Chapter Text
Saori wanted kids. It was clear as day: when babies babbled and grasped for her on the train, she smiled wide; when children at the school clinic asked silly questions, made strange faces at her, she always laughed; and when the neighbors told stories about their children, she would listen intently, with an unblinking focus that made Hamuko coo at her.
At first, Hamuko had wondered: did Saori just have a natural inclination towards children, or did she want to have some of her own?
The answer came, in Hamuko’s opinion, in the unlikeliest of places. They hadn’t even been talking about children; Goro was over at the apartment, and Ken had followed, the four of them watching the latest Featherman movie of which Yukari was a part. Hamuko could tell Saori was struggling to keep still. Though she wasn’t quite the ball of nerves she had been in high school, she was still reserved around people she didn’t know well, and it made her antsy.
But this was different— Hamuko knew for a fact. Saori was close enough to Goro through his own camaraderie with Hamuko, and Ken was still a teenager, and thus, in Saori’s eyes, a child she could be comfortable conversing with. And they had conversed— a lot, actually; they’d talked through the whole movie. Saori knew nothing about Featherman, so she had taken it upon herself to learn it from Ken. So what was the problem?
“Saori,” Hamuko called to her, once she bid Ken and Goro farewell at the door. “Could you come here for a sec?”
Saori peeked her head out of the genkan. She looked guilty, like she’d been caught in a lie. Though the lie, technically, hadn’t even been spoken aloud yet. “What’s the matter?”
“Come here first.”
Saori shuffled over. Once she was in reach, Hamuko pulled her to her chest, resting her head in the crook of Saori’s shoulder and hands on the dip of her waist. Saori relaxed in her hold, though some part of her remained stiff, likely expecting some form of rebuke. The truth would need a gentle coaxing; as such, Hamuko remained with her there, soothing the tension from Saori’s sides, until Saori sighed blissfully and went limp.
“You’ve been acting strange all day,” Hamuko said, after a prolonged moment of silence. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
“Mmm.” Saori leaned her head against Hamuko’s. “Nothing’s wrong. Today was… fun. And I liked the movie a lot.”
“But something’s been bothering you.”
Saori pulled back, searched her eyes for signs of disappointment. When Hamuko offered none, she bit her lip. “I’ve… never been that experienced with children. I didn’t have siblings, and pretty much everyone gave me a wide berth. But…” She lowered her gaze. “When Amada-kun came over, I was… desperate to make him feel at home. I couldn’t stop worrying about whether or not I was saying the right thing, and— and I needed to, because—”
“You want kids, don’t you?”
Saori shut up. She dragged her gaze up like it was physically painful to do so. “Wh-what did you say?”
“Sorry,” Hamuko said, sheepish, “I just kind of figured. I mean, you fuss over the kids at work, and you’re always asking questions about the neighbors—”
“No,” Saori said on instinct. Then backtracked: “I mean, yes. Yes, you’re right. God, I… I have no idea what to say. You’re too observant.” She laughed awkwardly, then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just that… if I can’t even make Amada-kun comfortable in my own home, then how can I do the same for my children? I-if I had any, I mean.”
Hamuko forced a laugh, too, unsure what to do with her mouth. But once she opened it, it ran off without her consent. “You don’t need to worry about that. You’re incredible with the kids at the clinic, and you’re so… full of love. I can’t imagine you being anything but a kind mother.” She tipped Saori’s chin up with her finger. “Hey, honey… Let’s have kids. If you’re willing.”
Saori’s face lit up. And that’s no exaggeration of the word, either; looking at her was like looking into direct sunlight. “Really? You mean it?”
“I’ve been thinking about it, too.” Hamuko’s lips quirked up. Her wife’s excitement, no matter the occasion, was unfailingly adorable. “I also don’t know what it’s like… having a family. But I have you, and the others, and I can see us having room for more. What do you think? We can talk more about it later, but—”
“Yes!” Saori lunged for her, wrapping her in a tight, consuming hug. “Yes, yes— oh, god. Hamuko, I love you so much.”
