For When You Become a Father:
Chapter One
She spent the silence outside again.
Where time stood still.
Where life was quieter than a whisper.
And where she could be in her thoughts.
It was the beginning of Spring and while the air still reflected the gentle shock of Winter's breath, the sun gave off its warmth, making the atmosphere pleasant and soft.
That was during the day.
At night, it was a touch colder but tolerable if she wrapped her long, cotton robe around her tightly, tying the ribbon into a hastily made knot before stepping outside.
She had felt the breath before touching the sliding door, fabricated with clean paper as the articulate square design drew lines and touched corners, the mahogany frame holding every part of the door together to prevent unnecessary shaking from the outside elements.
But it still shook despite its sturdiness.
Her feet- often bare out of habit- padded against the oak of the wooden floor, thumping lightly as she moved like a shadow across the darkening pale of the walls and passed the spread futon that she had spent five minutes laying in, the cream of the comforter concealing her fetal position as she had curled up, growing tired of forcing herself to sleep before rising to grab her robe.
Their bedroom was of blissful size, with enough space for more than a generous crowd of people to mingle in. It's thick walls concealed their voices and insulated their privacy, a blessing she wasn't sure they would have gotten in their current familial situation but were granted at an honorable request.
Though their bedroom was of fitting size, it was just one of several rooms within the small, enclosed section just beside the main house, hidden behind the roofs that shielded the courtyard in the center. It was, in a sense, a miniature version of the large compound that owned it, with traditional architecture and design, its occupancy none for years.
While the dwelling was considered to be separated from the main estate, a constructed wooden bridge connected it with the larger, giving easy access to visitors or travelers that may stroll across it, particularly if it involved family matters.
The same bridge occupied the perimeter of the home, providing a porch just behind, closed off from the outside to guard the dainty garden that was just beginning to come alive again, the pond finally free of its prison beneath the frost.
Rocks and pebbles littered the garden, with the fence of standing maple protecting the area from the horizon but just enough so that the stars could still be seen glimmering in the ash-ridden sky.
The small home was equipped with the necessities: a kitchen, a delicate dining area for four people, a living area with a center table made of the same wood with scrolls resting in a small cabinet near the decorated shrine of a man she never got to meet, and a bathing room that was closed off from the rest of the world, a tub made of ceramic marble nestled into the wall with several benches and washrag buckets nearby, awaiting for a vulnerable figure to use them.
It was, indeed, a wonderful home.
It was a life she never thought she deserved, a life she was too afraid to dream about or ask for.
It was the life she still couldn't believe was real at times.
But it was during times like these, when the silence became her only source of comfort, that she realized that it was the life she had wanted for so long.
Because she was waiting for his return.
It was a new and different sensation, one that she had little experience with as she now sat outside, the door slid shut behind her as her legs and feet dangled over the edge of the porch.
Though it was new, there was something else about it that made her feel a little twing of excitement as she pictured his face, exhausted, and yet so regal looking as he strode back into the compound, back towards their little home, and back into their routine.
Her palms rested slightly behind her, steadying her as she leaned back, the darkening heather of her eyes shining as the stars reflected in them. The deep earth strands, free from being tied up, wavered in the breeze whenever it came, tickling her cheeks and cooling her relaxed scalp.
She was impatient at times, growing timid in awaiting his return after losing him once before, during a time when life was absorbed into sacrificed and nothing else mattered by destroying the threats to the innocent. It was a memory she wouldn't mind forgetting.
Not at all.
It had already been two weeks since he had left and a week since she had returned from her assignment. No one was waiting for her when she strode back to their secluded home, however, it didn't matter.
She was used to it.
It was becoming more difficult to sleep at night, alone underneath the fluffy coverings of the futon where human warmth was heavily lacked. For the longest time, for most of her life thus far (she was only twenty-one), she had slept alone, content and aware that she was isolated from the world that lay awake and the other people who dreamed of heavens and of nightmarish futures. It never bothered her because, if anything, she was perfectly fine with it.
Until she married.
Until she experienced what it felt like to share a bed.
And until she felt the warmth of another human being next to her, one that she more than tolerated.
Someone that she loved.
Now it was much more difficult to listen to the crickets and their duets outside, hidden in the blades of greenery, as the chirping echoed throughout the darkness. It was harder to withstand the rain that pattered against the roof and the paper sculpted door that had been slid shut and promptly locked, and the wind that sometimes blew so hard that she feared the walls would break apart and trap her inside as she lay beneath the piles of furnished and domesticated wood.
