Heart

I do not own Naruto. There, see, I'm not going to write it again. lazy lazy lazy

I: PICTURES

A lone silhouette stood in the midsts of much rubble. Broken glass and various pieces of would were scattered everywhere. Many things were burnt, and if one was lucky, you could find a sign or a piece of rusted jewelery, forgotten in the rubble surrounding it. The silhouette crouched down, his blue eyes scanned the paper he found.

It was an old picture, there was a silver haired man, with a mask covering his mouth and nose. A forehead protector covered his left eye as the metal gleamed. A grin was placed conveniently under the mask, his hands were placed on the heads of two boys, scowling at each other. The figure had the ghost of a smile on as he examined the picture further. The boy on the left had sunny blond hair and his blue eyes stood out against his blindingly orange jacket. He was glaring at another boy, with raven black hair, onyx eyes, and a blue shirt. There was a girl oblivious as to what was happening, her bubblegum pink hair glowed as did her smile. Her red dress seemed to go with the wind. Team 7 was written on the back, more like scribbled actually.

The figure took one final look at the precious photo and placed it carefully in a simple, cardboard box. He continued walking. On a high cliff, if one looked carefully, you could see carved faces of four people, it was almost obliterated, but you could still see some of it.

The silhouette stopped again, finding a new picture to look at. There was a man, with a cigarette in his mouth, his near black hair and matching beard slightly swayed. He looked like he was laughing at two of the younger children. A blond haired girl flashed a smile into the camera, nearly choking the boy in the spicky ponytail, obviously annoyed by the blue eyed girl's antics. Off to the right a happily plump boy in brown hair continued to finish off his bag of barbeque potatoe chips. On the back, in nice, neat cursive purple ink was written Team 10. The figure smiled and put it in the box.

The silhouette continued its path. One could see the dismantled weapons. Differing from shurkien and kunai, to swords and katanas. Blood was splashed here and there, and one would say that this was once a great battlefield. The slihouette stopped, lifting up a rock from its place and taking another tattered photograph.

The old picture this time had a woman on it. Her midnight black hair shone against her red eyes. Light eyeshadow was placed and her lipstick coated lips were in the form of a smile. To the left of her was a boy, his afro stuck out and the sund gleamed against his sunglasses. His light blue jacket covered his mouth, making it hard to tell whether he was smiling or not. In the middle was another boy, his messy brown hair had a white puppy on it, his huge grin shone out, red marks tainted his tanned cheeks as he made two peace signs at anyone who happened to be looking at the picture. To the right was a girl, her purple locks slightly covered her pale eyes. A faint blush was apparent as she looked at her fingers, conveniently pointed at each other. On the back, small black letters were written at the bottom, spelling out Team 8. The figure smiled again, flipping the picture again and looking at the girl.

As he trudged on, the clouds above seemed to be gray, and even red at some angles. Glancing at the ground, one could always see the same symbol again and again. Not many people would think of it to be of any importence. But many people died for the symbol: a single swirl, modified enough to resemble a leaf. You could see it painted or carved on wood and rocks, and melded into shining metal. The figure stopped once more, catching a paper that was on its way in the breeze.

The photo showed a man, with a bowl cut hairdo and thick eyebrows. His smile was blindingly white, and his hand was in a thumbs-up position. Below him was what seemed to be his clone. Only his eyes were round and one could clearly see the green spandex that he wore. His hand was bandaged but put up just the the man's. To the left of him was a boy, with long black hair and his forehead protector placed against his head. His pearly white eyes shone a stoic aura, and his mouth was out into a frown. His arms were crossed neatly together, his left one bandaged. Off to the far right was a cheerful girl, hazel eyes shining, chocolate brown hair placed neatly in two buns. Her traditionaly Chinese pink button up shirt shone, and if one looked closely, you could see the kunai poking out from behind her back. On the back in blindingly lime green capital letters was Team Gai, the number obviously scribbled out and replaced with "Gai". The figure winced at the sudden bright color and placed the picture in the box, smiling.

The figure continued its path to what seems to be out of the battefield. But suddenly, two pictures are seen on the ground, wedged between wood and rock. The figure picks them up, and is amazed to see what he finds.

The first picture is a picture of a tanned man, his hair in a ponytail, and a scar across the middle of his face. Next to him was the blond haired boy again, a bowl of ramen in his hands as he grinned at the camera. Behind them is an old man with his chef hat on, next to him a young girl with light brown hair and a simliar hat, both of them smiling cheerfully. On the back it was scribbled out, Ichiraku. The figure grinned, his stomach slightly yearning as he glanced at the other one.

It was a picture of an somewhat old man, his spicky white hair flowed brhind his back, his arm around a seemingly angry woman with blond hair in parted in two, her hazel eyes looked at the man, and no matter what she looked like, her eyes told anyone she was happy, no matter how much she would never admit it. Chuckling slightly, he put the two pictures into the same cardboard box.

As the rubble moved in his steps, and the silence loomed over the sight, the figure looked back at what was once the most powerful city in the whole world. His blue eyes shone with memories, and his blonde hair swayed slightly to the sudden breeze. On the one sign that remained to stained, as old and damaged as it was, was the word that so many died for, suffered for, and sacrficed for:

Konoha.

A place where just ten years ago, was a happy place. Small children running on the dirt paven streets, people soaking in the famous hot springs, the best ramen stand in the world, Ichiraku, stood tall, people went on everyday at their fullest. Did I metion the ninja? Oh yes, the people and ninja lived together in harmony, protecting their home in their own ways. It was here where the figure, Naruto Uzumaki grew up. It is also where so many died. And this is where our story begins.

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Okay, yeah, that was short. BUT, I'll make up for it, because it'll be long...As long as you reveiw and tell me to continue! OH, and tell me if I have a spelling error. lazytocheck

SO REVEIW, DATTEBAYO!