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Balam Shichiro knows your pregnant before you do. There’s a shift in your scent, nothing major – just a little stronger and sweeter. He’ll have to adjust your perfume – not allowing the risk of any demon catching on – but right now, his arms tighten around you.
A soft sigh escapes your lips as you wriggle in his arms. You chuckle as his nose and exposed fangs tickle your neck – attempting to stretch away but unable to escape. You groan his name while he hums in response. A hand goes to your belly, his leathery skin rough against yours as he rubs circles – occasionally squeezing to your annoyance.
“What are you doing?” You huff, keeping your eyes shut as you refuse to wake up. Waking up means leaving the bed and starting the day which ultimately means leaving Shichiro and you don’t want to do that.
He kisses your cheek, bringing you tighter against his body. “Would you prefer a girl or boy?”
You can’t help but laugh, eyes opening as you turn to look at him. “I don’t think I have the energy for another round, Shichiro.” You yawn in response and close your eyes again. You can’t deny that a familiar burn in your belly hasn’t kindled but there is a different type of burning ache that you feel you should pay attention to.
His hand doesn’t stop moving, his scarred lips trailing soft kisses up and down your throat and face. When he isn’t kissing, he’s trailing his nose as he rubs his cheek instead. In the back of your mind you recognise this behaviour.
“Why are you scent marking me?” You ask, more amused than annoyed. “Sometimes I wonder if I need to bother with the perfume. I’m sure someone has mistaken me for you.”
Shichiro chuckles at this – a deep throaty laugh from the back of his throat. The mental picture highly amusing. Your smile widens at the sound. It sets that desire burning, an involuntarily roll of your hips in reaction. You hope he doesn’t notice as none of you have the luxury of rolling around in the sheets this morning.
“I’m just happy.” He practically purrs – sending vibrations into your skin.
Once again, your eyes open in a flutter – a soft frown on your face. Scent marking wasn’t unusual – Shichiro often did these motions most days. But it was odd for him to feel the need when merely hours ago he had claimed you. An act that would make you smell like him inside and out – something you still struggled to not feel self-conscious about.
“What do you mean by if I prefer a girl or boy?” You’re frowning for real this time, twisting in his arms to sit up. He’s watching you carefully – a little concerned but a soft smile is still spread across his face. You looked to your stomach, shock on your face as you grab it. “But I always drink that stupid tea?”
You find yourself out of bed, standing in front of a floor length mirror you had asked to be put in when the two of your first moved in together. You shift your self in the mirror, ignoring the bruises and bite marks that are scattered everywhere. Normally the sight of those markings would make you feel important but your attention is elsewhere. Your focusing on your stomach but it still looks the same.
“Are you sure?” You ask, looking to the gargoyle that has remained in your nest.
Shichiro joins you, hugging you from behind. His hand covers yours over you stomach as he kisses your cheek. With a final sniff, he nods his head.
“Positive.” You stare at him in the mirror, your face a mixture of shock and concern. “Are you not happy?”
Guilt hits you. Nibbling your lip, you shake your head.
“I’m just...” You stare at your stomach, trying to imagine what was happening within. Sighing, you look to him in the mirror – taking in his worried face. “I didn’t think it would be possible.” You admit. “I’m scared.”
Shichiro hums, gently urging you to turn and you reluctantly do so. He’s picking you up – holding you a little higher so you look down at him. Your frowning, arms wrapping around his shoulders and fingers tangling into his hair.
“We have options.” He says this carefully. “If you’re not ready.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“You won’t be upset with me?” You ask, biting your lip as your nerves twisted your stomach.
Shichiro frowns darkly, his grip tightening as he squishes you against him. “I would never want you to do something that you weren’t happy about.”
“But you were so-”
“I’m happy being with you.” He cuts in, his smile bright and warm.
“What if I never want children?”
“Then we won’t have kids.” He shrugs. “Children would be nice but right now, you are my priority.”
