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Sakura was not loud when she gives birth. It’s strange, to say the least.
He and Sakura have exchanged letters with Naruto, to tell him the good news among other things. Naruto, being Naruto, was overjoyed to be an uncle, and expressed as much in every one of his letters. He parroted everything Sakura had ever said to Hinata about her pregnancy, as if he were the doctor and she the patient. Each kanji conveyed as much seriousness as every word would if he had been nearby to speak them; Sakura and Sasuke chuckled over them as they read.
There were a few things Naruto wrote just for Sasuke though; he said, in these letters, that Hinata would have his head if she found he was relaying this top secret information, and that Sakura, too, had been sworn to secrecy. Apparently Hinata was loud when she gave birth to Boruto. The shy, innocent picture Sasuke has of his best friend’s wife still can’t be reconciled with the words that came out of her mouth, according to the letter. “Fuck” is not a word Sasuke can imagine Hinata saying. Sasuke can’t even imagine Hinata insulting Naruto, let alone cursing at him.
When Sakura was six months pregnant, her stomach small enough that she could still see her feet, Sasuke asked about the letter. She neither confirmed nor denied, which he took for loud affirmation.
He began to worry. Sakura was loud normally; she’s violent normally; she had no issue cursing normally. If the pain of birth could turn someone as soft-spoken as Hinata into a monster foaming at the mouth, Sasuke feared what it could do to Sakura, and he feared for his life. He began stringing insults together in his mind. They were so vicious they made him wince, even when whispered in the confines of his mind. He didn’t stop; he was preparing himself for Sakura’s insults. Everything he could think up, surely Sakura could think of something ten times worse.
His fears, it turns out, are baseless. She’s calm, collected, though she’s panting and gasping for every word she speaks.
Her water broke miles away from any city with a hospital. Sasuke had been loathe to wander so far from a developed area, just in case this very thing happened, but Sakura convinced him. They’d been walking hand-in-hand through a dusty sidewalk, taking in sights lazily. Suddenly she stopped, gasping sharply, and a trickle of water made her pants wet.
“My water broke,” she said.
Sasuke is not a man of many words, had never been, but for once he couldn’t even think a coherent sentence. It was happening, really happening — Sakura was about to give birth in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no one around. He did the first thing he could: He picked her up off her feet and into the only inn the forsaken town had. All the while, Sakura kept trying to calm him down, as if he were the one in pain. She was panting and gasping, and he hadn’t said a word, and still she was coaching him.
The innkeeper didn’t fight giving them a room; when matched against two glares that could freeze the devil’s heart, he didn’t stand a chance.
Gasping, Sakura ordered, “Put me on the bed. Help me take off my pants.” Just like that, calm and cool and collected, she coached him through the birth. With panting commands and crying information — “I’m pushing now” “Can you see her head? That’s called crowning. Hurts like a bitch” “Support her head, support her head, support her head” — Sasuke himself delivered his child.
He was a liar if he said it wasn’t absolutely disgusting. There were things that Sakura has sworn him to secrecy about — like how it was natural and healthy for a mother to shit during birth and no, of course Sakura did not — but after all that was dealt with, and both the baby and Sakura were cleaned up… Sasuke had to admit, it was amazing.
Now, with the baby held between them, he’s speechless. Not that he hasn’t said anything — more like he can’t think of anything to say. He’s too busy, drinking in the sight of his two girls.
Sakura, with her bangs clinging to her forehead, is just staring at their daughter. Her breathing is still a little ragged, rising and falling just a little too fast, but she’s calming. Her long fingers brush against the downy fuzz of their daughter’s black hair. Their daughter, sleepy her first moments into life, yawns. A tiny fist half reaches out. She can’t even hold her head up, but she’s trying so hard to reach out. Sasuke can’t do anything but watch, entranced.
Here they are. His family. This little girl he’s spent the last nine months getting to know within the confines of her mother belly. She’s stubborn; he already knows it, from those nine months and because how could she be anything but, with him and Sakura as parents. She’s curious and she’s restless. Sakura goes on and on about how she never stays still, always kicking and reaching out, trying to discover the world she’s not a part of yet — or, wasn’t, because she’s here now, tangible and adorable, reaching out to grab the world by its neck and tell it who’s boss.
Sakura laughs, a soft, tired sound. She’s ready to sleep, he realizes, and she deserves it. “She wants you, Sasuke-kun.”
