Blue Seed Fan Fiction ❯ My Gift To You ❯ Coming To Terms ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimers in the first chapter, etc.

My Gift To You

A tale of what comes after

Where Momiji cooked, Kusanagi did dishes. It was the trade off, like everything in their lives. She cooked, he did dishes. She stayed home and took care of the house, he worked. She held the purse strings; he held a job.

It wasn't Tokyo, but Izumo. He had preferred it this way, in the end. Near the path on which they'd met from the Cave of Restoration. Her mother's failing health had lead to a nursing home, and so the Fujimiya home was now their home. Quiet large for just the two of them, but he always suspected that Momiji thought it was just space to be filled with family.

Family was not something he could not avoid now.

Ever since the bomb had been dropped, he seemed to be swimming through a thick haze. It had taken him a moment to register what she'd said and in no uncertain terms, his lack of enthusiasm about the whole thing had wounded her.

The last dish was set to dry on the rack, and he reached for the hand towel by the sink, drying off his hands. His gloves were tucked in a back pocket, but he didn't put them back on. It was a sort of sign between them; when his hands were bare, he was vulnerable, and he was hers.

Playing the situation over and over again in his mind, he was certain of its outcome. Momiji was in their room crying her eyes out because he hadn't been happy that he was going to be a father.

Unplugging the drain, Kusanagi listened to the water gurgle down the drain. He leaned against the countertop, his hands pressed against the edge. The dirty water and soap suds swirled, sucking down into the black hole of the drain and he watched it all, feeling his world go with it.

Fatherhood was nothing he had looked forward to. Or even expected. After all, he'd never really thought about the consequences of their love. Beyond being happy with her, at least; he thought about that. That he was happy.

But not that being blissfully happy might be derailed by being a father.

Fears were already whispering in his ear. He wasn't human anymore. While he was certain the eight mitama that made him Aragami did not make him less of a man in Momiji's eyes, he knew he was not the same as her or her kin, anymore. He had not been since Orochi had made him the guardian of the Kushinada, the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi.

But if he was Aragami, and she was human… what the hell had their love created, anyway? Happiness? And what else?

The sink was empty. He stared at the stainless steel, and then canted his gaze upwards.

Momiji was upstairs, in their room.

The gloves were taken out of his pocket, and given a brief glance. Once worn to help hide his mitama, they had been armor and they both knew it. Now they were off, and he was unguarded. Tossing them without ceremony to the table he headed upstairs slowly, slippered feet quiet on the stairs.

Her tiny sobs were only audible just outside their door.

Inwardly, he kicked himself. Idiot, he told himself. Idiot. A few other choice words came to mind as he opened the door and let himself in, still quiet.

His wife curled on their bed, her slippers kicked off, hugging one pillow and hiding her face in the other. He wondered if he could kick himself, after a moment, but didn't bother trying to find out.

He was sure she knew he was there, but she did not roll over or even move from her fetal curl upon the bed. Did she think he'd reject her now? That he didn't love her, because of this? He'd been so stupid, but he wasn't quite sure if he could have reacted any other way... How was he supposed to react, anyway? Did every husband jump for joy over a child?

She didn't greet him as he moved over to their bed, sitting down at the edge of it, reaching out to touch her red hair, fingers skimming through the strands as her stroked her, trying to calm her.

"I'm sorry," he began lamely. "I just didn't know how to react, Momiji."

"Saying something other then 'okay' would have been helpful," she sniffled.

"Well, my first thought was 'This is a joke', but I didn't think that would be right," he admitted sheepishly.

Momiji gave a groan, and then sat up slowly, rubbing at her reddened eyes. She did not resist when her husband slid and arm around her and tugged her against him gently.

"I just... I knew..."

"Knew what?"

"That it wouldn't make you happy," she said. When he didn't deny it, she added, "It makes me happy, Mamoru."

"It..." he pondered his next words with care. "It makes me nervous, Momiji."

He felt her head move in a nod against his shoulder.

"I understand," she said slowly. "I'm kind of nervous myself. But I don't think for the same reasons." Her small hand lifted to lie over his chest; his mitama responded with a gentle pulse they both could feel. One mitama had been a part of her before it had been a part of him and it still connected them, even if the bond had weakened since it had been separated from her flesh.

"I'm Aragami, Momiji," he said, as if he needed to say nothing else.

"You're Kusanagi Mamoru, and I love you," Momiji persisted, her green eyes still wet with tears. "And that is all that matters to me."

"And the baby?" Kusanagi prompted. "What about the baby, Momiji? What… what is…"

His voce stilled as she looked up at him, making him meet her gaze. She weighed her words as carefully as he had weighed his before she finally spoke again.

"I don't think," she said with utmost care, "that any thing we make together could come out bad or wrong, Kusanagi Mamoru." Her hand left his chest, and found his ungloved palm. Taking it in hers, she pressed his hand to her belly, and added, "Including any child of ours."

She meant every word; he could hear her sincerity, see it on her face. It soothed some of his worries, but others remained. Still, he managed to smile for her, and leaned down to kiss her gently, assuaging her own worries.

Breaking away he said, "Alright, Princess. I won't worry if you won't, then." He smirked slightly, and then added, "But I'll be damned if I'm picking out baby names yet, okay?"

She laughed lightly, and both her arms were flung around his neck to hug him tightly. "Oh, Mamoru!" she cried, "It'll be okay! I promise!" She tugged him down to their bed, her arms still around him, and kissed him again. "I promise," she repeated in a whisper.

"I believe you," Kusanagi replied, and then tugged her close. "So… you wanna tell me when you figured out the grand news?"

"I… I was late," she said slowly, "and when we went up for little Ichiro's birthday," she said, speaking of Kunikida Daitetsu and Ryoko's first son, "I talked to Matsu-nee, and she ran some tests. It just seemed so funny… I mean, two years of marriage and only just now?"

"You know, I never even thought about if I could have kids, Momiji," Kusanagi admitted.

"Well, she confirmed everything," Momiji said, cheer returning to her tone. "As of this week, I'll be eight weeks pregnant, Mamoru."

"So why didn't you tell me earlier?" he asked. "Ichiro-kun's birthday was last week."

"She didn't call me with the results until this morning, just after you left," Momiji explained. "So I didn't know for sure until today."

"Ah. So... Eight weeks?" He blinked, and peered at her. "But... Hmm. That would mean…"

"Yeah," she gave a blissful sigh, memory washing over her. "That little jaunt to the sea."

"Figures," he muttered, before giving her another kiss. "At least we can tell them lovely stories about their romantic vacation conception?"

"I don't want to tell them anything about their conception!" Momiji squealed in protest, "Pervert!"

"Only for you," he rumbled, drawing her close. "Only for you."

Affection had replaced worry, and now ardor replaced affection as the storm of dark emotions started to clear. As Momiji untucked his shirt, she murmured, "Promise?"

"Promise," he said, voice dropping in octave.

"Show me," she requested coyly.

He obliged her with great enthusiasm