Sorry for the late update, but I ran a bit out of steam, and with less time than usual from the busyness of holidays and school. I'm going to focus on updating White Hair, Red Eyes, and a Pack of Lies weekly, and this fic only once or twice a month.

On another note, I listened to Simple and Clean/ Sanctuary by Utada Hikaru while writing this was, and let me tell you, it was an experience. And if I didn't even make you tear up just a little with this chapter, then I've failed. Or you have no soul. Either or.

I usually don't put any trigger warnings, but this chapter is pretty intense, so…Warning: Labor/birthing, blood, asphyxiation, CPR, death, etc. Maybe I should bump this up to an M rating?

Reply to Guest on timeskips: When I put slow build in the summary, I really meant it. There won't be any large timeskips, until at least all of Madara's siblings are born.

Reply to Guest #2: Thank you for liking the story! I try my best to portray the Pre-Village Era, since there's so little about it in canon. And switching POVs is something I thought would be interesting, and flesh things out.

Reply to Guest #3: Thank you very much! I try to go for realism, which is why things are going so slowly, because I tend to ramble and go really in-depth into things (like Ma-kun. Which make sense, as this story is about me being a self-insert.)

Birth of the New, Death of the Other

It had been any other night, in the Head Family's home.

Tajima Uchiha finished walking Madara through their training routine. The moon was high in the night sky.

Silent as a shadow, the Uchiha Clan Head slipped into his bedchambers. His wife was sleeping, still and quiet, barring the slow rise and fall of her form.

The man slid into the large, daimyo-grade, raised bed. He situated himself on the edge of his separate side, in case of emergency and the need to be on his feet quickly.

Twenty minutes, and the man was woken from his light slumber. Fumiko was groaning in pain, shifting about in her side of the bed.

Every time his eyelids closed for but a mere moment to rest, they snapped open once more. Fumiko was groaning regularly.

Something was…not quite right.

A sudden yell pealed past his wife's soft lips. She clutched at her bloated stomach, body tense, teeth grit.

The petite woman tried to sit up, but floundered. Tajima watched her, brow furrowed in concern, mouth in a tight line.

Another pained yell, and Tajima was instantly on his feet, by his wife's side.

The man helped his wife to sit up, shifting her body, a hand firmly around her arching back. Fumiko fumbled, before grasping his other hand, squeezing it tightly for a civilian.

"D-Dear," she gasped. Another painful exclamation passed her lips, through gritted teeth. "I-I believe my…my water broke!"

The husband's entire body stilled. Then he gave a twitch.

With a mounting feeling of dread, his eyes slowly slid down his wife's form, down to her lap. A puddle of wetness was spreading across the fine, silken sheets.

This has never happened, during Madara and Byakuya's births. His wife's water broke during the waking hours of the day, not during the height of the moon at nightfall.

The man paled.

"I will get the servants and midwife," he promised, pecking Fumiko's brow and giving her a comforting squeeze.

He managed to detach his wife's petite hand from his, and quickly strode to his door. He did not scramble and run in a panic. Nay, he was the Head of the Uchiha Clan, and he did things with poise, grace, and calmness.

Not a soul was around to see him flounder, barring his wife—who was in labor. No one could not refute his words.

Another yell from Fumiko, and Tajima spiked his chakra for the midwife to come immediately.

Left, around the corner, down the hall, fourth door to the right—that's where Tajima and Fumiko's bedroom was.

A quick, instinctive scan of the area, and Ma-kun could feel at least ten chakra signatures inside. Good. Because the actual room for labor was farther away—and, wait, shouldn't the fact that Fumiko was giving birth in her bed be a little unsettling?

No matter.

"Asa-obaa-sama! Kaa-chan!" Not-Madara exclaimed, bursting into the room, breathing heavily. His entire body felt like it was vibrating, from the spike of adrenaline, as he took in the scene before him.

Fumiko was, in fact, going into labor while lying in her bed.

"Madara?" Tajima asked, baffled. The man turned to glare at Asa. "What is the meaning of this?! The boy should not be here! He has no use in such a situation as a labor!"

Okay, he's gotta have to admit, Tajima sort of has a point.

But then again, Ma-kun is probably one of the best options to help with this.

The reincarnated soul made his way to the midwife, ignoring his second life's father, who glaring at him in a mixture of anger and confusion.

