Epilogue
Konohagakure. Two months later.
"Are you keeping it?"
Her mother took a long drag on her cigarette before releasing a cloud of synthetic mint-scented smoke into the air. Leaning against a tree on the edge of Konoha's training grounds, her gaze was lost on the horizon. Maemi didn't need to hear her say the words out loud to know that her mother strongly disapproved of the situation.
"I'm keeping it."
Unconsciously, her hand lifted itself up to rest against the unnoticeable bulge of her belly which housed a being the size of a peanut. The little thing had already caused her a lot of problems, like making her throw up on one of her mission's targets. The morning sickness had only stopped last week.
"Do you know who's the father?"
Her mother didn't care much about the identity of the father, but more about if he'd be a part of the baby's life. Maemi bit the inside of her cheek. "I do. But he doesn't know about it."
And it'd stay that way. She couldn't take the risk of endangering her baby by letting a criminal's life mix into its life. Nodding stiffly, her mother tossed her leftover cigarette on the ground before stomping on it.
"Good luck," she said.
On those cold words, she started to walk away. As long as she could remember, the conversations she had with her mother had always been short and efficient. Before she disappeared completely into the forest, Maemi called out to her.
"Do you regret it?"
She'd never dared to ask the question that'd been burning her lips for over a decade, now. Do you regret keeping me, mother? Selena didn't offer her daughter the courtesy of turning around, sighing sharply. Maemi could almost hear her mother's thoughts about their conversation being a waste of her time.
"I wasn't in the right state of mind to raise a child," she simply retorted.
Maemi hadn't expected a different kind of answer, but she'd wanted to hear it once and for all. Her mother wouldn't apologize for the way she'd treated her, neglecting her daughter by depriving her of any kind of love or attention. After all, she'd simply been the unwanted product of a mission.
"I see," Maemi nodded. "Good luck with your mission, mother."
She lingered for a fraction of a second, and Maemi thought that she might add something else. But she didn't. In a blink, she'd disappeared into the trees. Her mother's utter lack of affection still stung a bit, but less than it did before.
You'll be loved, she silently promised to her baby. Unconditionally.
…
Somewhere in the Land of Water. Nine months later.
The gentle caress of the ocean breeze carried with it a hint of salt and a symphony of seagulls' cries. Underneath her bare feet, the plank of the old porch creaked. The little house by the sea exuded an atmosphere of tranquil respite. Its weathered façade, adorned with ivy creeping along the walls, blended harmoniously with the surrounding coastal landscape. She'd always dreamed of living by the sea, after all.
Her eyes fell upon the cradle that held the little human, deeply asleep. A tender smile graced the young woman's lips as she watched the rise and fall of the tiny chest, a rhythmic reminder of life's precious gift. Each time she looked at the tiny creature, the weight of motherhood, both exhilarating and daunting, enveloped her, evoking a profound sense of awe. Maemi knew that by withdrawing from the world, she was forfeiting a conventional life. Yet, she willingly embraced this isolated existence, far away from the reaches of the Akatsuki's grasp. Or this world's evilness. Konoha's Council hadn't been too happy about her early retirement, but she hadn't left them a choice.
"It's been a while," The voice, though seemingly composed, carried an undertone of smoldering anger. "You weren't easy to find. I've been looking for you for almost a year."
Above the porch, the seashells tinkled against each other in a delicate sound. Her fingers gently brushed against her baby's cheeks before she carefully turned around.
Clad in his distinctive attire, a dark, flowing robe that billowed like a tempest, Kisame seemed to embody the very essence of the turbulent ocean behind him. In the blink of an eye, the delicate equilibrium of her hidden existence was shattered.
"Maybe I didn't want to be found."
His voice echoed through the tranquil shore. "You left without a word."
He clenched his fists. Each movement he made exuded a sense of controlled danger, an unyielding presence that sent shivers down her spine. She unconsciously placed herself in front of the cradle, shielding her child from his sight.
Noticing the shift of her weight, his keen nose seemed to finally catch the baby's scent, and he stilled. "You had a child." He scanned his surroundings, eyeing the house suspiciously, trying to pick up the scent of a companion nearby. When he didn't find any man's scent, his shoulders relaxed slightly. "And you're alone."
"I don't need a man to raise a child," she hissed. "Leave. You aren't welcome here."
