Prologue

I was dead.

As simple as that. Yet, the experience was far from what I had imagined. I could still think, still feel—something that defied everything I had been led to believe about death. I had always assumed that dying meant the end of consciousness, a final blackout akin to an eternal sleep. But this... this was different.

Instead of darkness, I found myself enveloped in a soft, pulsating light that seemed to hum with a soothing energy. It wasn't blinding or overwhelming, but a gentle glow that wrapped around me like a warm embrace. I could still feel the familiar weight of my body—or rather, the absence of it—making me acutely aware of my own existence in a way that felt both alien and comforting.

I found myself in a strange limbo, a realm where I drifted alone. There was no sound, no clear direction—just a gentle, pulsating light that seemed to wash away the remnants of my past worries. Unpaid bills, unspoken words, unresolved relationships—each of these concerns faded into insignificance. In this peculiar state, my mind felt astonishingly clear, sharper than it had ever been. I was left wondering: was this truly death? Or perhaps some form of hell or heaven?

I wouldn't describe myself as a religious man. In fact, I was quite the opposite. My morals weren't dictated by doctrine or divine command; instead, they emerged from what I felt best suited my environment and experiences. I had always approached life with a certain pragmatism, navigating through it based on reason and personal ethics rather than spiritual guidelines.

Then, abruptly, the light ceased. It was as if someone had flicked a switch, turning the radiance off in an instant. Yet, paradoxically, the warmth surrounding me grew more intense. It became a tender, soothing embrace that felt oddly familiar, as if I had experienced this sensation before in some distant memory.

Time seemed to stretch and warp in this new state. Was it weeks? Months? I had no way to measure it. The absence of the light left me in a realm where the clarity I had previously enjoyed began to wane. The space I was once in now felt cramped, as if I was slowly running out of room. and I had often begun to hear things, voices that was. perhaps I'm finally going crazy. losing touch with my own reality in this dark cramped, but warm void.

I think, I'm going to sleep for a while... I feel tired.

...

...

Hizashi paced the dimly lit hallways with frantic steps, his agitation palpable as he collided with people and walls in his disoriented state. The shrill wails of his wife echoed through the corridor, intertwining with the hurried, fragmented voices of the wet nurses who rushed to her aid. His stomach twisted in knots, each cry piercing through him like a blade.

Suddenly, a firm yet gentle hand rested on his shoulder, pulling him momentarily out of his chaotic spiral. Hizashi turned to face his twin brother, Hiashi. Though their features were identical, Hiashi's presence felt distant, almost foreign in the midst of his turmoil.

"Calm down, Hizashi," Hiashi said, his voice steady and reassuring. "Tomomi will be fine, and so will your child. Trust in the wet nurses; they know what they're doing. Just have faith."

The words were meant to be comforting, and they did manage to ease Hizashi's nerves, if only slightly. Despite the reassurance, the anxiety gnawing at him remained stubborn, a constant reminder of how helpless he felt. He glanced back toward the room where his wife was laboring, his heart pounding with every anguished cry that reached his ears.

"I don't know if I can wait any longer," Hizashi admitted, his voice trembling. "I just want to be sure they're alright."

Hiashi's eyes softened with understanding. "I know. It's the hardest part, waiting and feeling so powerless. But sometimes, all we can do is wait and believe. You've always been strong, Hizashi. Tomomi and your child need that strength now more than ever."

Hizashi clenched his fist tightly, the knuckles whitening as he fought to control his desperation. Every fiber of his being strained against the urge to use his Byakugan to peer through the walls and into the room where his wife was in labor. Tradition be damned, he thought. The rules of their clan seemed insignificant compared to the urgency he felt.

His heart ached with the overwhelming need to be with her, to somehow ease her suffering and provide comfort in any way he could. The helplessness of being barred from the room where his wife and child were, brought him to the brink of breaking down. He longed to be by her side, to hold her hand and offer any solace he could through this ordeal.

He took a shuddering breath, trying to calm the tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him. His gaze flickered to the door of the room, imagining the pain his wife was enduring and the joy that might follow. It was a bitter irony that the traditions he had always upheld with pride now felt like cruel barriers, separating him from the one person who needed him most.

No, this wasn't the first time tradition had snubbed him, Hizashi thought, his eyes flickering towards his twin brother. The bitter realization of being sidelined by the very customs he was bound to felt like a cruel repetition of past grievances. The weight of his frustration and helplessness was almost unbearable.

