The sky was basked in the orange light of dawn when Madara finally arrives at his clan's compound. The two gate duty regulars both saluted him as he rushes by, not daring to get in his way when they saw his vexed expression, as if he was seconds away from tearing someone's throat out by his teeth.
As soon as he reaches his two-story house, Madara slams the shoji doors open with the subtlety of a raging bijuu and strides into the only guest bedroom, where Hikari was screaming bloody murder and an old midwife he doesn't know the name of but recognizes settled between her legs.
Ryouta immediately perks up at his arrival, looking relieved yet still worried over the complications of the child's birth, wringing his hands as he hovers around the room.
"Anija! I'm sorry for calling you at such a time and on such short notice when you're so busy with the alliance talks but I didn't know what to do I panicked and wrote the note and oh Sage I'm ill-prepared for childbirth I can only kill not heal and-"
"Breathe. You did well in notifying me, otouto."
He cut his little brother off, trying sound gentle and soothing, but the irritation in his tone was notable and the harsh lines on his features weren't going anywhere anytime soon. He shoots an apologetic smile, which was more of a grimace, and Ryouta returns it with more finesse.
As he settles by Hikari's side, he tucks the billowing sleeves of his mantle using a tasuki, removes his leather gloves, and submerges his hands into a bowl of alcohol, already prepared in advance.
"Takumi and Yakumi?" He raises his voice to be heard over Hikari's loud sobbing.
"They're with your hawks," Ryouta grimaces when Hikari screeches extra loud, "Takumi knows to keep Yakumi busy until I give them the ok."
"What of your posting?"
"I have my division's vice, Kaoru, stand in for me. I gave him strict instructions to call me immediately if there are any signs of invaders. I also made sure that nobody saw Hisako-san come here."
"Good. You did good, otouto."
At the reassurance that their clan would not be running around like headless chickens at the absence of their leaders, and that the word of Hikari's labor has not gotten out, he went back to thoroughly scrubbing his hands. Ryouta, on the other hand, settles behind of him to help pull his untamable mane into a high ponytail.
Whilst Madara picks the dirt out from under his fingernails, he inwardly cusses at his rotten luck.
The many months of preparations had all been wasted despite having taken his child's birth into account. He had pushed the peace talks forward not only due to his Zetsu-induced paranoia, but also because he wanted to be home when Hikari was supposed to go into labor two months later.
Of all the birth complications, his child just had to be fucking a premature baby.
Premature babies born in this time period have a high mortality rate no thanks to the lack of proper equipment, hospitals, and a sterile environment. And it was only due to the fact that Madara knows that his child's slim chances of survival rely heavily upon his futuristic medical knowledge did he rush back.
If this child was not his flesh and blood, he would have prioritized the Uchiha-Senju alliance, leaving the baby's fate to the Uchiha clan's patron goddess, Amaterasu. Alas, despite its dubious conception, Madara was already fond of his unborn child.
How he abhors how easily an Uchiha feels for their family.
"How long has it been?" He asks curtly, his Sharingan whirling to life.
"Eight hours have passed since Lady Hikari has gone into labor. Her cervix has dilated enough in that timeframe and she has been pushing for almost ten minutes now." The old midwife responded clinically, brows furrowed as she looked at Hikari's pained features, "Take a deep breath in and push out harder, my lady."
Madara ignores the rise of volume of Hikari's screaming and crying in favor of hovering a hand over her pregnant bulge, green chakra seeping into her womb to assist her in pushing the child out. The midwife startles at that, no doubt surprised that Madara knows medical jutsu.
He gave a baleful glare that says 'focus on your own role!' at the midwife, who immediately went back to encouraging Hikari. She even shoved a hand inside Hikari's bloodied entrance, ripping another howl from the woman's lips. Madara winced, not exactly sympathetic to Hikari's plight, but that looked entirely unpleasant for both parties involved.
Even Ryouta, a certified torturer and a veteran shinobi, looked green in the face at the ruthlessness of the midwife's unhesitant actions.
Madara was glad he was born without a uterus, and judging by Ryouta's sickly complexion, his little brother agrees with his sentiments.
It took another half an hour for his child to take their first breath of the outside air. Madara was quick to sanitize his hands again as the midwife cleaned his baby. As soon as he was handed his child, the old midwife went back to focusing on Hikari whilst Madara swiftly yet gently set his newborn babe on the prepared bedding.
"A girl." And he guestimates that she weighs less than a kilo and was at most 35cm in length.
Madara was in awe, feeling his damped eyes sting with the desire to cry, but was also quick to blink his lashes and focus more on the pressing issue. Like how his baby girl was not crying due to her difficulties in breathing.
He coos reassurances as he allows his healing chakra to seep into his little girl's underdeveloped lungs, strengthening the muscles and manually assisting her to breathe. Additionally, he brings his other hand to cup the crown of her head and spreads his chakra to cycle throughout the entirety of his baby girl's small body, ensuring enough heat for her to be comfortable due to her lack of fat.
