I grew up in a household full of creativity and potential. I've always noticed details, It was inevitable for me to be this way. Being raised by a flower shop owner and a painter does that.
Both people who raised me were masters of their craft in their own regard and I was raised accordingly. The most important Discovery I've made through my peculiar upbringing is that you learn a lot about someone from the movement of their wrists. Failing to be attuned to your breathing, lack of muscle control, and improper preparation can all lead to just one wrong stroke and one wrong stroke can ruin a masterpiece.
Dad moves fast and easy through his masterpieces. Each stroke is premeditated. While individually each stroke does not hold much meaning but together they make a bigger picture. His wrists flow freely.
Mother's favorite task was flower arranging. She always loved having bouquet orders. She zoomed through then smiling and hummed when she was particularly proud of an arrangement. When she got particularly attached to a creation she would pout and watch the clock tick until the owner would pick up their flowers.
We were young; I'd gotten home from academy. Dad was on a mission and mom was busying herself with orders as usual.
Mom was nowhere to be found but she had a flowers laid out on the checkout counter.
Forget-Me-Nots with Baby's Breath clusters and a few Gardenias added in for a beautiful scent.
She found me smelling the gardenia and greeted me warmly.
I first noticed that she hummed while she worked. The message of the bouquet wasn't particularly subtle, I didn't think much of it. It could have been a coincidence, more often than not the meaning of flowers would be cast aside to meet an orders special request. But of course it was my mother's wrists that caught my eye. There was the tension, she was nervous. Every movement was calculated and laborious.
Did she particularly hate the arrangement?
No, it wasn't that simple. She was often a fan of saying there were no ugly flowers, only people who didn't know how to accentuate their beauty.
I glanced at her face.
My mother never looked like that before. She beamed. I knew that it was sunlight that kissed her skin but it seemed to me in every way that the light came from within her.
Annoyed she walked to the back room to track down her shears.
The first time I saw it I wasn't sure what I was seeing.
"Who is this order for?"
"Oh I'm making a present for fun." She returned with the shears. "How's school doing sweetie."
"A little boring, I want to start learning cooler jutsu! The stuff we're learning in class is so boring and troublesome."
She chuckled.
"What's so funny?" I asked, confused. She glanced my way.
"Nothing, its just…."
"What?"
"You've been hanging out with Shikadai a lot haven't you?" She smiled softly.
"Mom..." I groaned. She often teased me relentlessly how Shikadais laziness would wear off on me. She often told stories in great detail just how the trademarked and patented Nara laziness plagued the family.
"You're young Inojin, you have plenty of time to try new jutsu, and learn things the hard way." She paused to examine her creation. "Before you know it you'll be out on teams and you'll have more than enough to keep you busy."
Her words fell on my deaf ears. The mention of Shikadai sent my mind flying elsewhere.
"Mom can I go to Uncle Naras? Shikadai just got the new Earth Terror's Shooter game."
"Oh, that works out." She spun the vase to examine her creation. "I'll walk you over, this is for the Naras. What do you think?"
The shape was cohesive yet dynamic. The Forget-Me-Nots acted as a backdrop, peppered with light white baby's breath. The large white gardenias added interesting dynamic as the broke up the blue and added a beautiful scent. Overall the arrangement evoked a feeling of calm and peace.
"It's kind of like," I stopped to think, "blue and white? I guess it's reminds me of the like sea and foam?"
"Hmm, I guess that works." She walked over to the larger refrigerator in the shop and pulled out another flower arrangement.
"What was the right answer?" I asked worried. Now I had to know.
Mom laughed lightly.
"There's no right answer. That's the pain of an artist, you have one interpretation and once you release it everyone has their own interpretation."
My annoyance spiked into the territory of anxiety. I remembered fearing that this would plague me for the next day. It was obvious she had an intended vision for her creation and that only a correct answer would prompt her affirmation.
Her hand on my head interrupted my thoughts.
"Mom!" I nervously fixing my hair.
"Sweetie can you hold this vase for me? We should head out soon."
Shikadai excitedly answered the door. Well excitedly for him.
"Sorry I'm late dude."
"It's cool I was napping."
"I don't know how you could nap? I've been dying too play the new Earth Terror."
"Are your parents home Shikadai?" Mon cut in before he responded.
"'Kasan's visiting Gaara Ojisan back home for a month and Otousan left awhile ago to buy food for dinner."
