Daylight

Afterglow Pt.1

A/N: I've been waiting over a whole month to  write this chapter! (Part 2 actually) But I've finally done it. Watch my AMV that inspired me to write this chapter.

The setting sun painted the sky in pastels of pink, lavender and baby blue... The sun was a magnificent painter, if not the best - wasn't it? The lands glowed a heavenly light, and Konoha shone like the centrepiece of an artwork. At the heart of the village, lived a woman and her child who held a man's heart in the palm of their hands. In the afterglow they traded stories and surmised when he would be returning. 

The Uchiha patriarch would travel back and forth from Konoha, gone for weeks at a time and then would come back to his cherished family bearing gifts. Whether it was flowers, teddies, or his smiles, his two girls loved all of them. His wife would often tell him that the greatest gift was him - safe and sound. Whenever he was at Konoha, the days would be filled with spending as much time with his daughter, teaching her the names of new things - whether it be the names of different weapons or different flowers - and in turn she would teach him the best places to view the sun from, as she would grasp his lone hand and tug him along as he trailed behind her, an ever expanding heart hidden behind a small smile. His nights were filled with silent confessions as he made love to his wife as often as he could, for his heart ached for her when he was absent. Making love to her rushed him with an adrenaline that no battle could ever compete with.

It was a cold night in December, and his wife slept soundlessly next to him huddled under covers as she dreamt of the passionate night that had just ensued. He envied her for the ability to allow slumber to take her so quickly, as he stared at the blank ceiling hovering over him, thinking back to his most recent sins... The crimes he committed which he could not disclose to his wife. 

There was a dull ache in his heart as had realised the enormity of what he had done. It was the second time he had used his sharingan on his daughter who had previously suffered from a viral attack where she could have lost her sight entirely, if it wasn't for her parents. His wife's words echoed in his mind...

"If someone else uses a dojutsu on someone who's suffered from the virus quite soon after - we're not sure on the timescale, just yet - then the symptoms may surface again." 

"I'm sure you won't use your sharingan on her".

What had he done? He had risked his daughter's chance at seeing colours and the beauties of life, and for what? He tried to rationalise with himself, as he couldn't confide in his spouse. The last time someone had put  her child at risk, she had cut them out altogether of their lives. He wouldn't be able to handle that. To know he wouldn't be given the chance to watch his child grow up and to hold his wife at night... it was all too much. He told himself he did what he had to do in the moment. It was a necessary evil... But was it? A child shouldn't be exposed to their parents - or anyone - making love. A child shouldn't have to see their father all bloodied and bruised, on the brink of death, as he falls into their mother's lap. He closed his eyes and felt a tear stroll down what his wife liked to call a 'perfectly arched face'. He didn't know how he looked his wife and daughter in the eye, and ironically, that was the problem. 

He raked his hand through his tousled hair and let out an exasperated sigh. His wife's hand suddenly fell on his chest as she snuggled closer and mumbled, eyes still closed, "Can't sleep?" When he didn't answer, she suggested, "Maybe you should put some clothes on." 

He felt her stir beside him, her hair falling over his shoulder and she pressed her snug knitted pyjamas onto him. "Fine, I'll warm you myself," he heard her stifle a giggle and soon enough heard soft snores ooze out of her and tickle his neck.

He lay there like a corpse, unable to receive anymore of her immense bank of unwavering love which he was sure he was undeserving of. Sleep wouldn't take him, but his guilt did. He left her again at the breaking of dawn, before she could notice that her husband had dissolved into a puddle of tears.