Sometimes, not very often because he does live in the heart of the Land of Fire, it will rain in Konoha. The sky will darken, the normally scarce clouds dark and heavy with new weight, and shorts bursts of light will dart across the sky to unknown destinations.
Times like this, when the arms of Mother Nature are open to whomever so chooses to accept her, Naruto will dance. In the training field, surrounded by trees and air and sky with no prying eyes, he will raise his hands to the heavens and smile. Then, in light drizzle or fat painful splatters of a thunderstorm, he will dance with the rain.
If, indeed, it can even be called such, for surely such flowing movement can be no dance. With a grace usually absent, those particular tanned limbs will rise and fall and twist with no restriction, only a steady sort of serenity.
It is the one time Naruto can truly feel like himself, held in the encompassing embrace of water and wind he shows his appreciation of the moment with all of his endless energy – throwing his body around as if it were nothing more than a puppet for the gods amusement.
Eyes closed and expression peaceful, he will spin slowly to a stop as the last droplets fall – inevitably on his upraised face and pause in the sudden stillness. It is never him who breaks the moment with a careless breath; sometimes it is an insect chirping, others a barely distinguishable ripple of a newly filled puddle, but then as outside movement returns to the world and the other worshipers of the storm rise in symphony he will sigh just once, quite softly.
And then he will walk home, face still tilted toward the fast fading grey infinity and wish that it could last just a little bit longer.