AN: Hello everyone! I hope everyone is doing well this year. I recently remembered this chapter that I was working, but never posted. It was rather short, and I felt it needed more. But looking at it now, I figured it was short and cute. It's a nice little surprise from being away for a while. I also remembered my Gaara alternative story, I may revisit it and continue to work on it.
As always, please enjoy!
Epilogue 3: Our Gift
"Hm? I don't remember making this purchase…"
My fingertips tap against my pursed lips. Although I'm not the most tech savvy mother, I've grown accustomed to these recent computer devices for everyday convenience. As I'm scrolling through recent online purchases, my violet observant eyes fall upon an unknown purchase made a few days ago. The item resembles a very gaudy style ornate pendant one would wear for religious reasons. I can't fathom anyone in my immediate family needing such an item. A wave of concern overwhelms me. Perhaps my credit card was compromised? It wouldn't be the first time, I have a bad tendency to be careless with my personal information. I've even left my credit card at certain retail stores thinking once I collected my bags I was free to leave...without first checking to make sure all my finances were with me.
During my heart pounding escapade, I feel a tender palm grace my shoulders. I withhold a squeal. Turning over my shoulder, I witness my husband to my relief. I release a breath, while he busies himself with an amused grin against his rugged cheeks.
"You seem tense," Lee notes with an air of curiosity. "Is there something wrong?"
"Oh, not really but…" I lower my eyes once more against the computer screen. With emphasis, I point my finger at the purchase line. "Did you happen to buy this, Lee?"
"Let me see," his large saucers blink curiously. Bending forward, he places a large palm on the desk for support. His dark circles scan the computer screen before retreating indignantly.
His warm palm leaves my shoulder in abandon. It brings me to catch a glimpse at my husband, who has his arms defensively crossed over his puffed chest. His appearance is one that is quite peaked. There's only been a handful of times that I've witnessed Lee in a state of agitation, and almost blatant insult. I can safely assume he definitely did not make this purchase.
"Metal," Lee reprimands our son's name between the grit of his teeth.
I'm not quite understanding where my husband is coming from, but it does seem more plausible that our son would make this purchase.
"Oh," I return my violet eyes to the screen. "Now that you mention, Metal did do some extra chores this week for more on his allowance. I just never thought Metal would be interested in jewelry."
"Not in the way you would imagine," Lee remarks, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the tension drawing the lines of his forehead.
"Hm?" I turn in my chair completely, taking my husband's hand in my own and brushing it soothingly. "You seem a bit upset over this. Is there something wrong with Metal wanting to buy this for himself?"
"He believes it will cure his anxiety," my husband professes, albeit reluctantly. "I just do not understand it. Where did this even come from? I was never like this when I was in my youth. How can he even think-" Lee sucks in his words of rebuttal, realizing it's against our own son. Quickly, he urges me to speak about it on his behalf. "Tell me, do you not hear how ridiculous that sounds?"
"Lee," my voice is gentle but firm. I assure that my next lines come from a loving place, and squeeze my husband's tense hand. "He's not like you, not in the way you want him to be." I rise to my feet, and with my free hand, I place it gently against my husband's cheek. The touch of my fingers relax his tightly gathered eyebrows, even if it's just a little. I radiate a warm smile, "but he is your son. And you know more than anyone else, how hard Metal trains to be just like you. Maybe this time, you could show Metal how to be...just himself. Anxiety and all."
Lee's eyes gaze intently down at me, piercing into my words as if they were legible in the air between us.
"I admit, I have been hard on him recently. I realize now, whenever Metal comes to me with his anxiety issues, I become avoidant and just believe he will just figure it out, because that is how I solved my issues." Closing his eyes, he submits to his own inner turmoil circling inside him. "Since I never had a family of my own, I always relied on myself... but Metal has me. He has his father, and I will be damned if I leave him to fight it alone."
With a definitive nod, he opens his lids and discards the grimace he once wore. I'm fully graced with impassioned circles accompanying a grin customary of his character.
"Thank you, Sho." Lee takes the hand cupped at his cheek and kisses the inside of my palm. "Although I am a man of breaking barriers, whenever I hit a wall more stubborn than myself, I have you to guide me through it."
