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Disclaimer: The characters, the settings and any other content of Naruto used in this story belong to the original author, Kishimoto Masashi. The writing, plot, original characters and additional details of this story belong to me and shall not be reposted and publicised elsewhere without my expressed permission.

Crimson Threads

Prologue

"Please pardon me for the intrusion, sir."

A young man in the middle of the wide dojo room stopped his strike in mid-air. Sweat glistened on his bare back and torso, a few small scars barely visible on the surface. His pants of his dark hakama rustled a bit as he turned around to see an attendant in his late 40s, kneeling on the wooden floor of the hallway, his hands on his lap and head bowed slightly in respect.

He lowered his wooden katana. "Yes?"

The attendant raised his head a little before relaying his message. "The lord master and the head general requested your presence in the main hall at once, sir."

Mildly surprise, the young warrior blinked. He released one of his hands from the handle of the katana and wiped away the sweat on his forehead with the back of his knuckles. His brows furrowed slightly as he contemplated. Sure, the old man summoned him often enough for the most ridiculous things – like fetching his sake cup – but he did not remember any meetings arranged in that day that required his specific presence; least of all a summoning from the lord clan leader himself of all people.

"Did they mention why?" he asked.

"I believe it is regarding the young clan successor, sir."

His fair eyebrows rose. He definitely did not expect that.

"Now?"

"Yes, sir."

He sighed, and relaxed his stance. He just had to find out about it himself by going there, then. And he was just about to finish his warm up, too. So much for a good training in the evening… "I see. I will be there, then." He dismissed the attendant with a nod.

The attendant rose to his feet, bowed again and paused momentarily, as if remembering something. "And, sir? The, uh…" he fidgeted, "head general instructed me to tell you to be there on time to the meeting, and," he cleared his throat, "no funny excuses."

The younger man grinned and scratched his head, looking sheepish. "Ah… that old man got me." It's not like he was planning on getting late in the presence of the clan lord. He shook his head and turned back towards the training room, wordlessly dismissing the attendant. The sliding door slid close, and the attendant silently left.

The young man placed the wooden katana back to its holder on the wall. Then he made his way to the corner of the room, where the opened shōji door connected with the outer courtyard. He slipped on a pair of straw sandals and stepped on the stone path, walking towards the edge of the courtyard, where a wooden bucket of water with small ladle on the top was placed. Scooping out the water using the ladle, he washed his face and cleaned after himself.

With that done, he reached for the white cloth neatly laid out for him earlier to dry himself, and shrugged on the discarded robe on the top of the pile next. Afterwards, he set to dress himself to prepare for the meeting.

He retrieved his katana and the matching wakizashi on the low table at the one side near the entrance, and secured the sheathed blades on his hip, sliding his hand along the smooth, polished sheath as he did so.

All set, he thought. His mind drifted back again about the purpose of this meeting. He was young, indeed, almost fifteen of age, to be precise, but he was a skilled warrior nonetheless. Nevertheless, just what could he exactly do in his position with the young successor? An escort mission, perhaps? he mused. His eyes narrowed at the notion; disdain and regret reflected in his dark orbs as recalled the last escort mission he'd been assigned to have been especially tragic –

No, he shook his head firmly; do not even think about it. He had his duties, after all, and dwelling in the past too much would not bode well for him, as well as for the clan.

With absent movements, his hand lightly traced a scar across his left eye before it moved south to tug at the dark material pooled at the base of his neck.

No matter, he thought with a sigh. He just hoped that whatever the clan lord and that old man had in store for him was something he could execute within his expertise as a fellow warrior; however young that he was.

With another sigh, Hatake Kakashi pulled his mask on, adjusted the edges and went on his way.

"Our clan is best known for its unmatched superiority as a powerful samurai clan. As every other member of this clan, you will honour the will of your master and commit yourself fully to lead our clan towards glory.

Your obligations are only for your duties and commitment as a part of the main house of the Uchiha clan. Remember, we take pride in the knowledge that the strong ground which the Uchiha are standing on through all these years are the result of our stern, unrelenting forces and leadership. Tolerance and gentle compassion will only pave the way towards the weakening of our standing, ultimately resulting in the clan's destruction. Emotions are for the weak; we Uchiha do not tolerate weaknesses of any kind. Have I made myself clear, young Uchiha?"

"Yes, my lord."

