23 March 2003
Japanese Red Cross Medical Center — Hiroo, Shibuya
The delivery room should have been filled with joy.
Instead, it froze.
The moment the newborn emerged, the doctor nearly dropped him. His hands trembled violently as he stared at the infant, no, at the eyes staring back at him.
Deep brown.
A dead, chilling brown.
And in the center of each iris
a narrow, reptilian slit.
What… is this…? the doctor thought, throat tightening.
The baby didn't cry.
Not even after the nurse slapped his back.
He simply observed the room in perfect silence… the way a predator might watch prey that had nowhere to run.
Uzumaki Tamaki lay on the bed, exhausted but alert. The moment she saw her son's eyes, her breath caught in her throat.
"…Yusuke," she whispered, voice trembling. "What is this. What is this, Yusuke?"
Her husband, Uzumaki Yusuke, was pale but he forced himself to step forward, putting an arm around her shoulders, trying to be her anchor.
"Calm down, Tamaki," he murmured, though his voice shook. "At the end of the day… he's still our child. Right?"
Tamaki didn't look convinced.
She pointed at her newborn with an unsteady hand.
"Then explain his eyes," she said, her voice rising despite her fear. "Why do they look like that? Why isn't he crying? What is he, Yusuke? What is he?"
Yusuke hugged her tighter, pressing a kiss to her forehead, trying to steady her emotions and his own.
"I'm sure there's an explanation," he said quietly. "Something medical or something rare. But… there has to be an explanation."
He turned sharply toward the doctor.
"I don't care how much it costs," he said, voice low but firm. "Find every expert you can realistically call. Anyone. Even if they're in the deep ends of Azerbaijan."
The doctor nodded quickly, too quickly and rushed out of the room.
Yusuke exhaled, long and heavy, then looked back at Tamaki. She was clutching the baby with disbelief written across her face.
He kissed her forehead again.
"It's going to be fine," he assured her. "This is probably some new sickness or condition. We'll fix it. Don't worry."
And then
finally
the baby cried.
A small, sharp wail filled the room.
Yusuke's eyes brightened instantly.
Tamaki's tense shoulders loosened. Relief washed over her face.
"…Disregarding the eyes," she whispered softly, "my baby is… quite cute, isn't he?"
Yusuke chuckled under his breath.
"He's got his father's looks."
Tamaki nodded weakly. "He really does, doesn't he…"
The crying continued, high and insistent.
Yusuke raised a brow. "Tamaki, he's probably hungry. Feed him."
"I got it, I got it," she replied, adjusting her hold.
For a moment, one short, fragile moment it felt almost normal.
---
Five Months Later
The sky was gray over the open sea.
A wooden crate floated near the shore, sealed tightly, drifting gently with the waves.
A woman knelt beside it, sobbing uncontrollably.
Tamaki.
Her hands trembled as she placed her five-month-old son wrapped carefully in blankets into the crate.
Beside her, another woman knelt, gripping her arm desperately.
"Tamaki… does it really have to go this far?" Kushina asked, voice breaking. "Are you sure about this?"
Tamaki's tears wouldn't stop.
"Kushina… I can't do it," she choked out. "I really can't. I'm scared of this child. I cannot sleep at night."
She wiped at her face, but more tears followed.
"He attracts snakes," she whispered. "Snakes, Kushina. They gather around him. They don't bite him. They don't harm him. It's like… it's like they praise him."
Her voice cracked.
"Tell me, Kushina. Is that a normal child?"
Kushina hesitated, because she didn't want to answer.
Because she couldn't deny it.
"…What will Yusuke say?" she finally whispered. "It's his child too, Tamaki. You can't just… send him away without telling him."
Tamaki squeezed her eyes shut, grief tearing through her chest.
"I don't know what I'll do about Yusuke," she whispered. "But I do know I can't live in the same house as this child. I just… can't."
Kushina's expression softened painfully.
"…Fine," she said. "As your best friend, I'll support whatever decision you take."
"Thank you…" Tamaki whispered, voice shaking. "I just hope he finds someone who will love him. Because right now… as his mother… I can't give him that love."
She placed Oden's identification and a few necessary items inside the crate.
The baby, oblivious, smiled brightly reaching up toward her with tiny hands.
Tamaki broke completely.
"I'm sorry, Oden…" she whispered, voice trembling. "I really… hope you live a fulfilling life."
She lowered the lid.
Closed it.
And with shaking arms, she pushed the crate away, letting it drift onto the open sea.
Kushina wrapped her arms around her as Tamaki collapsed into sobs.
"It will be okay," Kushina whispered, trying to steady her.
But Tamaki suddenly regretted her decision and shoved Kushina away and ran toward the water.
"My baby!! My baby!!"
Kushina caught her from behind, locking her arms around her waist as Tamaki thrashed and screamed.
"Tamaki! The crate is too far! If you go after it, you'll drown!"
Tamaki fought her grip, tears streaming down her face.
"But my baby, ! My baby!"
Kushina held her tighter, voice breaking.
"There's… nothing we can do now…"
She extended one hand out toward the sea, fingers trembling helplessly.
The crate drifted farther.
And farther.
And then
it was simply carried away by the tides.
Slowly disappearing into the endless horizon.
---
Somewhere at Sea - Near Vancouver, Canada
The water was calm, lightly rocking a small fishing boat drifting not far from Vancouver's coast. Onboard sat a middle-aged man, lines cast out, concentrating on his rod.
Beside him, a tiny girl, no older than three years bounced up and down impatiently.
"Daddy! Daddy! When are we catching the fishies?" she shouted, bright-eyed and excited.
The man couldn't help smiling at her enthusiasm.
"Olivia," he said warmly, "fishing is part of a process. You don't just reel in a fish the minute you drop a hook."
Olivia blinked, tilting her head. "Is that so?"
The man chuckled. "Yes. What's needed when fishing is patience."
Just as he finished speaking, something drifting on the waves caught his eye.
A crate.
He narrowed his gaze.
It floated steadily toward their boat, the currents pushing it closer and closer.
When it reached the side of the vessel, the man leaned over and grabbed hold but the moment he tried to lift it, he frowned.
"…It's a little heavy," he muttered.
Olivia peeked over curiously. "Daddy, what's that?"
"I don't know," he admitted, "but it's slightly heavy."
He knelt and unlatched the crate, pushing the lid open.
And the moment he saw what was inside, he nearly fell backward off the boat.
A baby?
Inside the crate lay a tiny infant, not even a year old, sleeping peacefully with a small smile on its face.
What is a baby doing here in a crate? he wondered, mind racing.
Olivia gasped loudly.
"Daddy, it's a baby!"
The man forced himself to breathe, then managed a gentle smile for his daughter.
"Indeed… it's a baby."
He exhaled slowly, steadying his voice.
"Olivia, we'll have to stop fishing for today, okay? Daddy needs to take the baby to the hospital to make sure the baby is still okay."
Olivia nodded happily. "Okay!"
The man reached out and patted her head. "Good girl."
Internally, though, he couldn't help screaming.
Oh my god… these kinds of situations are straight out of a movie.
He pulled the crate fully onto the boat, looked at the peacefully sleeping baby again and turned the ship back toward Vancouver.