It was colder outside than it was wrapped up in the covers alone, but for some reason, she was drawn into the reality of the night, where she saw what was awake while others were asleep. She enjoyed the company of the whispers that hummed passed her ears and the way that gravity pulled her feet and legs over the edge, letting them dangle as she watched the stars wave their greeting. She heard her thoughts clearer and found her feelings to be hidden among the wakefulness of the night, reminding her that solutions come whenever the sun arrives the next day.
As she continued to sit, she felt herself part her lips to release a yawn, letting it run with the atmosphere before she let her mouth close, her gaze becoming softer, almost fatigued at the realization that she was outside in the darkness, where sleep was becoming a challenge to fight.
She was used to many things and sleeping outside underneath the watchfulness of the heavens was no stranger.
Still, she knew that going back inside was better than sleeping on the hardness of the porch and yet, she didn't feel the urgency to return back to that safe haven.
No not yet.
Just for a bit longer.
She sat forward, using her fingers to gently clasp the fabric of her robe around her chest, pulling it tighter as she pulled her legs up, resting the soles of her feet on the surface of the porch so that her bottom half was positioned in the shape of an upright pyramid.
Her palms found their way back to the wood, steadying herself as she turned, laying down on her side before repositioning her hands to form a pillow made of flesh and bone beneath her skull, her hair gently laying beneath her and across the surface, standing out from the lighter shade of almond that the wood was delicately made from.
She had a thought.
It was a thought she had been trying to understand for a while.
A thought… just a thought.
No, it was something more than "just a thought".
It was more of a desire, a want that she felt as though she needed instead.
And it was growing more and more with each passing day.
It was because of such a desire that she was growing impatient in awaiting his return even though she feared the words she would have to form to get him to understand what she has been thinking of for so long now. And what's more is her fear of his reaction to her consideration.
Still, there was nothing to be done now.
He was not home yet.
She was still waiting for him.
Her eyelids felt heavier than when she had been sitting up and as another breeze ruffled through her hair, the urge to fight the slumber ceased as she allowed her eyes to see utter darkness and her breaths to become deeper and slower.
And with that thought, that desire, still fresh in her lethargic mind, she allowed herself the rest she so desparately needed, letting herself to once again join the unconscious wake of the others in the deep sleep that was the night.
…..
It was late.
And it was becoming colder.
He had felt it upon entering the courtyard of the compound, shivering unnoticeably through his jade vest as his hair, darker than the sky itself and a length that was rather long but tied towards the bottom, felt the breeze whistle by its strands playfully.
It seemed to him that this was the coldest of the Spring nights, a diminishing recollection of the world's reluctance in moving forward from the chill of Winter. Even so, as complacent and fatigued as he felt, he was relieved.
His duty was over.
His steps, despite the terrain, were always so soft, almost as if he were walking on air, his lavender engulfed irises looking forward without a hint of emotion or thought.
He had been raised to appear that way, his emotions gone and hidden from others nosey views as he kept his serious demeanor on auto, avoiding anyone who he felt had looked a little too deep in him. This carefulness in emotion was one he hadn't always had because, at one time, he too was a child that didn't understand the world's reality.
It was a lesson forced upon him.
However, there was one person that could see past his viel, his dark clouds of neutral that hovered over his head and in front of his face, hiding what was on the inside.
Just one person.
And he was on his way to see them.
There was no indication to show how late it really was, as the guards that heeded the gate to the village seemed awake enough to at least perform their duties.
As soon as he had entered, along with his three assigned comrades (one of which was too excited, especially at this hour), he bid them a farewell, with the excited member trailing after him, challenging him to a fight the very next morning as if it was not already in the early periods of the next day. But he had learned to wave him off as kindly as he could, never ceasing his aching steps as he headed back to his home.
Their home.
He was fortunate that the compound his family resided in, as big as it was, blending in with the area it rested in, close to the entrance and exit of the village, just up a stoned path that led to the starch of the dirt that covered the courtyard, hidden behind the large and heavy gate. It had never been considered a home to him, but rather, it was a prison he was born into accepting as his family.
Despite all the conflict, all the hatred, and the resentment he felt towards his own clan, he had become a man who understood the reality behind it all, including his father's chosen death.
It was, undeniably, a reality he needed to accept.
Just as the reality where he thought he would never breathe again, because there was no need for air in the afterlife.
