.
.
The next contraction comes, and Hashi's face twists in a scream.
"Good, good, you're doing fine, keep going." The midwives speak in soothing tones while Hashi bears down and sobs, her skin damp with bright sweat and her hair sticking in long pieces to her forehead.
Pain. It comes in a crashing wave, sharp and burning, wrenching everything in its path. Hashi squeezes her eyes and lets out an anguished scream, the midwives pushing on her legs, "good, good, keep pushing, you're doing great, push, push."
"I can't." Hashi starts to sob. "I can't, I can't."
"You're doing well, keep going."
"I can't!"
Another scream tears through her, tears streaming down her face. Her grip on Madara's hand is so strong it can crush bone.
Madara watches, every muscle in his body tense, battle ready. But he can't do anything. Hashi screams again and the midwives rush toward her, and Madara sucks in his breath, growing more and more anxious.
Hashi starts sobbing. Madara's jaw tightens. He has never felt so helpless before.
The midwives push in front of him, "You're doing well, keep going, push."
One last push, her body bearing down with effort, and the baby finally slips out of her and into the midwife's arms.
Madara's eyes widen. The baby is shiny and wet like a newborn gelding. Its face crunches as it starts to cry.
"My baby." Hashi grips his hand. "Anata, our baby..."
She starts to laugh, still crying, exhausted, as the midwife swaddles the baby and hands it to her. Hashi chokes back a laugh between sobs.
"Put her to your breast, like this," the midwife says, and she adjusts Hashi's robe.
Quiet. It's just the three of them now, Madara and Hashi and the baby. He watches, awestruck, as the baby's tiny mouth roots blindly until it latches onto her breast, eyes closed and suckling deeply.
"She's so soft," Hashi says. She strokes the baby's cheek. "She looks like you."
Madara bends forward. The baby's skin is fair and fine dark hair falls in choppy wet curls. Tentatively, he lets his fingertips graze the baby's head, and he's struck by how soft her skin feels. Like warm velvet, but more delicate.
"Thank you," Hashi says, and Madara lifts his eyes. She beams at him. "Thank you for giving me our baby."
"Tch." Madara looks away from her. She beams and squeezes his hand.
She falls asleep. She breathes deeply as the baby sleeps soundly in the bassinet next to the bed, and Madara is struck with the realization that he now has two people he has to protect.
Outside, the night is dark except for the frosty moonlight, which filters through the window and traces the curve of Hashi's body. Quietly, Madara pulls a chair beside the bed, looking out across the room and at the shapes of things in the darkness, before sitting beside his family and snuffing out the candle.