A smile envelops your face and you nuzzle your nose against his. Shichiro begins to purr again, closing his eyes. Brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear, you kiss him. “We’re probably going to need a bigger house.”
Along with your scent – your sense of smell seems to change as well. Not exactly for the better. Certain foods have been banned from your home – the memory alone will have you gagging on reflex. Even worse were dishes that Shichiro knew were your favourite, didn’t bring any joy.
The gargoyle watches you carefully as you stir your plate with a fork. You haven’t eaten much, just a couple of bites. Shichiro takes a quick couple of mouthfuls – wondering if he’s overcooked it or added to much seasoning but it tastes how he normally makes it.
“Is something wrong?”
You shake your head, nose scrunch as you force yourself to take another mouthful. You make it look like it's such an effort to do so. Licking your lips you shrug.
“No. It...just tastes bland.” You eat only a couple of more bites – enough for Shichiro to not worry about starving yourself - before you push your plate away.
Your food aversion and change of flavour – Shichiro can cope with. It’s easy to leave you in charge of the shopping list and it’s easy to avoid foods that make you feel queasy. What he can’t keep up with is your cravings.
They’re not bad or weird but Shichiro has to prepare for the hyper-fixation that last from days to weeks. He’s caught you sneaking out of bed in the early hours of the morning when the mood takes you. He’s learned the hard way to just let it happen as you’re never satisfied with anything until you’ve eaten whatever it is you've craved.
There was a time you craved a particular dish – not every day but at least twice a week you would head to this restaurant and order the same plate. Shichiro decided to make it once – only once – giving it to you during your break at school. He had expected a range of reactions but not one where you would cry.
Fat tears roll down your cheek as you continue to shove the food in your mouth. Shichiro is freaking out – not understanding what’s wrong and he can barely make out what your saying between sobs and food.
“It’s not the same!” You hiccup, letting Shichiro take the food finally. “They’ve changed it! It’s the end – I’ll never be happy again.” When Shichiro tries to console you, you cry harder. Acting as if it was the end of the world.
It isn’t. Shichiro contacts Opera who happily makes a stop at the restaurant pronto. Shichiro coaxes you into trying a bite and the tears stop immediately. A small but happy smile settles on you as you greedily eat and Shichiro makes a mental note that he’ll only go to that restaurant for this particular dish from now on. But at least that smile’s worth it.
As the pregnancy goes further along there are the less fun things. By the eighth week, you seem to suffer from what you call morning sickness. He would argue that it wasn’t entirely accurate as this ‘sickness’ seemed to effect you in the afternoon after you had a long nap but he’s learned that doing so would lead to two different reactions. The first is tears which breaks Shichiro’s heart and the second is throwing things which ultimately leads to tears but far more violent. It’s best just to agree and bring it up again when the time is calmer.
Your emotions is another battle he isn’t prepared for. Shichiro does his best, riding out the storm as he wants to be there when it finally breaks. He does his best not to laugh but it’s hard not to when you start crying over the way he makes things (“You’re supposed to put it in a little cup”) or when an animal – doesn’t matter what – is visibly hurt (“He’s just a little guy!”) or the time you wanted to go to your favourite bakery but had gotten confused about the time and they were closed (“Opera doesn’t make it right!” and he has to promise not to tell).
Then there are the not so funny times.
You’re nearing 27 weeks, obviously showing. Shichiro comes home to find you standing in the mirror, twisting your body around and your face equally as twisted. There’s a storm brewing the way your bottom lip trembles. You haven’t heard him come in, sighing in distress as you trace one of the marks that look lightening. They've come more visible over time, marking you like a tiger as they travel the sides of your stomach.
“So ugly.” You mutter.
Shichiro growls making you flinch in fright. He picks you up, placing you on the bed despite your noisy protests. His hands are on your belly, kissing each mark. Your pulling at his hair but he ignores you as he starts talking to your belly.
