Fire and Oil 2

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A requested continuation. In which Jiraiya and reader are forced back to Konoha during the difficult time of a premature labour and confronting Hiruzen again

Warning: graphic depiction of birth and C section. Blood. Pain. Sickly baby things. Canon death

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Jiraiya's sole focus was on the miraculous little thing in his arms. He smiles as his rather small son wiggles. It's the first time he got to hold Hiro. It's nice being able to see him up close. He has all the Sarutobi traits. This kid is all you. Of what glimpses of are possible, Jiraiya did see that his son has black eyes. They don't open for more than a few seconds before shutting again. Despite being so young, Hiro has a lot of hair. It's short and softer than silk. It's the same colour as your hair. It's hard to believe he's here.

The newborn is premature after all, he's got a few health issues. Scary ones that threaten the little guy's rate of survival. He's too tiny and thin to keep himself warm so he's currently wrapped up in a few layers while out of the incubator. Apparently his intestines have some kind of problem. It's common among premies but it's no less scary. The saddest thing is seeing the baby version of breathing tubes stuck in the wee little boy's nose to assist with the simple task. The poor thing can't get enough oxygen by himself. Unfortunately it means the long emotionally gruelling process of Jiraiya's family stuck in the hospital for some time.

You aren't in good health either. How can you be? You gave birth two months early. In the middle of a field. With the only one assisting you being Jiraiya. It was a stressful process that was made even more stressful when anbu decided to drop in. He was practically feral at that point, ready to strike down any black ops that tried to interfere. Same team or not, he wasn't sure. You and him have been gone for so long it wouldn't be crazy to think Hiruzen named him a traitor. So many thoughts of what they would do spiked his stress higher than her thought it could ever go.

But it two things quickly became clear. They are there to help and he's not equipped to deal with assisting in childbirth. You said something that comforted him. When one of the anbu rested a hand on yours, you stared at them for some time before smiling and uttering a very soft greeting to your brother. With the assurance that he's in the company of those who only wish to help, he took a less direct role and comforted you. But higher cruel benevolent power decided to make this a horrific experience. One bad piece of information after another about this birthing process slowly lead to the very real reality that if the baby were to survive, you had to be cut open.

You, as tough and determined as you are, agreed. You steeled your heart and told your sibling to do it as slowly as they needed to ensure the baby doesn't get hurt. It was... awful. Jiraiya didn't really have a choice but to watch. He cradled your head to bury against his chest and he held you there to keep you from watching. You wails and howls of pain felt like ice was coursing through his body rather than blood. Your fingers bore wounds into his back but he didn't care. It was a sick gore show to witness as your flesh was cut open and layers peeled back to reveal a not so animated baby inside of you. The breached position and complicated placement of the cord around the child had taken a toll on the little guy. It took longer to actually... birth him. Blood was everywhere. You. The baby. The ground. Jiraiya.

Even now as Jiraiya holds Hiro there's old caked blood on his arms, torso, and thighs. He had to wash his hands in order to hold his child, the rest he didn't care about. He had to carry you. He wouldn't allow any anbu, in-laws or not, to lay another finger on you.

Surely his bloody arrival didn't go unnoticed. The quiet stop around Konoha was certainly ruined as his loudly announced himself and you by walking into town covered in blood, his arms shaking as he held you from the building anxiety at your condition. With anbu on either side of him, one of whom was holding his baby that was wrapped up tightly in his haori. The soft cries were too weak of that of a healthy baby. It's a sound that breaks the toughest of hearts. It makes for quite the spectacle.

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