"He is here to help, Tajima-sama," the old woman responded curtly. "He is far enough in his studies to assist me with midwife duties."

Ma-kun looked around at the general disorder and panic of the room, and tried to think of what was needed.

"Someone—get a tub of water, a bar of soap, and a few towels," he ordered. "Make sure the water has been boiled, and then cooled. Any and all who are going to directly work in helping birth the baby need to have clean, ste-rile hands."

Asa Uchiha carefully set aside the herbal concoction she was feeding Fumiko. "Well?" she said, tone clipped, to the general room. "You heard the boy!"

Three servants scrambled out of the room to get just those things.

"Do we have an extra towel or rag?" Ma-kun asked, looking around. One of Asa's assistants came forwards, handing him one. "Is this clean?" A nod. "Good."

The boy twisted the towel, going to stand next to his mother's head. He handed the rope-like bundle to a disoriented Fumiko. "Kaa-chan, bite down on this. You can let out your frustrations and pain when the con-tract-ions hit, and will help against you dis-loc-a-ting her jaw or biting your tongue."

"Yes, very good," the midwife nodded, before she shifted her attention to sorting through her satchel of herbs.

Fumiko gave another cry, and Ma-kun quickly stuffed the towel in her mouth. His mother bit down hard, face flushed, but it seemed to be doing her some good. He took the towel out again, when the pain seemed to pass, and Fumiko panted. "Better?"

"Y-Yes. Thank you, my son," she said weakly, passing a quick hand over his head. The sweat from her hand plastered down his unkempt bed head.

Feeling eyes on him, Ma-kun turned to Tajima, who was blatantly staring at him with an unreadable expression.

"Otou-sama. This may take a while," the reincarnated soul said, voice neutral. "Do you know if there is a space ready for the baby? Or if the rest of the clan know of Fumiko-okaa-sama's labor?"

Extending an olive branch. Cementing a reason for him to be here with his mother.

Hopefully, Tajima will take it.

The man stares for a few more silent seconds, before he nods. "I will see to it." Tajima steps forwards, takes one of Fumiko's hands in his, giving a squeeze. "I will be back. You will be in good hands," he murmurs to his wife, voice soothing and—dare say—kind.

Despite all her strength going into going into labor, Fumiko still manages to beam at both Tajima and Not-Madara. "I have confidence in them, dear husband."

Tajima gives a nod, lingering by the bedside, before turning on his heel and striding out of the room. Ma-kun lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Honorable Son, we have the items you requested!" huffed one of the servants, as the three who went out came back in the room, toting the basin of water, soap, and a few extra towels. The water still held warmth, from the wisps of steam rising from the basin.

It will have to do.

"Thank you," Ma-kun nodded, nodding to the floor by a dresser. "Set the tub down there."

He went over, crouched over the basin, and took the soap. He thoroughly scrubbed down his hands, washing them quickly to not scald himself, drying them soon after. "Asa-obaa-sama, let me look over Kaa-chan. You need to keep clean, as well."

The two healers switched places—Ma-kun now sifting through the herbs. He wished they had antibiotics and anesthetics, but they hadn't been invented yet, much less heard of in child birthing.

He'd have to probably do that, some time in the future. The young man bit down a groan of frustration. Other than modern medicine, he probably also had to find a way to help with creating modern technology, and that was such a pain, since he wasn't even a scientist or inventor. Hell he wasn't even a medical student or practitioner! Just some guy with too much time on his hands, and a ridiculously good memory.

At least washing their hands dramatically cut down on disease being passed to mother and child during childbirth. That was something doctors didn't do regularly, until mid-twentieth century.

Now, which natural remedy would act as a painkiller, and wouldn't adversely affect his mother or the baby…?

Tajima's mind was still reeling.

His wife has suddenly gone in labor, in the dead of night. His eldest son—an obstinate boy of only three—is helping the midwife with the labor.

Madara held himself with authority and assuredness, and seemed to know perfectly well what he was doing. It goes against what Tajima had thought of the boy, as of recently.

It showed that Madara could very well be fit as a leader. Perhaps it is not certain if he will be good for the battlefield, but the boy seems born for the role…

The Head of the Uchiha Clan yanked a hand through his hair in frustration. He has spent the last two hours strait, going about the compound, snapping out orders and giving explanations.