It had happened suddenly, almost instinctively, as he met his short-lived ending protecting his cousin and the man she had been in love with for what felt like a lifetime.
But he didn't die, not entirely.
He had seen his father looking at him, remembering his son and embracing him, saying words of encouragement and wisdom before he opened his eyes and began to choke on his soul that was returning back into his damaged body.
Sometimes when he thought of the pain, the stabbing of the wood through his torso, the scars on his muscled chest and abdomen ached, especially the one that lay just over his beating heart.
It was a memory that was painful to recall but worth remembering all the same.
He continued walking, as silent as a mute piano key, before reaching the small hill, climbing up it with ease as his shoes met with the path made of stones leading towards the gate before him.
The dirt muffled underneath him as he approached, and he heard the shuffling of the hidden guard as he was met with the same pearling lavender eyes. The two nodded at one another and the guard once again disappeared into hiding, making himself invisible as he pressed against the side column of the door.
He continued by, pressing his palm against the wood, opening it just wide enough for him to slip through and softly shut behind.
The courtyard was empty, as to be expected. Everyone was already asleep and without wanting to wake any of his family members, he strode across the dirt, passing the single oak that lay rooted in the middle of the large area. He soon found the steps and climbed them, the wood of the porch creaking beneath him as he continued along its path, maneuvering to his place of solitude.
He made his way past two separated walls of the compound, traveling by as he found the narrow and private path of the home that was closed off from the rest but still in confinement.
Another brush of air slid past his cheek and he shivered lightly.
The cream of the walls came into view as he came closer to his dwelling, the lights off as far as he could tell on the inside.
She was probably already asleep in their bed.
He continued his approach, the wind becoming a louder call as it danced past him, before turning the corner and opening the front door on the opposite side of their bedroom.
It slid with ease.
It wasn't necessary to lock it.
They were safe.
It was made of the same parchment and engraved in a simple yet elegant design. He entered and slid the door closed behind his figure, the wind beginning to protest against the entrance, stretching the material inward slightly before settling once more.
Though the home was small, there are a stocky hallway with a few steps that would elevate a visitor slightly onto the floor of the living quarters, a room with nothing more than a few bits and pieces of furniture.
It was dark, not even a candle was lit but the given shine from the depth of the moon sprawled across, spreading some of its lighted limbs so that obstacles could be avoided.
But it wasn't like he needed light to see anything.
His family gift of the byakugon already allowed him to see far off and while it was more than capable of using it at this time, he was lethargic from the assignment he had just completed and he knew that if he used his visual powers, he might have to crawl the rest of the way to their bedroom.
Still, it was a precious gift he didn't like to waste on tedious events.
He stopped before the steps, turning to face the door as he took a seat on the ground, unlatching his sandals and freeing his feet before organizing his shoes to the side, the same side where her's rested unused.
His legs propelled him back upwards and he took leave of the entryway, walking into the living area and into a dense hallway. The bathroom was just a few paces down from their bedroom and while he wanted nothing more than to clean himself up after dealing with the harsh realities that was the outside world, he wanted to see her sleeping figure.
He wanted to know that she was safe.
His eyes shifted slowly, careful to avoid making any noise that might wake her.
He was fortunate that she was a deep sleeper most of the time.
The hallway was just adjacent to that of the entryway, with a dead-end on the right side while the left led on, sporting several rooms before ending just after the door of their bedroom, the walls boarded with a humble piece of furnished maple. In the center of the hallway, in front of only a wall, was a table, its legs made from the same material as the base of wood, the design plain and simple. He hadn't known why she had wanted to put furniture in such an odd place, especially in the middle of such a narrow hallway, but she had insisted and now he could see that a small vase, a virgin white in comparison to the walls, sat atop as it held long violet and champagne orchids.
They were beautiful and colored so elegantly that it made him reach out and stroke one of the petals in between his pointer finger and his thumb, feeling the softness of the texture and inhaling the tenderness of the fragrance.
It was beautiful because it reminded him of her.
And he was becoming impatient.
He took leave of the vase, traveling past the bathroom until he reached the end, turning to face the doorway before taking in a breath and reaching to grab the handle, sliding the door open just a few inches to where he could enter.
As he stood in the stillness of the room, he observed nothing out of the ordinary.
The array of parchment and wooden framed doors on the other side, a small nightstand in the corner of the room, supporting a small woven basket filled with lime, apricot, and cream-colored scrolls tightly wrapped and packed together.