A rose color catches my cheeks. To welcome him, I return with a kiss to his lips, which he reciprocates wholly. Once we separate, he pinches his chin in thought.
"I may have an idea of how I can help him," with a snap of his finger, an invisible light bulb illuminates at the top of his bowl cut. "A-ha! That is it. Obviously, I will use my fists, and so will he."
"W-Wait a minute, honey," I stammer, bringing a hesitant hand to cover my shocked expression. "Could you please explain your idea a bit more clearly? I'm not sure I'm following."
"I am sorry, my little sweet pea. If I explain now, I will not have enough time to catch Metal at the academy."
With a swift appreciation kiss to my forehead, the air whips around me as my husband bolts to the front door. "We will be back just in time for dinner," he calls with a wave of his bandaged hand.
"Take care," I shudder when the front door closes with an ungodly force to make our whole house groan in protest. I shake my head back and forth, "Geez, these boys need to learn to control their strength or else we won't have a house to live in."
My violet hues gaze at the span of our cozy kitchen. On the note of dinner...I gasp , slapping my hands against my flushed cheeks.
"Oh my gosh! I forgot to take out the fish from the freezer!"
Usually, dinner time isn't the most quiet time. More often than not, I'm bombarded with exuberant conversation happening between my son and husband. It's not such a bad thing; I pleasantly listen and illustrate their telling's inside my head. Since I've never been a ninja, and held nothing sharper than a butter knife, it's refreshing to have a peek into another lifestyle.
Granted, I have been able to watch Lee train plenty of times. When we first began intimately dating, I would set a blanket underneath the most shaded tree amid the training field. With burning cheeks, I drank from an ice cold water bottle as I watched. Summer training was a brutal mistress for Lee. Yet, the more I observed him perspire and wipe his brow, the more my heart cheered him on. I was able to witness all of his efforts, and appreciated him that much more. And in turn, he appreciated my support by taking his breaks with me.
Yet, there are no training stories being shared. No missions and detailed events being discussed. Just pure and utter silence at the dinner table, with the occasional clinking of glassware and cutlery. I peer to my left, where my husband sits at the head of the table. His focus is concentrated on tackling all of his meal in a timely manner, as if he has to be off to the neighbors house and have dinner with them as well. My gaze then trails in front of me, where Metal sits on the opposite side of the table. Nervously, he plucks at the grains of rice in his bowl and occasionally peeks at his father. I can tell my son has a lot on his mind, as well as his plate since it's barely been touched. I lower my eyes against the ornate pendant dangling from Metal's neck.
What on earth did Lee say to Metal today? I begin to wonder inwardly, I thought Lee had a plan to connect with our son and fix all of this…
"Thank you for this meal," Lee erupts and affirms he's finished by pressing his chopsticks against the table napkin. "I will be off to bed now." Rising from his seat, he addresses our son with his overwhelmingly rounded circles, "As you should too, Metal. Considering you will need all the rest you can get for your duel tomorrow."
"Y-Yes, Papa," Metal stiffens his posture, almost dropping the rice between his chopsticks onto his lap.
Without another word, my husband briefly brushes my shoulder with his palm before disappearing into the hallway. Once I hear our bedroom close, I pinch my lips involuntarily to the side.
Did my husband just say 'duel'? Who challenged my son?
"Mama," Metal's voice is soft, yet it draws my attention. Setting his own chopsticks aside, he goes on. "I'm finished with my dinner. Thank you."
"Alright, sweetheart. I'll be sure to put away the leftovers," I reassure him. "I'm sure after hearing your father, you would like to go to bed as well."
"Yes, but before that," Metal pauses. "May I help you with the dishes?"
"Oh, of course," I nod, garnering a warm motherly smile. "I would greatly appreciate the help."
After clearing the table and wiping it down, my son and I stand in front of the sink and respectively take our roles. As I lather and rinse, I hand the clean plates to my son, who dries and places the dishware in their respective cabinets. At the last plate, I take the hand towel from my son and set it off on the counter. I signal to my son that I'm open to receive his desire to talk with me. Metal's onyx eyes peer up, and his lips partly tremble, wanting to take initiative.