Things have never been so hectic, nor as tiring. The Uchiha Clan compound seemed more akin to a time of post-battle, then simply a case of the Head's venerable wife giving birth.

It was chaotic. That is the only word the man could describe the situation. Uchiha were supposed to be calm and composed, yet members of all kind were rushing about like headless chickens.

Even Tajima himself was agitated. He could not stand still.

By Kami, he was pacing. Pacing!

Tajima barely kept himself from passing a tired hand over his face, and giving into a bout of hysterical laughter. If his father could see him now…

But, no. Father had died long ago, in battle. His father was dead, and Tajima had been Clan Head for years, as of now.

The man wondered idly, if his bedchambers were also in a state of panic.

Turning sharply on his heel, the man decided to find out.

Childbirth may be a miracle, but it was painful and gross and loud.

In his first life, the young man had only been to the hospital room in person to watch women give birth once. That of one of his cousins.

The fact that he was currently in the body of a three-year-old and was trying to help his second mother give birth was completely and utterly absurd. It was also the situation he found himself in, right now.

What the fuck was even his life…?

"How much is she di-la-ting?" Ma-kun asked Asa. He was avoiding the whole staring-into-Fumiko's-vagina deal, both out of embarrassment and respect.

"I believe she is more than half-way."

"Okay. Okay, we need to make sure she's getting enough lu-bri-cation while dilating. And, um…More liquids should help along the process," he rambled.

In hospitals, they had IVs and stuff, but those didn't exist yet. So, they needed to get Fumiko to manually have more liquids.

"Oh! And something that will boost iron for her blood. Bleeding can happen if there's any tears or com-pli-cations. Need to make sure she has something helping stim-u-late blood cells," he added, as he stopped a servant by the arm to peer into the glass they held.

"Make sure the water has pre-vi-ously been boiled and cooled, please," he tells the servant—Momo-san— who only nods frantically, before leaving the room with another to sort that out. He's not taking any damn chances.

"What do you suggest, Ma-kun?" Asa asks, as she's about to help Fumiko drink some tea.

"Wash your hands first, please," the reincarnated young man chides automatically, before he realizes what he's done, flushing awkwardly. He fumbles forwards, to take the tea from a bemused Asa. "F-Forgive me."

"It is of no consequence, Ma-kun," the old woman tells him gently, before she goes off to cleanse her hands.

"Here, Kaa-chan. Drinking this will help," he says soothingly, helping his mother sit up, tipping the glass slowly so she could drink.

"Thank you," the woman pants, giving him a wan smile, and gently touching his cheek. Not-Madara flushes, returning the smile, as he puts a cooling rag on her heated forehead. Then he answers Asa's previous inquiry.

"Something high in Vitamin-C will help with iron intake…Hmmmm, lemons should do. Perhaps a lemonade?" he suggests. Instantly, one of the servants rushes out, squeaking out something about how they will make it.

Ma-kun gives a slow blink, feeling incredulous that his suggestion was taken as an order, and someone rushed out to fulfill it almost instantaneously.

Huh. Maybe snapping out orders since he stepped in to help has conditioned the servants…?

Shaking his head quickly, he goes on to chat in low tones with the midwife.

Time passes. Fumiko is in constant pain from contractions, going in and out of lucidity. They keep trying to give her herbs and teas and liquids, to help her. At some point, Tajima comes in to check up on things, and Not-Madara can't bring himself to look over at the man.

At some point, though, things go horribly wrong. Or horribly right, depending on one's perspective.

"Push, Fumiko-sama!" Asa says encouragingly.

Fumiko grasps Tajima's hand in a death grip, as she howls from the pain and strain.

Ma-kun, meanwhile, stands off to the side, next to Asa. And he's internally flipping the fuck out.

The old woman is positioned in-between Fumiko's opened legs, both to apply iryo-ninjutsu to help with the pain, and to watch for the baby. Ma-kun is supposed to be there as back-up—with a readied towel and everything—but he feels completely and utterly useless.

"I see the crown!" the old woman crows.

After a few minutes—full of painful shrieks and frayed nerves—Asa finally manages to get a good hold on the newborn baby, and pulls it out.

"It is a boy. Congratulations, Tajima-sama," the old woman says.

