Day 30

- Sharing a Secret -

Sai strongly believes winter wonderlands are one of the hardest things to paint. It isn't the colorless aspect that gets him, as his main expertise is in ink, but it is rather the contrasting colors of the white snow and hikes black ink that makes Sai sit out in the freezing aftermath of a night-long blizzard, scratching his head, puzzled. He considers using the white of his scroll, taking advantage of the negative space by outlining the faint shapes of the scenery in ink. This is doable, he's sure, but he'll definitely have to water down his ink, seeing as the snow and gray haze of winter has softened any hard edges and lines that would be normally found in this view; a task Sai is not very fond of doing.

But what is art if not pushing the boundaries of your own comfort zone?

So Sai leaves his scroll and brush and ink on his balcony, shuffling inside to get water from the tap. The back of his neck burns when a great, electrifying chakra comes to his front door. The person does not knock. He doesn't have to. Sai opens the door and is surprised by the look on his friend's face as Sasuke comes inside and practically falls into the nearest chair.

Sai takes a moment to lock the door. Sasuke boots are caked with snow, which slowly melts, leaving a shallow pool at the entrance. He doesn't take off his coat, so Sasuke is a pit of black dotted with white snow.

There are many books on his shelves that list every single emotion and facial expression out there, but Sai thinks he has discovered a new one as he looks upon his friend. This is a nameless expression, unstudied and never logged into any book before. For a moment, Sai wonders if he should do something about this new discovery. He should paint a quick portrait of Sasuke's face and mail it to the author of his favorite 'expressions' book. They say people who discover new species of animals get to name them; will Sai get to name this new expression?

What would I call it? he wonders. It would have to be a name that makes sense, after all. Something properly thought about and considered.

Sai escapes the house for only a moment, retrieving his ink and scroll and brush before coming back inside. He pulls up a chair and sits opposite of Sasuke, rolls out the scroll before him, then pauses.

Winter wonderlands are one thing, but painting an expression without a name that you have never seen before is another, and Sai thinks, truly, he has found his maker.

…

"Without changing anything," Sai begins slowly, "can you tell me what has happened?"

Sasuke blinks, but his expression does not change — thank Kami. He sits with his elbow on his knees and his hand cupping his jaw, and he seems to think for a good while. It must be something tricky, Sai decides, dipping his brush in ink. Sasuke doesn't hold back words, and he doesn't consider them if he knows what to say and how to say it.

Just as Sai begins on the outline, Sasuke says, "I almost got Hinata pregnant."

Sai wonders what a normal expression for a pregnancy would be. Joy, probably. Maybe a little fear. Some might be dreadful. This expression is none of those things — or, maybe, all of those things mixed together.

"Congrats," Sai offers.

Sasuke sighs. "No, Sai."

Oh. "Good luck?"

"I said I almost got her pregnant."

Ah. Right. So this is an 'almost-getting-someone-pregnant' expression. But, no, this isn't just someone, either. This is the girl Sasuke's had a thing for since he was a kid. The very same girl that gave him a 'miserable' love he wallowed with for all those years, only to finally be with her, to know the joy of someone loving you back just as unconditionally. This is an 'almost-got-the-love-of-your-life-pregnant' expression.

Not a very easy-to-say name, if you ask Sai. He'll have to come up with something different.

Sai carefully swipes his brush along the scroll, following the sweeps of Sasuke's hair. "And is it good or bad that you didn't?"

Again, Sasuke blinks, and he thinks, and he grumbles low in his throat. Sai had asked so he knew how to go about this discussion, but it seems even his friend doesn't truly know how he feels.

"I don't know," Sasuke says, eventually.

What a very confusing feeling. The name for it will have to be confusing, too.

"I don't get it," Sai says.

Sasuke shakes his head. "Well, how would you feel?"

"Feel?"

"If you almost got Ino pregnant?"

Brush almost falling from his grasp, Sai stops painting before he ruins the quick portrait. Ino is very diligent about having sex safely. She sticks to the pill, and if she misses a day, she makes sure he wears a condom or they do nothing further than some heavy petting. It's practically impossible to get her pregnant with all the precautions they take; but if, somehow, he did . . . then . . . .

Oh. So THIS is what Sasuke feels.

A startling mix and mash of emotions that makes no sense at all.

