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Ino awoke to the soft trill of birdsong and golden afternoon sunlight drifting through the open window of their bedroom. She breathed deeply and stretched languidly. She must have been asleep for hours. It had been a long time since she had slept so deeply.
After a moment of basking in the peace, she kicked off the blanket and sat up, stretching again before standing. The bedspread had rumpled beneath her while she napped. She took the time to smooth it and fold the blanket she had used, tucking it into a stack in their closet. She ducked into their ensuite bathroom to quickly run a brush through her long blonde hair and roll on some deodorant. Finally feeling refreshed enough to face the current chaos of their lives, she left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.
Their house was unusually quiet, and she felt the need to tiptoe through it. Peace seemed hard to come by with the new baby. Inojin had turned their world upside down. It was beautiful, and Ino loved him more than she thought humanly possible, but taking care of a tiny human was a full-time responsibility. They were three months into parenthood, and she couldn’t even begin to think about returning to work at the hospital or the intel division. She was much too drained.
But she also didn’t want to be away from her baby. Every moment was a wonder. He was growing and learning, and she rediscovered so many things through him. She dreaded Ibiki’s impending ultimatum--return to work or lose her place in the intel division. Part of her was restless to be back to her shinobi duties, but she was determined to hoard as much of her son’s time and attention as she could, however tiring it might be.
This desire was reaffirmed when she slid quietly into the living room. Sai had returned only hours before from a three-day anbu mission, his first since the baby was born. It had been challenging for both of them. Sai’s body hadn’t transformed to carry and nurture a tiny human life for nine months, but he hadn’t been training as much when the demands of fatherhood took up so much time. Ino had been nervous about being alone with the baby for three days. Her mother and Kurenai had come around to help, of course, and her friends were eager to babysit if needed, but there was a level of support and reassurance only Sai could give her. They were figuring out this parenting thing together, and they knew Inojin best. The temporary absence of her partner had been challenging in multiple ways.
Ino wondered if Inojin had been able to tell his father was gone. She had felt his absence in the ache of her heart and the worry at the back of her mind. Had he and the baby bonded deeply enough for him to feel that ache, too? She knew her husband had been worried about connecting with their son. He had gotten the hang of genuine social interaction, but it was so much harder when the one he was trying to connect to hadn’t really learned how to express himself either. From watching them together, Ino knew her husband had nothing to worry about. Inojin was just as fascinated by his father as he was by her. His increased restlessness the past three days made her believe he had missed Sai, too.
But now both were the picture of absolute peace. She felt a little guilty for depositing Inojin in Sai’s arms nearly as soon as he had walked into the house. The relief of having him home and uninjured had allowed her to fully feel the fatigue of the past three days. Desperate for a nap and trusting her husband to watch over their baby (she loved her friends and family, but only her mother and Kurenai put her at ease when they offered to watch him), she couldn’t even remember if she had kissed him hello before disappearing into their bedroom.
The giant scroll propped next to the door and Sai’s pack dropped at the end of the couch was further proof that she had jumped on him before he got very far into the house, but both he and the baby were now out cold. Sai had propped his head up with the couch’s armrest, a book in his hand resting on his thighs, thumb still carefully keeping the page where he had left off. His other hand was cradling Inojin who was curled high on his father’s chest, his pale blonde hair tickling Sai’s chin. Both were sound asleep, bodies relaxed. The baby’s hands were curled into little fists, gripping his father’s shirt.
They made a beautiful picture, both of her boys relaxing together, and she wished she had the ability to paint like her husband so she could capture this moment. She thought briefly of returning to their room to fetch the camera, but she didn’t want the click of the shutter to startle either of them awake. Sai obviously needed the rest. Besides, she didn’t think a picture would do justice to the smile hovering on his lips.
This was a rare smile, softer and subtler than the one he usually used. She had always loved his smile. It had charmed her before she realized it was his default expression, a long-practiced contraction of the muscles in his face meant to put others at ease. She still loved that smile because regardless of its origin and purpose, it was a part of him, and she loved him. But she loved his other smiles more.
There were surprised smiles, ones that cracked the mask of his face when his instinct and emotion coalesced into a joy that could not be contained. Often these were accompanied by a laugh, which was equal parts surprising and endearing. This was an honest Sai unafraid of himself or his feelings, and she always loved him stronger in those moments.
But her favorite smiles were the secret ones. These she sensed more often than she saw. They were subtle, the smallest curve of the tips of his lips, but they took over his entire face. The blank slate slid aside to reveal a warmth and vulnerability that never failed to take her breath away. This was a Sai flooded by love and wonder. She could feel it when they were in bed together and he pressed his lips to her forehead. She had seen it when he had asked her to marry him. And she caught sight of it more and more often when he was looking at their son.
She knew what it was like to gaze into their baby’s blue eyes. The world fell away and it became him and her, nothing more, simply two souls commingling in the infinitude of existence. There was a peace in that curious space before understanding and remembrance, a space to simply be and share being with another, void of questions and worries. She could glimpse that peace in Sai’s secret smile.
