Chapter 51: The Next Generation

Tsunade twirls a red fingernail around the rim of a glass of iced water. She wishes it was filled with something a bit more mind numbing, but it's too hot and too early to start drinking as of yet. She must admit she's not the same spry fifty-year-old she once was.

Now, she's 54.

Her former student sits across from her in a long, flowing dress. The color is a diluted blue, emblazoned with uchiwa fans of white and red. Thick, twin braids fall from her shoulder and sweep against the tops of her thighs, blowing gently because of the drafty window. She captures a full, plump lip between gnawing teeth.

"Lady Tsunade, I've…gotten fat."

Now, Tsunade has heard a lot of strange things in her lifetime. She's treated a lot of strange things, too. Birth, death, and all that is between is both peculiar and amazing in its own right. Getting thicker doesn't really register in those categories, though. She scoffs.

"I guess Sasuke's been feeding you well, then?"

Sakura shoots her sensei a flustered look. "It's not like he's been forcing food down my throat. We've been traveling for months now; you'd think I'd be losing weight instead of gaining! But no matter how big my meal is, I find myself craving more. And it's not just that."

Standing up to reach her satchel, the woman digs through its contents until she finds a leather-bound journal. "This is a log of how often I've been urinating. Look at this! It seems like every hour I'm going to the bathroom! I woke up five times last night."

"Could it be a kidney infection, or a UTI?" Tsunade asks with an eye roll.

"It's not. I've tested. And there's more, too. My breasts hurt, I'm always bloated…"

"Surly that's just a symptom of a newlywed?"

Sakura's round cheeks heat up and she plops back down in the wooden chair she'd previously occupied. With a huff, she exclaims, "I wish you'd take me more seriously."

Exhaling a heavy, exasperated outbreath, the blonde woman rips out a fresh sheet of paper from Sakura's journal and jots down all of her symptoms, while asking a few questions here and there. As the ink slides against the parchment, a familiar pattern starts to form. A young, newlywed woman who is experiencing weight gain, frequent urination, tender breasts and bloating—really, what else could it be?

"Sakura, have you taken a pregnancy test?"

The switch that Sakura's face displays is almost dizzying. In battle, her sweet smile could turn into a sour, hellish snarl at the snap of a finger. In Tsunade's office, her frustrated huffs turn into something a bit more menacing.

"This isn't a joke, Lady Tsunade. How can you say something like that to me?"

Sakura remembers the pain that erupted through her when Tsunade had told her of her infertility. A multitude of factors had caused the trauma—Sakura's uterus had been swollen because of her menstrual cycle, and the fact that it was tilted had allowed for Sasori's poisoned sword to nick the thin flesh of her womb. If it had been any other woman, the problem would have been void.

But it wasn't any other woman.

It was Sakura.

Her abilities back then were to mend and heal, but she could not make. Sakura could stop an arm from bleeding, but she could not grow a new one. The scar within her body was enough to halt even her monthly cycle, and after a few months of devastation, it became a new part of her life. Now, occasional spotting was the new norm, and she'd even go months at a time with no redness.

So, how could the woman who broke this life-altering news to Sakura, look her right in the face and say something so absurd?

"I'm not much of a jokester," Her former teacher says lackadaisically. "Even…protection…isn't foolproof. Have you been taking birth control? Have you been tracking your period?"

Sakura knows these questions all too well; she's asked them to many women. The genuine tone of her sensei's voice calms her fury—perhaps she has…forgotten. After all, it may have been a huge devastation for Sakura, but for Tsunade, it was just another sad diagnosis she had to give.

Clearing her voice, the glowing woman speaks slowly, as if her words will penetrate better that way. "Lady Tsunade, I lost my ability to have children when I was 16. …You were the one that completed the examination."

Incredulously, her teacher laughs. It's not a sharp "HA!" or a tinkling, "Ha-ha!"—no, the guffaw that erupts behind those painted red lips tumbles out like thunder.

Never in all of her life has Sakura come across something like this. Humiliation fills her, so she stands and gathers up the journal she'd laid on the table. She wants to find Sasuke. She wants to fall into his arms and tell him about how awful Tsunade is, and cry into a big mound of mochi ice cream.

