A new story from me! Though I doubt anyone will really care. I updated two of my other stories today, which is awesome because I never do that sort of thing. Anyways, this is the prologue, because I feel like waiting to see if anyone likes this before I go through with my little idea. Sorry if it sounds just like another fanfic you've read, I'm not going for that. I'm trying to be original here, but it's kinda hard considering how many Naruto stories there are. The main pairing here is SasuNaru. The title is Latin and means 'one heart.'

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, but if I did I'd make him do naughty things to Sasuke.

JAPAN, 1871

They were sick. All of them. The entire village had the disease, and there was no cure. Once you were infected, there was no way out. You would turn into one of them. They weren't even human anymore. Their bones became warped, changing the entire shape of their body. Their backs were hunched, their jaws elongated, and their teeth sharpened. Their skin was stretched wide over their body. And they became bloodthirsty. Their need for human flesh overwhelmed them. That was all they could think about. They would eat their own family if they got in the way. The people in the early stages of the disease always complained of the noise. It could be dead quiet, but still they screamed, "Make it stop! It's too loud!" And they all said they felt like they were burning. They felt as if they had been set on fire.

The authorities of the next village over decided that the best thing to do was burn the village down. It was the best thing they could think of to stop the disease from spreading. So soldiers were sent out with torches; they gathered around the infected village in a circle, preparing for what they were about to do. They had been told that everyone in the village was infected and dangerous; that they should not feel guilt over this. So when they threw the torches on the houses and streets and watched silently as it burned, that was it.

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A seven year old boy was sitting in his dining room. His name was Sasuke Uchiha. His older brother had left him, but not before he made his special dessert, skittles pie. (A/N: I know, what you're all thinking. Skittles pie? Well, I was writing this during lunch at school and one of my friends said skittles, then he said pie, and then we both said skittles pie at the same time, so I just left it in there.) A little bit unorthodox, but acceptable at the moment.

"I wonder were nii-san went." The little boy said to himself He got up and wandered around his house a little, remembering how his parents had liked to sit and play Shogi in the springtime. It had been a long and cold winter in the village, and the boy's nii-san, Itachi had been working very hard, training. He was going to be a soldier in the imperial army. Their father had had such high expectations. He made Itachi practice with the katana that had been passed down in their family for generations. Itachi worked hard and never complained, but Sasuke noticed something was wrong with his nii-san. The older boy seemed to isolate himself even more.

Their father started checking up on Sasuke more, asking about his studies and every once in a while, hinting that he might- just might- want Sasuke to start using the katana early. Older than his brother had been when he started, but still very young. Sasuke was ecstatic at his father's praise. He tried as hard as he could to get to his brother's level, but nothing seemed to work. And when his parents were killed, it didn't seem to matter as much to him. He still trained every day, just like Itachi, but his heart wasn't in it like before. He had nothing to gain anymore from it.

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AMERICA, 1871

A blonde boy sat quietly on a park swing, his normally bright blue eyes dim with sadness. His name was Naruto Uzumaki. He had never had a family, had always been alone. No one cared about him, except for one of his teachers, Iruka-sensei. Iruka was teaching Naruto how to speak Japanese at after school lessons. Afterwards he would usually take the smiling blonde boy to get some ramen. But today, Iruka was home sick, and Naruto had no one to talk to. Anyone who passed by his little swing would either glare or ignore him completely. But he was used to it. That was just the way people treated him, for reasons unknown to him. Even though he was only seven years old, he had learned to live with it.

Naruto watched as a few other children started playing nearby. No one even looked his way the whole time. No one asked him if he wanted to play. He wished more than anything that someone would. He sighed and got off of the swing, starting the trek back to the apartment he lived in alone. It was small, but then again, so was he. He wiped away at the tears that were starting to fall. He was strong, he could handle it. That was what he always tried telling himself. But with no actual proof to back that up, he had stopped listening to himself.

Sorry this is so short, but I've been typing all day, and my fingers hurt. And sorry about the majorly depressed Naru-chan. He'll be less sad after he meets Sasuke, which will be soon. Please review!