She tiptoed silently to the couch and eased the book from her husband’s grasp. It was a manual on flower care, one of the many they had lying around the house. Sai liked to read to Inojin. He had heard somewhere that speaking and reading to a baby helped its cognitive development. She’d told him that likely didn’t mean medical textbooks and mission briefings, but he had replied that it was more about the cadence of language than the content. Besides, he still found small talk challenging, and trying to chat with someone who simply stared or gurgled in response was formidable. She supposed there were worse things he could read to their son.
She bookmarked the page and set it on the coffee table. Then she gathered Sai’s pack and his vest which he had simply dropped by the door. She unclipped his tanto and leaned it next to his scroll. Then she thoroughly checked his pockets for ninja supplies and ink bottles. She had been careless once and threw in a load of laundry without checking the pockets. It had been a disaster. A vial of ink had shattered in the wash, leaving gray stains and glass shards all over the clothes and their washing machine. Both of them had gotten better at checking their pockets after that.
She gathered the household laundry and sorted it into appropriately similar piles. Then she dumped a load into the machine and set to work on some of the other chores that were easier to accomplish while the baby was otherwise occupied. She changed their bedding, throwing the dirty sheets into another pile on the laundry room floor. She watered the plants scattered throughout the house. She took stock of their cupboards and fridge and made a grocery list. She transferred the laundry to the dryer and put in another load.
She popped into the living room periodically to check on her boys and enjoy the picture of them resting together on the couch. On her way to the bathroom to scrub the shower, she noticed Inojin starting to squirm. He was just beginning to wake up, face scrunching while his eyelids worked to remember how to open. His wiggling hadn’t yet woken Sai. He really must have been tired after his mission. She carefully lifted the baby off his chest so his nap could continue undisturbed.
“Hi there baby boy,” she cooed softly as she walked Inojin to the nursery. His crib was still in their bedroom, but they had discussed moving it to the nursery as he was beginning to sleep more soundly at night. Ino wasn’t sure she was ready for that. There was something both convenient and comforting in being able to simply glance at him across the room in the middle of the night to check that he was okay.
“It’s nice having Daddy home again, isn’t it? Yes it is. Did you have a good nap with Daddy?”
Inojin was starting to make little grunts and noises that typically indicated he was uncomfortable. She lifted him higher and gave his bottom a careful sniff.
“Oopsies! Smells like someone need a new diaper.”
Ino continued with the baby talk while she wiped him down and wrapped him in a fresh diaper. She tickled his tummy to make him smile and gurgle happily. She loved Inojin’s smile, too. It lifted his chubby cheeks and spread wide across his face. He was too innocent to contain his raw, uninhibited joy. She hoped he would always be unafraid of his happiness and continue to smile brightly.
When Sai wandered into the nursery half an hour later, cheek creased from the couch cushions and hair sticking up on the side of his head, Ino was rocking and nursing their baby. She was smiling at him as he sucked, blue eyes meeting their mirror. Her joy came across somewhere between Sai’s and Inojin’s, not guarded but tempered by the complexity of emotions gained with experience. It was soft and aching and beautiful.
“Hey you,” she greeted softly when she spotted her husband in the doorway.
“Hello beautiful,” he replied, walking over to kiss her on the forehead and lean over her shoulder to look at their son. She smoothed her husbands’ hair while he smoothed Inojin’s, poking their baby playfully on the cheek. The edges of Inojin’s lips curled happily.
“How was the mission?”
“Fine.” He shrugged and walked over to the dresser to find a burping cloth. She wanted to ask why he had been so tired if it was simply fine, but it had been an anbu mission. She was unlikely to get any more information and would have to be satisfied that he had returned safely and unharmed. That was all that really mattered anyway.
When Inojin was finished nursing, Sai took him without a word, rubbing and patting his back while she adjusted her clothes. It was so natural, and it reminded her again of what a relief it was to have him home. They were a three-man squad--her, Sai, and Inojin--tighter than any Ino-Shika-Cho formation. They functioned best together.
That night after Inojin had fallen asleep in his crib and she and Sai were wrapped together in bed, she apologized.
“I’m sorry I dumped the baby on you right when you got home. You must’ve been really tired after your mission.”
“It’s fine,” he hummed, rubbing her arm sleepily. “You were tired, too.”
“But I wasn’t on a mission.”
“You were taking care of our son. That’s more important than any mission.”
She counted his ribs with her fingertips, something she liked to do since discovering he wasn’t ticklish.
“I’ll get up with him tonight so you can sleep.”
He just hummed in response, pressing a kiss to her lips and pulling her closer.
Somehow she wasn’t surprised when Inojin’s unhappy cries woke her that night and Sai was already at the crib lifting their disgruntled son into his arms. He shushed Inojin quietly and began humming a song he had overheard Temari sing to Shikadai. She was going to tell him to hand her the baby so he could go back to sleep, but he was already heading out of the bedroom to the nursery. Before he closed the door behind him, she glimpsed his soft, secret smile pressed into their son’s hair.