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