Chapter Text
The room smelled like antiseptic.
It wasn’t the Hokage Residence. Naruto had insisted against it, almost stubbornly. This wasn’t a political event or a ceremony or something that could be turned into a headline, a story people would retell until it lost its shape. This was fragile. This was dangerous in a way he wasn’t trained for.
So instead, the birth had taken place deep within Konoha Hospital, in a medical wing reinforced with seals, and Tsunade’s personal supervision. Half hospital, half laboratory — a compromise that still made Naruto’s skin itch, still made something in his chest tighten with unease. A reminder that this hadn’t come easily, that nothing about this had.
Behind the glass, Sakura, Shizune, and Tsunade exchanged low, rapid words, the soft hum of medical instruments surrounding a single incubator-like crib. Orochimaru stood off to the side, unusually still, yellow eyes sharp with something that wasn’t quite curiosity — something closer to professional reverence.
Naruto hated that he was here at all.
Hated that Orochimaru’s work was involved. Hated that seals and “experiments” were necessary. Hated that the thing he wanted most in the world had required so many precautions, so many ifs.
There had been a time when he hadn’t believed he’d live long enough to imagine a future— not after the war, not after everything he and Sasuke had done to each other. There had been a time when together had felt impossible.
“You’re going to burn a hole into the floor,” Sasuke said quietly.
The words cut through Naruto’s spiraling thoughts so sharply, he stopped mid-step, breath catching and stuttering in his throat. He turned slowly to look at Sasuke—really look.
Sasuke stood near the wall, one hand resting at his hip, but the usual rigid strength in his posture was softened, almost brittle. The faint lines at the corner of his eyes spoke of sleepless nights and battles fought not just on the outside, but inside. His dark hair, still as unruly as ever, brushed slightly against his forehead, damp with the subtle sheen of tension.
Anyone else might’ve thought him calm. But Naruto knew better—always had. The taut chakra wrapped around Sasuke like a second skin, pulled tight as if he were holding himself together by sheer force of will. His lips pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched ever so slightly, betraying the storm beneath that controlled surface.
Sasuke hadn’t moved much since they’d arrived, as if standing perfectly still could keep the moment from crumbling. His gaze hadn’t left the crib once.
“You’re acting like you’re not freaking out,” Naruto muttered, the edge gone from his voice.
“I am freaking out,” Sasuke replied flatly. “I’m just not moving.”
Then Sasuke pushed off the wall. The space between them vanished in two quiet steps. He reached out and took Naruto’s hand, his fingers firm and warm, grounding in a way that stole the air from Naruto’s lungs.
For a heartbeat, the noise in Naruto’s head quieted.
Only then did he feel it. Not just his own fear, but Sasuke’s.
Sharp, deep and aching, threaded with memories neither of them spoke aloud. Empty houses. Blood-stained rooms. Childhoods forged in survival rather than safety. The terror of loving something small and fragile when neither of them had been taught how to be gentle—with themselves, or with another life.
They’d never been good at keeping their pain separate. When one of them hurt, the other felt it. It had been true when they were teammates, friends, enemies. Truer when they were lovers. Truest now.
“What if I mess this up?” Naruto whispered. “What if I don’t know how to—”
Sasuke’s grip tightened just slightly. “Then learn from it. We’ll learn,” he said—honest, terrifying.
Naruto closed his eyes and, still holding Sasuke’s hand, leaned his head gently against the side of Sasuke’s neck, feeling the steady pulse beneath the skin. Just for a second, a stolen moment of us before the world demanded something from them again.
“Oh,” Naruto breathed, voice breaking. “You are freaking out.”
Sasuke let out a quiet, almost-laugh. “Don’t start.” His eyes darkened with a flicker of something fierce. “It will work. I stayed with Orochimaru long enough to understand the risks, and how to contain them.”
Naruto let out a weak, breathless laugh, pulling back just enough to look at Sasuke. “They also said that about half the experiments Orochimaru’s ever done.”