Multi-casting requires intense concentration for the average person. Fortunately enough, Madara has never been normal. And he embraces his abnormality, for if he does not, he would have never been able to perform such feats that should be impossible in this time period, for he knows that if he falters, the risk that his baby girl would stop breathing was high.
If only they have incubators and intubation machines at this time period.
Truthfully, he doesn't know for how long he could continue this without exhaustion rearing its ugly head. But he would not rest until she was able to automatically breathe on her own. If he has to unseal his byakugō and use it to sustain himself from collapsing, he would do so in a heartbeat.
Madara was a shinobi, he was made to endure.
"She's tiny," Ryouta whispers under his breath, wonderment in his tone as he kneels next to Madara, not once moving to touch his child despite his eagerness to hold her. She was too vulnerable right now, her skin reddish and raw and require delicate handling.
Before Madara could respond to his brother, the midwife cleared her throat. Whilst Ryouta turns fully to the old midwife, Madara keeps his eyes entirely on his baby girl, ears attentive.
"Please pardon me for the interruption, Madara-sama, Ryouta-sama. Lady Hikari has passed out from exhaustion. I would like to inquire if I should call a healer for her."
"Unnecessary. Keep what you have seen here to yourself."
"Understood. If you require any future assistance, I am at your beck and all. And congratulations. I wish your heir many years of good health and happiness."
"She is not my child," It hurts for him deny his fatherly connection to her, but he steels his heart and puts on a stoic front, his blank expression betraying nothing, "She is Tajima's daughter - my youngest sibling. She may be the clan's princess, but she will not be considered heir apparent."
The midwife lowers her head, "I apologize for my mistake, Madara-sama. My congratulations and well wishes remain, however."
"Thank you..."
"This one's name is Hisako, milord."
"I thank you for your kind words and timely assistance, Hisako-san."
"It is my pleasure and duty to help the main house and clan head to the best of my abilities. I'll excuse myself here then, Madara-sama."
"Ensure that your departure remains unseen from the masses."
"I understand."
Bowing in respect, the old midwife soon slipped out of the room. Madara and Ryouta tracked her chakra signature and only relaxes when she exits their house from the backyard.
"Is she going to be alright?" Ryouta turns to Madara with his eyes full of concern for his nibling, "I've never seen a newborn so tiny before..."
"She will be." Madara made sure to keep his voice steady and calm despite the pinch of anxiety radiating from his gut.
"Ok." Ryouta seats himself next to Madara, brushing their shoulders together in an act of comfort. "Ok." The younger Uchiha repeats, but more firmly this time.
They stayed rooted to their spots for some time, with Ryouta just smiling softly at the babe and Madara doing his best to induce his daughter's own fragile chakra to follow his own's healing patterns.
After a while, Ryouta disappeared into the hallways with Hikari thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, returning sans Hikari within a couple of minutes, in his arms now a bunch of supplies.
After first sanitizing his hands to the best of his abilities, Ryouta began to maneuver around and put a nappy on the babe, before he gently carries her into Madara's arms. Ryouta was the one to hold the baby bottle to her lips since Madara has his hands full with healing and carrying his daughter.
It was a struggle since she was so small, but they managed, somehow. Madara only wishes that their first hug could have been under better circumstances.
"What's her name?"
"I won't name her just yet."
Ryouta's head shot up from staring at the babe, lips parted in surprise and a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, but they snapped shut not a second later. Madara looks away from his little brother's sorrowful gaze, knowing that his expression must have revealed more than he had intended.
Sometimes, he wishes Ryouta was more oblivious like Izuna and Yakumi.
The percentage that his little girl would live was... extremely low.
With all of his senses concentrated on his little girl, he knows that her insides were a mess.
Underdeveloped lungs were one thing, her immature immune system, brittle chakra pathways, and fragile life force was another. Not to mention the lack of proper equipment needed to keep a premature baby alive in this era. Take all of that into account and Madara wants to scream his grievances to the world.
Madara wants his little girl to live. Desperate, even. However, he knows that even with his medical prowess, it would be a difficult battle for her. He could only help so much, as he was not omnipotent. Although he had told Ryouta that she would be fine, that confidence had all been a front - his sincere wishes for his words to be true.
But it was difficult to keep his emotions from showing, to suppress them, when this was his daughter, his flesh and blood, whose life was on the line. Shinobi he may be, but he was still human. Compartmentalizing could only protect him so far.
Hence, Madara decided to be selfish. If she really could not survive the odds, he would rather bury a nameless child than a named one, pretend that she was truly Tajima's bastard of a daughter. He has always been good at denying reality.
He was also good at self-punishment, his Sharingan glinting unnaturally, burning this memory into his head as he levels his gaze at the tiny body, at her poorly lit chakra that sometimes flickers with instability.
"I want to wait for Izuna." Was his poor excuse to delay his daughter's naming.
"Ok, anija. We'll wait for Izu-nii."
