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17 for Mnata - Iruka and Hatori

There was some kind of hushed but fierce argument going on between the husband and the wife in the waiting room of his office. Hatori waited in quiet discomfort just around the corner, hoping it would die down on its own before he had to call the woman in.

"There is nothing wrong with Dr. Souma's voice!"

"He sounds like a suspicious character to me--"

"As a matter of fact, his voice sounds quite a lot like yours."

"My point exactly!" the husband growled. "I know a suspicious character when I hear one; I AM a suspicious character! And I'm not going to let some other suspicious character go and take your clothes off and put his hands all over your--"

"He's a DOCTOR, Kakashi! This is called a PRENATAL EXAMINATION!"

Hatori noted to himself to delay taking the woman's blood pressure for a while, because the readings were likely to be artificially elevated for a good few minutes.

"Just go," the woman said, halfway between arguing and begging. "He's a doctor, Kakashi. They do these things because they're trained."

"Damn fishy job too, getting trained to strip other men's women naked and fondle them all over and stick your fingers--"

"KAKASHI." The woman stopped, and took several deep breaths, and said, "If you leave Naruto alone in that poor girl's kitchen any longer, they won't have any food left by the end of the day because he'll have made her cook all of it into ramen somehow. Just go."

"...Fine." The door hinge creaked quietly. "And if he gets too pushy, kick him."

"Yes, dear."

"I mean it. If he does anything you don't like, kick him. Or scream and I'll come kick him. A lot. I promise. I'll enjoy it even."

"Yes, dear," the woman said, and Hatori made another note on her chart about checking any fillings, because anyone who had to spend that much time grinding her teeth probably needed more frequent dentistry than usual. "Now go."

The door swung shut with a discontented jangle of bells, and the woman made a sound somewhere between laughter and a groan. Hatori couldn't blame her, really; he was a bit more cautious than usual looking around the corner into the waiting room, though.

"Umino-sensei?"

He hadn't meant to startle her, but she jumped a bit anyway, and then gave a nervous laugh. "Oh -- Dr. Souma? ...you heard that, didn't you? I'm so sorry. My husband is, er, a little too protective of me lately."

"I understand," Hatori said, and moved to offer her his hand, because she was struggling a bit with her bulk and the awkwardness of the waiting room seats.

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For Hatori, it was always a bittersweet thing to examine a pregnant woman late in her term. He could hardly begrudge the young family their joy, or their delight, or their proud anticipation, or their love -- he couldn't begrudge them, but he envied them far more than he cared to admit to himself, knowing that he would never share the same love, the same tender anticipation. Knowing that none of the children he touched within their mother's round bellies would ever be his own, and that there would never be a woman who looked at him with such breathless delight as her baby kicked at its father's hand...

The woman's medical chart was comfortingly ordinary. Umino Iruka, a schoolteacher in her twenties, no family history of genetic disorders or congenital defects, no personal history of any diseases that could affect the unborn fetus, no current medications beyond the standard vitamin supplements. There was a sharp lack of information about her first and second trimesters, but her current physician had begun regular examinations in what was estimated to be her twenty-fifth week, and she had maintained a comfortingly regular examination schedule from then on.

As he'd suspected, her blood pressure was a little on the high side when he first checked it; he made a note to check it again later in the examination, and continued. Her pulse was steady and strong and even, and her lungs were clear, and her reflexes were exemplary. Hatori resisted the urge to make an unprofessional notation about the man who had likely given her the need to develop such reflexes. She was a tall young woman, solidly though not heavily built. She'd clearly been through some difficult times; her body was scarred, though the scars were old enough that he had no immediate concern that her lifestyle might affect her child. Her weight was fairly normal for her condition; even with the softening of late pregnancy, it was clear that she'd been athletic once, and had maintained a reasonable amount of physical activity.

From the fundal height he measured, and the mass and turgidity of the distended uterus, Hatori agreed with her physician's estimate of the date of conception, and marked his own observations at the thirty-fifth week. Her abdomen would be tender and sensitive at such a late date, so he took care with his palpation; he stopped quickly when she bit down on her knuckles.

"Is this painful?"

She shook her head a little, and squeaked, "Ticklish...!"

"...Ah." Hatori considered for a moment, not quite certain how to tell her that he wouldn't mind if she laughed. "Tell me if you feel any discomfort from the pressure."

"Yes, doctor, I promise." She smiled at him warmly, and Hatori had the unnerving suspicion that she was indulging him. Perhaps it came from working with schoolchildren. He adjusted his reading glasses a bit, and resumed his examination at the midline of her abdomen.

The fetus' head was correctly lowered toward her pelvic bones, though not yet fully engaged; from the curve of the spine, the presentation was anterior, though of course the child would move about before its birth. It pushed back against the pressure of his fingertips, and then rolled to the other side.

Hatori sat back and took his glasses off to rub at his temples faintly.