The words came out too sharp, panic sharpening them into something cruel. Naruto flinched at his own bitterness. “—Sorry. That was—”
Sasuke shook his head, “You’re not wrong.”
For a long moment, neither spoke. Sasuke’s thumb brushed over Naruto’s, slow and absent, like he needed the motion as much as the contact. Naruto closed his eyes and breathed him in—familiar, grounding, home—and thought, distantly, that there had been a time he believed loving Sasuke would be the hardest thing he’d ever do.
Marriage had felt unreal, like something they’d stolen quietly from fate when it wasn’t looking.
A child?
A child had never been part of the plan. It felt like asking too much, asking the impossible. A dream they only dared to have because they had each other. Without one another, it wouldn’t have been possible.
Sasuke leaned in, pressing a soft, almost hesitant kiss to Naruto’s temple, not dramatic, not showy. Just there. Just real.
Naruto turned into it instinctively. Their shoulders touched, their hands still clasped, like neither trusted the world not to pull them apart again.
Then the cry came; sudden, sharp, furious, alive.
Naruto’s breath caught painfully in his chest.
Behind the glass, the crib pulsed faintly with chakra, unsteady, flaring bright and wild, then dimming again. Too strong. Too much. Like a tiny sun that didn’t yet know how to burn without hurting itself.
Sakura turned toward them. “You can come in,” she called gently.
Sasuke didn’t let go of Naruto’s hand as they moved forward together.
Sakura looked up. “There he is,” she said, exhaustion and relief tangling in her voice.
Tsunade leaned over the crib, steady hands adjusting seals. “Lungs are good. Chakra’s… enthusiastic.”
Naruto swallowed hard. “That’s my—” His voice cracked. He squeezed Sasuke’s hand, like anchoring himself. “That’s our kid.”
Naruto didn’t remember moving. One moment frozen in place, the next, he was standing over the crib, trembling, staring down at the smallest person he had ever seen.
Tiny fists clenched tight enough to turn white. A face scrunched in fierce confusion, like the world had already dealt him injustice. Faint black hair damp and wild against his forehead, stubbornly sticking up in a way that tore at Naruto’s chest—a fierce, aching pang that felt like grief and hope tangled in one. Chakra shimmered faintly around him, unsteady like a flame barely protected from the wind.
And then, he saw it—those faint marks, whisker-like streaks along the baby’s cheeks.
Naruto’s voice was a whisper, filled with awe and disbelief. “He has… my whiskers?”
Tsunade smiled tiredly but gently. “They appeared when we infused your chakra. It’s part of the bond you share, more than just genes.”
“Oh,” Naruto breathed, eyes wide, voice trembling. “Gods...”
Sasuke stepped forward slowly, cautiously, as if approaching something sacred and fragile. His gaze softened, the usual stoic mask slipping just enough to reveal a quiet, vulnerable storm beneath. The years of pain and loss—the weight of his clan’s tragedy, the loneliness of survival; were etched deep in the sharp lines around his eyes and the subtle tremor in his breath.
“He’s loud,” Sasuke said quietly at first, almost to himself, as if surprised that was the first thing to come out. For a moment, it made Naruto blink, was Sasuke really starting with that? But then Sasuke’s voice softened, trembling just enough to reveal the hope he kept buried deep inside.
“He’s beautiful.” Sasuke’s voice cracked, just enough to betray everything he hadn’t dared say aloud before, the impossible hope of this moment.
To have a chance to love Naruto, to build something lasting, to carry on not just his name, but theirs.
He never thought this could be his future. Never allowed himself to imagine it.
The baby’s sudden scream shattered the silence; fierce and so alive—chakra flaring bright and wild, rattling the instruments, demanding attention.
Naruto’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. “Is that— is that bad?” His voice cracked, panic sharpening every word.
Tsunade snorted softly. “He’s a baby.”
