DISCLAIMER: Yes, I do own Naruto. That's why I'm here on Wattpad writing fanfics about it. NO FOOLS WHY WOULD I OWN NARUTO?!? so yeah, it's not mine, this is a FANFICTION!
Dedicated to SceneDreamXD, whose Gaara love story inspired me to write this! Her story's pretty famous, so I'm guessing all you readers have already read it xD if you havent, then I pity you! THEY ARR AMAZING! soooo funny ;D
Very weird and boring at the beginning but the end will have some Gaara! Just bare with it please!
"Grandpa, why's everyone wearing black?" the child questioned. Her bright red eyes that gleaned with potential drifted around the room. A frown formed on her small pale lips when she looked at family members whom she rarely saw on a normal basis. Her mother and father were embracing each other, her father rubbing soothing circles on her mother's back. For some unknown reason, everyone looked sad, depressed. Everyone but her grandfather who sat next to her wore a black. He was dressed in a shining white as if he were glowing.
"Yurei, sweetie, there's something I must tell you," he said, his gruff voice holding a tinge of sorrow.
Her red doe-eyes turned to him. "What is it, Grandpa?"
Everyone in the room threw her dirty looks. Her mother lifted her head from her father's chest to give her a hate-filled glare. Yurei Nakamura sat alone in a corner, next to her grandfather, and the other children sat in a huddle in the opposite side of the room, exchanging whispers and laughs as they stared holes into her back.
Why everyone was giving her such looks she did not know. She was an innocent child, not having the experience to recognize hatred. They all were sitting in a crowded room and a brown wooden box was in front of them, bundles of flowers placed carefully on it so they wouldn't fall. All heads were bowed with sorrowful silence until they heard the child's voice.
What Yurei didn't know was that this was a funeral.
Her frown deepened when she saw the tears dripping from her mother's eyes. Why was she crying? Why was everyone so sad? What was in that big brown box that everyone was treating so carefully and preciously?
"What's happening, Grandpa?" she inquired, gaining even more angered glares from the black-clad people around her. Even she wore black, a beautiful dress her mother ordered her to wear with a trembling voice and watering eyes.
But she was so confused. Her mother spoke not a word either today nor yesterday and her entire family was here. Was this a family reunion? But if it was, then why was everyone so sad and silent? Her grandpa and herself were the only ones speaking. But, for some odd reason, no one was acknowledging her grandpa. It was quite rude but she didn't mention anything.
Yurei cringed at their glares. It was making her so uncomfortable. She always had people looking at her because of her appearance but surely her family were used to it.
She had silver hair, an unusual trait her grandfather had too, and the most pale skin you have ever laid your eyes on. When she was first born her mom, who was delirious after the long and painful experience of giving birth, took one look at her and said "Yurei", meaning ghost in Japanese. Ironically, her last name was Nakamura which meant "Of The Village". Ghost Of The Village was her full name. But she had the brightest red eyes that contrasted against her hair and skin. Some people found it slightly creepy - misjudging her to be possessed by some sort of demon - but her family had seen it enough to grow accustomed to it.
A thorny red rose her mother held was suddenly crushed, drawing crimson blood, but her mother paid this no mind. She arose abruptly and marched to her confused daughter.
"Yurei ..." her grandfather started.
The sound echoed in the silent room, sounding quite painful. A red hand-shaped mark stung the child's face and she stared at her mother wide-eyed. Her pale hand rose to touch the mark and she flinched at the pain. Her innocent expression read 'why?' as she felt every pair of eyes in the room turn to her.
"Stop it!" her mother shouted, tears brimming her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, her nose red, and her eyes puffy. She was a mess.
The child with the ghost-like complexion held in the tears that threatened to leak out of her eyes. The burning anger and hate in her mother's eyes hurt more than the slap she received or any other kind of laceration anyone could inflict on her. "S-Stop what, Mommy?"