Sai sits back as the ink on the scroll dries, and he thinks hard and long and ultimately decides that if he had to give this feeling, this expression, a name, it would be: dish-towel. Confusing, but somehow, it makes sense, as well. A feeling of giving up, of throwing in the dish towel, so to speak — but at the same time, dish towels clean and scrub; they are useful, and they are tough, and they make do with what they're given until they turn it spotless. A feeling of hopelessness, but also determined; unsure, but also resilient.

"You're feeling dish-toweled," Sai confirms, standing.

Sasuke's expression turns into confusion, but that's okay. Sari's already got the portrait down; and even if he didn't, he'd just have to go to a mirror to see it again.

"What?"

"It's the feeling you have that I just named." For some reason, Sai feels unable to stay still. He goes to the desk in the corner to grab a piece of paper and an envelope. "I need to send word of this new discovery. It makes sense, doesn't it? Dish-towel. A look of utter dish-towel. To feel dish-toweled."

Sasuke stays in his seat, watching Sai comb through his notebook of addresses, trying to find the one for the very important, very needed author of expressions.

"Now you understand," Sasuke murmurs. "You're as nervous as I am."

"Dish-toweled," Sai corrects, but there isn't oomph behind his voice.

He goes into the other room to grab a pen, where he secretly sends a clone to call for Kakashi.

Sometimes, Kakashi reminds Sasuke of his father. Not at all is he bull-headed or emotionally distant; he does not favor his students like Fugaku favored one child over the other. In many ways, Kakashi is very unlike his father. But sometimes — on days like today — he gets that way about him that Sasuke's father, on rare occasions, would get. He'd look at him, and instantaneously he'd understand exactly what the situation was. Fugaku did not provide comforting words like Sasuke's mother, and he did not let him cry into the sleeve of his yukata and pat his back until his sobs died down; but Fugaku pinpointed the problem, and he saw to it immediately. Was there a bully messing with Sasuke? A few lessons from dad, and before you knew it, Sasuke was throwing those bullies into rivers! Perhaps he was falling behind in Kumasi practice. Then Dad would go out and buy Kumasi that were the right fit and weight for his hands. Fugaku was not a loving father, but he was pragmatic, and he cared . . . sometimes.

His Father has been dead for sixteen years.

Now, it's Kakashi — and when he enters, he pinpoints the problem and immediately orders both Sasuke and Sai to put on their shoes. They go to a store to by lemon bread and tea packets, and then they walk and turn and walk some more until, finally, Kakashi knocks on a door, and a small girl with her thick, brown hair pulled up in a ponytail lets them in.

Sai bites the back of his hand like he expects he's been trapped in some genjutsu. Sasuke gives his scheming mentor a look, who artfully avoids his eye as they all shuffle in. The girl stares at their collection of shoes as her mother appears from the kitchen — the familiar face of Sarutobi Kurenai.

"Tea," Kakashi says, "and Mirai's favorite bread."

Kurenai wipes her hands on a rag. "I wasn't expecting to see you three."

"Bread!" Mirai cheers.

Kakashi drops his hands on Sai and Sasuke's shoulders, tugging them into the den. "I regret to say these two need a lesson in something I can't exactly teach them." Kurenai blinks, looks down at her daughter, then hums in understanding. Sasuke, truthfully, feels like he could catch on fire from the amount of humiliation cooking inside of him. Smiling under his mask, Kakashi takes Mirai's offered hand and brings her into the kitchen. "Help me make the tea and cut the bread. Momma needs a moment."

They leave, and Sasuke reluctantly joins Sai on the sofa. Kurenai sits across from them, one leg over the other. Around the room, there are toys scattered about the place. The shelf with the glass doors by the door has kid locks on it. A few VHS tapes of kids shows lie around the old television set against the wall. Sasuke tries to not look at it all, but there isn't really anything else to look at. When there's a kid around, it's obvious.

"Well." Kurenai takes a small look at the doorway of the kitchen. She is not their mentor, so she doesn't have much experience giving them life lessons and such; not to mention they're not easy to talk to like Sakura or passionately curious like Naruto. Sasuke almost feels bad for the poor woman. "Well, where should I start? I guess I should point out that there are boy parts and girl parts that, when put together, cause —"

From the kitchen, Kakashi starts howling with laughter. Mirai joins in for the fun of it, and Sasuke sinks further into the sofa.

"We got that," he mutters.

"Oh."

