Well, wasn't this just…. peachy?
I stared at the pristine white ceiling of Konoha General Hospital, counting the tiny imperfections in the paint for what had to be the hundredth time.
A time skip. An actual goddamn time skip, and I couldn't even call it anything else. I didn't have many of those, did I? Life had been slow lately.
At least this one came with the exciting bonus of nearly dying and sacrificing three years of my lifespan. Really living the dream here, Eishin.
My body feels like I'd been used as a punching bag by the entire caffeinated squad of Guy-sensei. Which, considering I'd gone toe-to-toe with a jinchuuriki Mizukage, wasn't that far from the truth.
The memories were still fragmented—bits and pieces floating around like debris after an explosion. I remembered talking to Naruto, his stupid face twisted with worry and determination, but the words…. the specifics danced just out of reach, taunting me.
The fight with Yagura was a blur of water, coral, and way too many Rasengans. I'd thrown those spinning balls of chakra around like confetti at a particularly violent wedding. The bastard had been tough. Who would have known?
But what really was bugging me was what didn't happen—Obito, that masked puppet master pulling Yagura's strings, hadn't shown up. It was so easy to end my sorry ass, even a civilian kid could do that. Which meant either he wasn't there or…
Or was this a Genjutsu?
The thought slipped out for what had to be the twentieth time today. I'd checked. Multiple times. Kai'd myself until I was blue in the face, bit my tongue until it bled, even tried that old 'look at your hands' trick. Nothing. This was real, which meant I was alive, and I honestly didn't know how to feel about that.
My gaze drifted to the bedside cabinet where a small mirror sat. I resisted the urge to grab it—partly because my entire body felt like it had been put through a blender, and I'd turned down the painkillers because they'd slow my recovery. Mostly, though, it was because I knew what I'd see. The same face I'd been staring at for the past hour. The same face I'd worn for years now.
No white hair, no new wrinkles, no dramatic aging scars. Just ye old me, looking like I'd been hit by a very large, very angry truck.
Three years. I'd sacrificed three years of my life to Aouru, and I was half regretting it.
All the ways I could have done better, moved faster, been smarter. The perfect comebacks I should have delivered, the tactical decisions that would have been cleaner, the—
Stop it. I cut off that line of thinking before it could spiral. It wasn't fair, and I knew it. The way you see things when you're in the thick of it, when someone's trying to turn you into sashimi, versus how you see them when you're lying safely in a hospital bed wholly different perspective. Hindsight was a cruel mistress with perfect vision.
I had known I would regret it, either that, or end up dead.
This was the second time I'd broken my promise to never summon Aouru again. Second time I'd sworn off that particular brand of self-destructive stupidity, and second time I'd thrown that promise right out the window the moment things got serious. At least I was consistent in my inconsistency.
But hey, Naruto was alive, and that fishing town didn't get to experience firsthand the wrath of a Tailed Beast. In the grand scheme of things, three years was a bargain for—
The door slid open softly, and Shiho walked in carrying a small bag. My mood immediately lifted despite the full-body ache. She'd been here since the moment I'd opened my eyes yesterday, a constant presence that warmed something in my chest and simultaneously left me disappointed in certain other people who hadn't bothered to visit.
"Well, well, look who's back." I couldn't help but grin, even though it pulled at muscles that really didn't want to be pulled. "For a moment there, I thought you'd finally gotten bored of my sorry ass and ditched me for someone with better life choices and fewer mortal injuries — albeit less handsome."
Usually, that kind of teasing would have my favorite little cryptographer stammering and turning that adorable shade of red that made me want to do terrible, wonderful things to her. Instead, she remained completely serious. She set the bag on the bedside table.
"The closest shop's orange juice had no pulp," she said, her voice matter-of-fact as she began unpacking items with the same methodical care she applied to her code-breaking. "The second shop had too much pulp, and the third shop's pulp had an inconsistent texture that would have been unpleasant."
"Oh." I blinked.
The disappointment at not getting the reaction I'd wanted was quickly overshadowed by curiosity and something uncomfortably warm in my chest. This was... unexpected. And weirdly touching that it caught me off guard.