Ryouta's whisper was wobbly at best, and when he wraps an arm around Madara's shoulder, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, Madara couldn't help the sudden hitch in his breathing.
Time dragged by gruelingly.
By the third day, Madara's byakugō has been replaced by thick, dark lines that stretches from an empty diamond on his forehead, down his cheeks, and reaches all the way to his wrists and ankles in a geometric pattern.
The Strength of a Hundred seal was supposed to be an ace against Zetsu, but he doesn't regret using it for the purpose of keeping his child alive.
Although his chakra pool was constantly being replenished by the stored reserves inside the seal on his forehead, Madara was mentally and physically exhausted, having not slept the entire time whilst functioning as his daughter's life support machine.
When he feels a blunt nudge against his dry lips, Madara instinctually parts them. He doesn't taste what he has been spoon fed, but his tongue protests against the gritty texture.
"-een an Uchiha with white hair before. I know for sure that Takumi would insist on making her more colorful-"
Madara shakes his head a couple of times and blinks rapidly in order to clear the fog inside his head. When his brain finally registers Ryouta's inane mumblings, he returns his half-lidded gaze to his child's form, focusing more on her features this time around whilst ignoring the tremors in his hands.
When she had just been born, she was without hair, had her eyes scrunched shut, and had reddish, pruney skin. Now, however, after an unknown amount of time has passed, Madara could see the first tufts of white growing from her crown, her lashes equally without pigmentation, and her skin pinkish pale.
He dazedly wonders if he should ask Tobirama for tips on how to raise an albino child.
"-when he'll be ba- oh shit! Careful, Anija."
Ryouta abruptly drops his spoon into the bowl of mush and pulls out a handkerchief. With gentle fingers, he cups Madara's chin and wipes the drool and puree food that had dribbled from his lips. All the while, Ryouta's eyebrows were pinched and his lips pressed into a straight line.
"Can't you rest for a little bit? Please?"
Madara lethargically shakes his head, causing the cold sweat that had been stubbornly clinging to his forehead to roll down his face. Ryouta's frown deepened. Without a pause, Ryouta uses the corner of his mantle's sleeve to wipe the sweat from Madara's face and neck.
"Sleep deprivation is another form of torture. You'll end up killing yourself at this rate."
Again, Madara shakes his head.
If he stops his chakra output for even a single second, his daughter might go into respiratory distress. He didn't want to chance it. Anything that could go wrong, would go wrong. Especially when Lady Luck abhors standing at the Uchiha's side of the line.
"It's... twelve days, anija! I've seen... of men fall into a... of psychosis from withheld...! Can't you... how... disregard of... agonizes me?! There... limits to what a... person can accomplish! Can't... rely on..., on us, even... only just a lit-"
His beloved little brother might as well be a fly buzzing around his head with how sluggish Madara's mind was processing Ryouta's aggravated words, the younger Uchiha's voice muffled by the metaphorical pieces of cotton stuffed inside his ears. Deciding that it would be a wasted effort to split his concentration any further, he went back to focusing his sole attention on his sickly daughter, taking note of her heartbeat, her chakra system, her breathing-
Madara suddenly straightens his spine, causing Ryouta to (blessedly) fall silent, his little brother's pair of piercing, onyx eyes never once leaving his weary figure. He ignores the attention he garners, more focused on his own skyrocketed heart rate. Madara's breath was caught in his throat as he zeroes onto the fact that his baby girl was breathing on her own.
Tentatively, he retracts his chakra from her lungs and checks her vital signs, Sharingan whirling at an unimaginable rate to catch any signs of deterioration or collapse. When he sees no change in her condition after half an hour has passed, his body instantly topples to the side.
Were it not for his brother, he would've face planted onto the tatami mats.
He slurs his words like a drunk, briefing Ryouta that Madara's baby girl was now stable enough to live without the aid of his chakra and for Ryouta to closely monitor the babe whilst he takes a short nap. He also demands that Ryouta wake him immediately if her condition deviates from the norms.
If Ryouta had responded, Madara didn't hear it. He had blacked out soon after he has said his piece - the thick, dark lines of his Seal slowly retracting back into a faded, purple rhombus on his forehead.
A/N:
The votes were seriously one-sided. I shite you not (^ц^ )! Most of ya'll basically wrote, "Give Dara a girl so he flails about like a headless chicken" or "He needs to get used to women sooner or later. Let's start easy by giving him a baby girl" or "I wanna see Dara fluff up like an enraged papa porcupine guarding his little girl against icky boys".
Son: 6
Daughter: 24
To tell you the truth, I had planned to give Madara a set of twins, a boy and a girl respectively, and the gender poll was a ploy to trick you guys. But then the temptation to off one of them was becoming alarmingly too high and I just... Decided otherwise.
I don't want to write about child loss right now. The heartbreak will fuck with Madara too much, so I discarded the whole chapter and spent a few extra days writing up a new one, though you can still see some of the previous draft's influence (；´∀｀)...