Rookie

Chapter One: Birth

A Sakaki-centric Story Brought to You by:

Laura "HOORAYFORKEITARO" Laurent

And by:

This disclaimer: (I do not own Haruto, or WHR, I do own Keitaro, Marisol, and the hospital staff.)

And reviewers like you.

"Alright, Mrs. Sakaki, this should be no different from the other times. Push."

Marisol did as she was told, though she didn't seem to be enjoying it. Sweat beaded on her forehead, sliding down her nose in salty trails. The agony she was currently enduring was evident by the pained-look adorning her tan face. To top it off, her head was throbbing for reasons she didn't quite know, which only made her irritated. Marisol never dealt with pain well, and this was more pain than she was used to. She closed her eyes tightly; twisting and clenching the off-white sheets on the hospital bed with her small hands, trying to distract herself from the war that was apparently taking place inside her skull.

She wanted to punch someone in the face. More specifically, she wanted to punch her husband in the face. Repeatedly. She glared up at him, hovering over her, over-protective as always, with a towel in hand, and covered in hospital gear of some sort, and she imagined the sheets in her hands was his neck. It made her feel a little better, as she pulled the fabric until it nearly ripped. Her husband made a warning noise, raising an eyebrow at her, and she stared back, challenging him.

With an eye-roll, the man pried the sheet from her calloused fingers and turned his back to her to ask one of the staff members if there was "something they didn't mind his wife tearing to shreds." She stared quietly after him, observing his progress as he strolled across the room, talking casually to an employee.

As she watched her spouse, she realized how very odd he looked, though it wasn't in the way he was dressed that Marisol found anomalous; it was that, in this place, his facial features and appearance that stood out from everyone else's.

To put it simply, the man was different: his face was the palest one in the room, his hair was jet black, and his eyes were a unique shade of grey-blue and were shaped differently than any of the nurses' or doctors' eyes.

He was tall and stringy (and clearly not Hispanic), with a playful look and an easy smile that made him seem effortless to talk with and completely non-threatening, despite his height. And he was undeniably attractive, even with his lanky build, and Marisol couldn't keep herself from smiling slightly as she looked at him.

She loved him, of course, but she couldn't understand why she agreed to go through with this again.

One would think she would have learned after the first four. Obviously, she didn't. Though Marisol wasn't sure that it was entirely her fault she hadn't learned better.

Keitaro was, along with other things, a smooth talker.

--

"Mari..." The man crooned soothingly at his wife, speaking to her softly in a language the others, regardless of their attempts, couldn't understand. Gently, Keitaro wiped Marisol's pain-contorted face with a damp cloth.

He appeared very calm and looked as comfortable as a husband could possibly be while his wife was pushing out their child. To the nurses, he seemed as if he had done this before, though he didn't look much older than 25, with his boyish face and long, messy dark hair. They all peered at him curiously when he wasn't looking, chattering quietly with each other, exchanging ideas. The doctor broke them up with a stern look before addressing the expectant mother and the father.

"This is quite the large baby, isn't it? Do you know the gender?" The doctor spoke in smooth, Spanish-accented English. His voice was louder than necessary.

Cringing at the noise, Marisol's traditionally Hispanic brown eyes narrowed hatefully at the doctor. Her husband smiled apologetically at the physician and put a hand on his wife's brown hair, a gesture that was half loving, half restraining.

"They told us it's another girl," Keitaro answered, in equally smooth English, though it had a very odd accent that the doctor couldn't place. The nurses gossiped in the corner.

"Mm," the doctor murmured, moving quickly away from the mother and her anger. Breaking up the gossip group once more, he called some nurses over to help him run some important-looking tests on Marisol, who somehow managed to behave herself.

Not more than thirty minutes later the doctor frowned slightly. Keitaro's grinning face immediately darkened, matching the doctors. Subconsciously, he tightened his hold on Marisol, his dusty eyes flashing with worry.

"Well," the doctor started, speaking to Keitaro. "It looks like we have a breech." He turned to the laboring woman, who didn't look happy. "She doesn't seem to want to cooperate, does she? And generally your babies are easy, Mrs. Sakaki."

Another icy glare from Marisol. This time, it went ignored by the doctor.

He addressed her husband once more, in an even, reassuring voice. "It shouldn't be a problem, really. You'll have another little girl in no time."

He looked less worried but, even so, Keitaro didn't let go of his wife.

--

Marisol lost count of the time that past, but, eventually, after much struggle, sweat, and pain, the baby was born in an ungraceful, unattractive mess. The nurses and doctors all looked at the child expectantly, waiting to hear it cry, and it glared back at them with infantile resolve, completely silent.

Immediately, the mother reached for her newest child, ignoring the headache that seemed to have doubled in intensity within the last three minutes. She took the baby from a nurse before the poor nurse could say otherwise.

