Author's Notes and Disclaimers: I do not own Naruto. I do own my original character Moiya, but I thank Kishimoto for the inspiration. This is meant to be a one shot, but it may become a series of oneshots if the reviewers enjoy. It is based off a dream I was having that led into a creative jolt when I woke up. Eventually I may make it into a more detailed short story, but I needed to get it out of my head before it drove me crazy. The Ghost of You
She could feel him laying behind her, fingers running down her arm gently, teasing her skin. The warmth of his breath on the back of her shoulder, his body pressing in against hers. The small kisses from his soft lips moving up the curve of her neck until she could feel his breath against her ear. His hand slipping under the covers as he caressed her hip and thigh, then gently pulling her back into him.
"Stop that Sakumo! Im trying to concentrate!" Mari yelled again.
"You could concentrate for an eternity and never get it right!" he yelled back.
Moiya's eyes snapped open and stared blankly at the wall next to her bed, her breathing slightly labored. It took a moment for her to realize it was the sound of the children arguing outside that had woken her up. Her eyes drifted over to the clock. It was 8:13 in the morning. She closed her eyes. They were both so much like him. Always up and out the door with the rising sun.
Why he was late all the time when he was naturally a morning person had been a private joke between them. His intentional effort to annoy everyone had become something more intimate. Her dream had been about one of those intimate mornings they spent together. She didn't bother to wipe away the tears this time.
Not today.
It was always the same when ever she closed her eyes, trying to go to sleep, and thought of him. No matter how long it had been, in her dreams...his touch...his smell...his voice...always came back to her as strong as if he were really there, constantly reminding her of what she had lost. What they had lost.
Taking a deep breath to try and ease the ache that had settled in her chest and throat she rolled onto her back, stretching out her legs and staring up at the ceiling. She always dreaded this day. Every year it came and went, but never passed without leaving behind fresh open wounds. Wounds that would take another year to heal only to be torn open again.
It was his day after all.
Letting her head roll to the side, her hand following her gaze, she ran her fingers over the sheet. It always seemed emptier on his day. Their bed, which was much too big for one person. She felt the lump catch her in her throat again as the image of him laying there smiling back at her, his hand stretched out ready to push the hair from her face, disappeared suddenly. The sounds of feet running up the stairs invading her memory.
How she loved the sounds of her children, their laughter, their feet running through the house. Sakumo had been born with her green eyes and Mari with her fathers dark piercing eyes. But they both were blessed with an amazing compromise of silvery blonde hair. They were beautiful, smart, respectful, talented, funny, energetic.
Everything he had been.
She continued to stare at the empty space where he had slept every night he wasn't away on a mission since their wedding, where he sat for hours on his lazy days reading his favorite book, where he cuddled up next to his children when they were babies.
She could remember the twins first night at home. He laid there across from her, the twins tucked between them. Mari's little hand holding onto his finger as she slept. His face pressed against Sakumo's small head. He looked so peaceful curled up next to his children. It was where he should be right now she thought.
A tear slipping from the corner of her eye.
"Don't go in there. You'll wake her up."
"What if she's already awake? Wont she be sad all by herself today?"
The sound of her children's soft voices whispering by the door made her heart ache even more. She wanted to tell them they could come in, smile at them as if it was just another day. But she knew it would only hurt them more to see her like this. Her eyes red and puffy from crying most of the night. Even now she could feel more tears stinging the corners of her eyes as she grabbed his pillow and dragged it over. Hugging it against her chest as she pressed her face into it and drew in a deep breath.
It didn't smell like him anymore.
Not since the day Mari tried to help with the chores.
She could remember how hard it had been not to cry or yell at her small daughter when she found the pillow laying on the floor next to the stripped bed. The pillow had become a painful reminder that he wasn't coming home instead of the comfort it had once been.
His scent was gone...he was gone.
Even the clothes in the closet had lost his scent. They only smelled like the closet after all these years. All she had left were the memories, but even those seem to be fading with time. Most days she could only feel his presence, hear his voice, alone in their bed with her eyes closed, somewhere between asleep and awake.
But not today.
It was his day after all.
Today he would be everywhere. Wether she was awake or asleep or the in between places where she felt him the strongest. Everywhere she went he would be there. Like a ghost. He would be there where only she could see him, could feel his touches, hear his voice next to her ear as he whispered long forgotten words.