Disclaimer: I don't own the Naruto universe.

Characters: Sasuke, Naruto
Relationships: Naruto x Sasuke
Rating: T
Summary: Sasuke meets Naruto again.
Word Count: 500

January 1

They'd been here before.

This place. They'd been young, then, and still filled with raw, uncontrolled power. Dark rocks still echoed with their energy. The sharp howls of the wind, the white-hot crackles of lightning. Destructive forces that spun out over and over again in a never-ending battle.

It was the edge of the world.

This was the furthest Sasuke had ever been from home. Just over the sharp edge of the waterfall lay the lawless wilds of the buffer zone. Genin weren't allowed to take missions this close to the border, not during times of peace. It was still too dangerous. The vestiges of old wars still clung to their wretched lives here in the shadows cast by the Great Five.

Overhead, the guardians of the Fire Country looked down on him, as strong and silent and stoic as ever. The statues stretched so far out of reach that, for a moment, Sasuke was sure they'd blotted out the sun. Their dark shadows fell over this side of the Valley.

And then the rain came all at once. A heavy downpour pounded against the slick rock. Fat, icy droplets thudded against his pale skin. Sasuke closed his eyes, tired.

There had been rain back then, too. The first rain of an unseasonably warm winter. For one wild moment, Sasuke had thought that he'd be forced to turn back. He'd heard the stories of sudden floods and the washouts that had overtaken even the best shinobi, especially this far north.

Just as suddenly as they had started, the rains had stopped. Dim shafts of sunlight filtered through the dark clouds, casting a ghostly halo down on them.

Sasuke ran.

Warm and sticky blood clung to his chilled skin, gluing the torn fabric of his uniform to the wound in his shoulder. The metallic tang filled his mouth and thickened in the back of his throat. It sucked the air from his lungs. He turned up on his side, coughing and spitting thick blood on to the rocks.

The dull, thudding ache in shoulder roared back to life. And he curled into it.

There were hands on him, like hot coals burning against his skin. They seemed everywhere all at once, his side and his back and his face and his hair. Holding him up. Comforting him.

"Breathe." He felt more than heard the words. The voice was too close and too soft, a hot puff of air that vibrated against Sasuke's temple. A hand rubbed up and down his spine roughly.

He coughed again, and then heaved. The acrid sent of blood and bile made him heave again.

"Shh, shh," the voice continued to buzz against him. "You're okay. Just breathe, Sasuke."

If he was a lesser shinobi, Sasuke thought he might have whined. He certainly didn't feel okay; he felt like he was going to die. His lungs burned as he choked on his own blood.

The last thing he heard was a desperate plea. "Don't die on me."