His eyes widen, staring at his wife. This baby girl doesn’t even know who he is. It wasn’t his voice that surrounded her every minute of every day, or his heartbeat that sang her lullabies. Dark eyes move from his wife’s to his daughters. He watched her eyes open a few hours ago, while he was cleaning her, but he still can’t believe the intensity of the color in her eyes. Just like his: dark and strangely knowing.
Sasuke realizes he’d been hoping for this baby to look nothing like him. Sakura would slap him senseless if she found out about that. It isn’t because he doesn’t love this baby — he loves her more than he’d think he’d be able to love anyone, as much as he loves his wife, he loves her so much — but because…if she didn’t look like him, maybe he wouldn’t turn out like him.
This similarity doesn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. It doesn’t bother him because those big eyes are set in a face perfect and round, so much like her mother’s. Sakura says that the baby is a little swollen and bruised from having been born through an opening so small and bony, but he doesn’t care. He knows this little girl looks exactly like her mother, never mind the blackness of her hair and the darkness of her eyes.
This similarity doesn’t bother him so much as it floors him. At first glance, all he can think of is how much she looks like her mother, but staring at her, studying her, he’s completely shocked. A part of him, no matter how small, created this creature. This small little girl who, a few hours after being born, is fussing and yawning and reaching. This perfect being who is so curious and loving. Whatever goodness he has in him, it was transferred to this nameless little girl, and made so much better by Sakura.
Sasuke bites his lip. He’s scared of breaking her. Of reaching out and tainting her. An elbow jabs him in the stomach, shocking him. He makes the motion to glare at his wife, but…he can’t. There’s so much happiness inside him — so much more than he ever thought he could hold, so much more than he deserves — that he ends up smiling at her.
“Well, are you going to leave her waiting?”
The baby’s hand still hasn’t fallen, her stubby little fingers begging for contact. There’s a bit of sadness in her eyes — fear of rejection, Sasuke thinks — and he immediately reaches out; the sadness is snuffed out as quickly as it came, and the baby — his baby, their baby — smiles and tugs his finger closer. Are babies supposed to be that strong, or did she just get it from her mama? She stuffs the finger in her mouth.
Sasuke’s eye twitches in disgust, but he doesn’t move, absolutely amazed. The baby laughs, and soon after Sakura is laughing too. It’s such a lovely sound, the two laughs, a better music than any he’s ever listened to before. He wants it played over and over again, each time warmer and happier than the last. It’s all he wants in life. He’ll ever want anything else as badly.
He’s so completely floored by these two, so in love with the both of them. His daughter starts to suck on his finger. It’s such a weird feeling. “She’s hungry.” He still doesn’t move. He watches their daughter, her round little face scrunching up, more and more frustrated that nothing comes out.
Sakura shuffles, dragging the hem of her collar down so her breasts come out. Gently, she maneuvers her daughter up and tugs Sasuke’s finger away. The baby latches onto her nipple immediately. Sasuke feels Sakura’s sigh of relief.
“Some babies don’t latch on that quickly,” she explains, without being prompted. A yawn punctuates her sentence. “One at the hospital took two days; his mother was so desperate…”
Sasuke nods. His wife’s hands are supporting their daughter’s head, threaded through the thin strands of black hair. It’s a gorgeous picture. There are no words. He wants this image in his head for as long as he lives — longer, even. “You’re tired,” he says, brushing away the pink strands of hair from Sakura’s forehead. It’s still as large as ever, framing perfectly the violet diamond in its center. He remembers how she used to be so self-conscious about it. A smirk lifts his features. She’s changed so much; they both have. Grown into and because of each other.
“Yeah.” She yawns again, then quickly changes the subject. “She doesn’t have a name.” Sakura’s head lulls onto his shoulder.
He wraps an arm around her, holding both girls in his arms. Nothing’s ever felt better than this. “I was thinking Sarada.”
Sakura’s head nods; he feels it against his shoulder. “’S pretty. Uchiha Sarada. Keeps our initials.”
Every time she calls the Uchiha name hers, his heart skips, reminding him he’s not alone. Sasuke kisses her forehead. “Sarada it is, then.” Sarada fusses at her mother’s nipple, celebrating her new name, before her mouth opens wide and she yawns. Both his girls are tired. His family is tired. “Go to sleep, Sakura.”