Only when she whips around and heads for the door do the giggles stop. From Tsunade's mouth comes a serious question—one that halts Sakura completely. "Do you remember when you released your Strength of a Hundred seal, Sakura?"

"Of course," She hisses, rolling her eyes sassily. "I'm not forgetful. It was during the War."

Tracing her manicured nail around the opening of her iced water once more, the older woman sighs. "Uh huh…and what about Creation Rebirth—you do know what that is, right?"

"What, you're lecturing me now, too? Obviously I know what it is!"

"Explain it."

The door knob was undoubtedly warping under the petal-haired woman's intense grip. Still, she couldn't find the strength to fling it open and walk away from someone that had been her superior for so long—someone that taught her almost everything she's ever known.

As always, Sakura's voice is sure and eloquent.

"When you release stored chakra, cell division becomes stimulated by the proteins within your body."

"Is that all?"

Sakura doesn't like to be made a fool of. She turns towards her teacher fully, gripping her satchel now instead of the damaged brass handle. "Organs are reconstructed, and so is tissue. Scars are healed, wounds are reversed—as long as chakra still remains it's impossible to die or become harmed while the technique is active."

There's a…pregnant pause between the two women. The broken shutters by the window flap against each other, sending distorted beams of sunlight to the floor below. The scent of disinfectant and off-brand cleaning supplies waft between them, filling up the silence until Sakura finally can't stand it anymore.

"If you've got something to say, then say it."

This time, it's Tsunade that stands. She walks over to a cabinet, pulls out a box of pregnancy tests, and lays the packaged stick on the counter top. Using the built-in sink within her office, the untouched ice water is poured down the drain and both items remain side by side, taunting Sakura with their very existence.

"You know, I'm just going to blame your snarky attitude on hormones instead of insubordination. Hormones, however, don't make you stupid. Honestly, Sakura, if I have to spell it out for you I will. Your body is completely healed."

Then, handing her student the empty glass and a packaged test, she exits the room to wait outside of the door. It takes all of three minutes to get a result.

"Lord Sasuke?"

Sasuke looks up from his blade and watches as one of Sakura's slugs wiggles its way upon his boot. Its head cocks to the left, and then to the right, as if it was waiting for confirmation.

"Hm?"

It was rare to see one of Sakura's summonses. She normally brought forth Katsuyu when many people were in danger. The villagers still ambled about normally, paying no heed to the dark traveler that waited patiently by the gaits. He could not smell forewarning in the wind.

Maybe she'd stopped for food somewhere…

…Again.

He stands and tries not to convey any disgust as the creature slimes to his shoulder. In his hear, she whispers directions, leading him deep into the heart of the city. The building he stood in front of was ramshackle and unpainted—thoroughly uninteresting to look at. As he stares, a man and a woman exit the door and shoot Sasuke a brief smile.

They both cradle her belly, overjoyed by their news.

"Go in," The slug orders, nuzzling into the flap of his collar. "She's waiting for you."

Sasuke is not afraid, or worried about what he might find. His wife was independent and random—she'd sent him on all sorts of arbitrary excursions since they'd left the village together.

As a couple, Sasuke and Sakura had been traveling for five months now. The Jōnin Exams had been a specular failure—perfectly imperfect—causing no gain in his ninja status.

His bachelor status, however, was officially revoked.

At first, it was a bit strange to travel alongside someone else. The morning of his departure, his wife had showed up with a packed travel bag, holding out her official missions slip from Kakashi. "He says you have to take me on our honeymoon. It's a mission, Sasuke, so you've got to do it."

As if he could deny her, anyways.

He shakes away his thoughts and steps inside the building. The hallway that stretches from its small, empty lobby is dim and menacing. Every other lightbulb is out, and it causes his shadow to appear wider than normal. There are voices, quiet and shushed, coming from the room further to the left.

The slug disappears when he enters it.

Stretched out onto a bed lay his wife. Her blue dress was drawn up just under her breasts, exposing every inch of her long legs and healthy torso. She'd always been too thin for a ninja—but she's beautiful either way.

"Hi, darling," She whispers, reaching her arm out to him. "You remember Tsunade, don't you?"