Ma-kun quickly wraps the newborn in his readied towel, while the midwife cuts the umbilical chord. The baby is small, and covered in blood.

A bit premature. That…Isn't a good sign.

He bites his lip, but cleans the newborn with gentle movements, readying the baby boy to be held by his father.

Not-Madara spares a quick look over to his second life's parents, before noticing something.

Fumiko's stomach is larger than normal, and she's still straining herself.

Ma-kun feels his blood rushing from his face, in shock.

"Twins," he chokes out, voice a wisp of sound.

His thought it confirmed, when Asa gives an exclamation. "The bleeding is not stopping! I believe that there is something else within the womb!"

The reincarnated soul rushes over, foisting his new brother into an alarmed Tajima's arms. "Please hold him. There will be another on the way." Without letting the man reply, the boy bounded back to Asa's side.

"It's a case of twins. The second one still needs to be birthed," he rambles, taking another towel from a passing servant.

"Impossible! There should not be a second babe," replied the old woman, furrowing her brow. "Fumiko-sama has already gone into labor earlier then expected, and she did not become bloated enough for two."

Ma-kun bit down a curse. "Premature. The second twin is prob'ly smaller and weaker than the first, and they're both premature. Something's gone wrong with the preg-nan-cy. Not enough nutrients."

"It seems that we will still have to get the child out, however…" the old woman sighed, tone going lower. "Either the second babe, or the mother, dies. Fumiko-sama's strength is waning."

"My wife is half-way through labor. It would be best to let her finish."

Ma-kun whirled around, to stare incredulously at his birth father, who was carrying the first baby in his arms, with a furrowed brow. "She is going to bleed to death, at this rate…!"

A weight dropped onto his shoulder. The boy looked up at a grim Asa.

"That is a risk that must be taken. It would be just as catastrophic, if we allowed the babe to lay within Fumiko for any longer. It would die—and it would be harder to take out a dead babe," she explained.

She was right. Fuck, of course she was right. Asa Uchiha's been delivering babies for years.

'Think! What information do you know about twins or complicated births, that could help…?' his mind whirled.

Nothing much. But…But maybe…

"The best case is that there is a second um-bil-i-cal chord for the baby still in Kaa-chan's womb. Even if it is premature, that would raise the chances of the baby surviving."

"Then, let us hope there is a second chord," Asa says grimly, steering him over to stand in his previous position.

"You should clean your hands. Just in case," he blurts out, holding out the towel in his hands. He motions to Momo-san to get him a second towel, as he went over to Fumiko's side, grasping her clammy hand.

"Just keep trying to push, Kaa-chan. You're going to be okay," he tells her, his voice a near plea.

"I will…try," the petite woman pants, giving a wan smile. "If I…I…I l-love you, my son."

"I know," he chokes out, forcing himself to blink away tears. He bends over to give the woman a chaste kiss on the cheek, before he forces himself to leave her side.

Tajima mind whirls, as he holds his wife's hand. Twins were rare. Even rarer was the event of two twins surviving until childhood.

Rarer still that a mother survives the strain of birthing more than one child at once.

There is nothing else to do, but to have Fumiko go forth with birthing the second babe, however. There is nothing that can stop the forces of nature. Nothing that could stop fate.

What will come of this…It will simply happen.

And there is not a single thing he could do, to help.

The reincarnated young man feels useless. There's nothing he could really do, to help, right now.

Fumiko pushes, but she keeps bleeding. She shrieks in pain, but keeps on pushing anyways.

What the woman needs is a C-Section. But that would outright kill her and the baby. No one knows how to properly do the surgery, and they don't have anything to make it less painful.

Blood is everywhere.

It doesn't take long for the second baby to be born. But the umbilical chord was wrapped around its chest, nearly strangling the poor thing, before Asa finally managed to get it out.

"It is a girl," the midwife says. She disentangles the umbilical chord from the newborn, cutting it, and gently passing the child over to Ma-kun's shaky, awaiting arms.

Not-Madara's heart leaps into his throat, as he holds the baby girl. She's covered completely in blood. She's even tinier than the boy was.

And she's not breathing. She's opening her mouth and kicking, but she can't breathe.

Thanking any deity he can think of that he's taken CPR lessons in his public education from his first life, Ma-kun lays the baby on his arm, knowing what to do. First, he starts to tap on her back. After doing this a few times, he sets her properly in his arms, face-up, and tries to puff air in her lungs.

