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“What?” Kohaku wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.
“You’re pregnant,” her doctor said patiently.
Kohaku stared at the paper she’d been handed. Thanks to past experience and Senku over-explaining everything at the time, she knew what the elevated levels of certain chemicals and hormones in her body meant. That didn’t mean it made sense. “But…we use protection.”
The doctor nodded. “There’s always a chance, if you’re not sterilized.”
“We use two kinds of protection!” Condoms and spermicide sponges—it was a bit of a hassle, but it would be an infinitely larger hassle to have another kid.
Eyebrows raised, the doctor said, “Oh. Well, that’s very unlikely, but again, not impossible.”
Kohaku rubbed the bridge of her nose, then took a deep breath. “You count by my last period, right?”
“Yes. So, according to what you told me, about four months now.”
Kohaku had gone to the doctor because she’d missed a few periods, thinking maybe early menopause…and had ended up with a much more life-changing result than she’d expected.
Looked like she was in for a fun discussion with her husband.
“What?”
Kohaku sighed. “Yup. About four months.”
Senku had gone pale. “But…we…I’m getting my tubes cut. This is ridiculous.”
She patted his arm. “Probably a good idea.” She sighed. “I don’t want to abort. It would be more convenient, but I don’t want to.”
“I get it. It’ll take some rethinking about our lives right now, but we can make it work.” He leaned his head on his hand. “Byakuya will be thrilled. So will your dad.”
“Yup.”
“How are we gonna tell Okusei and Kei?”
“With treats. And maybe a cool science demonstration.”
“What?”
The nurse handed Kohaku the printed copy of the ultrasound. “We have several points of view. We always check and double check.”
Senku looked over her shoulder at the pictures. There were two spots circled in red and he fell back in his chair with a groan. Kohaku could see that the spots were different, but…did it really mean…?
“Twins,” Senku muttered. “Two at once. We’re gonna have four kids. That is ten billion percent…” He didn’t finish the sentence, just rubbed his hands over his face.
Kohaku felt a bit numb. Finally, she said, “Ishigami Senku, you have the worst luck in the world.” Pregnancy despite two precautions, and twins to boot. How could one man be so unlucky?
Then she felt his hand on her back, and they’d been together long enough now that she knew what he wanted to say: ‘Maybe, but I also have you, so it evens out.’ He could get really sappy sometimes, when no one else was around and he was in the right mood. It was enough to make her smile a little. They’d be okay.
And there was no changing the facts. She nodded firmly. “Alright. Twins. Gotta get double of everything, and ask Byakuya and Dad if they’ll be on-call babysitters for Okusei and Kei. This will definitely be a challenge, but we’ve faced worse and come out the other side victorious.” Then she grinned. “Besides, having two babies at once is pretty efficient, don’t you think?”
Senku groaned again at her attempt at a joke and she laughed. They’d be okay.
“What?” Senku had his chopsticks halfway to his mouth, noodles flopping back into the bowl as he stared at her clinging to the doorway.
She swallowed back bile and said again, “Take me to the hospital.” Her legs felt weak, her head was spinning, and she just felt wrong. She would normally just jog downtown, but she knew her own body enough to know she’d never make it. And she knew enough about her own body to know this was urgent.
Senku bolted out of the kitchen, knocking his bowl of ramen over as he ran. “Kids, Mom and I are going to the hospital!” he called as he grabbed things from the closet.
Kohaku watched the ramen broth drip off the table. What a waste—it was his favorite kind…
“Head over to Grandpa’s!” Then he hurried back to Kohaku, the bag with all Kohaku’s medical info and hospital birth prep hanging from one shoulder, and cautiously offered her his arm to walk to the car.
“I can…” Something moved inside her and she groaned, clinging tighter to the frame of the door. “No, can’t, can’t.”
With strength she didn’t realize he had, her husband picked her up and carried her to the car. She focused on breathing and not throwing up and didn’t even realize their kids had jumped in the car as well until Okusei was opening the door to help her out at the ER.
“Kei, run inside and yell that your mom is pregnant with twins and needs help right now,” Senku said, joining Okusei but putting a hand on Kohaku’s shoulder to stop her from getting up. “Okusei, go grab a wheelchair from the entrance.”
Okusei sprinted away, following his sister into the building, and Senku knelt down by the car. “Alright, lioness, how’re you doing?”
She couldn’t even respond to the nickname, just shaking her head with tears in her eyes and whimpering. Her babies—what was wrong? Would they be okay?
His hand covered hers. “We’re going to be okay, Kohaku, I promise.”
Logically, it didn’t make much sense, but his words calmed her anxiety significantly and she turned her hand so she could hold his. He squeezed her hand as the kids and what looked like a small army of nurses raced out, Okusei determinedly leading the way while pushing a wheelchair and Kei pulling one of the nurses along and pointing at the car.
She’d be okay.
“What?” Kohaku looked up at her sister and Suika, who had come to visit her in the hospital. They were in the chairs around the bed. Senku and the kids had gone home to rest, so the two of them had come to keep her company.
And both of them were smiling. “They’re beautiful,” Ruri said again, gently petting a tiny tuft of hair. Suika nodded, hands clasped under her chin and eyes shining.
Kohaku nodded, tears in her eyes, and looked back down at the babies in her arms. The twins had needed to be delivered early and were so very small, but they were both so precious.
And so unexpected. But, as promised, Senku had gotten himself sterilized earlier in the year, so they shouldn’t have to worry about anything like an unplanned pregnancy ever again, and could focus on raising the amazing kids they already had.
“…what?”
The doctor simply nodded.
The same kind of printout. The same kinds of numbers. “But…Senku got the surgery years ago, we can’t…”
And then Kohaku remembered the lab accident a few months ago, the one where everyone present had to be petrified to save their lives, and put her head in her hands. The petrifying light healed wounds. It also, apparently, healed at least one kind of voluntary surgery.
“Well then. Guess we’re having another one.” She patted her belly and the new baby that was developing there, almost a decade after the twins had been born.