"As a physician," he said in a quiet voice, "I wish that all of my patients could be as healthy and happy as you are, Umino-sensei, and that an examination could always be such a delightful formality to confirm your well-being and your child's. You and your care provider have done wonderfully. I must admit I find myself perplexed as to why you felt you needed a referral to me."

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"Oh. Er. Um." Hatori hadn't realized that someone with a complexion as tanned as hers could show a blush so clearly; he was accustomed to the pale Souma family, but she blushed just as vividly as Tohru did. "That's... um... I'm not sure exactly where to begin."

"You don't happen to be a distant Souma relative, do you?"

"No, sir, but -- the situation is, um, a little too similar for comfort. I mean..." The teacher scrubbed both hands through her ponytail in a gesture that left the pink bow in her hair lopsided, as though she weren't used to having it there. "I mean, I have a certain condition that's not ...immediately obvious, and, er, not in my records for safety's sake."

"Not in your records, for safety? Umino-sensei, what on earth--"

"I'm a man," she blurted out, her face beet-red.

"...Excuse me?"

She flinched a little, and laughed with a slightly desperate sound. "I know it sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? I mean, no surgical scars -- not that type, anyway -- it's just -- it's, er, complicated. Anyway, the point is that I was born a man, though, er, there've been circumstances. And -- given your own family history, I thought you'd understand how complicated circumstances can be..."

"You're under a curse?" Hatori asked, startled. "I do recall reading something in the journals about a recently discovered cluster of wells in China -- is that what's caused your curse?"

"Not exactly, but close enough," Iruka said, a little desperately. "And it's not that I want to 'break the curse' or anything -- I want to make sure I hold on long enough for the baby to be born, obviously! It's just that -- with your history in particular, doctor -- you have the dragon's spirit, and your family keeps records for centuries, and, well, seahorses are male when they give birth, of course."

"...Seahorses are..."

"And so I was wondering if you have any family records of any particular precautions I'd need to take during the birth process and--"

"Wait," Hatori said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose hard. "Iruka-sensei -- where did you find out about my curse?"

"Um." She was avoiding her eyes. "Let's say I... teach for a school that's associated with a more... avid and detailed rumor mill than usual."

"Not quite detailed enough, I'm afraid, ma'am," Hatori said, uncertain whether he was more tempted to laugh or to break something. "What precisely do you know about my condition?"

"That a dozen of your family in each generation are cursed with the spirits of the zodiac animals, and that... er... intimate contact with a member of the opposite sex... that that's what causes you to transform into these alternate forms," she said, almost steady, though still blushing. "But the family bloodline has continued through members with your condition. I mean, the cat's grandfather was also a cat, wasn't he? So it's not an absolute barrier to -- to a family life for that individual..."

"Did they mention the duration of the transformation?"

"Not in so many words, no." Umino-sensei hesitated a moment, then burst out, "I'm sorry I'm being rude, it's just that you're the only other case I've ever heard of that might -- might be anything like me. And I want so badly to know whether my child will be all right when I cancel the jutsu -- I mean, the curse -- I don't want all this to have been just a temporary warping of chakra-flow; I need to know the baby will be all right even after I change back--"

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And that made it even more difficult to explain the differences to her -- to him? -- to his patient, really. Hatori understood medicine itself well enough, but a reassuring bedside manner was always something he stumbled awkwardly through.

Carefully, he coaxed her hands free of the examination table's sheets and folded them over the solidly comforting bulk of her abdomen.

"Your child is real and alive by every medical standard I can measure," he said. "Given that I know nothing of your particular curse, I am not qualified to make absolute statements, but if you were one of us, I am certain your child would be safely born. Of course, if you were one of us, you would have to have been born female in order to conceive. The dragon's spirit -- all of the spirits, really -- we... um..."

Hatori briefly wished that the isopropyl alcohol on his desk was something a bit more drinkable, because acetaminophen really wasn't going to touch this headache.

"Umino-sensei, when I transform, I stay in that form for perhaps three to five minutes, at the most. And the return is just as involuntary as the transformation. I doubt that it would be possible for any of our animal shapes to manage to reproduce during that amount of time, regardless of native gender."

The expressions that crossed her face were as swift and vivid as Kyo's, though not as instantly transformed into infrastructure-destroying expressions. "Oh," she said, sounding sick for the first time. "Oh. So I've just -- just humiliated us both, for no purpose--"

"No," he said, and set a hand upon her shoulder gently. "I certainly understand why you'd wish to discuss it with someone. You're in a position that's just as unique as ours, it seems, and so the number of people who might understand can be sadly limited."

"That's certainly true enough," the schoolteacher said, with a crooked smile.

"If at any point you have questions, or would like to discuss your situation with me -- feel free to call me. At any time, mind. I'm accustomed to middle-of-the-night phone calls, and I serve only the Souma family itself under ordinary circumstances, so my schedule is not so taxing that you would be putting me under any inconvenience."