Either they're clogged, or they're underdeveloped. He doesn't know the difference without any other information, but keeps trying to breathe air into her lungs anyways.

Using three fingers—because a child's are smaller and weaker than the recommended two for adults—he starts to do compressions. It doesn't seem to be working, but after he goes back down to give her mouth-to-mouth, she finally manages to make a sound.

It's a small, raspy little wisp of a sound. But then the baby girl gives a weak cough. And then she gives a rattling gasp of air.

She's still gaping like a fish, breathing irregularly, and her tiny form is cool. Almost as cold as death. Slow or deformed heart, along with the problem with her lungs, then.

But she's alive. Right now, the baby managed to survive.

"A plastic con-tai-ner that can con-tract when pressed, and some form of tube attached to it. That should be able to make a quick, make-shift air pump for her," he mused, gently rocking her, eyes never leaving her tiny form.

She still seemed to struggle breathing, so he dipped his head to help share their breaths. When he pulled back again, the baby girl seemed to finally find a good rhythm.

"Something is wrong with her lungs and heart. She is much smaller than her brother. Even more premature than him," he told Asa, who was staring at him in awe. "But if she is monitored…If someone is with her, ready to provide assistance…She should survive."

"M…Ma…kun."

The reincarnate soul's attention was diverted over to Fumiko. She was pallid, shaking, and her lips were turning blue.

The realization hit him like a freight train: she was on her last dying breaths.

She'd lost too much blood. She had to go through two births, when previously, they'd only thought she was going to have one child. That strain on her— along with the excruciating, prolonged pain and the blood loss—was finally taking its toll.

And even if she had not tried birthing the baby girl, she would have died later from infection, of housing a dead fetus in her womb. Or from them trying to dissect her to take out the dead child.

He may have managed to save the baby, but the mother…His mother…

She was doomed to die.

She was dying.

Ma-kun rushed over to her side, feeling himself quake. He didn't bother to hold back the tears, as he looked over her petite, pallid, weak form.

"Your baby girl is okay, Kaa-chan. She's gonna be fine, see?" he choked out through his tears. He neared the woman, managing to angle the baby girl, so that Fumiko could look at her.

Despite not being fully lucid, the woman managed to give a smile.

"Good…Love…you," she murmured with one last breath, before the brightness left her eyes, turning glassy and dead.

The world feels like it stops for an eternity.

"K…Kaa-chan?" the query slips between his trembling lips, without his consent. It sounds weak, shaken, and utterly heartbroken.

Not-Madara maneuvers his newborn sister to free a hand. He uses it to grasp at one of Fumiko's.

It's still a bit warm and clammy. But it's cooling at an alarming rate, and it's completely limp.

Biting his lip until he draws blood, he uses his pointer and middle finger to try to find a pulse on her wrist. He knows it's futile. He knows. But…

Nothing. No beating. No warmth.

Fumiko Uchiha has died in childbirth. Just as he'd predicted.

He wish he hadn't been right.

His hand goes slack, and numb. Distantly, he realizes that Asa has taken the newborn girl from his grasp. He can't find it in himself to even care.

His gaze is completely blurred with tears. His legs are unsteady, and give out. He grasps at his mother—his mother's corpse, oh God, she was dead and he couldn't—and a cry of pure, un-adultered grief and rage rips from his throat.

Despite his tears, his gaze sharpens, and the detailed picture of a dead Fumiko Uchiha sears itself in his mind and behind his eyelids. Even when he slams his eyes shut and screams, he can't get the image out of his head.

Distantly, he hears his newborn siblings join in with his cries, and he realizes that he's just unlocked his Sharingan.

But the price was a steep one.

It is the morning hours of February the tenth. Two new lives were born, in the form of a new son and daughter to the Clan Head.

(However, one life was also lost.)

With one last, bloodcurdling cry, his wife pushed out their first daughter from her womb. The midwife took the babe out—so small and fragile, covered in blood—handing it to the shaky First Son.

With careful motions, Madara cleans the babe carefully, just as he did so with his newborn brother. Even from his perch besides Fumiko, Tajima can see how pale the infant girl is, how she gapes like a fish taken out of its pond.