Upon first looking at the child, Marisol was reminded intensely of an alien. With grey skin and squished features, it certainly didn't look human. She inspected the disproportioned head and face, not appearing to be in the least concerned that the child wasn't crying. As Marisol looked, she smiled, noticing the color of its eyes: grey with hints of blue, and as they caught the light they looked nearly purple. They were currently occupied with the foreigner, who stared back with identically colored irises.

She looked up at her husband, taking in his features and comparing them to the new baby's. Same eyes, same face shape. "Keitaro, she's looking at you. You know… you two look exactly alike."

"He," the man corrected, gently. "He is looking at me. And, yes, I noticed that too," he added, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Finally, one that looks like their dad. Thank god. I was starting to worry, you know."

His wife cleared her throat and gave Keitaro a "quit while you're ahead" look. He winked at her and continued, talking more to the nurses than his partner.

"Anyway, I'm completely shocked that it's a boy," he said, though he looked more pleased than shocked. "We were expecting a girl! I mean, we were told it was a girl and we already have four girls, so we just figured, 'hey, this one will be another girl.'" He rambled on, obviously excited. "Not that I'm complaining or anything. Just the opposite, in fact. I'm overjoyed, I'm ecstatic, I'm—"

"Un fanático?" A nurse suggested, in her native tongue, with a giggle.

He grinned goofily back. "Yes, that too. But it's for a good reason, my dear, because--" He paused dramatically. "The Sakaki family now has two, count 'em, two men!"

Keitaro did a little dance, flipping his pitch-black hair around and looking extremely stupid, much to the nurses' amusement and Marisol's chagrin.

In an attempt to stop him, Marisol weakly swatted at him. But even though her husband was embarrassing her, she had an equally happy look on her face, forgetting momentarily about her headache. Keitaro stopped his dance, pushed his hair back from his beaming face, and looked down at his disheveled wife. He chuckled quietly, stroking her brown hair lovingly.

"Well, he sure took you long enough, Mari-baby," he said, switching his attention back to his son. "But, at least, he'll be devilishly handsome, like me."

The newborn's mouth turned into what might be considered a juvenile frown. Marisol laughed tiredly, though it made her head throb again. The small eyes regarded their mother, still frowning. The doctor and the group of nurses who weren't being entertained by Keitaro surrounded the bed, looking impatient.

"Mrs. Sakaki, we need to clear his lungs. He isn't crying so we need to make sure that…" The nurse trailed off, realizing she was being completely disregarded. They hovered and muttered but couldn't get the baby from his mother without potentially losing a limb.

Marisol yawned, exhaustion sweeping over her and mixing with the ache in her head. Her vision was becoming blurred around the edges as she gazed at her son.

"A boy, huh? Well, that was unexpected, but I suppose it must have happened for a reason," said Marisol, quietly. "A boy…well, I can already tell you're gonna be a heartbreaker, just like your father…"

The throbbing in her head was becoming really painful. The child seemed to be sympathetic, making an odd noise. "I prayed but…you'll be a real heartbreaker…" Marisol trailed off, not knowing what to call the new addition to their family.

"Haruto," Keitaro finished for her, with a smile.

"Haruto Sakaki." Marisol repeated slowly, tasting the name. "Haruto…" She was so tired and she just wanted something for the pain in her skull. "…A real heartbreak." Her brown-eyed gaze met Haruto's violet-grey one.

"Even so, I think you'll be my favorite, hijo," Marisol whispered, tears welling up. "You look just like your papa." She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the pain.

One of the nurses took the chance to remove the baby from Marisol's arms and did so without receiving resistance from the mother. However, as soon as he was securely settled in the nurse's grasp, Haruto let out an ear-splitting scream, surprising nearly everyone in the room. Keitaro looked stunned for a minute, then broke into laughter as saline slid, unnoticed, down his wife's cheeks.

"He might look like me, but he acts just like you, Mari."

She nodded, brushing away her tears before she looked up at Keitaro. "Ask them if they can give me something for a headache."

As soon as she spoke, Keitaro's expression changed from one of joy to one of concern. He raised an eyebrow at her, frowning with worry, and walked quickly over to a nurse and began conversing in English. Marisol watched him for a few seconds, then looked to where they were caring for the baby. The nurse came over and, doing as was expected of her, the drained woman opened her mouth and swallowed. Letting the exhaustion take over, she counted each time her cranium throbbed until she fell asleep.

Alright, this chapter is done. Albeit, it's done a little later than I originally wanted but, hey, I'm a busy girl. So, anyway, writing this chapter was very awkward. I'M VERY UNCOMFORTABLE WITH WRITING BIRTH SCENES. Seriously. And it wasn't like, "Oh, you can skip that part of Haru's life because it isn't really relevant," because it is relevant. IT'S VERY RELEVANT. And it's also not fun to write.

So, what else? Not a terrible chapter, I guess. Keitaro's in it, which makes me happy. I love Haruto's daddy. And I guess that's it. I've got exams, so I'm not sure when I'll be updating. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon.

-Laura