The older man clad in dark, formal attire of the Uchiha clan seated on the grand, raised platform – reserved only for the clan leader's use - with higher ranking clansmen consisted of generals and elders lined up in a single file on his both sides at each end of the room, grunted and curtly nodded, apparently satisfied with the kneeling younger male's submission. He poured fine sake into two small, narrow cups.

"Very well, then. As the leader of the Uchiha clan, I, Uchiha Fugaku, shall formerly initiate you, Uchiha Sasuke, as a member of the main Uchiha family, as well as the second heir to this clan. Arise now, Uchiha."

The dark-haired younger man rose to his feet, and waited for the man's further orders. The clan head held up one of the cups, then gestured for him to step forward. He obeyed, and knelt a few feet away from the raised platform.

"Drink up, and you will be officially initiated as one of my main successor at the end of this ceremony," the older man instructed.

The younger man took the offered sake cup, waited for the other man to drink it first before he followed suit. The taste of the alcohol burned his throat as he slowly sipped on his drink.

Uchiha Fugaku finished his drink, and set his cup down. He dismissed the other gathered clansmen present in the room with a wave of his hand. It took a few moments for the clansmen to bow respectfully to their leader before they silently departed. As the door slid close, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. A hint of weariness darted across his face, before it swiftly turned back to its usual, stern facade.

"This ceremony is now over. You will receive proper training and education in preparation to become a full-fledged heir from the clan's Elders and high-ranked generals; that will also includes your brother, Itachi," Fugaku announced.

Sasuke felt his jaw tightened, and carefully forced the bitterness out of his voice as he spoke. "I will give my best to be worthy of the title, Fugaku-sama," he said in monotone as he bowed before Fugaku.

Fugaku grimaced, and grunted irritably. "You're being too formal now, Sasuke. I told you before to address me by my title as the leader in the presence of other people; not when we are only among one another," he admonished.

Sasuke sat on his heels, and bowed again; this time only by inclining his head slightly.

"Yes, Father."

"Hey! Give it back!"

A small group of young teenagers rounded a younger boy. They snickered and taunted the boy as he tried unsuccessfully to reclaim a stick of sweet, sticky dumplings dangling from the hand of the tallest one in the group. He stood on his toes and stretched his hand towards the dessert. But he was just too short, so he couldn't reach it, dammit!

As the boy jumped a few times and tried to reach it, the other bullies pushed him around, resulting in having the blond-haired boy to land on his butt on the dirt ground. He clenched his jaw and grimaced tightly, as he felt the faint sting of tears started to burn his eyes.

"Oh, what's the matter, kiddo? Someone stole your candy?" the one holding his dango mocked, while the others jeered and sniggered.

"Look! I think he's gonna cry!" the stocky one of the group added.

"What a crybaby. You sure you're not a girl?" a lanky boy sneered. The others continued to taunt him and laughed mockingly.

He gritted his teeth, holding back a snarl threatening to torn out from his throat.

He couldn't stand it. He was not a crybaby! He was just so mad that these punks decided that it was okay to just do as they wish with him. And that was his dango! His mother gave him the money to buy a stick of dango, a well-deserved treat for his share of chores around the house this whole week. He did not just scrub the floor, clean the kitchenwares and weed the garden only to have his hard-earned treat to be taken away by them!

As he tried to push himself up, however, the stocky one pushed him down roughly on his chest. The boy fell back down on the ground with an 'oof', and squinted his eyes shut at the impact. This time, a single tear escaped the corner of his right eye. He heard the others laughed, and a pair of heavy footsteps approaching. Knowing what was coming next, he hunched his shoulders, and braced for the impact –

But it never came. Instead, the voice of a little girl interrupted the stocky boy's advance and his companions' taunts.

"Stop it right there!"

The young boy slowly cracked open an eye. The first thing that entered his vision is the sight of a small girl – her head barely even reached the other bully's torso – and a shock of soft, pink hair.

He opened both of his eyes fully, and slowly they widen in awe. Was the girl – hardly around his age, he assumed – actually standing up for him? Against these punks that were older in age and bigger in size than both of them combined? Was she being su...sui...side-el? However that was supposed to be said – well, that was what his five -year old mind decided.

But above all, even in the midst of the situation, he couldn't help but to marvel at the strange colouring of the girl's hair. He never saw such unique hair colour on anyone before; the closest to such colour was his own mother's glorious red mane. Granted, he had never travelled much beyond the trees surrounding the small village, but he wondered about the origins of this strange little girl.