There was a small tapestry hanging on the wall farthest to the left, a plain white with ink swirled lettering.
There were just two characters.
"日向"
That was his last name, the name his family had forced upon him at birth and the name she now shared with him.
It was a name that had always been famous and respected in the eyes of the public, even in those that were far from the village in which the clan had always resided. It was a name that was feared, not because of its reputation of being a highly valued family, but because of the members that occupied its compound.
Everyone born into the family became skilled in fighting, no matter the sex or age and if one was not seen as strong in comparison to others of their status, they were considered to be useless in the presence of their own family, even if they were in a higher position compared to the rest.
That was what happened to his cousin just a year younger than himself.
But now, after the war had ended, things were beginning to change for the better and he was proud to say that he was the primary force behind that change.
He was seen as a hero among the Hyuga and among the villagers.
To her, he was more than that.
He was a husband.
And she loved him more than he thought would ever be possible, just as he loved her with the same kind of wisdom and worth.
If the war hadn't happened and he hadn't done what he did, then the two of them would never have been permitted to be together, even if their red string of fate was cutting off their circulation as it wove tightly around their fingers.
He was glad that he had almost died for that very reason.
His eyes soon wandered to the futon that lay on the floor, expecting to see her figure wrapped tightly under the plush covered but instead he saw nothing.
The bed was empty.
He felt his heart beat elevate slightly.
Though no one occupied it, the bed looked as though someone had been in it not too long ago, the sheets and covering rustled and flipped over to the side almost as if in exasperation.
He couldn't help his quiet panic as he paced around the room, looking for her with desperation and fear that something might've happened to her. Perhaps if he hadn't been as fatigued as he was, he would've had a lot calmer demeanor.
She could handle things herself; he knew that as well as anyone else did. However, it was his duty as her husband to make sure she was safe, no matter what.
He crept forward, looking down towards the futon before shifting to the side, leaving it to rest behind him as he approached the door on the end of the wall, the exit that would lead out onto the porch that looked toward the courtyard and garden she seemed to enjoy spending so much time in.
Carefully, almost innocently, he slid the door, holding his breath for a slight second before he saw her, laying down on her side, her back facing him as her breathing was slow and transparent, much like the wind that blew by as he entered back into the outside.
Her hair, long and dark, lay out, covering a small area beneath her head in its curls and tangled nightly strands. Her robe was still wrapped around her, but was starting to unravel as the ribbon lay draped over the porch's edge, exposing a sliver of her lemon shaded pajamas with a pink outline that was designed in an oriental fashion, her shirt exposing a small among of skin as it disconnected gingerly from her shorts.
Though she looked comfortable and at peace within her current environment, he could see her shiver beneath her cloak of slumber, the cold entering into her subconsciousness as her body attempted to warm itself against the harsh outbursts of the breezes that encircled her figure.
He didn't understand why she was sleeping outside in the first place, nor did he have the energy to scold her for doing such a foolish thing.
Instead, he sighed and mumbled her name under his breath.
"Tenten,"
She shifted and muttered incoherently in response.
He tried again.
No reaction.
He approached her figure cautiously, gazing over her body as it curled up against the planks of the porch, her eyes shut as her lips parted slightly amidst her sleep.
Even when she was asleep, she was the most beautiful thing alive.
But he could never admit that out loud.
She would laugh at him and tease him until the day he died.
Still, he loved her, more than anyone other than members of his family and there were times when wished he could go back and tell his adolescent self that she was the one this entire time.
Fate is as ironic as it is cruel.
Crouching down, he shifted onto his knees, his head hovering over her as his arms crept beneath her legs and supported her back, lifting her softly into his chest as he arose once more, carrying her as her head lay against the firmness of his vest.
He turned, walking back towards the door before he stopped, looking back at the twilight in the night sky, seeing the abundance of stars dance and waver, placing a smile upon his face in knowing that she was being watched over by someone she never got to meet and the most important figure that shaped him into the man that he is today.
His whisper engraved his thanks before he continued forward, being welcomed by the warmth of their home as he stepped back inside, turning and stretching the arm the lay across her back forward so that he could block out the bitterness of the chill by sliding the door shut once more.
She stirred slightly in his arms, before nestling comfortably against him, his eyes softening as he looked at her sleeping face.