The woman behind Sakura waves her hand dismissively, not needing to be reintroduced. She knows more about Sasuke than she'd like to admit—she was Hokage, after all.

"Are you okay?" He asks. Her palms seem stickier than normal. Sasuke's not sure why Tsunade has Sakura's clothing up so high, but the stirrups on the side of the cot lead him to assume it was just an average, female checkup.

…Whatever that entailed was beyond his realm of knowledge.

"I'm fine. Just hold my hand."

Sakura reaches out with her left, knowing only his right would match between her fingers. His prosthetic arm had long since been removed—he couldn't stand battling with the dead flesh any longer.

Their fingers lace together and Sasuke sits by her side, running her knuckles across his lips. He has no idea what he's in for, but the mood in the room wasn't life-threatening. He's sure his wife won't have cancer, or a major illness, or anything worrisome. Perhaps she just wanted his company while Tsunade ran her tests.

Tsunade rolls a monitor down to the foot of the bed, adjusting the screen with quick taps to a keyboard. The object in her hand looks strange.

"That's a transducer," Sakura explains. "I'm getting an ultrasound."

Sasuke nods his head, sure now that this has something to do with Sakura's hourly restroom trips. He knows nothing about medicine or hospitals beyond physical examinations.

The blonde, former Hokage smears a jelly-like lubricant onto the transducer, and then presses it firmly into Sakura's stomach. Sasuke watches with fascination as the wand slides around, coating her skin with the greasy substance.

"Does that hurt?" He asks her out of curiosity.

"It's not comfortable, but I'm fine."

On the screen, patches of white start to show up. His wife expertly names out a few of her own throbbing organs—"That's my kidney, and that's my womb."

Sasuke's eyes narrow, watching as something flickers from inside of her. A mass of fuzzy, unclear greyness moves in and out of view. "What is that?"

No one answers him; they don't need to. All at once a figure comes to view—a white, curved spine, a round, large head, kicking and squirming arms and legs. It's a baby, a human baby.

…A human baby inside of Sakura's belly.

Sasuke's body becomes very, very still.

"I'm a momma," his wife says to him. She doesn't look displeased or nervous. If anything, she glows. "You've given me a child."

And when he can finally peel his eyes away from the ultrasound, he buries his face into her chest, squeezing tightly onto her slender hand. So many emotions run rampant within his soul—he's worried, confused, and overjoyed simultaneously. Fainting is also a probability, too.

As quietly as she can, Tsunade prints off a photo and lays it beside the machine. When they leave Sakura slips it between the pages of her journal under a fresh, blank page.

With opaque, blue ink she writes, "Hello, little one."

It is nighttime now. By the glow of moonlight that seeps through the thin cloth of their tent, Sakura sees the redness of Sasuke's eyes, and feels the sting of her own.

The couple had talked about a lot, because there had been a lot to talk about. Both had made it a point to enjoy their first few years of married life, not hung up on previous misdeeds or unanswered questions. Sasuke had never been forthcoming with most of his past, and Sakura had learned to accept him in all of his mysterious ways.

But they were going to be parents now, and there was so much to be done.

Sakura does not think of baby booties and tiny onesies and white-lace crib bedding. She doesn't think of large bows, toy trucks, or pacifiers.

She thinks of guilt. Guilt, guilt, guilt—because how could she not know she was pregnant? Sakura questions her status as a medical ninja and as the operator of a hospital. She questions every diagnosis she's ever made, every paper she'd signed her signature on, every important decision she'd ever OK'd.

"I'm so stupid."

Sasuke wakes in an instant, turning his head to face Sakura. Her fists are clenching the fabric of her bedroll tightly, causing her knuckles to turn white. "What's wrong?"

"Everything," She answers quickly. "Everything's wrong, nothing's right—I'm so stupid Sasuke."

Her husband sits up in his mat and searches the floor for his canteen. He hands it to her. "You're not stupid."

The canteen is cool, much like the night air around them. Sakura takes in the liquid greedily and wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I could have hurt her, Sasuke."

The first trimester of her pregnancy had already come and gone. All of the signs were there—nausea, though it wasn't limited to the mornings, frequent urination, bloating, and tender breasts. In three weeks' time her third trimester would be here, and she had done nothing to prepare body.