“Your mother is a very silly woman.” Shichiro says, chuckling as you yank with an outraged cry. “She’s blind to her own beauty.”
“This isn’t beauty.” You huff, resorting to poking your lines but he catches your finger.
“This is proof that you are carrying our child.” He locks eyes with you, one hand threading with yours and the other still on your belly. He’s placed himself between your legs as you wrap them around his waist. “It’s an honour.”
You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him. “That’s right.” You say. “This is your fault! You made me like this.” You pick up on of the pillows and start to whack him with it, a few tears rolling down your cheeks.
“I love them.” He says and the pillow stops. “This is proof that your body is changing to accommodate our baby. Our baby that’s growing inside of you – that you’re protecting. I think they are very beautiful.”
“You don’t find it ugly?” You ask quietly, almost as if you feared the answer. “You’ll still find me attractive?”
“Even more so.” And to prove his point, he presses against you and you squeal with laughter.
“You’re nasty.” You cry but he doesn’t need to tell you that your lying.
The first time Shichiro feel the child move – he almost misses it.
You’re lying on your side as he hugs you from behind. He’s holding your belly – a habit he’s formed since he’s first noticed the change in your scent. He’s not quite asleep having woken up earlier when you needed to go toilet. That’s when he feels it.
Movement beneath your skin, a quick jab. Instantly, he feels wide awake – sitting up to observe your stomach closer. He stares intensely. Nothing happens. The gargoyle is ready to believe he had imagined it when he sees your skin ripple and feels the jab once more. He can hear you groan in discomfort.
Shichiro bends down so he’s closer to your belly – placing kisses and whispering. His whispers are answered by more kicks which Shichiro can’t help but laugh. The baby seems to respond to this – much to your agitation.
“Got me in the bladder.” You curse, scrambling to get up. “Thank god I went before.” You breathed but you still make your way to the bathroom.
A little guilt gnaws at him but Shichiro decides that he would still do it again if given the chance.
By the end of your pregnancy, you’re over it. You can’t walk properly – waddling to places like an overgrown penguin. It’s summer in the Netherworld and you can’t escape the heat. You seem to be sweating out of every pore of your body.
You don’t know why your in the carriage, cheeks red and puffy and you equally don’t know why Kalego is in the carriage with you. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, looking out the window with his familiar foul scowl. He doesn’t know how he’s gotten coerced into this carriage either.
One second he was marking paperwork at home and the next – Opera was summoning him to escort you through town as there were some errands you needed to do. Father was busy with Iruma and Shichiro – with the help of his parents – was giving final touches to the baby’s room.
“Are you okay?” Kalego asked. You stare at him in confusion which makes the demon frown darker. “You’ve been breathing funny.”
“I’m fine.” You force out, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “It started this morning. I was hoping it would go away.” You would’ve waved him off but your hands were busy rubbing your hips – trying to gain some comfort. “Can we stop?”
Kalego opened his mouth – most likely to argue – but you don’t wait to hear. You are already pushing yourself to your feet and reaching to the door. You can hear the guard dog sigh in annoyance as he barked out commands. You begin to step out, ignoring Kalego’s cries as the carriage hadn’t quite stopped but you don’t care.
You start pacing - walking in circles as you are unable to satisfy this ache. It reminds you of cramping but it’s not quite the same. You wished Shichiro was here instead of Kalego – you can whine and complain without restraint. But you are thankful that Kalego says nothing as you walk – just standing there and watching you carefully.
Closing your eyes, you’re about to head back in when you hear a distinct pop! Your thighs feel extremely wet. Looking down you stare in horror as water begins to stain your skirt and run down into your shoes. Kalego looks equally horrified and for a moment the two of you stare at each other with mouths wide open.
“I think the baby’s coming.” You words are like magic. Kalego’s wings pop open – looking ready to escape. “Kalego!” You snap, watching the demon dance on the spot – unable to decide to stay or leave.
