The Moon is White

Chapter 23

The sky was basked in the orange light of dawn when Madara finally arrives at his clan's compound. The two gate duty regulars both saluted him as he rushes by, not daring to get in his way when they saw his vexed expression, as if he was seconds away from tearing someone's throat out by his teeth.

As soon as he reaches his two-story house, Madara slams the shoji doors open with the subtlety of a raging bijuu and strides into the only guest bedroom, where Hikari was screaming bloody murder and an old midwife he doesn't know the name of but recognizes settled between her legs.

Ryouta immediately perks up at his arrival, looking relieved yet still worried over the complications of the child's birth, wringing his hands as he hovers around the room.

"Anija! I'm sorry for calling you at such a time and on such short notice when you're so busy with the alliance talks but I didn't know what to do I panicked and wrote the note and oh Sage I'm ill-prepared for childbirth I can only kill not heal and-"

"Breathe. You did well in notifying me, otouto."

He cut his little brother off, trying sound gentle and soothing, but the irritation in his tone was notable and the harsh lines on his features weren't going anywhere anytime soon. He shoots an apologetic smile, which was more of a grimace, and Ryouta returns it with more finesse.

As he settles by Hikari's side, he tucks the billowing sleeves of his mantle using a tasuki, removes his leather gloves, and submerges his hands into a bowl of alcohol, already prepared in advance.

"Takumi and Yakumi?" He raises his voice to be heard over Hikari's loud sobbing.

"They're with your hawks," Ryouta grimaces when Hikari screeches extra loud, "Takumi knows to keep Yakumi busy until I give them the ok."

"What of your posting?"

"I have my division's vice, Kaoru, stand in for me. I gave him strict instructions to call me immediately if there are any signs of invaders. I also made sure that nobody saw Hisako-san come here."

"Good. You did good, otouto."

At the reassurance that their clan would not be running around like headless chickens at the absence of their leaders, and that the word of Hikari's labor has not gotten out, he went back to thoroughly scrubbing his hands. Ryouta, on the other hand, settles behind of him to help pull his untamable mane into a high ponytail.

Whilst Madara picks the dirt out from under his fingernails, he inwardly cusses at his rotten luck.

The many months of preparations had all been wasted despite having taken his child's birth into account. He had pushed the peace talks forward not only due to his Zetsu-induced paranoia, but also because he wanted to be home when Hikari was supposed to go into labor two months later.

Of all the birth complications, his child just had to be fucking a premature baby.

Premature babies born in this time period have a high mortality rate no thanks to the lack of proper equipment, hospitals, and a sterile environment. And it was only due to the fact that Madara knows that his child's slim chances of survival rely heavily upon his futuristic medical knowledge did he rush back.

If this child was not his flesh and blood, he would have prioritized the Uchiha-Senju alliance, leaving the baby's fate to the Uchiha clan's patron goddess, Amaterasu. Alas, despite its dubious conception, Madara was already fond of his unborn child.

How he abhors how easily an Uchiha feels for their family.

"How long has it been?" He asks curtly, his Sharingan whirling to life.