Ice Cream Parlor

It's not called Fire Country for nothing, I suppose, Itachi thought, just as he had at the end of every spring when Fifth Month rolled around and brought with it the hot weather. Most places started their hot seasons a month or so later and Fifth Month was mild. Not so for Konoha; they paid for their will of fire with their sweat.

The Uchiha doubted that his black clothing helped—the shirt that so proudly displayed the sigil of his clan stuck to his back, and the high neck suffocated him. One would think that after being based in Konoha for long enough, the Uchihas would learn to make clothes that don't make them want to bury themselves in a tub full of ice.

Neji wasn't so burdened by clan pride; his clothes were looser and lighter-colored. His concession to the heat was that he'd left off the guard-skirt that protected his legs on missions, and his hair was tied back out of his face. Itachi wouldn't say that the look suited him more—but it was never very hard to look at Neji in the first place. He somehow managed to appear cool, even in this heat.

The interior of the ice cream parlor was blessedly cool on their flushed and sweating faces, and as they waited for their ice cream they leaned against the wall and let the chill seep into their bodies.

"Times like this make me want to move to somewhere cold and snowy," Itachi grumbled. "I dislike the heat."

"You've taken twenty years of it so far," Neji replied. "A few more won't hurt you." He picked up the cones and paid the shopkeeper, and they took seats by the wall. Automatically both scanned the room before relaxing enough to eat. Itachi really did have a sweet tooth, Neji found—the genius must have tried every flavor in the place. The Hyuuga enjoyed watching his reactions to certain ones. The tomato-flavored ice cream produced the most hilarious results, and Neji struggled to keep from laughing out loud as Itachi's nose wrinkled up and his face got a very pinched look.

"Take it home to your brother," Neji suggested.

"The little brat wouldn't appreciate it if I did manage to keep it from melting on the way there."

"Sasuke's not that bad…"

"Yes. Yes, he is."

"You're just saying that because you're brothers."

"And you don't understand because you don't have any siblings at all. And Hinata-san doesn't count."

"Why doesn't she—"

"She's your cousin, not your sibling, and you don't live in the same house."

"So? We grew up together."

"It's not the same."

"It's not?"

"Of course not…"

They went back and forth like this for some time, while the ice cream melted and people came in and out. But they were oblivious, wrapped in their own little world.