“I should get Shichiro!” He explained, seeming to decide to stay.
“Just call him.” You scrunch your nose, the cramping feeling returning. You feel like biting something or someone. “Help me into the carriage.” You order.
Kalego nods, already on the phone as one hand supports you back to the carriage. As you enter the carriage, your surprised that Kalego stays by your side. You don’t say anything – just grateful to have something to hold. You can hear Kalego barking orders but your focusing on your own breathing – trying to fight off the panic that is building.
You’re counting, trying to count the intervals but you’re not sure what you’re doing. Your not sure if you’re annoyed or happy when Kalego distracts you. He’s tugging on your shoulder and a phone being pressed up by your ear and your name is being said.
“Shichiro – it’s happening.” You laugh though it turns into a wince with one particular sharp throb. You go back to counting. Kalego pulls the phone away and starts talking to Shichiro but you can’t focus.
Kalego takes you to Lord Sullivan’s home. It’s too dangerous to take you to a hospital but you are reassured that you are being looked after the best. That none of these doctors will remember a thing once they walk out these doors. If you didn’t know Sullivan – you might have assumed death. Seven hours go by and Shichiro is by your side. He holds your hand, your knuckles going white as you grip him tightly. If Shichiro is bothered by this – he doesn’t say. He smooths your head with his free hand, gently coaching you through. There’s an animal like grunting sound in the room and it takes you a while to realise that those sounds are coming from you.
“You’re doing great.” Shichiro encourages, kissing away a tear that rolls down your cheek. “Just a few more pushes.” He promises.
“You said that already.” You grunt, grinding your teeth together. It takes a lot of effort to speak these words. You involuntarily cry out in pain as you feel yourself stretch, nose flaring as the pain burned. “If you touch me with your penis again, I’ll bite it off.” You growled.
Shichiro’s response is to kiss your forehead. It doesn’t elevate your pain or your anger but you decide to focus the rest of your energy in getting the kid out of you.
“I can see a head!” You hear – not sure who – someone cry.
You scream out in relief, huffing as high pitched cries could be heard. Before you even have time to think, something small, wet and heavy has been placed on your chest. You cradle the child instinctively.
Small and tiny and very not human. Just like their father, the baby had talons and claws for hands and feet. The leathery part of their skin hadn’t hardened, still soft from being in the womb. Perhaps in the next couple of hours it’ll harden. They are almost bald – the hair they do have is scattered like feathers. Cheeks puffy and red, they’ve stopped their crying as they settle on your chest.
It’s enough to distract you as the doctors are quick to get work. Someone’s pushing on your belly and you can feel the prick of needles but your focused solely on your child. You’re not sure how long time passes. Dimly aware of Shichiro who’s still smoothing your head and wiping away the sweat that has built up. Blinking you look towards the father of your child, your anger mostly gone as you take in Shichiro’s face.
All sorts of emotions were available to be read. He isn’t wearing your mask – as you demanded he do so your child will grow accustomed to his face. He’s ecstatic – excitement dancing in his eyes along with his tears but you can also read the concern and worry eating at him. The baby is only slightly bigger than his own hands.
“Hold your baby, Shichiro.” You whisper, voice feeling hoarse.
With some more encouragement, Shichiro hesitantly takes the baby from your arms. The child begins to squawk again, legs and arms moving in protest but settles down as Shichiro begins to talk. He knows the doctors are leaving – deeming you fit and well. As they exit, Lord Sullivan makes an entrance.
Shichiro wonders briefly if he’ll have to fight the high ranking demon – he’s not ready to let go of his child but his fears are not founded. Lord Sullivan moves past Shichiro and heads to you, taking over Shichiro’s position as Sullivan coos nothing but affection at you. Shichiro spares a moment to watch you, looking up at your father as he congratulates. The gargoyle decides that maybe, just maybe he might allow Sullivan to hold the child in the next twenty minutes.