That expressive face of hers still showed more reluctance than he liked to see in a patient, and so Hatori wrote his personal number on the back of a business card and put it firmly into her hand. "Promise me, Umino-sensei. Anything you need to discuss, at any time. Crises don't take a number and wait patiently in waiting rooms. You're a schoolteacher; you should know that."

"Yes, doctor," she said again, with that same indulgent tone, but he wasn't about to protest so long as she agreed.

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"Good. Now, while you're here, do you happen to need a refill of any of your vitamins or--"

"Tori-san! Tori-saaan! It's -- it's-- my God, it's astounding. Breathtaking. Come with me, Tori-san, you must see this!" And Aya burst into the room with a swirl of red hems and shining hair, not even bothering to knock first.

"Ayame--"

Aya blinked, not accustomed to hearing his full name in that tone of voice from Hatori, but he wasn't about to let anything unrail his one-track mind. "It's -- terrifying, awe-inspiring, it's-- there's a man in the kitchen talking with Gure-chan about BOOKS. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever--"

"Ayame, why are you interrupting a patient consultation for this?"

"Well -- it's the type of books they're talking about, Tori-san-- he has the most... creative... ideas for Gure-san's next romance series, and--"

Hatori hadn't realized that a woman with Umino-sensei's coloring could go that pale. Or that close to purple, particularly not that close together.

"I'm going to KILL him," she said, easing herself down from the examination table and straightening her dress with a flick and stalking heavily toward the door to the hall.

"Tori-san, I think she's not kidding," Aya said, and then laughed brightly. "Good thing the clinic is right here, isn't it?"

"I'm not set up for emergency surgery, Aya," Hatori reminded him, and really wished that isopropyl alcohol was a little less toxic and more intoxicating. "Go get Yuki."

"What?"

"Just go get him." I need SOMEONE with a level and quiet head on his shoulders to help me ward off a domestic violence report. And the boy's martial arts skills probably aren't going to hurt either.

"At once, Tori-san! You can rely upon me to draw upon the bonds of filial love and piety for--"

Hatori wasn't even listening, because Umino-sensei could move faster than he'd expected for one so late in her pregnancy, and her howl of outrage in the kitchen was certainly distinctive. ...The kitchen. With all the big, sharp knives. At least scalpels are SMALL...

Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first set of walls they'd lost to domestic disputes around here, Hatori thought, as he heard an all too familiar crunching-and-splintering sound.

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ciceqi

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I just love everything about this! The length is perfect, long enough to go over everything and make me feel like I've actually read something done, and not a WIP.

"...Fine." The door hinge creaked quietly. "And if he gets too pushy, kick him."
"Yes, dear."
"I mean it. If he does anything you don't like, kick him. Or scream and I'll come kick him. A lot. I promise. I'll enjoy it even."
This part just cracked me up. I can just hear Kakashi saying this in a serious tone, including the part about enjoying the kicking. :D

Aww, I feel so much for Hatori. You've captured him so well, from the sadness that is part of him and his past, to the later craziness when he's around Ayame and/or Shigure. And whenever something weird happens in his life, he immediately suspects it's related to his family's curse. Boy, is he getting a surprise this time.

The scene where Iruka is explaining to Hatori exactly what he knows about the curse had me alternately smiling and sighing. Iruka is trying so desperately to figure out what he has to do to keep his child real and healthy, and he's so...I guess relieved to find someone who knows anything about his condition. And Hatori is trying to understand where Iruka is coming from and why Iruka came specifically to him. When they are stumbling through what to say without saying too much or becoming embarrassing, their misconceptions and misunderstandings are amusing.
Once they finally connect, however, it's so sad. Hatori, having to let down Iruka as gently as he knows how and still be supportive. And Iruka, having to find out that he is still a unique case.

I don't need to say anything about Ayame. Because, really, what can you say about Ayame? :P
(Except for the fact that if Ayame and Maito Gai EVER got together, the world would end. Either that, or the two would have to fight to the death over their differing fashion senses.)

This is the perfect ending. Even though everything didn't end up sunshine and roses, there's still the hope that some things will be improved (like the schoolhouse walls) and that things are still the same beneath it all (like Kakashi and Shigure).

And to end it all, a few more lines that cracked me up:
"Damn fishy job too, getting trained to strip other men's women naked and fondle them all over and stick your fingers--"
Hatori briefly wished that the isopropyl alcohol on his desk was something a bit more drinkable, because acetaminophen really wasn't going to touch this headache.
"It's -- terrifying, awe-inspiring, it's-- there's a man in the kitchen talking with Gure-chan about BOOKS.
Hatori reminded him, and really wished that isopropyl alcohol was a little less toxic and more intoxicating. (I love the word-play on this one! And every time I hear the song "Its 5 O'Clock Somewhere" I think of Hatori. With his life, he needs a drink. Probably many drinks.)

In short, although I was envisioning something more on the cute and funny side of life, this is sooo much better. And I will definitely wait as long as you need for more Side Effects. The FF7 fic(lets) are numbing the cravings quite well for now.

Mnata

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