Extremely small drabble of the Sunshine Family. Enjoy!
In her arms she holds the sun. It's radiant, bright and beautiful. It has the softest blue eyes with the happiest of smiles. It's voice brings you fresh air and a washed you with warmth. Its fists punch the air and he knew from then on it was going to be just as great a shinobi as his relatives before. It bathes in the light streaming through the window, huddling your own precious flower's chest and she is showered with warm, orange glows. Her scent lingers in the air - she smells of lavender and cinnamon and it brings him a sense of peace. And he can see the sun also takes a liking to such a scent, as it gurgles happily.
It's beautiful. He is beautiful.
In her arms she holds the moon just two years later. It has the same eyes as the sun, but the shimmering glaze they hold has no comparison to a thousand splendid stars. It's small feet wave in the air, almost like it's dancing to his flower's lullaby. He believes only a higher being could have carved such a magnificent beauty. It is fragile and small, and he is scared to even touch it. Yet his hime tells him to stop worrying - for it will be a shinobi one day after all. The giggles come and go, with the joy it sheds becoming more contagious as the days go on.
It's breathtaking. She is breathtaking.
In her hands she unfolds thousands of precious memories. The memories which define their love. The warm touch against his cheek is the first that comes to mind, the one which shook him of his wavering belief during the war. The other is the feeling of his fingers naturally and oh so perfectly slipping between her own as he rose up to his feet again. If he daydreams hard enough, he can feel the shaking of her hands as he holds hers during their wedding day, and even the pressure of their lips meeting and the taste of cherries embeds itself within his mind. Another is the burning touch against his chest.
And his arms.
His cheeks.
His neck.
As she plants soft kisses and whispers sweet words into his ear when they are encased in one another's presence, and the urge to touch her was so great. They would caress each other as young lovers should. The touches of passion, heat and love still lingers well against his skin, and he loves to think she thinks the same of his own.
In her arms she holds him. In her arms she draws him closer and closer until he is embraced in a softness and warmth that no one else could deliver him. One day he'll hold her just as she holds him, just so she understands the magic she possesses within those calloused, yet soft hands. His own flower. His own lavender scented hime.
In her arms he'll stay.