"I have read many books," Sai adds. "Though they use more scientific terms."

Kurenai nods, though very lost. "Then what do you —"

"Nothing." Sasuke stands. "Nothing."

"Well," Sai says, "Sasuke almost got Hinata pregnant."

. . . . Fuck.

"Ohh." Kurenai nods some more. "I see."

So Sasuke plops back down onto the seat cushion.

Kurenai studies him, and she almost reminds him of his mother. It's the same look Mikoto would get when she'd catch him in a lie — a sort of 'I know what you did' kind of look.

"You know about protection —"

"Yes," Sasuke stresses.

"Then . . . ?" Kurenai prompts.

Sasuke refuses to open his mouth, and even Sai seems speechless. She waits only a moment more, then sits back in her seat.

"Children are not easy," she says. "They are a lifetime commitment. They are not something you decide to have on a whim or a moment of passion. They are a great responsibility that many people fail to properly meet. If you decide to have children, you must not only really want them, but you also must be prepared, and you must make hard sacrifices, and you must learn to adapt, and you must be financially ready — and a million other things."

She gives them hard stares. Sai looks like a fish out of water. Sasuke . . . doesn't know how he feels.

"But," she adds, "if you do decide to have children, they are one of the best gifts the world can offer you."

Sasuke cannot imagine anything better than Hinata. If it was just him and her for the rest of his life, he would die a happy, satisfied man. But last night, after his many failed attempts to fall asleep, he had turned on his back and looked up at the ceiling and thought about it — thought about that future if they hadn't stopped, if they had kept going. Slowly, Hinata would grow round with his child, and that image alone made something start in him — something that has yet to stop.

Something he doesn't really want to stop.

And he wondered if it would be a boy or a girl and if they would look like their mother — her wide eyes and pretty smile and capable hands. He wondered what it would feel like to come home from a mission to a child running over to greet him, hugging his knees and asking him all about his day. He wondered what that child — his child — their child — would think to grow up in a village that killed their lineage, but also started the next chapter of their family — the very village where their father put all his efforts into fixing. Road signs. Wheelchair ramps. Power poles. Gardens, parks, farmlands.

Is that okay to think about?

Sasuke doesn't know. It doesn't seem like that's something he should wish for. He should be happy with what he's got — and he is. Hinata is the best thing that could have happened to him.

But . . . .

"And . . . ." Sai falls quiet, and his feet curl together. It is not often that falls into a meek spell; but then again, it's not often that Sasuke wishes for things she shouldn't wish for, either. "And what if you are not worthy of that gift?"

Kurenai's shoulders fall, and she slips from her chair to rest her hand on Sai's. It is hard to ignore a mother's touch, and Sai, starved of it, is too startled to say anything about it.

"Then make yourself worthy," she says.

…

Mirai and Kakashi return with tea and lemon bread, and they eat in that warm room full of dolls and cartoon movies and storybooks about ninja and dinosaurs. Mirai slips from her mother's lap to sit between Sasuke and Sai, helping them eat the crumbs of their lemon bread. They let her, and then Sai helps her color in one of her books, showing her how to color with circles rather than harsh, straight lines to get a nice, balanced shade from the crayons.

Sasuke does not know coloring techniques like Sai, and he does not have the hands to lift her into the air and spin her around like Kakashi, and he doesn't have the patience and hair for her to play with like her mother does.

Sasuke is not sure he'd be good enough for children.

But, maybe, one day he will be.

…

He comes home to Hinata waiting by the window for him. She wraps her arms around him before he can get his shoes off and buries her nose into the snow caked against his shoulder. Sasuke lets her hold him, the chills slipping out from between his bones.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispers. Her face pulls away from his coat, and there are snowflakes stuck to her lashes. "Last night, I . . . I almost let you . . . ."

"Yeah." Sasuke drops his forehead on her shoulder. "I know."

"Not because I'm stupid, or because I wasn't thinking." Her hands slip into his pockets to warm up. "I want children. M-Maybe not now, um, but one day. With you."

"So do I." Hinata pulls away, gobsmacked. "When I'm worthy."

She laughs and holds his face in her hands. "You couldn't be more worthy, Sasuke."

He could. He has a lot of growing up to do, and he still needs to get on the Hokage's good graces so he can properly provide.

But he's not afraid.

He's not the kind to give up.

He's the kind to fight. To persevere.

To chase.