It all started one sun-soaked Thursday afternoon in July, the warm fingers of light stretching through all of Japan. Sasuke was sitting cross-legged in a field, looking bored and practicing Chidori. He gathered a bubble of chakra in his palm and focused on putting all of his energy into the ball of surging blue cupped in one hand. He sucked it back in, slumped over to one side lazily and stared at the grass inches from his nose. Sasuke wasn't really one for summer; the sun was always too hot or too bright, and his skin always burned so easily, so at the end of the hot season he would be stuck with a humiliatingly red, stinging face.

Sasuke didn't like most seasons, actually. He hated the fall because of all the leaves on the ground that made it so hard to be quiet. He hated the spring because there were so many smiles and flowers and new things growing. The only thing he enjoyed about spring was the rain. The cool, pattering rain slicking his face and drenching his clothes. He would stand for hours outside in the rain, feeling pearly drops hit his skin and drip off. Other than rain, he hated spring as much as summer. He enjoyed winter, though—the snow, whether falling or coating the ground, was the only thing he could honestly say he found beautiful. He loved standing in the snow, being buried with inch over inch of white fluffy powder. He loved the isolation of the winter, too, because it was so cold and icy outside, people were hesitant to spend their days in the whiteouts, so he could find some peace outside in the snow and chill.

There was someone else who felt the same way about the seasons as he did. Sakura loved the summer and spring, was comfortable in the fall, and despised the cold of winter. Naruto liked warm weather, too, and he was bored with snow and rain. But there was one other person who stood in the rain, looking up to the sky, someone else who would lay outside in the winter and feel snow melting on their face and love it more than anything. Of course, Sasuke hated to remember that the only person who truly hated heat and loved cold as much as he did was his older brother, Itachi, whom he'd sworn to kill.

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Itachi was hanging silently from a tree branch in the forest, shaded from the disgusting heat and light of the summer sun. Overlapping branches kept him cool and dark even in the high point of the day, when Japan was at its hottest and the sun would glimmer mockingly at him, daring him to come out in the exposure and burn his pale skin. Kisame was fiddling with the wrapping on his shark-skin sword, as bored as ever and unentertained with the mere idea of spending a day or more doing nothing but sitting and waiting, hiding from the elements; hour after hour was the same old thing, just crouching and stalking along under the cover of the canopy.

"What, are you gonna melt in the sun?" Kisame asked suddenly, glaring at Itachi. Itachi looked over and glared back. His dagger-eyed look shut his companion up.

"You and I both know I hate the summer."

"The dog days of summer, eh Itachi?"

"Exactly. The dog days of summer, not the Akatsuki days."

"Oh, Itachi, you were gonna say weasel days but you turned back." Kisame winked. Itachi continued to glare at him.

"Why don't we do something more interesting then?" Kisame asked, picking at the black nail polish on his fingernails.

"Like what?"

"Why don't we go find Orochimaru? He hates the sun too."

"Why the hell would we see him?"

"So you two can bitch off to each other about how terrible summer is while he makes me gay tea."

"Oh, shut up, Kisame."

Kisame sighed and leaned back against a branch.

"You're just antisocial."

"You know what, Kisame, that is the last straw." Itachi flicked a kunai at Kisame, slashing his shoulder open.

"Hey," Kisame yawned boredly, poking at the knife sticking out of the tree. "You're nowhere near pissing me off."

"You, however, are severely pissing me off," Itachi growled, glowering at the Swordsman of the Mist perched leisurely in the tree across from his.

"Whatever."

"Do you really hate just sitting here this much?"

"Well, duh."

"Kisame, don't be a bitch."

"Takes one to know one."

"Shut up."

"Where's your bro, anyway?"

Itachi didn't reply. He flinched and looked away.

"Yo, earth to weasel?"

"Shut up," came the quiet reply.

Kisame shut up. He knew he'd hit a soft spot. But he didn't care. He wanted to know where the little Uchiha was, and he wanted to know now. Kisame was frustrated. He hated it when Itachi just brushed him off like that. But there wasn't much he could do about it now; Itachi was giving him the silent treatment.

"Ita-sama?" Kisame asked, more softly this time.

"What?"

"What really happened between you and Sasuke?"

xxchuuxx