Sakura ran—she fought, she trained and battled. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd lifted things that exceeded the fifty-pound weight limit. Sakura drank too much tea—caffeine is a no-no—she took steaming hot baths, she at raw sushi! All of these things put their child in danger, and this blessing Sakura had been oblivious to thrived anyhow.

"You didn't know you were pregnant, Sakura. I have no doubt you would have done everything in your power to follow the "rules" had you known."

Tsunade mentioned that the tilt of Sakura's uterus affected how much she showed and felt. Sakura cradled her hands around her stomach—the one she'd been embarrassed of for months now because of its growing size. She is six months pregnant and only has a gentle slope to prove it.

Sakura does not feel flutters or kicks. She does not feel thumps, or a heartbeat—"It's because baby is sitting too far back, Sakura."

As she rubs the tight, thick skin of her abdomen, she feels Sasuke approach. His movements aren't calculated or pristine like they normally are. He is timid and a bit clumsy, fumbling with the zipper of her sleeping bag.

"What are you doing?"

Delicately, Sasuke uncovers his wife and slips into the warmth of her blanket. The shear gown she slept in was slowly lifted up, exposing the creamy glow of porcelain skin. "I want to talk to him."

Sakura watches in amazement as this new side of Sasuke comes out. He slides down into her bag, running smooth fingers along her bump. His lips leave trails of butterfly kisses; his nose tickles the outwards poke of her bellybutton, and Sakura can't do anything but smile and dry her tears.

"I'm papa," Sasuke explains, twirling circles into her flesh. "I'm so happy you're in there. I love you,"

Sakura runs her fingers through her husband's hair. "I love you too."

Shooting up a cunning, uncommon smile, Sasuke retorts, "I was talking to my son."

"So, should I keep this a surprise still? I just got my mother's letter yesterday, and I still haven't replied to Naruto or Ino yet."

They have been traveling for two months now, heading back to Konoha. In that time, Sakura has started to show more, and now there's no doubt she's pregnant. Her face radiates with the shine of motherhood and her mannerisms have become less harsh; she steps with light, sure feet and she's always aware of her surroundings.

Sometimes, she reminds him of his own mother.

Sasuke had planned on being in Konoha for the birth of their son. Traveling throughout winter had been a difficult task, but his wife was fervent and determined. The way things looked now, they'd be in Konoha by April—just in time for their child to be born.

"We've held it in this long. I see no point in spoiling it now."

Sakura huffs, spreading out blank papers along the wooden table of a tea house. Her water leaves ringlets on a napkin—her gyoza remains untouched. The pen that she balances between her nose and upper lip sways as she tilts her head back and forth.

"I know, I know, but I' just can't wait! Hinata's about to have her baby, too. Our kid's will be in the same grade—and maybe the same team. And they don't know anything about it?"

Sasuke rolls his eyes, stealing one of his wife's dumplings. "Tell your father I said hello."

"Not my mother?"

He shrugs, winking his dark, amethyst eye.

Suddenly, Sakura stands, cupping both hands on her round stomach. Under her red dress you can see thumps—the smallest beats of movement from the Uchiha heir. "Quick, darling,"

Sasuke's hand covers her bellybutton and smooths around her cotton fabric, trying to locate the thrashes of his offspring. The infant sat down lowly on Sakura's hips, so it was on rare occasion she felt such strong activity. For Sasuke, he'd never experienced it.

There, just two inches above her navel, his child reacts. They press against one another, with his wife's skin between, feeling their movements for the first time.

Carefully removing his hand, Sasuke presses his face to her abdomen and smooths his lips across its surface. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sasuke."

Her husband looks up from beneath the fringe of his coal-black hair. Smirking with playfulness he says, "I was talking to my son."

It was almost time. Sakura could feel it in her bones—the way her child had dropped lower into her pelvis, the way her hips started to spread, the her sore breasts engorged themselves with colostrum for nourishment.

Sakura would hold her child very, very soon.

It had been a difficult waiting period. She is almost grateful now, in hindsight, that she hadn't known she was pregnant from the beginning. How does anyone handle nine full months of waiting?