Just as he was about to break, a sudden, profound change swept through the corridor. The wails of his wife, which had been tearing at his heart, abruptly ceased. In their place, the clear, triumphant cry of a newborn baby filled the air, breaking through the tension with a startling clarity.

Hizashi's breath caught in his throat, the sound striking a chord deep within him. The cry was both a balm and a beacon, signaling the end of a harrowing ordeal and the beginning of something new. The noise was a sharp reminder of the life that had just begun, a small but powerful testament to hope and renewal.

He turned to Hiashi, his eyes glistening with a mixture of relief and emotion. "It's over," he said, barely able to keep his voice steady. "They're alright."

Hiashi gave a nod, his expression reflecting a shared sense of profound relief. "Yes," he said softly. "It's done. Now you can be with them."

Hizashi hurried into the room at a frantic pace, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and anticipation. What greeted him was a flurry of activity, with wet nurses bustling around, their voices a blend of urgency and excitement as they attended to his wife and the newborn.

The scene before him was both chaotic and heartwarming. His wife lay in the bed, her face flushed but serene, exhaustion etched into her features. Amid the clamor of the wet nurses, he caught sight of the tiny, wriggling bundle they were fussing over.

One of the wet nurses, her face beaming with a proud smile, stepped forward and held out the swaddled infant. "Congratulations, Lord Hizashi!" she said with a note of excitement in her voice. "It's a boy!"

Hizashi's eyes locked onto the baby, his breath catching at the sight of the small, fragile form. The infant's delicate face was scrunched in a curious expression, his tiny hands opening and closing as if reaching out for the world. The overwhelming emotion that washed over Hizashi was a potent mix of joy, relief, and wonder.

He took a cautious step closer, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of his son for the first time. The baby's tiny fingers grasped at the air, and Hizashi felt a rush of protective instinct flood through him. His heart swelled with a profound sense of love and connection that transcended words.

His gaze shifted to his wife, who managed a tired but radiant smile, her eyes meeting his with a look of quiet triumph. The sight of her, safe and resting, filled him with an immense sense of gratitude and relief.

Without a word, Hizashi gently took the baby from the wet nurse's arms, holding the tiny form carefully against his chest. The warmth of the infant against him was comforting, a tangible reminder of the new life they had brought into the world. He looked down at his son, feeling a deep, indescribable bond forming in that very moment.

"Thank you," Hizashi whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as he glanced at the wet nurses and then back at his wife. "Thank you all for taking care of them."

Tomomi's eyes, though weary, shone with a gentle warmth as she looked at Hizashi holding their son. But as the moments passed, the color in her face began to drain, her breath becoming shallower. Hizashi noticed the sudden change, the spark of life in her gaze dimming.

"Tomomi?" Hizashi's voice wavered, panic creeping into his tone. He moved closer to the bed, his heart pounding as he took her hand in his. Her fingers were cool to the touch, her grip weak. "Stay with me, please…"

The wet nurses, sensing the shift, rushed to her side. They exchanged worried glances, their hands moving with urgency as they attempted to stabilize her. Hizashi's world began to blur as he watched them work, their frantic whispers a stark contrast to the quiet strength Tomomi had shown just moments before.

Tomomi's breaths grew ragged, her chest rising and falling with great effort. Hizashi knelt beside her, his hand trembling as he stroked her damp hair away from her forehead. "Tomomi, hold on. Please…" His voice broke, the weight of helplessness bearing down on him.

She looked at him, her eyes glassy but still filled with love. "Hizashi…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Take care…of him…for both of us."

Tears welled in Hizashi's eyes as he nodded, unable to find the words. He felt the final squeeze of her hand, faint but deliberate, before it went limp in his grasp. A shuddering breath escaped her lips, and then, silence.

The wet nurses stepped back, their expressions somber as they realized there was nothing more they could do. Hizashi's world shattered around him as he stared at his wife, her face now peaceful, but devoid of life. He felt as though the ground beneath him had crumbled, leaving him adrift in a sea of grief.

With trembling hands, he clutched his son closer, the tiny life in his arms now a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. He buried his face in the baby's soft swaddle, his tears falling freely, the weight of his sorrow almost unbearable.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain of his grief. "I'm so sorry…"

The room, once filled with the promise of new life, now echoed with the heartache of loss. Hizashi remained there, holding his son, the warmth of the infant the only comfort in a world that suddenly felt so cold. Such was the prologue to a new life.