He took several steps forward, reaching the side of the futon she most often slept on and found his way back to his knees, easing her body forward so that it settled atop the bedding, retracting his arms back to her shoulders as he slid the robe off her body, pulling it out from beneath her back and setting it beside their bed.
She didn't wake.
He gathered the covers in his grasp and placed them over her, up to her chin and saw her smile warmly before she sighed happily against the feathery texture of the covers that was beginning to embrace her and heal her from the outside elements.
With a few seconds, he took the time to look at her, gazing at her affectionately before he stood once more, turning back to make sure the door was slid shut and that even the wind couldn't slam it open again at the appearance of an apparition.
As his judgement was put to rest he started to stroll past the now occupied bed lying out on the floor, careful to not step too close to her unconscious frame but walking just above her head, his steps lighter than the strands of hair that caressed her forehead and curled slightly against her cheeks.
He was about to turn the corner when he heard a voice speak from behind, quiet and still in the bosom of sleep.
"Neji?"
It was calming to him to hear her say his name, even if she wasn't fully awake.
"Tenten," he responded softly as he glanced slightly behind him with his head turned, the long and rich properties of his hair swaying against his vest with some falling past his shoulder.
She was still lying down, the covers still pulled up as her own hands held them close. Her eyes, though dazed and unsure of reality thanks to the component of her slumber, shined in the darkness, reflecting the light the moon offered greedily.
"Is it really you? You're home?" she called out, her voice nothing more than an innocent whisper.
"Yes, I'm home. I am going to get cleaned up before I come join you." he responded evenly, watching his tone as to not want to make her assume that he was irritated with her for "wasting his valuable time".
He hated that she thought that way sometimes.
Indeed, he was never an "easy-to-read" person and while she was rather good at seeing right through him, there were times when she assumed rather than proved, resulting in her keeping a short distance from him until he confronted her about her odd behavior.
It is never his intention to make her feel like she was an annoyance to him.
Because she wasn't.
There were far more "annoying" individuals out there (in fact, he could think of two in particular) and for her to think that way made him feel inferior to what a noble husband should be in the service of his wife.
He heard her shift slightly, mumbling what sounded like an "okay" before nothing more was said and he was free to continue on with the task of cleaning himself up so that he may have the time he so desparately craved with his wife of almost a year.
It would be a challenge to allow himself to soak with that thought in mind.
…
She had heard the sound of the dripping green water spreading soundlessly as the small waves parted for the arrival of his feet, then his legs, and then finally, his bare torso, filling the space emboided around him. His sigh traveled from the bathing room to their bed, filling her ears with solid contentment and comfort in knowing that he had finally returned home.
But those feelings of satisfaction were soon replaced by weariness inhibited by her anxiety.
She pushed the thought back, knowing that it wouldn't do her any good in stressing and rethinking her decision at the given moment when her choice had been made final. Still, she couldn't help but grow nervous on the idea of actually telling him the thought that hadn't left her since they married and that hadn't been instigated by anyone but herself.
It was troubling and yet she fought back with her fatigue, saving the request until a few days after and until he was fully recovered from his assignment.
He then returned a short time later, which was unusual for someone like him who took whatever time necessary for him to soak and heal his muscles.
However, she didn't feel as bothered as she would've if it was not for him coming home and instead closed her eyes and breathed as if she had been sleeping the entire time, as he silently crept back into their room, his back towards her as he removed the towel wrapped around his hips, discarding the fluffy material on the dresser before reaching for his robe and slipping into it, his boxers already on his body after being in hiding beneath the towel.
Though they were married, they were still too shy to see one another naked, even if that meant being in their underwear around each other. Some of their friends commented on their innocence while others simply degraded them for it. It was a habit that she hoped wouldn't last forever.
Her reddened cheeks and the intense pounding in her chest never ceased whenever she saw his exposed chest.
She had barely heard him as he took his arrival beside her, the feeling of the comforter sliding off her shoulders slightly as he slid in beside her, gently resting his back down as the comforter was now ontop of him. He turned towards her and she felt his calming presence as he scooted closer towards her, the warmth radiating from his skin sending a wave of relaxation down her spine.
With the rustling of the sheets she soon felt his palm against her cheek, resting comfortably against her flesh as he stroked her tenderly before leaning closer to place a quick kiss on her nose.
In response, she snuggled closer to him, pressing herself into his torso, her fingers and hands feeling the smoothness of his robe's fabric as she eased into his body, feeling him do the same as he wrapped an arm around her.
Neji, her husband, was home.