I smiled—genuinely this time—and leaned back against my pillow. "So …. Unable to find the perfect balance of pulp-to-no-pulp ratio in all of Konoha's shops, you embarked on an epic quest that took you across the Land of Fire, searching every village, every stand, every merchant cart for the legendary Perfect Orange Juice. And when even that failed, you climbed the highest mountain, consulted the ancient Orange Spirits, and—"
"I didn't go that far," Shiho interrupted, adjusting her glasses in that way that meant she was taking me completely literally. "I bought oranges and went home to make it myself."
She pulled out a bottle of fresh orange juice, setting it carefully on the table.
I stared at the bottle. Then at her. Then back at the bottle.
I burst out laughing.
I couldn't help it. The whole situation was so perfectly absurdly Shiho that it hit me like a physical blow. My ribs immediately reminded me that laughing with cracked ribs was a spectacularly bad idea, sending needles of pain shooting through my torso. I winced, but the smile never left my face.
"Eishin!" Shiho's composure finally cracked, worry flooding her features as she rushed to my side. "You shouldn't—the doctors said excessive movement could—please don't aggravate your injuries!" Her hands fluttered over me like nervous birds, not quite touching but desperate to help.
As she reached over to adjust my pillow, I ignored the pain lancing through my chest and caught her jaw with my hand, pulling her down into a kiss. It was deep and hard and had nothing to do with heat or lust.
This was me trying to pour all those annoying, pesky warm feelings into her—the gratitude, the affection, the sheer bewildered fondness that this brilliant, stupid, wonderful, idiotic woman had spent her morning making me orange juice from scratch because the store-bought stuff wasn't good enough.
For a moment, Shiho melted into it the way she always did, her body going soft and pliant, that little sound escaping her throat that never failed to make me want to corrupt her further. But then—
Her hand pressed against my chest, a gentle but unmistakable push.
It was weak, barely any pressure at all, but it might as well have been a slap. Shiho never, ever tried to end something I started. Not now, not before I'd thoroughly tamed her, not even back when she'd been too shy to look me in the eye.
"Mmh?" I broke the kiss, frowning. "What's wrong?"
Shiho's face was flushed, her lips slightly swollen, glasses askew in that post-kiss way that usually made me want to mess her up even more. Her gaze was kept everywhere except at me.
"I—uh…." She adjusted her glasses and took a step back. "Y-you're injured, and we're in a public place, and—and this isn't appropriate given your condition..."
Something was wrong, and it wasn't just her being worried about my near-death. Not just that, at least.
Still, I couldn't resist the urge to push, to tease, to see what would happen. "Since when has being in public ever stopped us?" I let my voice drop into that suggestive tone that usually made her squirm in the best way. "Or did you forget what happened in the library last time? Because I remember exactly how inappropriate you got, and you seemed to enjoy it."
Shiho's head snapped away from me like I'd struck her. She took a sharp breath, then muttered, "That was different."
Then she was moving, busying herself with the bag and the orange juice, her movements quick and jerky like she was trying to hide something. Or forget something.
Something is definitely wrong.
Shiho poured the orange juice, filling the cup exactly three-quarters full before setting the bottle down. She presented it with both hands, like she was offering some sacred ritual beverage instead of a citrus fruit in liquid form.
I took it and drank.
It was nice—bright, clean, with just the right amount of pulp to give it texture without being overwhelming. It was perfectly balanced between sweet and tart, with none of that artificial aftertaste that came with store-bought juice. It tasted like effort. Like she'd actually given a damn about making something perfect for me.
"This is incredible," I said, and meant it. "Thank you, Shiho. This is the best drink I've ever had."
I was exaggerating a bit, but it was well deserved.
Her face lit up like I'd just told her she'd cracked the Hiraishin formula. Her hands clasped together in front of her as she beamed, that rare, unguarded smile that made something twist pleasantly in my chest. It was the kind of smile that made it obvious why anyone might've fallen for this brilliant, neurotic woman.
"But then again," I continued, letting my voice drop softer, more intimate, "perfection is what I'd expect from someone with your particular genius for understanding exactly what I need, often before I even know I need it myself. Perfect care from a perfect woman."
Shiho cutely hiccupped, her cheeks flushed a perfect shade of pink, her eyes widening behind her ridiculous glasses as her hands flew up to cover her mouth in that adorable way she had when she was overwhelmed. She hadn't expected that.