She was crying. Though silent, Hamuko could feel the shiver in her shoulders, in her breath, and it made her teary-eyed, too. “I love you too.” She imposed some distance between them, only so that she could catch Saori’s face in her hands and pull her into a kiss. They pressed together needily, with little regard for propriety, teeth and tongue meeting in a messy clash. Hamuko was getting maybe a bit more eager than she should, but she didn’t care. She wanted Saori. She always wanted Saori.
“Hamuko, hey,” Saori said, when Hamuko’s hands crept too far up her shirt. She was giggling, which Hamuko took to mean that she didn’t mind it that much.
“Mm, sorry.” She stepped back a little. “What’s up?”
Saori slipped their fingers together, guided Hamuko to sit with her on the couch until they were angled towards each other. She kept their hands intertwined as she spoke: “You said that you’d been thinking about kids, too. If you don’t mind me asking… what were you thinking about?”
That made Hamuko blush, much as she tried to hide it; while she had no problems interrogating others about their problems, being the one put on the spot made her unbearably anxious. But the Saori in her head chanted that she wouldn’t be judged for it, so she answered, “It’s nothing too out there. I just… wondered what it’d be like to raise a child. To give them the childhood I dreamed of, like teaching them how to bake, going to the beach with them, helping them discover the things they like and don’t like… that kind of stuff. It’s really mushy.”
Saori smiled and stroked her thumb over the back of Hamuko’s hand. “I like mushy. And I’ve been thinking about those things, too.” She gripped Hamuko’s hand a bit tighter. “My family… I mean, my parents— they always expected me to be the one to carry on the family name. I was their only child. But the thought of our child being an Arisato and not a Hasegawa makes me feel… relieved, honestly. Like I’m finally starting a new chapter of my life.”
“I’m glad,” Hamuko said. She couldn’t stop beaming. “I mean, I never thought there would be another Arisato that wasn’t me. To think that there’ll be two…”
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Saori laughed, full-bodied, like there was energy trapped in her body that she couldn’t help but release all at once. “Oh, Hamuko, I… I don’t know what to do. I’m so overwhelmed, I could fly.”
Hamuko wanted to kiss her so badly. She held back, only so that she could say, “Let’s just take it slow for now. No need to consider everything at once.” And then kissed her anyway, soft and sweet, so much that her teeth ached. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Later, when they were both settled comfortably in bed, Saori turned to her and said, “Hamuko. I think… I want to try carrying the child. We can adopt too, if you prefer that, but… I want to know what it’s like. Bearing that kind of responsibility.”
“I see.” Hamuko squirmed a bit. “I… I want what you want. But is that… okay? Like, pregnancy is a big deal, isn’t it?”
That was putting it lightly, but it drew a laugh out of Saori. Her laughter was like a balm; it never failed to put Hamuko’s nerves at ease, even when her laughter wasn’t real. But this was real. Hamuko hadn’t heard her fake a laugh in what felt like years. “Of course it’s a big deal. But that’s why I want it. I want to live with the pain and joy it caused me for the rest of my life. And maybe that sounds weird, but…”
“It’s not weird! Promise.” Hamuko took her hand and brushed a kiss against it. She thought of it, too: watching the baby grow, feeling its kicks against Saori’s belly, counting the days until the moment she could hold their child in her arms, fragile and wailing, but alive.
That was probably what sold it to her, in the end. They spent the next few months hashing it out between work shifts and dinner, discussing everything spanning from health to education to small things, like what to name them, when Saori should conceive, who should be the donor. Saori suggested scrolling through the catalogues of nearby sperm banks, but Hamuko already had an idea. If he was amenable to it, anyway.
So she called Goro over to their apartment with the pretense of dinner, making sure he was loose and relaxed before she made her proposal. And if she wasn’t loose and relaxed, then, well, that was for her to know and for the others to never find out.
He’ll probably freak out, she thought, almost on the verge of panic. He’ll climb out the window and scale down the side of the building.
But when she finally managed to break the news to him, Goro just looked at her, blank-faced and calculating, and responded, “Why would you want it to be me?”
“Because,” Hamuko said, realizing she never really thought past the “you’re my best friend” stage. “Because I want you to be a part of our family. And I don’t mean you need to be a dad or anything, because that’s not your job, that’s ours, but… I want you to be like, the uncle, or the godparent, or whatever it is you wanna call it— just a part of us somehow. Y’know?”
