Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. o.o
It was dark and cool outside. The breeze tousled my hair about with careless abandon. The air was still and silent, heavy with the dreams of sleeping villagers. The only sounds I could hear were the soft mournful cries of cicadas in the night, and the occasional tik-tik-tik of a faulty streetlight.
I wandered along the rough stone-hewn sidewalks of Konohagakure, the flickering streetlights casting watery yellow patches of light on the warm grey stone. I kept to the shadows, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to alert the night watch patrollers. It wasn't necessary, really, because I made no sound at all moving down the quiet streets. One of the patrollers walked past me, bleary-eyed from the last shift. She was a freshly-graduated Chuunin, and if pressed I could remember her name. She didn't notice me at all.
Living in this harsh ninja world, a village, especially one as established as Konoha, had to constantly be on the alert for invaders and to keep a lookout for the welfare of the villagers. Nobody wanted a Fourth shinobi invasion.
My long dark blue kimono patterned with pink sakura petals blew against my legs as I concentrated on putting one pale foot in front of another. I tucked my long dark hair behind my ears as I walked down this seemingly endless street.
I walked past the Ichiraku Ramen shop, the traditional red lanterns casting an eerie red glow on the paving. I walked past the sakura tree in the middle of the park, but it wasn't in bloom now that it was summer. I walked past the training field, empty and the long grass torn in places from previous battles. I walked past the Hokage Monument, the five faces carved into the cliff gazing solemnly out over the village, like silent guardian angels. I walked past the KIA stone, standing proudly and coldly, carrying on the memories of so many shinobi who had died because of humanity's greed. I walked on until I reached the outskirts of the village. There, I stopped at the ruins of an old, charred building that had been burnt down to the ground. The aged cedar trees behind the ruins stood tall, each like a majestic old king. The grass on the once-well-tended front lawn had never grown back in some places. I looked at this sight, and closed my eyes. A single tear involuntarily streaked its way down my cheek.
The tongues of flame, flaring bright orange in the watery moonlight, licked at the wooden beams of the old house. Creaks, crackles and the occasional ear-splitting groan echoed across the front lawn full of cheery flowers, a stark contrast against the awful scene behind them. Hot ash fell all around me, so ironically like a fall of fresh snow, as I stood rooted to the spot, as my home burned down and my beloved family perished before my very eyes.
So being the stupid fool that I was, I ran, straight into the fire. I followed them.