Touché.
She silently grabbed the empty cup with slightly shaking hands, turning away to busy herself with unnecessary tidying. Too much of a coward to face her own embarrassment head-on, so she'd find something, anything, to focus on instead.
I watched her fidget for a moment.
"So," I said, my voice dropping into that casual, conversational tone that usually preceded me being a complete bastard, "are you going to tell me what's wrong, or do I have to pry it out of you after I bend you over this hospital bed and fuck the truth out of you — hard enough that every nurse, every doctor, and every patient on this floor, above and below, knows exactly what you sound like when you come? And you know me, I don't stop till I'm done. And when I'm done, mmh…. your juice will be soaking the sheets, painting the walls, and dripping down the floor — I'm not talking about the orange juice."
Shiho's face went from pale to crimson so fast I was surprised she didn't pass out from the blood rush. Several strands of her usually pristine hair had somehow sprung free, sticking out at odd angles like she'd been struck by lightning.
Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a moment before whipping at the door for fear someone might have heard, then back at me. Her eyes went wide with shock and something that looked suspiciously like arousal mixed with genuine fear.
No, that's definitely arousal. I know my girl.
"E-Eishin, you can't—we're in a h-hospital, there are people, and you're injured, and—" She was stammering now, her voice getting higher with each word as she processed the very real threat in my tone. Because it was a threat, and she knew I'd follow through. I'd trained her too well in the Academy for her to doubt that.
I just watched her, pinning her with my gaze as she continued to stammer, her voice gradually losing volume as her head dropped meekly down. Her hands twisted in front of her, fidgeting with the hem of her lab coat like it held the secrets of the universe.
"So?" I said.
That was all it took. Two letters, one syllable, and my obedient little nerd crumbled like a house of cards in a hurricane.
She reached into her lab coat with trembling hands, pulling out that ever-present notebook she never went anywhere without. Hell, it had been harder to get those notes away from her than it had been to get her clothes off, back when I was first taming her. The woman had priorities, even if they were completely backwards.
She held the notebook out.
"What is it?"
"I—I know I wasn't much help with your project, the civilian-grade sealing scrolls," she began, her voice taking on that anxious, scared quality that was completely different from her usual excited rambling when talking about academic stuff. "I wanted to contribute more meaningfully to your research, so when you mentioned your theoretical work on fertility control seals, I thought maybe I could assist with the medical components, even though my expertise is primarily in cryptography and intelligence analysis rather than fūinjutsu or biological applications..."
She was building up to something, using all those fancy terms and technical language like armor. I could see it in the way her shoulders hunched, in the careful distance she was maintaining.
"I conducted extensive research into reproductive endocrinology, hormonal fluctuation patterns, and the physiological markers that would be relevant for such seal work. I compiled comprehensive data on luteal phase indicators, human chorionic gonadotropin levels, and the metabolic changes that occur during early gestational periods..." Her voice was getting smaller with each word, like she was trying to disappear into her own explanation.
I looked at the notes. Then at her. Then back at the notes.
I was bedridden, not brain-dead. I was a goddamn jounin, for fuck's sake.
It took me less than two seconds to connect the dots and about ten more for my brain to unfreeze from the realization.
"You're….. pregnant."
— — — — — — — —
A/N 01: The mission arc went on way longer than I expected, but we're finally back in Konoha. Honestly, this spot feels like it should be an interlude… but, well, it isn't. I'm a bit sick while writing this one, so if it feels off, now you know why (I may rewrite it, I don't know).
A/N 02: Huge thanks to everyone who commented on the last chapter! Your feedback really helps. Sometimes I'm too close to the story to catch things that only a fresh pair of eyes can see. I know a lot of you felt this arc dragged on longer than it needed, and I'll keep that in mind moving forward. I will try to make missions/plot-focused arcs (outside of the steamy stuff ) move at a tighter pace… but no promises, and no quoting me on this. I mostly follow the vibes when I write.
Thanks for sticking with me through the arc, and let me know what you thought!
PS. You can read up to 8 chapters ahead at patreon.com/vizem (PS. Best girl Ino made her first appearance there)