As she rambled, Saori placed her hand over Hamuko’s and squeezed. It was only then that Hamuko noticed that she had been wringing her fingers together. “And hey,” she blurted out, desperate to lighten the mood, “you kinda look like me, too! So the baby will look like me too, sort of.”
Goro gawked at her. “I look nothing like you.”
“You do!”
“It’s in the eyes,” Saori said, smiling sunnily.
Goro backed down, but not without a snarl. But it wasn’t like he was angry; the pinch in his expression felt thoughtful, in a way that made Hamuko hope that he was considering it.
She really hoped he was considering it. It was more important to her than he knew. When Hamuko had first presented the idea to Saori, she’d asked the same thing that Goro did: “Why would you want it to be him?” She was curious, not averse (and Hamuko needed her consent just as much as Goro’s, since she would be the one conceiving), but Hamuko didn’t have the answer for her then. She had one now.
“You’ve always been more than a friend to me,” she said to Goro, her posture straightening and straightening until they were both eye-level. “You and everyone else. We’re all each other’s only family— I mean, we’ve all lost something, some of us more than others, but our friendships have always been constant. Yours and mine especially. Which is why… I want you to play a bigger role in our kid’s life, if that’s okay with you. I mean, you’ll still be a part of the family even if you aren’t the donor! So…”
Goro’s expression was growing more and more cloudy, but again, it wasn’t in a way that conveyed shock or displeasure. He slid his hand over the lower half of his face, masking his mouth, leaving only his eyes for interpretation. They looked… shiny, almost. Maybe it was the kitchen lighting playing tricks on her.
“I’ll… give it some thought,” Goro said finally, after a long, dreadful pause. He tilted his head away until Hamuko could hardly see his face beneath his fringe. “But… thank you. I’m… grateful,” he grits the word out like it’s armed with needles, “that you see me that way. I don’t think I could say the same for anyone other than you.”
Hamuko’s face broke out into a million-watt smile. “You mean it?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he snapped, then glanced over at Saori, who was watching the exchange with glowing smugness. “And please stop making that face, Saori-san.”
“Thank you for considering our proposal,” Saori said sincerely, and the grumpy raincloud over his head practically vanished. He flushed and nodded once.
“It’s only appropriate that I do.”
Then, the room still fraught with tension, they finished their meals and saw Goro to the door. The moment he left, Hamuko heaved a tremendous sigh, burying her face into the crook of Saori’s neck and screaming into it. She had no idea why she was so nervous. It wasn’t like a refusal meant that Goro didn’t want to be a part of their family— but still…
“It’s okay,” Saori said into her ear, sensing her distress. “His relationship with you is just as important to him as it is to you. This tiny little thing won’t change that.”
“I sure hope so.” Hamuko puffed a shaky laugh. “Thank you for being so open to this, Saori. I hope it wasn’t awkward for you, or—”
“Not at all!” She held Hamuko back by her shoulders so that she could see her pearly grin. “I like Goro-kun. I think that if there was anyone we could trust with this, it’d be him. He’s very dependable when he’s not being… what’s that word Futaba-chan likes to use? Tsun—”
“Don’t worry about it, honey.” Hamuko planted her hand over Saori’s mouth. “We should bench this discussion for now. Wanna play that farming game I was talking about?”
Goro said yes. It took about a month and a half, peppered generously with research about sperm donation (and plenty of reassurance from his fiancé, Ren) until one day, he shot her a text in the middle of the night that read simply: I’ll do it.
Hamuko did a little dance in bed, Saori blissfully asleep beside her, oblivious to her giddy celebration. Goro had probably been up late crafting an Akechi-style debate with himself in his head, hence the timestamp, but he also probably expected to be subjected to a long session of hugs had he expressed it in person. That didn’t matter. She was going to ambush him at his job anyway, hop onto his back like a frog.
“We’re going to have a baby!” she squealed into Saori’s ear, to which Saori responded with an aborted snore. “Our baby is going to be so fucking cute!”
