She awoke to find a thin red string emerging from her chest just over her heart. With a heavy sigh, she reached for the sewing scissors she kept in her bedside drawer and snipped it with one quick, smooth motion. She felt it as keenly as a knife slipping between her ribs; the sense of loss rippled through her on a wave of heartbreaking pain and tears stung her eyes. Gasping for breath, she felt the string recede within her body and gradually the pain faded to a manageable level.

Just another average day in the life of Aino Minako, she mused.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, tossed on a yellow sundress and a pair of sandals, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door.

It was a bright summer Sunday and the day was already well-advanced. The sun was hot on the back of her neck. Even the cool cotton dress did little to ease the heat of the Tokyo summer. She stretched, feeling the muscles in her neck protesting the exercise, then took a right at the corner and started for the tea house down the street.

A woman passed by, walking her dog, a red string stretching from her chest, far out into the distance to the woman's soul mate. Minako felt the faint warmth of the thread as it passed through her. She enjoyed the feeling, the heat of the thread warming her heart.

As she passed a busier intersection, red strings in abundance passed before her eyes and slid harmlessly through her body. If she had wanted to, she could have reached out and touched one, held it in her hand and felt the power and love coursing through it like a living thing. But instead she simply walked through them, savoring the gentle heat, and letting them pass her undisturbed.

A man held the door for her as she arrived at the tea house, and she smiled brightly at him and took her place in line. Though she normally drank her tea hot – it had been her custom, growing up in England, to observe teatime – she instead ordered a fruity iced tea instead, due in large part to the scorching summer weather. As she retrieved her cup from the woman at the bar, she glanced over to smile at the man who had held the door for her. Just then the bell on the door chimed, and a pretty woman in her mid-twenties approached the counter.

Then she noticed the red string stretching between them – the woman at the counter and the man who had held the door. They weren't together. They didn't even know each other. And she couldn't just let them miss their chance. Slipping a little closer on the pretext of grabbing some napkins, she closed her fingers around the string and tugged gently as she backed away.

With a yelp of surprise, the woman tripped, spilling her coffee all over the man. Minako resisted the urge to giggle.

"I am so, so sorry!" The woman said, mopping at the wet spot on his dark jacket. "I'll pay for it to be dry-cleaned. I can't believe I was so clumsy!"

"It's okay." The man grabbed the woman's trembling fingers in his own, stifling a smile. "It's just a jacket. I'll toss it in the washer when I get home."

"No, I insist. Let me make it up to you," the woman persisted.

"All right." He slid off his wet jacket, draping it over his arm. "How about lunch, then?"

Shocked senseless, the woman's eyes widened. She recovered quickly enough and laughed. "Only if I get to pay!"

Minako watched, satisfied, as the two walked out of the tea house together.

It was just too bad that she'd never get that sort of chance. But then, it was her fate – and all because of a jealous witch's curse. To see love, but to be forever forbidden to partake of it. To flout the witch's curse would be to gamble with the life of her soul mate – whoever that was – and that she would never do.

She'd never met her soul mate. With luck, she would never meet him. If she never met him, she would never fall in love with him, would never be tempted by that which was disallowed to her. She didn't want to be responsible for someone's death, and she didn't want to go through the pain of a loved one's death again.

She shook her head, clearing it of her heavy thoughts – life was far too short to spend it suffering. Pasting on a sunny smile, she sipped her drink and absentmindedly followed a nearby red string down the street towards the park. Even if she couldn't bring two people together, she enjoyed discovering the people who were made for each other.

The strings weren't exactly physical objects – at least, not to normal people. They stretched in straight lines from one person to another, passing directly through anything in their paths – cars, buildings, mailboxes. Minako imagined some stretched across oceans. The one she was currently following had her dodging trees on her trek through the park as it passed through several of them.

She saw it stretching out beyond the pond just down the hill, but as she skirted the last tree in her way she slammed into a very hard, very male chest. She pulled away, an apology springing to her lips.

Until she actually got a good look at the man.

"Kunzite?" She gasped.

"Ken," he corrected wryly. "I go by Ken, now, Minako." His white-blonde bangs fell into his eyes. It was cut in a shorter, more modern style. Minako had liked it better long.

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Oh, of course. Sorry."

"Besides the initial surprise, you don't seem terribly shocked to see me," he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

She shook her head. "No, um, you see…Jadeite showed up a couple of years ago. According to Rei-chan, when the Dark Kingdom was destroyed, he chose to live on Earth. He comes by once a year to see Rei-chan. I figured it was only a matter of time before another one of you showed up." Her fingers unconsciously stroked the red string running between them, seeking the soothing heat of the thread. When he had appeared, her heart had started racing at an alarming speed. She was afraid to think of what it meant.

"Yes," he said. "Beryl's death released us from our servitude. I chose to remain, like Jadeite. I haven't spent much time in Tokyo lately, though," he said. "Bad memories. You know how that is."

She nodded, feeling like her heart might leapt out of her chest and into his hands. "I, uh, have somewhere I have to be. Take care."

He laughed harshly. "I'll try. This human body is weak. I wake up every morning because my chest aches. Is that even normal?"

She closed her eyes against a wave of pain. "What does it feel like?"

Another deprecating laugh. "Like my heart's getting ripped out of my body. I feel…depressed. Like I lost something important. Why do you want to know?" He asked. "Does that ever happen to you?"

"All the time." She couldn't meet his eyes. But of course, he couldn't see the strings. He wouldn't know what she did every morning before even getting out of bed.

He sighed. "Good. I'd hate to find out I got a chance at a normal life, only this body's broken…Minako? Minako!"

She was running before she knew it, running back towards her small apartment, back to her boring, empty life. He didn't try to follow her. She had hoped this day would never come. But there was nothing she could do. Pain was better than death. With any luck, he'd never know what he was missing.

By the time she made it back to her apartment she was crying so hard it was difficult even to fit the key to the lock. She slipped inside, tossing her purse carelessly on the table, grabbing a box of tissues on her way to her bedroom.

It wasn't even five o'clock in the evening, but she slid her dress over her head and burrowed under her covers with the tissues, crying until she fell asleep.

When she awoke the next morning she grabbed the scissors from her bedside drawer and struggled not to cry as she cut the string.