Temari sits on the covered porch, the summer rain dripping in sheets from the eaves into the green garden. The air is cool and smells like shiso and damp earth. Starlings call from the grasses.
Thunder sounds again, distant. However, it isn't enough to stir Shikamaru, his head on her shoulder, or her small son sleeping soundly in her lap.
She shifts a bit on the wooden flooring, quickly drifting off again - lulled by the sounds of their soft, even breathing and the rain.