Tajima resigns himself to a dead daughter, along with a dead wife. However, his eldest son proceeds to metaphorically blow the minds of all present, by managing to stabilize the doomed babe, breathing life into her small body.

Madara holds the girl as if she is made of glass, dipping his head down to share breaths with her, until the babe is finally able to grasp the act of breathing.

"Love…you."

Tajima's wife dies shortly after childbirth. She was too frail, too thin, too fatigued. Having so many children one year after the other had taken its toll on the woman, just as how his eldest feared.

Asa Uchiha takes the frail daughter, and Madara proceeds to clutch at the fresh corpse of his mother, screaming in pain and fury. The sound pierces through Tajima's very soul, wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing.

"You killed her! I told you she'd die in childbirth! I told you! But you didn't listen!" the three-year-old screeches at Tajima, tears flowing like twin streams from his eyes.

His red eyes, the color of rubies, three black tadpoles swimming within his irises. They glare up at Tajima, full of hatred and hurt.

The tomoe spin and spin and spin hypnotically.

Tajima rips his wide gaze away, feeling his heart hammer. Three-tomoe Sharingan…? Unlocked without needing to go into battle?

Unheard of.

There has also been no other clansmen in the history of the Uchiha Clan, who has unlocked their Sharingan at three years old. Having the most mature stage of their dojutsu at such an age was also impossible.

No, not impossible. Improbable, but very much possible, as his eldest son has shown.

Tajima's heart beats much too quickly in his chest, and his mouth is rough and tastes distinctly of sand. He looks down at the cooling body of his wife, at his eldest son clinging and sobbing into her chilled bosom, and starts to feel faint.

This day has been one surprise on top of another. Nothing has been making an iota of sense.

He must take control of this situation. He cannot falter, nor can he flounder.

He cannot show weakness. His clansmen are looking to him for instruction. They need him to be their leader and lead.

However, when Tajima became Clan Head, he distinctly did not imagine this to be part of the job description. Leading his clansmen into battle, fighting for his life, returning with the wounded and the dead, burying his men, consoling the widows; these are things he knows well, by now.

Having his wife die in his bedchambers, leaving two young children and two hopeless babes, and having one such child go hysterical over her subsequent passing? Such a situation should be part of a tragic story of old, not of his life.

What must he do now…?

Getting Madara to stop wailing like a babe, so that Tajima may be able to hear himself think, comes instantly to mind. Having Fumiko's body be taken to be cremated and readied for burial, before she rots in their (—his. She is dead, and his wife no more. It is his—) bed should also take precedence.

There are also the newborn babes to worry over…

"Momo-san," he calls, moving over to the young servant woman, who jolts and gives a squeak. "Please, take the new son and new daughter to their nursery."

"Y-Yes, Tajima-sama!" she exclaims, giving a low bow. The servant shuffles away, speaking in quick tongues to the wet-nurse who holds the male babe, and the midwife, who holds the female babe.

The Clan Head then orders the corpse, and sheets, to be removed from their—his— bed. Fumiko is to be readied for burial in the Head Family's plot of land, on the Uchiha graveyard grounds, in the next few days.

All the while, his thoughts are swimming. He must name his new children, order and create schedules for the nursemaids and servants to care for them, inform the clan of what has happened, arrange Fumiko's funeral, then have Fumiko's funeral, have his bedchambers cleansed, calm Madara down, train the boy in his newly unlocked Sharingan— amongst a growing list of things he must do in the passing weeks as Clan Head.

It all makes his head pound, the beginning stages of a headache.

The one thought that vies for his attention the most in his jumbled thoughts is the bewilderment over all that Madara has accomplished…Most specifically that the most powerful of the stages of the Sharingan was unlocked by a three-year-old child.

Tajima watches with dull detachment, as the servants have to pry a hysterical Madara from his mother's corpse, whilst the young boy screams and screams and screams, as if he is being torn apart.

Tajima gives mercy upon his eldest son, shunshining forwards and knocking him unconscious with a precise hit on the back of the boy's skull. The young one's eyes fall shut, hiding the crimson orbs with spinning tomoe.

The man feels that seeing his mother die before his very eyes is punishment enough for the boy. After all, the Sharingan can perfectly remember all events, while activated.

It is something Tajima would not want for any of his other clansmen. Especially not to one of his children.