First Breath, First Cry (1)

Darkness. Darkness everywhere.

Waking up, I felt as if I was suspended in an endless void, floating amidst nothingness. There was no light, no breeze, no sense of balance, just an overwhelming calm, like being wrapped in a dreamless sleep. The kind of peace that feels wrong because it's too empty, too still.

I lay there, suspended, letting this sensation wash over me, until a subtle unease began to creep in. I tried to move, to stretch my arms, but my body seemed to resist, as though wrapped in something invisible, a soft barrier that wouldn't budge.

And then the sound came, a loud, muffled roar, like waves crashing over distant shores. Beneath it, I heard faint murmurs, distorted like voices from a radio tuned to the wrong station. I strained to listen.

'Am I close to someone? Is that them talking?'

It was hard to tell. My mind felt foggy, and thoughts were forming slowly. I tried again to move, to stretch my arms above my head, but something blocked the motion halfway there. Frustration welled up. Why couldn't I move?

I pushed harder, throwing all my effort into one final stretch, but the world around me snapped back as soon as I stopped. A taut, elastic force surrounded me, every push met with resistance, every release sending me recoiling back into stillness. My breath quickened, though there was no breath to be taken, no air to fill my lungs.

'Where am I? What is happening?' My mind raced with the questions, spiraling out of control. 'What's wrong with me?'

I tried to grasp onto something familiar, but every memory felt slippery, like trying to hold onto water. I knew things—I knew what a dog was, the sound of rain against a window, the warmth of sunlight—but they felt distant, disjointed. Like they belonged to someone else.

'Did I have an accident? Am I hurt?' Panic simmered in my mind. I pushed it down, trying to stay calm, but the more I thought, the more the questions spiraled. 'Why can't I remember?'

As if in response to my rising anxiety, the space around me tightened. The walls—if you could even call them walls—began to press in on me from all sides, a soft yet unyielding pressure. I wasn't just trapped. I was being squeezed. Slowly, deliberately.

My body shifted and slid, forcing itself into new shapes to fit this ever-narrowing tunnel. A strange sensation ran through me—unfamiliar, uncomfortable—but I couldn't fight it. It was like being pulled through a tight passage, my limbs bending, my spine twisting. Everything felt wrong, but I couldn't stop it.

The murmuring voices grew louder, more distinct, almost recognizable now, as though they were calling me, pulling me forward. Each time the pressure increased, the sounds became clearer, like I was rising from deep underwater, breaking through to the surface.

And then it hit me.

The overwhelming pressure around my head intensified, as though something was pushing me out, forcing me to move forward. The noise swelled, and then, with an almost audible pop, my head broke free.

A rush of sensations flooded in all at once. My mind swirled, and suddenly, I could feel again—really feel. The air was sharp and cold, biting against my skin like ice. A flood of light assaulted my eyes, even though they weren't open yet. It was as if the world had returned to me in one massive wave, too much, too fast.

I gasped—not out of fear, but because my body demanded it. It felt like the first breath I had ever taken.

I wasn't floating anymore. I was here, wherever "here" was. Every part of me felt exposed, raw, like I had emerged from some deep, hidden cocoon. The warmth that had cradled me moments ago was gone, replaced by the bitter cold. The voices I had heard so faintly before were now clear, urgent, surrounding me.

In fact, I was colder than I had ever been. It was a bone-deep chill that sent tremors through me, but before I could even process it fully, my senses all decided to flicker on at once, hitting me in a tidal wave of sensations. My skin felt prickly, every nerve on high alert, and my brain—well, my brain seemed to be frantically trying to catch up with the onslaught.

The result? Overload.

"Wahhhhhhhh."

Yeah, I cried. So what? Anyone would have in this situation. One minute I was floating peacefully in warmth, surrounded by a gentle hum, no disturbances, no sharp edges. And the next? The next, I was shoved into a world of too much everything. Loud noises filled my ears, cold air clung to my skin like ice, and there was this brightness—this overwhelming light in my eyes that I couldn't shut out, no matter how hard I tried.

