight into those of the darker man. And nothing was happening.

Why wasn't anything happening?

The two of them stared at each other, and Naruto asked, "You can see me?"

Sasuke was at a loss for words. "You..."

There was no death in this man's future. At least, if there was, it was too far off for Sasuke to sense. But that shouldn't have been possible. He'd seen the death of a woman who had lived to 114, when she was just a baby. And that was just when he looked at her. A touch was much more vivid- painfully so, in fact. There was no time limit on touch. Never.

Naruto gazed quizzically at the Japanese man in front of him. The guy had an expression of... pained confusion, it seemed. So Naruto did what he was best at. He sent a sunny smile at the odd man.

"Konnichiwa!"

Sasuke took a step back. And another. He turned, and walked away. Azure eyes followed after him as he began to speed up, until he was nearly running out of the graveyard.

Who are you?

Identical thoughts swirled simultaneously through separate minds.

A slow grin spread over Naruto's face, giving him a fox-like appearance. He'd finally found something to break the monotony of his Summer rounds.

Whistling an old tune, he shoved his hands in his pockets and dug a toe into the ground by Jackson's grave.

There would be a few daisies at the stone slab, by tomorrow's sunrise.