He snapped back to attention when the leader of the three bullies – the one keeping the dango, he assumed – snorted.

"Who the hell are you, missy? Little girls like you shouldn't butt in other boys business, y'know."

The girl squared her small shoulders, undaunted. She crossed her arms, widen her stance, and stand up straight with her chin held high, looking indignant. She would have made a pretty intimidating figure, if not for her petite form and the cute, little red ribbon tied in her pink hair.

"Give him back his dango," she demanded haughtily.

They only laughed in response. "If we don't wanna, watcha gonna do about it, pinkie?" the lanky one sneered.

She huffed in annoyance. "If you think you're all so strong and might-ey, you'll pick on someone of your own size!" Then she smiled, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Or maybe, you pricks are just scaredy-cats that can't put up a fight against real men."

The young boy on the ground had to stifle his snicker as the bullies were taken aback and sputtered in shock, but his mirth swiftly evaporated and turned into concern as they bristled in anger, and the stocky one of the group turned to her, his face thunderous with fury, and raised his meaty fist.

"Why, you little –!" he shouted, before he was abruptly cut off by one of his companion's hand on his chest, stopping him.

Bewildered, the stocky one made a face and opened his mouth, about to demand an explanation for the sudden intrusion, but as he caught his friend's terrified eyes, he trailed the line of his friend's eyesight and froze.

The young boy, puzzled by the punks' weird exchange, turned around as well to see just what had elicited such reaction from them. His eyes swept the sight before him, and found that nothing was out of the ordinary except for a man with a cloth mask covering half his face , – strange, he thought, it's pretty hot this time of the year to wear such thing – looking for all in the world as nonchalant as any passerby, leaning against a tree a good hundred yards away across from them; however, his clothing and the katana secured on his hip – almost hidden by the long sleeve of his robes– completely differed him from a random villager.

A samurai.

And a real one, too, he realized.

With his jaw hung open, a wide 'O' forming on his mouth, the young blond boy widened his eyes even more, imitating two big, blue saucers. Wow, he inwardly marvelled, it's a real samurai! So cool!

The samurai looked on the site casually, but as his gaze settled on the stocky one's eyes, it turned cold and menacing. The boy visibly tensed, then immediately dropped his hand to his side, stuttered a quick apology, and swiftly ran along the opposite path leading towards the town. Daunted, the others quickly followed suit and fled the scene, dropping the forgotten dango on the dirt path.

All the while, the young boy never took his mesmerised gaze off the mysterious samurai.

"Hmph! Serves them right! I told ya they're a buncha cowards, couldn't even stand against a girl!" the pink-haired girl proudly proclaimed.

The blond boy started, having almost forgotten the other girl's presence there, and turned his gaze towards the girl. He felt his cheeks burning as she turned around fully to face him. Big, round and clear green eyes met his bright blue ones. Soft pink hair framed her small, delicate face, and a few stray strands brushed the side of her temples. Her small, ribbon lips curled up into a smile as she looked down at him.

He wondered if his beautiful mother was as pretty as this girl when she was younger.

She bent down a little and offered her hand. "Can you stand?"

Awestruck, he dumbly nodded his head and took her proffered hand. She helped him get back on his feet and stepped back to wait for him to recover his balance. Feeling her concerned gaze on him, his face reddened a shade deeper as he shuffled uncomfortably. He looked back to where the samurai was, only to find that he was no longer around. Astonished, he looked around and found the path barren of anyone's presence. Where did he –?

"Are you okay?" she asked, a small crease slightly marred her smooth – and wide, he absently noted – forehead.

He shook his head slightly, as if clearing his head of the sudden confusion. "Yeah, I'm okay, I guess..." he trailed off. Did his mind just made it up? Maybe he was seeing things; he was being knocked down and pushed around before by those bullies, not to mention that he was still feeling pretty dazed since the girl's abrupt appearance.

"What's your name?" she asked, watching his strange manner bemusedly.

He broke out of his daze, noticing the girl staring at him and stumbled on his answer.

"Uh...it's Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto."

It was raining.

It was night time, and it was raining.

The roars of the crashing waves were muted by the deafening sound of thunderstorms, thrummed from within the dense, dark clouds hanging low and menacing on the horizon.

The small rocked sideways as another strong wave hit, the violent wind stretching the sail tautly, the side of the ship creaked loudly.

