Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, that's Kishimoto's
property.

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Silent Regrets

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Knit.

Purl.

Knit.

She tiredly rubs her eyes, the rhythm of her knitting a steady comfort which distracts her from the sounds of the kitchen clock, ticking away the hours.

Knit.

Knit.

Knit two together.

Purl.

She hears the front door open and softly click shut as a familiar form appears in the doorway. She smiles to herself as she slightly dips her head, allowing her hair to shadow her face as practiced eyes expertly sweep over him from head to toe. He appears weary, lines on his face she hasn't noticed before becoming more defined with the flickering light from the fire.

She sharply lets out a breath she doesn't even realise she has been holding as he chuckles and raises his hands wiggling the digits slightly so as to assure her that at least physically; everything is as it should be.

Embarrassed at being caught out, she sharply turns her head back to her knitting, a faint look of annoyance at being the subject of his teasing briefly flitting across her face.

Knit.

Purl.

Knit.

Kn…the needles disappear from her hands moments before she feels his arms embrace her from behind. She reaches up with her own hands and pulls him down onto the floor with her.

She then closes her eyes, leaning into him, content to just breathe in his scent.

How long has it been since she had last seen him? Two months? Or was it three? Missions come more and more frequently now, each time shattering the little semblance of a normal life they strived to maintain. She absently tries to remember the last time they had a chance to sit like this, but fails to recall a date.

It doesn't matter, she tells herself. She was the one who chose this life despite knowing exactly what it would entail. It would not do to blame him.

She had, for instance, known that she would spend many cold, sleepless nights alone, wondering whether he would ever return to her side.

She had also known that he would occasionally wake up at night, sweating and shaking from nightmares as the realization of just how many lives he had murdered finally hits him. He would move to the lounge room and sit, rocking himself back and forth for hours and hours, vainly trying to will the haunting images to disappear whilst she would helplessly look on, unable to free him from his own demons.

She had known that she would be looked down upon by many as a useless idealist, preferring the quiet domestics of home over being an asset to the ninja task force. In a world full of battle hardened warriors, her kind were often viewed as necessary to the functioning of the village, but received little more than that scant respect.

She had known that there might come a day when she would have to raise her children on her own, her heart in turmoil as to whether she should allow her own sons to embark on the same path as their father had. New recruits were always in constant demand and she could not possibly begrudge the village her potential soldiers.

She had known all this when she had made her decision. No profit would be gained from dwelling on regrets, none at all.

She stiffens slightly and clutches him just a little tighter as if she were afraid that if she didn't hold on to him tight enough, he'd leave her and never come back.

Thoughts, regrettable thoughts, come unbidden unto her mind.

She did regret seeing him off on mission after mission and she did want to ask him to consider a desk job. Wouldn't life be so much easier if he was safe, working close to home? If she really did ask, now would be the moment. Having just returned from a mission, he probably wouldn't be too fond of his job right now either. All she would have to do is…

No, no regrets. She shivers slightly, ashamed that she had even contemplated such thoughts.

Is it really so bad?

A single tear trails down her cheek. Surprised, she blinks rapidly and lifts her chin, hoping her actions would pass by unnoticed, only to be confronted by a pair of worried eyes.

What's wrong? The question is there on his face. Oh, how he worries for me when he should be worrying about himself, she frets. He begins to ask but she stops the unspoken question placing her fingers on his lips, unwilling to sully the silence with words.

He regards her for a moment and concedes to her unspoken request.

As she resettles herself into his warm embrace, she smiles, knowing that no matter how strong the urge to regret her choice may be, her resolve to live her own way would always be stronger. With him here, there would be no regrets. Well, none spoken out loud anyway. This is her ninja way.

As she sighs contently, lulled to sleep by the warmth of his body and that of the crackling fire, he smiles and looks on wondrously. To this day he is still amazed as to why she would stay by his side throughout these years. How does she do it? He asks himself, how does she keep herself sane through the months I'm away? As he catches sight of the discarded needles a strange thought crosses his mind – perhaps it's the knitting.

He chuckles to himself, coming to a decision as he checks to make sure he has not awoken her with his antics. His wife would be amused to no end tomorrow at his innocent request to learn how to knit. Indeed it would be one of the more ridiculous hobbies for a shinobi of all people to pick up, but nonetheless one they would be able to share between his missions.

He needed that, something to do apart from training or sitting staring off into space, becoming regretful and depressed over the ghosts of his past whose fates he was unable to change. He needed to live in the present, and the present meant her. After all, if the future is so uncertain, then all the more reason they'd have to cherish the present.

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I've always wondered how living in a ninja village would affect normal citizens. This was the result of some of those ponderings. This is my first contribution to the Naruto fandom (actually my first real contribution to anything) so please review and tell me what you think.