Orochimaru’s rare smirk was almost amused. “A very powerful one.”
Naruto shot him a glare, “You don’t get to sound proud.”
Sakura stepped forward quietly, her eyes soft, carrying years of having seen Naruto’s battles, his loneliness, his relentless heart. She lifted the baby gently, cradling him with care born from countless moments of healing both body and spirit. Turning to Naruto, her voice was calm but full of quiet strength.
“Do you want to hold him?”
Naruto’s hands trembled violently, the full weight of what this moment meant crashing over him like tidal waves, memories of orphaned nights, impossible hopes, and endless battles rushing in all at once.
“I—I don’t— what if I—”
Sakura’s gaze locked with his, steady and gentle, a lifeline in the storm. “You won’t,” she said softly, placing the new life gently into his arms—a promise that, no matter what, she would always be there for Naruto and Sasuke.
The instant the small weight settled against Naruto’s chest, the world seemed to tilt—and then still.
The crying faltered.
The wild chakra softened, flickering gently instead of flaring, responding to Naruto’s warmth, his heartbeat, his very presence — like the baby knew, like he trusted without question.
Naruto stared down at him, stunned, overwhelmed by a pain so sharp it was almost unbearable. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and spilled free, hot and unbidden.
“Hey,” he whispered brokenly, voice cracking. “Hey… I’ve got you.”
Tiny fingers curled into his jacket, anchoring him in a way that made everything else dissolve. Naruto’s heart swelled with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. This tiny life in his arms, this little boy, was theirs. And for all his doubts, Naruto knew, deep down, that this was the family he’d always dreamed of, even if he hadn’t known how much he needed it until now.
Sasuke felt a shudder ripple through him, the dam breaking. His breath hitched and tears welled unashamedly, blurring his vision. He stepped closer without thought, his one hand reaching around Naruto’s back, grounding them both.
For a long moment, they stood like that, two broken souls who had endured wars, loneliness, and loss, now facing the weight of hope.
Shizune slipped in quietly, clearing her throat, tears also evident in her eyes, clipboard tucked against her chest. “We’ll need to finalize his records,” she said gently. “Name, for the files.”
Naruto barely looked up.
The room felt suspended for a moment.
Naruto's eyes flicked to Sasuke. Sasuke met his gaze, and an understanding passed between them, a shared memory surfacing at the same time.
Back when they were newly married, when the idea of children had felt distant enough to joke about, Naruto had said it offhandedly, half-laughing as they lay tangled after a long day. If we ever had a kid, he said, maybe Menma. So we match. Easy to remember.
Sasuke had snorted, rolling his eyes. That's a terrible name, he'd said, unimpressed. Then after a pause: Unless he turns out as unpredictable as you, then it fits.
The memory lingered, soft and unreal, as though it was never meant to become real.
Sasuke smiled softly and gave Naruto a small nod.
Naruto looked back down at their son, at the familiar stubborn set of his tiny features. “Menma,” he said.
Sakura blinked, then laughed softly, surprised. Tsunade raised a brow. Shizune paused, pen hovering.
“…Menma,” Sakura repeated, glancing at Sasuke.
Sasuke met her look, then looked back down at the baby, at the familiar stubbornness, the fierce little presence.
He nodded once. “Yes.” Like it had always been decided.
Shizune smiled as she wrote. “Menma Uzumaki–Uchiha,” she read aloud.
Naruto’s chest tightened at the sound—the weight of their names spoken together, binding past and future. He met Sasuke’s gaze, eyes full of awe and something unspoken.
“This is ours,” Naruto whispered, voice barely more than a breath.
Sasuke’s hand tightened around his, and in that simple touch, everything was said.
I love you.
The words didn’t need to be spoken. They carried the promise of what was to come; a future uncharted and terrifying, but theirs to face together.
With Menma, they were stepping into the unknown, full of risks, but theirs to face and protect together.
A new chapter unfolding, uncertain yet undeniably theirs.