Pitter patter, went the sound of the heavy rain drops pattering on the wooden floorboards.

The merciless onslaught of waves and the unrelenting weather put the crews of the cargo ship and the boarded passengers on edge; keeping them constantly in motion even in the icy downpour that soaked them even to the deepest layers of clothing.

All save for one; whose numbed senses did not reach the far, distant recesses of her sub-consciousness.

A bolt of lightning struck, illuminating the night sky for the briefest of moments.

Barks of orders and shuffling of movements over the deck could be heard from them, loud enough even amid the booming thunderstorms and occasional strike of blinding lightning.

But they were muffled to the ears of one; the scenes and voices barely registered to the owner's distant mind and unseeing eyes.

They were nothing but mere incomprehensible, distorted details that did not matter in the slightest to the child hidden between two large stacks of crates at the far end of the cargo aisle.

Curled up on the filthy ground in the small space between the crates, the child propped her knees up and held them close to her chest in an attempt to appear as small and insignificant as she could. The downpour had completely drenched the thin layering of her clothes covering her small frame and plastered her hair to her face; the dripping fringes covering the barest hint of downcast green eyes.

She did not care. She could not bring herself to care, as she feared if she allowed herself to indulge the privilege of emotion at that moment, she might lose it and break down.

Her grip on the handle of a small, sharp object – a kunai, she recalled – tightened, as her thoughts ran adrift and memories came unbidden...

Your name is Aki... from now...

Follow me... I'll show you...

Take it... as a gift...

Run!

She gasped sharply, as a sharp stab of pain spiked somewhere from within, and she almost retched as a hollow, helpless feeling threatened to wash over her.

She could not think any further, as tears pooled in her eyes, slid down her ashen cheeks and mixed together with the pouring rain. She screwed her eyes shut, along with the remorse and grief eating away at the insides of her.

She did not know how long she had stayed that way, aside from the occasional movements on her part, peeling of bits of the spoiled bun hidden in her sleeve when the hunger was no longer bearable to her. Other than that, she remained ignorant to her surroundings and the passing of time. How long had it been since...?

Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

... Days, perhaps?

It could have been an eternity, or even just the space of a breath maybe, for all she cared. Everything else passes in a blur to the young girl, as when she was jerked awake by the sound of men shouting and ordering around – with the sky strangely clear and some other noises in the background, she absently noted – she found that the ship she had boarded was being docked to a harbour nest to another smaller shipping boat.

She was still dazed from her sudden wake of a restless slumber when the sound of heavy footsteps

approaching was heard bounding from a corner of the aisle. Alarmed, she scooted closer inward, and scrambled her mind for an escape. However, before she could form any sort of plan, a weathered man noticed her presence in the shadows of the crates.

"Gotta take these crates off to the pier – what the hell?"

"What is it, Kouta?" the voice of an elderly woman called out from the other side of the aisle.

"Tsuyo-san, come here quickly!"

Another pair of lighter footsteps approached, as the older woman reached the scene to inspect the younger man's urgent beckoning, and she exclaimed.

"Good heavens, what do we have here!"

The young girl could only stare in apprehension, mouth agape, like a deer caught beneath a spotlight.

"What in the heavens does a child doing here, all alone?" she muttered under her breath. The elderly woman closed the distance carefully, and reached out to touch her hand.

"Do not fear, dear child. Come along, now –"

As soon as her fingers brushed the younger girl's skin, something inside her snapped. She sprung into motion, leapt to her feet and pushed her way through the two larger bodies. Her small feet carried her across the aisle, over the ship's edge and leapt over to the dock, earning a few surprised cry and odd glances.

"Child, wait!"

She ran across the harbour and disappeared into the crowd.

Author's Note: So that's it! For now, anyway. I'm quite satisfied with this one, to be honest. It turned out longer than what I first intended, though. I hope I've managed to catch you readers' interest with this simple prologue. The timeline of each character's introduction are not paralleled, and they are not written in any kind of order.

This is my first time in writing any kind of fiction publicly – least of all a multi-chapter kind of story – so even with my best effort in writing this fic, I'm certain that there are many errors and imperfection riddled in this story. My apologies for that, and if you have the time, please – without force, of course – kindly leave a review so that I'll know what to correct and how to improvise, as I have much to learn from you and other experienced authors. I'll greatly appreciate it.

I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!