She bites her lip, terrified of the fact that, even after a long and tedious birth, her child was still not out of the woods yet.

In fact, neither was she nor Sasuke. They had made excellent time—it was near the end of March now, and in about three days they'd cross the threshold into Konoha and start their lives anew. Still, there wasn't a calendar in Sakura's womb. Baby got to choose when she'd arrive.

Sasuke had already arranged everything. His sources had moved all of Sakura's clothing and décor into their new home—Sasuke said to toss the furniture, and after a heated debate, he'd won. Sakura had had that coffee table for years now, and she'd found it on the side of the road.

Whatever. At least her wreath would be on the front door, if Naruto hadn't chunked the whole thing in the trashcan.

The gravida tosses in her bedroll, fighting off another Braxton Hicks contraction. She'd experienced them in bouts near the last few months of her pregnancy, but this was a bit more painful that usual.

"Are you alright?"

Half asleep and slurring his words, Sasuke presses against her. His body is hot, like the fire of his clan—like the warmth of his child within her. Sliding his hand up and down the length of her arm he tries his best to soothe her.

Her husband turns her towards him, pressing her bare stomach against his. It had become a regular routine, in which he savored the fluttering pressure of their child's kicks on his own abdomen.

"Yeah I'm—."

Another contraction waves through her. She holds her breath, trying to fight the sharp pain. The woman counts to 42 before the jolt disappears, and then she sucks in the night's wind like a fish on land. Sasuke is wide awake now, looking levelly into her eyes with concern.

"What is it? Are you alright?"

Her smile shines, though it's too early in the morning for neither the sun nor the moon to cast a light. His wife brushes off his worry and they talk about their meaningless things—it's just another restless night, and it's one of many more to come.

Five minutes come and go—five blissful minutes of inconsequential words and laughs and kisses—when another cramp rocks throughout Sakura's core.

It's just as strong as the last one, starting from her back to her middle, spreading out like the branches of the blooming cherry trees they rested under. Her hand reaches for Sasuke's and she squeezes, tightly enough to bruise, and Sasuke can't do anything except hold her right back.

Panic starts to flow throughout the pregnant woman. She steadies her rampant heart, sitting up to make sure that she's not just adding an uncomfortable pressure on her child. The change of position does nothing.

"She's coming, Sasuke."

Mamushi glides along the soil of the forest, carrying his passengers like some sort of damn pack mule. Snakes were neither nocturnal nor diurnal—they did, however, favor balmy days over frigid springtime mornings. The sun hadn't even come out yet, for goodness sake!

His tongue darts from his mouth, tasting the air for any scent of antiseptic. As fast as he was traveling, it would still take a day—perhaps a half-day—to get to Konoha, so a hospital was very much needed.

As much as he didn't know about labor, Mamushi wasn't sure the she-devil on his back could wait much longer. If that slug bleeds on me, I swear…

"OH MY GOD," Sakura screams into the air. "GET HER OUT! GET HER OUT!"

"Sakura," The coolness of Sasuke's voice has never been more annoying to her. "Keep him in; we still have a while to go."

"IF YOU SERIOUSLY, SERIOUSLY THINK I'M NOT GOING TO HAVE HER RIGHT HERE ON THE BACK OF THIS TALKING WATER-HOSE, YOU'RE DEAD WRONG."

Tusking, Mamushi ruffles his scales and bites out a remark. "This "water-hose" is more than willing to flick you off with the end of his tail."

He doesn't have to look to see his masters glare.

He feels it.

Instead of berating his summon, Sasuke brushes Sakura's hair from across her damp forehead. "How much longer, Mamushi?"

"A day, give or take."

Eight hours was simply not an option. The shrieks of pain that came from Sakura's mouth only meant their child would be here within the next few hours, if not minutes. He helps her through another powerful jolt and covers her with his brown poncho, keeping the cold air from her sensitive, sweaty skin.

"Go to Orochimaru's hideout."

It was the only call he could make, there simply was no other option—not any safe ones, at least. If his calculations were correct, they could make it there in ten minutes time. It wasn't the best place to bring a child into this world, but it was sterile, and he was sure someone with medical knowledge would be nearby. Even if it was Orochimaru himself.