Everything felt heavier. My body was a clunky, unfamiliar weight, and then there were the smells—a strange mix of sharp and soft, metallic and sweet. None of it made sense. And worst of all, it felt like sparks were dancing under my skin, like electricity coursing through me, waking every inch of my tiny, fragile self.

Tell me again you wouldn't be crying if you had to deal with that.

Then, just as quickly as the chaos had descended, something shifted. I was lifted gently and swaddled in the softest, warmest blanket I could imagine. It was like being wrapped in a cloud. I was laid down on something even softer—like a pillow that breathed beneath me—the gentle rhythm of a heartbeat thrummed softly in my ear, lulling me.

"Shhh, shhh, it's okay, honey. There's no need to be so rowdy," a voice cooed, soft and smooth. Familiar, somehow. I wanted to open my eyes, to see who this person was, but the weight of the day—if you could call it that—was too much. Exhaustion pulled at me, dragging me under. I had used up every last bit of energy in those few, desperate cries. Now, all I wanted was to sleep.

The voice continued, a comforting drone that washed over me, warm and steady. It was enough. For now, I was safe. I could rest.

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"He looks just like you, honey." Kaito's voice was thick with emotion as he gazed at the tiny bundle swaddled in his wife's arms. His eyes, usually sharp and alert, now sparkled with his sharingan and tenderness he rarely let the world see. The jet-black hair that framed his face had fallen slightly over his forehead, but he didn't bother to push it back. His focus was entirely on them—his wife, May, and their son.

"Doesn't he?" May's voice was soft, a quiet pride filling her words as she looked down at their newborn. She was pale, her elegant features framed by the same dark hair as Kaito's, but her exhaustion couldn't dim the joy shining in her crimson sharingan. The room was small, lit by the warm, dim glow of the overhead light, and despite the fatigue etched in her features, she looked radiant.

"I think we should name him Shiro," she said, her voice carrying a gentle finality.

Kaito's eyes softened even more. "Shiro." He repeated the name, testing it on his tongue. "Whatever you want to name him is fine with me, May," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her forehead, a simple gesture filled with more love than words could express. "As long as both of you are here, that's all I need."

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling both his wife and son closer as he rocked them gently, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It was a miracle—this tiny boy resting in their arms. They had dreamed of him, longed for him, and now, here he was.

"You did such an amazing job," Kaito whispered, his voice full of awe. "Now rest, love. I can take care of Shiro for a while. You've done more than enough."

May looked at him through half-lidded eyes, exhaustion pulling her down, but there was a soft protest on her lips. "Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden…"

Kaito chuckled softly, the sound warm and low. He reached out and gently poked her cheek, causing her to smile weakly. "Babe, you just carried this little guy for nine months. The least I can do is hold him while you get some rest."

May smiled, a bashful, contented smile, and let herself sink back into the bed, the weight of the past hours finally giving way to relief. She sighed softly, her body relaxing as sleep beckoned. "Maybe… you're right…" But she didn't finish the thought—her eyes fluttered shut, and she was asleep before the last word left her lips.

Kaito watched her for a moment, feeling an overwhelming surge of love for the woman who had brought their son into the world. He let out a quiet sigh of his own, one of pure, unfiltered happiness, before turning his gaze back to Shiro. The newborn stirred slightly in his arms, his tiny face scrunching up in his sleep.

"It really is a miracle we were able to have you," Kaito whispered, his voice filled with reverence. "I don't know how it happened, but I'm grateful. So, so grateful." He rocked his son gently, his heart full to bursting. "I promise, Shiro, I'll protect you and your mom. Always. No matter what."

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(A/N: Pretty slow first chapter to start out, but it will pick up fairly quickly. Within the first few chapters, we will have already gone to the academy, so get ready for some speed.)