"How old is he?"
"Leave," she repeated.
"Answer me."
She tensed. "Two years old."
"You're lying." He smelled the air again. A sudden realization seemed to hit him as he inhaled deeply. The initial shock quickly got replaced by anger. His voice echoed through the tranquil shore, deadly. "How could you keep me from the existence of my own child?"
She wouldn't allow her innocent child to be consumed by the web of deceit, violence, and corruption that defined the criminal world. But their paths had converged once again, entwining their lives once more in an inescapable dance of fate.
"I chose to protect him," she replied.
"Protect him?" he snarled. His piercing eyes, like two orbs of obsidian, harbored an intensity that could unsettle even the most resolute souls. They gleamed with a predatory glint, reflecting a predatory nature honed through countless battles. "By keeping his existence a secret from me? I had a right to know."
Each word dripped with a controlled fury, revealing the restrained tempest brewing within. It resonated with a low, simmering intensity, as if a smoldering fire threatened to erupt at any moment. But she didn't allow herself to be intimidated. Unwavering, she met the missing-nin's dark eyes, and lifted her chin up defiantly. "I'm protecting him from the danger that haunt your footsteps."
A profound silence descended upon them, broken only by the distant melody of crashing waves against the shore. The weight of their past, the echoes of a fractured friendship, the reminiscence of a single night of lust, hung heavy in the air. A single emotion ignited the missing-nin's eyes: pure anger. Maemi's maternal instincts blazed fiercely, her love for the little creature sleeping soundly beside her eclipsing any fear or uncertainty.
She seized the hidden kunai strapped against her thigh, and hurled it towards Kisame. The glinting steel flashed through the air, slicing through the tension as it flew towards its target. As expected, Kisame reacted swiftly. Manipulating the surrounding water to intercept the projectile, the kunai collided with a torrent of surging water, dispersing into droplets before it could hit its mark. Jumping off the porch, she didn't wait to close the distance with a flurry of agile movements. With calculated precision, she launched a series of rapid strikes. Kisame countered each of her attacks with ease, his movements fluid like the ocean's flow. The shore rapidly turned into a battleground.
Kisame unleashed torrents of water, creating a tumultuous tempest that threatened to engulf her. Her body drenched and shivering from the cold waves that'd washed over her, she fought to stand upright. I won't be able to keep up. She coughed out a bit of water that'd penetrated her lungs. Kisame had suddenly disappeared from the shore, and in the blink of an eye, he'd reappeared on the house's porch, where her child rested peacefully in the cradle.
Before he could lay a hand on the cradle, Maemi mustered the last vestiges of her strength. As a final line of defense, she positioned herself between him and the baby. Pressing a kunai against Kisame's throat, she halted his advance. Her hand was trembling, betraying her exhaustion from their fight. She still hadn't fully recovered from her child's birth, two months ago. It hadn't been easy, and she'd almost died after a complication.
"He inherited your freckles," Kisame rasped. His attention had shifted, not to her, but to the child over her shoulder. Awakened by the commotion, the baby gazed upon them with wide, innocent eyes. His lips curved into the tiniest of smiles. "He looks a lot like you."
Adorning her baby's precious face, the hallmark of his maternal heritage danced with a playful exuberance. Freckles, scattered like stardust across his rosy cheeks and button nose, added an endearing touch of whimsy.
Maemi's grip loosened on the kunai as a mix of conflicting emotions welled up within her chest. Her instinct to defend her child clashed with a glimmer of compassion, recognizing a shared vulnerability in Kisame's frozen demeanor. "He also takes after you," she admitted.
The baby laughed happily, oblivious to the situation's seriousness, and kicked the blanket off his tiny form. Upon his delicate neck, lay faint gills, a mesmerizing testament to his paternal lineage. Though dormant, they hinted at a potential connection to a world beneath the waves.
Kisame's gaze fell upon her, filled with a mix of confusion and anger. "You left without a word, that day," he mumbled accusingly. "Why would you hide our child from me?"
"You're affiliated with one of the most dangerous criminal organizations. I couldn't risk my child's safety-"
He growled. "Our child-"
"He isn't yours!" she hissed, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "You don't understand. You weren't there, Kisame. You couldn't be. I had to protect him from you. From the Akatsuki. From this fucked up world."