Sakura does not—cannot pay any attention to the happenings around her. Her teeth start to ache from her pressure. Her flesh is clammy; her eyes are blurry with tears, and the pulsating from her middle is nothing compared to even her most devastating battle injuries.

After what feels like months of both silent and boisterous suffering, Sasuke's summon stops moving. A man's voice calls out to them—"Sasuke Uchiha, and Sakura—is that you?" But Sakura's too out of it to realize it's her former sensei, Yamato.

It takes him all of three seconds to figure out what's going on. In a flash, he takes to Sakura's other side, and both men clamber through the menacing hallway that leads to empty rooms and musty cave-ins.

Yamato has been there long enough to learn his away around, but Sasuke has this place mapped out memorized. It does not take them long to make it to the subject room, where metal tables used to house experiments and abducted humans. This is something Yamato knows personally.

When they place Sakura on the slab, a thick gush of liquid falls from between her legs—it pours and pours. The hot fluid splashes down on Yamato's uncovered toes, and he's too afraid to look down. Will it be yellow, like urine? Or will it be red, like blood?

"My amniotic sac has broken," Sakura explains. "Get—ah!—get fresh cloths, and clean water basin. Quickly, quickly,"

She's alert enough to realize that she's probably going to have to direct two non-medically inclined men around the inner workings of her vagina, and explain to them how to help direct out her baby without losing her cool or consciousness.

It's not the most pleasant experience she can imagine, but it's a necessary one. The white, stinging pain only aids in her worry, but when Sasuke's smooth lips spread across her fingertips, she knows their infant is in good hands.

After a few minutes, it is not Yamato that returns. In the doorway stands a tall woman with long, lean legs that aren't hidden from view, and a formal button-up shirt that covers the bite marks that mar her skin.

"I can't believe it. He knocked you up!"

Instead of chiding any further, or beating around the bush, the woman makes her way towards Sakura and Sasuke and rolls up her sleeves. The latex gloves that form to her hand are blue. Her fingers disappear within Sakura, and before Sasuke can even say anything to stop her she announces: "You're fully dilated. Congratulations, I feel babies head! And what's this—it's a bit of fuzz…hell, baby's gonna have a full head of hair!"

"You feel her?" Sakura asks. "Is she alright?"

Sasuke takes a step towards his old teammate. "Can you deliver him, Karin?"

"Her, him—you don't know the gender, eh? Yeah, yeah, don't worry Sasuke. This isn't my first rodeo. I'll have your little Uchiha out in no time flat."

For as long as he's known Karin, Sasuke has determined her worth on her usefulness. In this moment, when she is the only one skilled enough to bring his child into the world, he sees her like the gem she is and deserves to be treated as.

Forever, from now on, Karin is important. And Sasuke doesn't want to think about where they'd be if this woman had died as a result of the injury he gave her in his battle with Danzo.

With a nonchalant flow, Karin shuffles around the room and gathers supplies quickly. In the corner, she places a sturdy wooden chair, and on the floor she drapes out a thick patch of square linen.

"Take off your shirt, Sasuke, and go sit over there."

He cannot remember the last time he's been ordered around in such a way, and never in his life had he taken to kindly to it. But without any kind of remark, he does what he's told, and only when he's positioned correctly does Karin check on Sakura.

"Alright, I'm going to let you sit on Sasuke's lap, okay? You're going to face him, and I'm going to be underneath, and when baby comes out you'll both do skin-to-skin contact."

Her steady, quick fingers make light work of Sakura's dress. "It's just you, me and Sasuke in here. And in a few minutes, it's going to be you, me, Sasuke and your little baby. So don't be embarrassed. Follow me."

Sasuke watches the slow amble of his wife, and the steady drip of clear liquid that drips down her thighs. Within that water, their child sustained life. But it's time for them to meet.

It's time for you to come out.

Sasuke feels the swollen heat of Sakura's breasts and the tight, hardness of her belly press against his naked chest. Her weight is secured over his lap. She pants, squeezing her eyes shut, waiting for Karin to direct her to the next round of action.

