Those Who Are Blind
Mornings
Those who are blind will never see my wife's gentle side.
They never see anything past her bossy attitude or the arrogant way she holds herself. She seems rather snobby, even I have to admit, when she is comparing Suna to Konoha. People who do not know her personally judge her and assume she is only here because she was forced to be. They even go as far to believe that if given the chance, she will run all the way back home to escape me. She will never look back and forget about our two precious children.
It hurts her to even think that what they say is true.
She may compare Suna to Konoha, saying Suna is better but she always finds something nice to say about her second home. Her rough exterior is partially because of her inner desire to be the best and partially because of her tough childhood. Anyone would be loud and tough and boisterous if they were told their younger brother was a monster and they believed it to be wrong but never spoke up. Speaking of brothers, as much as she loves and cherishes them she will never run away to them. It is beneath her and an insult to her pride. She would rather die here unhappy than run home like a dog with her tail between her legs. And even then she wouldn't be unhappy because she would figure out a way to weasel out of the marriage legally without going home in shame. If she ever did go home, she would never forget our children. She treasures them so much and puts all of her effort and strength into nurturing them and making them powerful and successful shinobi so that one day, the people that talk behind her back, will stop talking.
Most importantly to me, they never see her in the mornings. Whenever I am summoned in the middle of the night for a mission she gets up and cooks me a nice meal while I wash up and get ready. As I eat she watches me, studying me, trying to ingrain every feature of my face, my body, my hair, and my eyes into her brain. I then go upstairs and kiss my children goodbye and come back downstairs where she is waiting for me. She will stroke my face gently and calls me a crybaby, ordering me not to fail so that she won't have to come and save my butt again. I never respond but kiss her lips for as long as I can before I have to leave. She doesn't say anything else but watches me as I leave until she cannot see me anymore. I know she is hoping, praying, that she will see me sitting in the living room or bedroom waiting for her in a few days.
Sometimes, on normal days, I wake up before she does. Oddly, she is a heavy sleeper and is not a morning person, much like myself. Just as the sun begins to peer into the window and wake her, her visage holds a placid softness as her warm breath touches me, as if she were blowing warm air on a cold window pane. My heart cherishes this portrait of her and my photographic memory stores the portrait in the back of my head. I love feeling her curl up more into me as the sun begins to shine through the window. She tires to block out the sun but when she realizes it is futile to try and sleep any longer, I feel her eyelashes slowly bat open. She'll rub her eye a bit and look up at me, and looks at me tenderly as she says 'good morning'. I will respond in the same manner and she'll ask how long I had been awake for. I always tell her that I woke up when she did but she knows it's a lie. We'll hear Kumo making breakfast downstairs and Gaara thumping down the stairwell, yawning. One of us will mention getting out of bed and the other will agree. Before we slide out of our sanctuary, she will sit up and tell me she loves me. I am usually over whelmed by the passion in her voice and I pull her into a kiss. After, I tell her the same.
My father told me once that a woman is tender to a man she loves and I didn't believe him until I met her. The people on the street never see this and could never hope to see this and really, I am glad.
Nara Shikamaru "no Sabaku"