Okay, so this is going to be a collection of Naruto oneshots, drabbles, and miscellaneous stories that have no indefinite pairing. There will be some mention of someone being paired with someone, there just won't be names, so you'll be able to fit in your favorite pairing with no restrictions. But for the most part, I want to stay away from pairings with this collection. So far, I'm doing a pretty terrible job at it. I hope to get better as the time stretches :)

Be warned, that there won't always be fluffy fluff fluff in this, 'kay? Be careful of bad humor, strained writing, and angst-ish stories that won't always be tearjerkers, but they won't make you happy either. I hope to keep your attention, though.

Disclaimer: If I ever take claim to anything, anywhere, at any time--feel free to open fire. I own anything, and me writing this makes no difference.

Need to know: If you're up to date with weekly Shounen Jump, good for you. Use your knowledge to your advantage and get that little mind thinking while reading this first one, alright?

Thankies and... enjoy.

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Naruto didn't know what their ending would be like. He never thought about it, that's all. Never had he ever imagined that there would be an ending. But all stories had to have an end, right? Every person had to die, didn't they? No matter what . . . there always had to be an ending . . .

But not like this. This was not the ending he wanted. Not what he would imagine--had he ever--his and that person's ending would be like. There were no words for what he wanted their end to be like. Simple, is what he would ask for. Not dramatized and painful, is what he'd imagine it'd be like. But that wasn't it at all; the good or the bad, they just weren't . . . there.

Nothing is not what he wanted.

But that is what exactly what it was, nothing. Just a white expanse of . . . nothing. White wasn't what he expected either. Black, yes; gray, maybe. But not white. But he did remember an ending with white once upon a time, but unfortunately, he didn't want that to be their ending either. He had remembered wanting to re-do that ending, if he was given the chance to anyway. But he knew that in this ending, there were no re-dos, no seconds chances or hope of ever getting a last goodbye, a final word for what he wanted their end to be. This was the end, and that was it.

He remember that last touch at the end, too. It wasn't a heavy embrace, or a passionate kiss--he shuddered at that last part--because there was no time for that. All they'd had was a simple touch; the friction of their hands grasping each other. It was small, but it wasn't enough either. When he was at the end, he wanted to go out with a huge, booming bang. A hero to his village, is what he wanted to be. He didn't get that. All he got was this nothingness.

Why?

There was a battle, that much he remembered. Screaming, battle cries, explosions, cracks, snaps, crying, running, dodging, fighting, hitting, kicking, hand signs, scrolls, jutsu, kunai, stars, skin . . . blood. Oh yes, there was blood. It didn't scare him, he had seen enough of his blood to not be afraid of it. Blood was nothing to a soldier, a warrior and protector of his village and the people in it. To see that they didn't get hurt, you had to spill blood; you had to see it; you had to be the cause of it sometimes. For safety and peace you had to spill blood, you had to kill.

In a battle, you had to give your all, no matter what. And he had, or at least, he had tried to. Sacrificing yourself in the name of honor was one thing, sacrificing yourself for yourself was . . . it was horrible--humiliating. But he'd done it in the name of his village, despite what his friends had said, despite what--

He stopped himself. No, that was not it. He would not but the blame on the person that had to die with him. There was no excuse, there was no lying to himself that this wasn't his fault, he had died for nothing, he had died to be the reason his village and all the people in it were dead. He had killed them.

He, Naruto Uzumaki, had killed all of his reason for living.

This truly was his end, and the worst part--he wasn't even dead yet. He was alive, but there was someone on the outside, someone controlling him. If he could cry in a place like this, he would. He would cry.

He would cry for his most important person, the one that he cared for, the one that he tried to protect with all his heart, soul and body. The one that held his hand through all of it, even the end, though he was not at it completely yet. He would cry for the person that he told--

He supposed that there was something greater than not being dead yet. The worst part was that . . .

He didn't even get to tell the other person . . . that he loved them.

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Yes, it's very short. But... tell me what you think?