In his life, Sasuke has seen many beautiful things. He's seen the sunrise and the sunset—he's seen freshly powdered snow over untouched lands. With a simple look, Sasuke has brought out the purity of his wife's smile. With his pressure inside of her body, he's seen Sakura touch heaven—and he's touched it himself.

None of it—not any single thing compared to the untainted magnificence of his other half, sitting on his thighs, birthing their first child.

Through the screams, the nails digging in his back, the tears—through the yells of, "Push, Sakura, push, push, push!", Sasuke feels the pressure of her stomach loosen. His woman, pale and agonized, takes the biggest breath of air he's heard her take in since their child started pressing against the underside of her lungs. Sakura holds it; savors it.

Karin is beneath them, ordering Sakura to breath, making the noises herself. She directs her when to start pushing again, and by the second big push, a thatch of dark hair comes into view. "I see the head,"

And from there, with a gentle twisting motion and what feels like hours of silence, an infant is born.

Two humans, brought together not by happenstance or design—but by tenacity, have created another by the simple conjunction of their bodies. Two humans, flawed and perfect in their own rights, have done the amazing.

Two humans have become three.

"...And she's a girl!"

Karin's movements are fluid, as if she's a practiced midwife. The redhead immediately presses their child between them—she is blue and purple and has thick, midnight, cream-coated hair that curls every which way. Everything about her is perfect, so perfect.

Except she doesn't breathe, and she doesn't cry. She is limp and unmoving.

Sasuke is unmoving as Karin's deft hands clean and massage the newborn. Sakura cries, reaching out for the nasal aspirator so she can suction the fluid from her baby's lungs. Both women speak, urging the child to life.

"C'mon, let's say hi to mommy and daddy."

"Wake up, baby, wake up."

"That's a good girl, you're a strong one! Breathe for me okay? Breathe for mama?"

Through the urging voices, a third one appears. Sasuke can hear his mother—he can almost feel her touch. She whispers memories into the shell of his ear that have been long forgotten, trapped in the confines of an innocent boys mind.

Did you know I thought you were going to be a girl, Sasuke? I was going to name you Sarada. Isn't that a pretty name? She's beautiful, son. She's beautiful.

Closing his eyes, Sasuke exhaled, breathing the heat of his clan into his newborn's body. The protection of his people—his father and mother, his brother and cousins—willed itself through the pores of her untouched skin.

Everyone around him is frantic, working the infant's limbs to wake her from this slumber—but Sasuke is calm. He smiles, kisses the girls head, and calls to her.

"Sarada,"

And just like that, Sarada awakes. She startles, flinging her arms out from the deep timbre of her father's voice. She has heard it, become familiar with it inside of her mother's liquid core. It's nothing like the female voices that had been beckoning to her. This one is papa.

Like a howling cat, the infant's cries start from low in her chest. Through her wails, her parents cradle her between them, engulfing her in their warmth of their bodies. She cries and cries, filling her lungs with the oxygen that deems her human; important, and real.

Sarada is alive. She is healthy, and perfect, and beautiful.

Sasuke kisses the infant, letting his lips linger on her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Sasuke."

Holding Sakura's hand, Sasuke says: "I was talking to my daughter...but I love you, too."

"How are you doing?"

Karin is the first voice and face Sakura sees. The room she is in is incredibly dim, lit only by a lamp that hasn't been dusted in what seems like ages. The duvet is fresh and clean, however, and the woman finds herself sinking lower and lower into it.

"This is Sasuke's old room, he says. I didn't know he'd stayed so close to Konoha before. If I would have known, I'd have gone through everything already."

Sakura cannot even muster up a smile. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

She doesn't remember much. The emptiness of her stomach is the first thing she notices about her body, along with the sore, stickiness between her legs. Everything hurts, as if she's been passed by with a steam roller. None of this hurt compares to the worry brought on by maternal instinct, however.

"Sasuke has her. You've…been resting. She had some meconium in her lungs, so I've been keeping her on oxygen for the time being. Sasuke's changed her first few diapers—wonderfully, I might add. He hasn't left her side."

"I need to see her," The woman says urgently. "She must be hungry. She needs to eat."