Saori once again didn’t stir, so Hamuko flopped down next to her, coiled her arms around Saori’s waist and dragged their bodies flush together. She was so excited, she couldn’t settle down, her mind buzzing with thoughts of their future baby. Her mouth was starting to grow numb with how hard she was smiling. As if it would somehow calm her, she did a full-body wiggle, humming a happy song into Saori’s shoulder.
It helped a little bit; all of a sudden she felt the weight of her exhaustion, burnt out from today’s work and the excitement of Goro’s text. She let her eyelids droop, her limbs sagging, her smile falling. Then she was out like a light.
By the time morning rolled around, Saori was informed of the news and they rejoiced over huge slices of strawberry shortcake. (Hamuko had picked those up on the way home yesterday; when Saori asked what the occasion was, Hamuko had said, “Eating is the occasion!” But there was an occasion now, wasn’t there?) Saori spent the whole meal fantasizing about what they would do when their child was born: buying them outfits, going on trips to the aquarium or the amusement park, introducing them to their friends’ children and hosting parties together…
“I think they’ll take after that part of you,” Hamuko commented, watching her wife gush with her chin propped up on both hands.
Saori halted her mini-rant to look at her. “Which part?”
“Your adorable fascination with… like, everything.”
Saori pouted. “That’s not a bad thing!”
“It’s not!” Hamuko giggled. “It’s my favorite thing about you. You make the whole world seem beautiful, even the shitty parts.”
Saori smiled, still shy, even after years’ worth of Hamuko’s compliments. “I hope they take after that, too,” she murmured. “I hope they never feel bored or lonely or inadequate. I want them to look around and see a world worth living in… to find a life worth living for.”
Though said optimistically, the words made Hamuko sober up, her fingers tugging at the hem of her skirt. She wished for all the same things— of course she did— but did that matter when certain circumstances were out of her control? Could her mother, could her father have predicted they were going to die and leave behind an orphan? Had they made the same wish as Saori, only for it to have been thwarted by something so sudden and insignificant as an accident?
But while they’d passed, Hamuko was still alive. She was happy, she was loved, she was excited for life, for once. She was married; she was going to have a baby. No matter what happened, she was going to make sure her child could thrive like that, too. For as long as she lived— whether that turned out to be a long time or a short time.
“I think they’ll be happy,” Hamuko said at last, withdrawing one hand to reach for Saori’s beneath the table. “You and I will be there, after all. And if we’re not there, Goro will be there. Mitsuru and Yukari and Akihiko and all the others will be there. They’ll never be alone, as long as they have this.”
Saori inhaled sharply. She released her exhale in one short burst, almost a titter, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I’m glad. I’m— I’m so lucky to…”
Oh, no. If she was going to cry, Hamuko was going to cry, too. She rounded the table so she could climb onto Saori’s lap and pull her into a hug, skimming her nose over the sensitive part of Saori’s neck so her trembling sighs would turn to laughter instead. Then, before she could get too used to it, she blew into Saori’s ear, making her squeal.
“Hamuko!”
“Whaaat?” She evaded Saori’s jab to her ribs and plucked one of the uneaten strawberries on Saori’s plate, popping it into her open mouth. “You should finish your cake, Saori!”
Saori squinted at her. Then, she snuck one hand up Hamuko’s thigh and pinched, Hamuko jolting so high up in the air she nearly toppled them over.
“Hey! Don’t injure me before we can have the baby!” Hamuko wailed.
Saori squished her cheeks, silencing her whines. “I’m the one carrying the baby, darling.”
“So am I! Emotionally,” she added, when Saori just gave her a flat look.
“Hmm.” Saori patted the sore spot on her thigh. “You can carry the next one, then.”
“The next one? Wait, hold on—”
Saori laughed, shrugged it off with grace and moved on, but the image was stuck in Hamuko’s head like a stubborn splinter. The thought of having one kid was enough to make her head spin, but two? Two meant…
Two meant more than Hamuko could dare to comprehend. It meant that the first kid wouldn’t be a be-all, end-all for them. It meant that their family could keep growing, that there was love enough to spare for more, and that…
Okay. Maybe there would be a second kid, eventually.