Evening came quickly, dragging the sky down in a curtain of dark clouds. The rain returned as if on cue, heavy and relentless. The little hut groaned with every gust of wind. A single oil lamp flickered by the wall, its flame bending with each draft that slipped through the gaps in the wood.
Hayami sat where she had been all day, cradling her newborn son. The cloth wrapped around him was already damp. The faint warmth of his small body was the only thing keeping her hands from going numb.
The rain sounded like footsteps outside... thousands of tiny ones... a noise she could never get used to. She'd always found comfort in rain. But now it sounded like grief. Every drop reminded her of her husband who might never come back. But she told herself not to lose hope.
The baby stirred in her arms, his tiny face scrunching as he let out a weak cry.
"There, there," she whispered, rocking him gently. "It's alright, little one."
She pressed him closer, but he wouldn't stop. His mouth opened again, searching blindly. Hayami hesitated, loosening her robe. She guided him to her breast, hoping instinct did the rest.
He latched eagerly, but after a few seconds, he pulled away and began to cry louder.
Hayami frowned. She tried again. Nothing.
Her heartbeat quickened. "No, no, no…" she murmured. "Please, not now."
She switched sides, praying it was just one side gone dry, but the same thing happened... his mouth moved, his tongue pushed, his small hands trembled, and still nothing came out. The sound of his crying tore through her breast more sharply than any blade.
Midori had left earlier in the afternoon to her home. She'd promised to check on them the next morning.
Hayami sat there for awhile but it felt like hours, her body shivering. The baby's cries rose and fell like waves until his voice broke. Her heart ached... she couldn't produce milk. Her stomach growled.
"Why?" she whispered, her throat tight. "Why am I not getting any milk?"
She looked down at him. His cheeks were flushed, tears wetting his face. He didn't understand, couldn't. But his hunger was real, and she had nothing to give.
The guilt came rushing in, sharp and deep. She felt useless. What kind of mother couldn't feed her own child?
Her breath came unevenly now, panic rising. "What should I feed you, little one?"
The wind blew harder outside, and water began to seep through the roof. She looked around the hut... there was nothing. No dry food, no spare blanket, nothing worth trading. Midori told not to feed anything other than her milk.
She stood, clutching the baby close. She could still make it to Midori's hut before night set in fully. It wasn't far... maybe fifteen minutes if she ran.
Hayami took the old straw mat and pulled it over her head. With one arm, she held Deidara tight against her chest; with the other, she tried to shield him from the rain.
The door creaked as she stepped out. Cold air hit her immediately, slicing through the thin fabric of her clothes. She began to run.
The streets were nearly empty. A few stubborn vendors huddled under patched tents, trying to sell dried fish and roots. Their lanterns glowed faintly through the rain. No one stopped to buy... no one had money to spare.
Mud splashed up her legs as she ran. She could barely see through the rain, but she knew the path well. Each step sank deep, her sandals threatening to slip off.
Her baby cried again, a weak, pleading sound muffled by the downpour. "Hold on," she whispered. "Just a little longer."
The slope near the river bend was always dangerous when it rained. She tried to tread carefully, but the ground gave way beneath her. Her feet slid, and before she knew it, she was falling.
Instinct took over... she twisted her body mid-fall, curling her arm around the baby, keeping him above the mud. Her shoulder hit the ground hard, pain shooting up her scapula.
She gritted her teeth, gasping, and looked down immediately. The baby was crying but unhurt. Relief made her dizzy.
She got up slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in her shoulder. The mat had fallen off, soaked through. She picked it up anyway and threw it back over them.
Her breath was ragged, but she kept moving. The thought of Midori's steady hands, her calm voice, pushed her forward.
When she finally reached the old woman's hut, her knees were trembling. The light inside flickered, and she could see Midori's silhouette moving around.
Hayami pushed the door open with her shoulder. "Midori-san!" she called out, her voice cracking.
The old woman turned, startled, then hurried to her side. "Heavens, girl! What happened to you?"
Hayami was soaked from head to toe, her hair plastered to her face. She looked ready to collapse.
Midori quickly pulled a dry cloth from a shelf and pressed it into her hands. "Dry yourself, you'll catch your death."
But Hayami ignored it. She knelt on the floor, clutching her baby. Her first movement was to unwrap him carefully and wipe his small face dry.
Once the baby was dry, Hayami looked up, desperate. "He won't stop crying," she said, voice trembling. "He's hungry. I can't… I can't feed him."
Midori frowned, moving closer. "You mean you've no milk?"
Hayami shook her head. "Not anymore. I was able to feed him this morning. But now—" her voice broke, "there's nothing."
Midori placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "Calm down. Breathe, child. We'll find something."
Hayami's eyes filled with tears. "What do I feed him, Midori? Please, tell me."
The baby's cries began again... weaker this time, hoarse. Hayami tried to hush him, her hands trembling.
Midori's face hardened with resolve. "Wait here."
She shuffled to a small chest in the corner and opened it. Inside were a few clay jars, half-filled with supplies... rice, dried herbs, and a dozen sealed bottle. She picked out one carefully.
"This," she said, returning to Hayami. "It's milk. From the local women who trade it for money."
Hayami stared at it as if it were gold. "Can I—?"
"Of course," Midori said, already fetching a small cloth nipple from the shelf. "Warm it first." She poured some of the milk into a clay cup and held it near the lamp until steam began to rise.
--
A/N: For the advanced chapters, you can choose the amount you want to pay. @patreon.com/DeidaraTheFourth
I wanted to depict the struggles civilians face in times of Iwa. With Iwa's economy already poor. This will be a slow burn fic it will take time to develop. Do let me know your thoughts.