"Hmm... I think wait for him then you boys have fun."
We ran off.
We played the hell out of Earth Terrors II. Unpopular opinion: I stand by that that one was the best one in the entire franchise. The PvP mechanics were a masterpiece, and the online match modes were the best. In story mode the side characters and supporting class we're just as if not more interesting than the main cast, the story was always meant to be linear, and the open world that they experimented in the third game was just a way for the developers to show off and charge more. But I digress.
It was a coincidence. A few minutes into the game Shikadai warned me since he'd played through the first bit of the game that it got pretty intense pretty quickly. I mentioned wanting to use the bathroom in that case which prompted him to mention that there was a troublesome plumbing issue with the bathroom upstairs so I'd have to go downstairs for today.
It was a coincidence really.
I'd heard my mother greeting Him as I closed the bathroom door behind me. As I went about my business I heard bits and pieces of the conversation.
"This one's for you and this one's for Temari. But Shikadai told me she's in Suna for a while?"
"Yea she'll be back in a week."
"Oh no the flowers will be wilting by then."
"You act like you didn't know that already."
Their voices muffled as I flushed and washed my hands.
"I do like it," he assured my mother as I exited. "It's like... The sky, or like your-"
"Hi Ojisan." I was mentally kicking myself that a blue sky with white clouds did not occur to me. He nodded to confirm my greeting as I scooted back to the game. I couldn't shake the feeling that I'd heard something I wasn't supposed to.
He and Mom made dinner. Mom yelled at us to get downstairs three, maybe four times but we had just gotten to the first mini boss and he had a long un-skippable cut scence and we'd forgotten to save before it and the game just threw you into the boss fight after the scene so we had to fight him and... Anyways.
Mom asked us questions about the game, we gave her more details than she needed to parse the plot. He asked Shikadai if he went to all his classes today. Shikadai countered and discussed what we did learn in class, acting like he didn't wander off after lunch. Mom accused him of skipping like his father did as a child which sparked interest all-around of what He and Mom were like as kids. Shikadai was especially interested in how much class his father missed.
Mom was always, rather calm and collected at home. I knew she could be explosive with her emotions but she was rather animated that evening. Here she was a spitfire, I had never seen her go through so many emotions just in conversation alone. She laughed, she glared, she lived. Dinner felt right like everything in the universe had lined up and converged to go out of its way to give us this one moment. To this day it feels like a dream. Knowing what I do today I wish it never happened, I wish that They were braver in their youth or that They were stronger. But me, myself, and I of all people can't blame them for their emotions.
"Surprised my old man actually made dinner, well helped make dinner." Shikadai said, starting up the game.
"Yea?" I said, the loading screen seemed to take forever.
"He usually just orders out if moms gone."
"Your mom is really pretty."
"Dude!"
"I mean like you look like her." He looked over at me, his expression sharp and unreadable, ill always remember that as the moment I realized someone elses words could have such a strong impact on me. With Shikadai there were always silences. I always appreciated that he never felt the need to fill the silence for the sake of filling the silence. I could not figure out why he'd said anything to me at all.
We fell silent as the game began. Wrists tense, arms sweating, I was unusually nervous. If you look at the save file from that run my un-scoped accuracy is abysmal. It's one of my greatest childhood shames.
I woke up unaware that I'd ever fallen asleep with a warm blanket on top of me. As I emerged from my cocoon and woke surprised my mother hadn't pestered me about getting home. I recognized my surroundings as Shikadai's room, he must have let me sleep and went to bed himself.
"Shika?"
The only answer was his deep even breathing.
My questions were answered when I saw her and him chatting at the dining table. There was something in the way that she seemed drawn to him, and there was something in the way that he looked at her every movement.
I paused before I spoke up, and couldn't shake the feeling of being an intruder in a special place.
"Oh god," She glanced at the clock. "I'm so sorry sweetie you must be tired. I didn't realize how late it was."
There was something guilty in the way she laughed when she said goodbye and there was something hidden in the way he touched her to help her up. I couldn't place what it was.
"Goodnight Nara ojisan" There was something in the way he smiled at me softly. His face immediately steeled as if he'd done something wrong.
"Ojisan is so grumpy its so weird seeing him smile."
"Ha! You don't know the half of it." When it came to Him, she always knew more.
They both knew and understood to never discuss it. In a different world why would they have to?