He slowly lifted his hand up. Her lashes fluttered as his fingertips grazed a scratch on her cheeks. She winced. Her left hand grabbed the cradle's ledge, squeezing it until her phalanges whitened. Her grip on the kunai tightened, and Kisame didn't even flinch when its tip pierced the skin of his neck. Their eyes met.
"I left the Akatsuki."
Her heart skipped a beat as his words washed over her, a tidal wave of conflicting emotions crashing against the shores of her soul. Her hand started to shake. "I don't believe you."
"I don't lie," he whispered to her, earnest. "Ever since I've met you on that beach, twelve years ago, I couldn't refuse you a single thing. If you'd have asked me to build a thousand of sandcastles, I'd have done it for you. I'd do everything for you, Mae. I couldn't believe my luck when I saw you again at The Three Arrows."
His admission stirred a mixture of longing and doubt within her. Torn between her desire to protect her child and her own treacherous feelings, she found herself caught in a tempestuous sea of uncertainty. She had built walls around her heart, fortified by the years. Yet, his proximity and the echoes of their shared past threatened to erode the barriers she had carefully built.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
"I spoke to your mother."
"You did?" Her eyes widened. If her mother had initially disapproved of the situation, finding fault in her daughter's chosen path, she'd ended up softening a bit after her grandson's birth. Despite her harsh demeanor, the woman hadn't been able to conceal the secret affection towards the little creature. Maemi's lips curved into the tiniest of smiles. "She tried to kill you, didn't she?"
He grinned. "I think she liked me."
"My mother doesn't like anyone," she scoffed, trying to repress a small chuckle. "What did you do to make her give away my location?"
"I promised to take care of you."
His words lingered in the air, a delicate plea for understanding. Maemi's grip on the cradle's ledge tightened, her mind weighed down by conflicting desires. She wanted to believe him so badly. To believe it'd all be okay. The two of them together. She lowered her weapon, briefly following the droplet of blood that rolled down his collarbone. In his cradle, the baby cooed happily.
"Do you want to hold him?" she asked.
He froze. "Really? You'd let me hold him?"
She nodded. "I choose to trust you, Kisame Hoshigaki."
He carefully held the little human, cradling him into his arms. The baby chuckled innocently, trying to catch a strand of his dark hair with his tiny hands.
"He isn't afraid of me," he mumbled. "What's his name?"
"Shizuku."
He smiled. "It fits him."
As she watched him being totally absorbed by his son's behavior, it soothed a part of her tormented soul. Maybe her son wouldn't have to grow up without a father, like she did.
"Will you stay with us?" she asked hopefully.
His smile saddened. "I won't be able to stay. You were right about a thing. The world's a dangerous place," he sighed, gazing pensively at the sea. He'd thought about it. "I'm a missing-nin. And I didn't exactly leave the Akatsuki on good terms. I won't endanger the two of you."
He gently put down the baby back into his cradle. She felt tears prickled the corner of her eyes. "It doesn't matter. I want you to stay."
"You don't need a man to raise a child," he replied back, using the exact word she'd thrown at him earlier. "You'll be fine. I'll be around."
She quickly checked on her child, placing back the blanket on him. But when she turned around, Kisame had already disappeared.
"You didn't pick the best father for your child." Her mother dropped off the top of the house, landing on the porch in a silent thud. She took a cigarette out of her pack, before putting it back when she saw her daughter's disapproving look. Selena grunted. "A bit of smoke didn't kill you."
"He's gone," Maemi sighed.
"But he's coming back for sure," the woman replied. "Don't wept. He has been pinning for you ever since he was a teenager."
She stilled. "How do you know about-"
"I've been keeping an eye on you, silly girl," her mother scoffed, rolling her eyes out of pure annoyance. "I wouldn't have let you hang around with a teenage boy full of hormones for a whole summer without making sure that he wouldn't hurt you. I warned him to keep his hands for himself. And now, ten years later, he had the audacity to track me down in order to find you."
Her mother's crude words filled a part of the empty hole into her chest. She could suddenly breathe again. Her mother had a strange way of showing her affection. It wasn't much, but it wasn't nothing either.
"So, you liked him?" she teased.
"Love is for the weak." Her mother scrunched up her nose out of disdain, offended by the mere question. "I like no one."
Maemi couldn't stop her lips from stretching into a small smile. "That's what I said."