Before Sakura can strain to stand, Karin pulls out a glass vial. In it, a piece of the umbilical cord that conjoined mother and child sits. "Before…before you go, this belongs to you."

There is a lot of friction between these two—women who once loved and cherished the same man. But Karin feels no jealousy.

"By now, you've the part I've played in the Jōnin Exams. I won't lie and say that, with what I knew then, I would have done things differently. I do know that it wasn't my place to step between your relationship with Sasuke."

"Karin—."

"All I've ever wanted is for Sasuke to truly get what he deserves. For a while, I thought I would be enough for him. But through you, I realize that I'm not. I wanted was to see that smile of his once more—when he saved my life all those years ago. Because of you I've gotten that ten thousand times over."

Sakura says nothing, because there is nothing to be said. She has no words of encouragement or power for this woman who stands before her. Karin's hands tremble and her palm lays flat on that glass vial. So, Sakura listens to her heart and curls the redhead's fingers around that umbilical cord, gracing her with a bright grin.

"Without you, neither of us would have seen Sasuke's joy. I would have had to rely on Yamato, or even worse, Orochimaru to deliver our child. I think that, perhaps, his happiness is something that we've both searched for. I realize now that the only girl that can truly bring it out of him is the one who's needing her mother's milk right now—so we have Sarada to thank for that."

Karin draws the cord to her chest, staring at Sakura with wild eyes.

"I want you to keep that," Sakura continues. "Because you are a part of Sarada's story now, too. Thank you, Karin. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

There's a pregnant silence between them. Karin turns, pivoting on her heel to hide the ugly face of her weeping. "I—hick—I'm so happy you're going to let me keep this, because that's the only reason I—hick—made it so pretty."

Sasuke carries Sarada the most. Not because Sakura doesn't have the stamina or drive to, but because his jealousy knows no bounds. "You've held her for nine whole months. Stop trying to take her from me."

The scent of blooming trees keeps her skin cool, and the weight of her chest has been healthily diminished by her child's feeding. Now she's walking on air, stepping her hardy, boyish steps. "Whatever. Fine. I don't care. Hold her all you want."

Strangely, nothing about being a parent seems off. Nothing about having a dependent makes Sakura feel nervous or anxious or anything of the sort. If she were honest, it was the most freeing experience she'd ever gone through.

Bundled in her husband's arms sat their six pound, five ounce soul.

Just beyond the horizon, the looming gates of Konoha awaits. The wind that howls from between its wooden slates does not carry the screams of Sasuke's people or the scent of their blood. It smells like home, like late-night dinners and shared baths and the fireball jutsu simmering into nothingness over a green-algae pond.

The Uchiha are no longer a clan of thousands. They are a clan of three, with a story that spans out to the beginning of Team 7. They are "Doer's", made from white moons and bright daylight, enmeshed with Inner Spirits and charming foreheads—she-wolfs, non-princes and non-princesses. They propose with rocks they've found on the side of stone benches.

A couple stands by the gate, waving widely as they scream out to their comrades. "Sasuke, Sakura, hurry on over here and come meet my son!"

When they are close enough to where Hinata and Naruto can see the bundle wrapped tightly against Sasuke's chest, Sarada's ever so eloquent uncle announces,

"Wait—is that a fuckin' baby?"

And here starts Boruto and Sarada's beginning—The Next Generation

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

That's it. The first fanfiction I've ever fully completed, and posted online, is done.

It's bittersweet, to be honest. I'm so blessed and encouraged by all of your reads, comments, and support. I am not a pro at this stuff yet, but I'm going to be going back over this story and editing the big mistakes for a final touch up. Come back to me in a few years and read this alll over again, ya hear?

I'm ALSO going to be posting more stories. I have one in the process right now about Sasuke and Sakura's travels, that is different from this one entirely. Keep up with me, each new story I put out will have SasuSaku in different lights!

I hope you all feel at peace with how this ended. Please contact me through here, or on my Tumblr (BkCeallaigh) if you have certain requests or thoughts that can help me improve as an author! Let me know how you felt about my story, please-if you didn't write a review at all the whole time you were reading, if you just stumbled across this a few days ago...whatever! Just let me know you made it to the end.

I love you all.

Goodbye for now!