Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. If I did Asuma would still be alive.
She found out she was carrying his child the day he died. A piece of her heart died that day. She felt so hollow.
She left reminders of him throughout her house, almost like a shrine to him. His vest, carefully wrapped in plastic, hung in her closet. Sometimes she would pull the plastic away just enough to inhale his scent, sandalwood and cigarette smoke intermingled with sweat. His towel still hung in the bathroom. A picture of him sat in the kitchen. His trench knives were in her living room. She would sit for hours staring at them.
Sometimes her stomach would flutter and a little piece of her heart would mend.
The day she was to discover the sex of their child she prayed so hard for a boy it brought her to her knees. God heard her. Maybe he did too.
The night she went into labor one of his students was at her door. As they walked to the hospital she told him she hoped that he would look like his father. He nodded then carried her the rest of the way when a rather long contraction hit. He never once muttered the words 'troublesome' or 'what a drag'.
God must have been making up for his death because their son was a spitting image of him. She named him Asuma and prayed he would be stronger than both of his parents.
His would come to her and ask her to tell him stories about his daddy. She would have his rapt attention for hours no matter how many times he had heard them.
His old team would come to visit his son. It seemed to help heal them to watch him grow.
On his first day at the academy she swore she wouldn't cry in front of him. She barely made it home.
The day he told her he wanted to learn how to use his father's trench knives there wasn't a force on earth that could have kept her from weeping. She gave them to him for his birthday that year.
He wore his father's vest on his first mission as a jounin. She hoped that more than a vest would be brought back to her. He came home without a scratch.
The day she left his side to be with his father she whispered to him, "You're father would be so proud."
A/N: Reviews are love.