Prompt: Life, Moon, Flower, Death
For: Cassie, aka Zexionlover666
------
The day he was born, there was chaos.
The Hokage has come back to the village after being away on a mission with his students, or a meeting with a leader in their alliance, or something else that was equally important. There were many versions of the day of October 10 that year, but they were always different. Only a few parts of each story stayed the same, and that was what mattered.
The fourth Hokage has been away from the village for a while. He had come back on that day. It did not matter where he had been.
Fires had been started around the village that entire week. Nobody knew why they had been, or who the culprit had been.
Kyuubi attacked. The fourth Hokage died.
Naruto had been born. The Demon was sealed inside of him at the cost of a Hero's life.
Naruto survived. Hundreds died. One was born--the Demon Spawn, Naruto Uzumaki.
And that was what mattered on the day of October 10.
--------
As a child, Naruto had loved the night.
Well, he actually hated the night. It was when all of the adults dropped their pretenses, as little as they may have been, they still hid the truth behind half-closed doors, searched him out, beat him, hit him, hurt him. It was when he was trapped indoors, when he could not escape.
Yet, even when he feared those who lurked in the dark, ready to jump out and beat him, hit him, hurt him, when he was alone, and all was peaceful, he loved the night.
But he loved it even more in the years when he was a preteen, when he was starting to foreshadow who he would become as an adult, when he was showing his true colors, the colors of his family, his heredity, his relations. When he was no longer physically afraid of the people who lurked in the dark, waiting to hit him, beat him, hurt him. When he had learned how to, at last, protect himself from their beatings.
He loved sitting deep in the forest at night, seeing the white-silver of the moon's reflection on dark as black water, hearing the rush of a lone waterfall in his ears. Tracing with his fingers the shape of the moon, burning the sight into his mind.
Yes, Naruto loved the night.
-------
Naruto also loved the moon. But, it was for reasons that were completely different than why he loved the night.
He loved how the dark of the night made Sasuke's skin look pure white, untainted. He loved how it seemed to make him glow, the white of his skin against the black of the night.
A pure, untouchable angel who is seen only by the tainted, dirtied demon-child.
He knew that he could have him only then, only the view of Sasuke standing naked, surrounded by the black-black of the water and the black-black of the night, his skin glowing white in the moon and eyes dark as coal, smoldering.
A pure angel of the highest caliber, his wings drenched in blood and pain and hurt, never able to fly again, so his gaze is forever turned to the sky in longing.
Naruto was allowed only this, and for this he is thankful to the night that has brought him so much pain and hurt and suffering.
He does not remember the image of a burning village in the night, on October 10th, more than a decade ago.
The image does not fade from his mind, all the same.
It is not his, but a large shadow hanging over him every moment of the day, night, everything, that he cannot get rid of. A shadow that has red-red eyes and white-white teeth that are sharper than anything could ever be, and nine red-red tails, burning and hurting and hating, and wishing nothing more to kill.
The image is not his, but they believe it is so, and so it shall be.
--------
There is a fire. It was not unlike the fire that Sasuke called to being with his fire techniques, only in the way that it was far larger than any manifested fire that Naruto had ever seen come from Sasuke. It took over everything, the red and orange and yellows in the fire burning themselves into his eyes.
Eyes that widened and a body that rushed forward, snatching the small white-white flower--delicate and fragile and just barely out of the scalding heat's reach--off of the ground and cradling it closely to his body, retreating quickly from the heat of the flames.
He ran out of the village, looking back only to ensure that he was not being followed, that his enemies were nto running out of the burning village, trying to attack him. Trying to kill him.
He sighed in relief when five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and nothing ran out of the flames.
Smiling at the little flower, Naruto held it gently to his chest and went off to find his team.
---------
Bleeding and panting, dirty and injured and bruised; ripped clothing and broken bones, and even Kyuubi's chakra would not, could not, save him now.
Sasuke was just as worn down as he was, singed and bloodied and broken. Even his power, stolen from Orochimaru and Itachi and maybe some others, could not outlast the natural strength of Naruto, of his hard earned strength. It could match but not surpass, meet but not overcome.
It was over. It was ended.
One last hit, say goodbye.
There were no sudden movements, no shouts of rage, of victory.
Only soft steps and shy glances. Deciding.
Shall I shoot through you first?
Meeting each other in the middle, closer than an arm's length apart, blue eyes met black.
Sasuke's mouth quirked upward, tiredly trying to make everything seem effortless, as it had been. His mouth went limp, the effort too much for his near-dead body to handle. He struggled to stay standing.
Naruto opened his mouth, lips that were bloodied and cracked and broken and bruised moving as if he were speaking. His throat was too raw from screaming and shouting and fighting and--, too raw to make any sounds that could possibly be used to form words. He swayed on his feet and stepped forward.
He pressed his lips against Sasuke's ear and placed a hand on Sasuke's heart.
"We're going together, asshole."
Chidori and Rasengan formed, two boys who had not been boys for a very long time thrust their hands through the other's heart.
And when the last breath, the last breath of wind, the last chirp of a bird sounded and ended and faded away--
Two boys who had not been boys since their earliest, infant-aged years-months-days, fell to the ground. Together.
And the world was silent.
--End--