DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto, Kishimoto does. I don't own Hikari Aino.

A/C: Constructive criticism is warmly welcomed and appreciated, as well as readers' suggestions/ideas. (Particularly when it comes to Lemons – I really suck at those! :S) Flames and mean comments are not welcome – saying 'no offence' means squat. If you don't like what you're reading don't leave a comment!

THE RED STRING OF FATE

There's moments in your life that make you,
that set the course of who you're gonna be.
Sometimes they're little, subtle moments.
Sometimes they're not. I'll show you what I mean.

~PROLOGUE~

My shoes made a light tapping noise as I strolled down the street holding tightly to my mother's hand. We were on our way home from visiting my grandmother and it was close to dinner time. The sunset cast a beautiful orange-yellow glow over the Village and started to cast rippling shadows into the lake we were walking past.

"Did you have a lovely time at your grandmother's house, sweetheart?" asks my mother, smiling warmly at me.

I glanced up into her eyes and smiled slightly before nodding once and then looking away again to observe my surroundings. To my surprise, I see a little boy sitting all alone on a nearby gangplank that stretched out onto Konoha's only lake. He seemed sad, defeated almost, as he sat slumped on the edge and swung his legs lazily back and forth.

I tugged on my mother's sleeve and she looked down at me in response.

"Mommy, who's that?" I asked pointing towards the little boy.

She looked over to where I was pointing and her face fell sadly when she recognised him. She stopped in her tracks and got down to my level so she could speak to my face.

"That's Sasuke Uchiha." She replied sadly.

I blinked curiously at him and frowned.

"What's wrong with him?"

Mom tucked a stray piece of my black hair behind my ear before replying.

"He's probably just mourning, honey. He lost his parents recently, poor lamb."

"Where did they go?"

The typical little child question that made every parent hesitate as they didn't want to scare their child with anything involving death. At least not until they were ready and able to understand without being upset. My mother sighed before making a quick decision and opened her mouth to answer my question.

"They've gone away for awhile – he'll see them again someday, just like you'll see your father and grandfather someday."

I nodded, not fully understanding.

We continued walking along the road, while I looked back at the little boy with a worried look and smiled when he looked up at me. He looked away quickly without smiling, then got up and walked away.

Late at night, I couldn't get the little boy out of my head as I tried to go to sleep.

It just didn't seem fair that he didn't have someone to go home to at night. Someone who could wrap him up in warm arms and rock him gently to sleep like my mom did for me whenever I was scared or really tired. Someone who would compliment him on his achievements and correct him for his mistakes without being made to feel insignificant. I pulled back my doona and tottered towards my mother's room where I stood in the doorway, looking at her sleeping silhouette breathing slowly in and out in peaceful, unsuspecting slumber.

"Mommy..."

She stirred, yawning deeply.

"What's wrong, honey? Did you have a bad dream?" she asked in a groggy voice.

I shook my head and she sat up and opened her arms up for me to come to her. She pulled back her doona cover and allowed me to climb into the bed and curl up against her. We were silent for a few moments before I ventured my question.

"Mommy, what is love?"

I felt my mother freeze behind me, which stilled the hand that was trying to soothe me and lull me into a sleep beside her. She rolled over and clicked on her bedside lamp and turned back to me with a small smile.

"Well... love can be many things. There's love for your family, love for your friends, the emotion love and also romantic love which is shared between two different people who care deeply about each other." She explained after a few moments.

"You mean like you and daddy?" I asked.

She smiled.

"Yes. Like daddy and I."

She kissed my forehead and started to stroke my hair away from my face. She looked away for a moment absently thinking about something else, then suddenly, she pulled me into her arms, still stroking my hair.

"Tell me tell you something your grandmother told me long ago while I was trying to go to sleep."

I nodded and made myself comfortable as she began her story.

~STORY~

"Once upon a time, there was a young boy who lived in a beautiful village." My mother intoned.

"Walking home one night, he came upon an old man sitting beneath the moonlight.

His name was Yue Xia Lao.

Now Yue Xia Lao greeted the young boy and explained to him that he was connected to his destined wife by a thin red thread. The boy looked at him sceptically, especially when the well-meaning, wise old man showed him the young girl who was destined to be his wife. But the boy, being too young to be married, had no wish nor interest in having a wife. So the boy picks up a rock and throws it at the little girl, running away."

I gasped – thinking that what the little boy did wasn't very nice, but remained silent so my mom could finish her tale.

"Many years later, the young boy had become a handsome young man, and his parents arranged for him to be married. On the night of his wedding, his wife waits for him in their bedroom with the traditional white veil covering her face. He raises it and is delighted to see that it is one of the most beautiful women in his village.

But he notices that she has something covering her eyebrow.

'Why are you wearing that?'

The young man asks his wife. The young woman smiles sadly before answering.

'When I was a little girl, a boy threw a rock at me and it hit me on the face. It gave me a bad scar on my eyebrow. I wear this, to cover it up.'

The young man was shocked. This young woman was the same little girl he had met years ago. He looks down and sees that there is indeed a red thread connecting them to each other as Yue Xia Lao had once told him when he was a little boy.

'It indicated that they were connected by the 'red strings of fate'."

~END OF STORY~

The next time I woke up, I found myself lying in my bed with moonlight streaming through my bedroom window and reflecting on my face. I smiled, remembering my mother's story and yawning, rolled over and went back to sleep.

Never noticing the subtle glow of something red attached to my pinky finger...