"It's alright, sweetheart. Take your time," I whisper with encouragement. "I'm not going anywhere."
With a tiny nod of his head, he takes a deep breath and clutches onto his pendant before speaking.
"Mama, I…" he gulps, eyes creasing to force back any careless tears. "I'm so scared about tomorrow's duel. I don't want to lose, and in front of...so many...people…"
My son's angelic face can't be salvaged anymore. The tears come pouring out, staining his pure skin. His hands flop clumsily to wipe away the soaking tears. I draw my son lovingly into my chest, hiding him away from invisible eyes.
"It's alright," I hum sweetly, running my fingers through his silk black threads. "You're going to be okay."
I continue to chant strings of endless affirmations, until his hiccups subside and his strength returns to draw away from my comfort.
"Thank you, Mama," a final hiccup escapes him after drying the remnants of wetness from his puffy eyes. "I know I'll be okay, but I just...I don't want to disappoint Papa anymore."
"Metal, listen to me," I crouch onto my knees, place my hands against his arms, and look up at him earnestly. "You could never disappoint your father. You're our greatest gift, and one we're thankful for each and everyday." I squeeze my hold on him, baring my violet hues against my son. "I don't know who challenged you to this duel, and if they're strong or whatever the case is...but they should be scared to get their butt kicked by you too."
"Well, I think it's impossible for me to beat Papa," Metal states.
I need to take a moment to understand what my son is referring to. I have a hard time following up, and I blink a couple of times without saying a word. Thankfully, my son has no inkling that mommies' brain is having a major malfunction and answers the questions I'm failing to ask.
"Papa is the one who challenged me to tomorrow's duel," he informs me, rather than my own husband. "Papa's my opponent."
I bite the bottom of my lip, on the account that I don't scream at the top of my lungs. After chanting my own words of affirmations, I rise to my feet.
"O-oh, your father challenged you openly and publicly, well then…" clearing my throat, I'm trying very hard not to tremble in anger. Brushing at my apron for no apparent reason other than to release some form of emotion, I give a veiled smile, "I'm sure your father has a sure enough reason, sweetheart. Again, I wouldn't doubt the fact whether you win or lose, the feelings he holds for you would ever lead to disappointment. Your father will always be proud and love you, understand?"
"Yes, Mama," Metal replies, with a demure smile.
It's endearing enough to polish to subtle anger welling in my stomach, and so, I give my son one final hug. Once we separate, I usher him to his bedroom to prepare for sleep.
"You need to wake up right now and explain-"
I prepared myself to enter our room and physically tussle my husband awake, since he sleeps sounder than a boulder. Contrary, I come to find him sitting in bed, illuminated by the nightstand lamp.
"I was never asleep," Lee states frankly, his rounded saucers rolling to greet me.
My lips hesitate to part, wanting to release the thunder waiting behind them. My husband's grounded nature quiets the storm inside. It softens my features, and instead of stoking the fire, I climb into bed next to his side.
"Why did you have to challenge your own son?" I ask with a heaviness in my chest, "Especially knowing how he feels about people watching him."
"That is exactly why I did it," Lee affirms, without apology. "This is the only way I can help him face it head on, and together, we will break through that wall."
"How can you be so sure? What if Metal…" I gulp down the rest of my sentence. It's a mother's instinct to worry about the emotional well being of their child, aside from physical health. What if it becomes so overwhelming to Metal, that the end results in further trauma to his ego. The critique of a child against themselves is the sum of their perceived worth.
I couldn't stand the thought of my son viewing himself so negatively.
"I am sure because I have no doubt that Metal will win," Lee states, drawing closer to me. I can feel the warmth of his body. A gentle finger is placed under my chin, luring me in. My husband smiles, "Do you believe in Metal, Sho?"
"Yes, of course," I reply breathlessly.
His smile deepens. Softly, his lips condense into mine.
"Looks as if your husband is going to get his butt kicked tomorrow," he whispers jokingly after we separate.
I giggle in return, "Oh, he sure will."