www(DOT)deviantart(DOT)com/deviation/52660367/ based on this picture

A challenge between me and my beta-reader, and I must have won, because he has not written anything at all! hah! Very weird story to be honest - and this is what happens when I go in freakish mood, where I write whatever comes to my mind. Like it or not. Review if you please.

To Rokudaime readers: I don't know when the next chapter will be out, I am hoping my beta-reader can get his ass together and do something about it!

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There is a storm coming. A great storm in the distance is hovering above the skies of a great world. The clouds are fluffy and the setting sun colours it with a perfect pink and orange. A teacher once told the children of the world, the clouds are always flat underneath and puffy on the top. It is scientific. Science also tells us that the trees, which rest underneath the skies, create photosynthesis with the help of the sun. But there is a storm coming, so there is no sun and that means there is no photosynthesis. However, who needs to know that?

The forest is dark, because of the missing sun, but there is always a sun shinning somewhere, so you don't need to worry. In this world we do not have to fear, and we do not have to worry, and that is why it doesn't matter whether there is a storm or not. It doesn't matter if you walk fast or quick, or have blue or green eyes – yes brown eyes are beautiful too. That is why the storm clouds are so beautiful when enlightened in the purest pink – because it is colour.

This is when you see the two people, their bodies filling most of your vision. They're colourful – red and orange – pink and yellow. They're so beautiful. And this way this story is written is not pretty nor correct – because you don't write they're, don't or doesn't in a story, it is not correct, but this is beautiful, so that is how it is. The girl, she wears pink and red, and her hair blows with the wind as if she was one with it. The boy, beside her, watches as the storm closes around them, his so blue eyes hidden from our sight.

The leaf, which doesn't really look like a leaf, marks what they are and what they can do. You don't ask why they've chosen what they have become. He doesn't look at her, because he doesn't feel it is right, even though his heart always skips that extra beat when she is near. He loves her. You ask him why he does so and he will smile at you and get that distant look on his face. If you ask the girl if she loves him, she will glare at you, and you'll have to run, because she is stronger than most adults. Kakashi says that.

What are they? What are they to the world, and what are they to each other? People can say a lot, and people can say less, but there is no doubt about it, they're beautiful. When they stand there, they do not think of one another, and they do not think of the storm which is ahead of them. In reality, they think about who should've been standing beside them. It is a friend, a dear friend, lost in a storm of his own. The blond-haired boy had missed him, and made his own body suffer so he could get him back. The pink-haired woman had sacrificed her tears and future and dreams for this boy.

Blue eyes turn to look at the woman beside him. She is looking straight ahead, only fifteen years of age, and yet she looks as if she had gone through centuries of pain and suffering, a wisdom about the world only seen with people much older than her. Pain and suffering was common knowledge among her kind. Ninjas. He is looking at her, because despite peoples' constant doubts, he loves her. She can feel him stare.

She turns her own face, and meets the glinting eyes of hope. He loves her. She nods and turns her head to the storm in front of her, but it is not as if she is looking at the storm. He turns his face in the same direction. Years from now, he would stand in the hospital, sweaty and scared, but with a happiness unknown to himself. Because the woman he loves would sit in a bed, her head messy, and with their child in her arms. None of them knows now, and it even seems impossible to imagine the two of them together, because – you know – ninjas die all the time.

You wouldn't imagine how they even got together, to many it seemed awkward and utterly ridicules. Because, actually, it wasn't them at first. She found another and so did he, but no matter how hard they tried to deny, every time they met, they felt as if they belonged with the other. Perhaps a reason could be that they had been through so many things together, or another could be that they truly were meant to be. However, since there is no such thing as the right one, the last one seems rather odd.

So, both of them got the guilt on their shoulders of having once spent a night together, decided that there was no point in denying. However, that is years ahead, and we're not hear to tell a story about how unperfect a human can be.

There is a storm coming, and whether it is a warning of the turbulent events that will take place in a matter of short time, or just the way the planet works, with clouds, rain, snow and sun, we cannot tell the events of the future. To me the stories that would be left of the heroic Uzumaki Naruto would never be as exciting as watching the pink clouds promising disaster and death. However, I am merely a person who watches the great stories unfold and show us what magnificent thing the world can give us.

There is a storm coming.

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