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Spring is Setsuna’s favorite time of year. Winters in Hoshido are mild, at least compared to Nohr, but the flowers still hide from the chill, the colors of the world fading into a sleepy haze. Most of Setsuna’s royal duties involve attending training sessions—boring—and accompanying Hinoka to trade meetings along the border—even more boring. In her apartment, the darker days make her sleepy while tradition dictates she’s supposed to deep clean everything lest she welcome evil spirits. Before she married, she did in fact choose the threat of bad luck over the hassle of dusting the ceiling, of all places. Who decides on these rules anyway?
When spring comes, Castle Shirasagi turns its attention from crop exports to the plethora of seasonal festivals like little New Year’s Days. There are some where people stay awake in anticipation, some with eye-catching decorations, and all with delicious food made using the last of the winter stores and the first of the summer harvest. Then of course, the season is bookended by Tsubaki’s birthday at the start and Setsuna’s at the end, with Princess Sakura’s and Prince Ryoma’s in between.
All to say, when Setsuna wakes up one morning to the scent of cherry blossoms, she breathes in deep, turning toward the window and stretching closer to the sun. Her back pops after spending all night curled up, her shoulders loosening as her muscles tighten. Relaxing back into her pillow, she finally opens her eyes, blinking the waking world into focus. Everything is bright, a little too bright for early morning. She must have slept in.
As much as she should be upset about that—what day is it? Maybe she missed out on something—she can’t bring herself to do anything but smile, watching fluffy white clouds float through the blue sky outside her window. Towa, her kinshi, would enjoy this weather. She should take him out for a ride later, if she can ever untangle herself from her blankets.
“Ah! Good morning, my star! I wonder what it was that woke you? It certainly wasn’t me moving the tatami…”
Setsuna groans, stretching once more to display her sleepiness. “Tsubaki, it’s too early for me to hear all that chatter…”
“Early? It’s almost midday!” Tsubaki answers. When Setsuna cracks open an eye, she sees her kneeling in the corner of the room with her arms crossed, one of her hands holding a cloth. Her hair is done up in her usual ponytail, but her clothes are far more casual than her kinshi knight uniform, a simple cotton yukata. Whenever Tsubaki dresses down, Setsuna thinks of kissing her, and she almost forgets to answer Tsubaki until she continues, “You’ve had more than enough time to prepare yourself for conversation.”
“Conversation… ugh…” Setsuna mumbles, rubbing at her eyes. She could stare at Tsubaki all day, but talking is a different matter. “Where’s breakfast?”
Tsubaki laughs, though not unkindly. For all the airs she puts on, she’s really a softie at heart, a fact Setsuna couldn’t be happier about. “I have some fruit in the sitting room. Fresh melon and strawberries, already sliced.”
Opening her eyes for real, Setsuna openly swoons for her wife. “Oh, Tsubaki… you really are too good for me…”
“Nonsense,” Tsubaki denies, her own posture relaxing, her dark eyes like the deep, fertile earth exposed after the snow melts. “I only strive to give you everything you deserve.”
Setsuna answers by holding up her arms, an invitation Tsubaki receives. Her ponytail sways as she gets to her feet, placing the rag on their vanity. Then, she walks to her wife’s side, embracing her in gentle yet muscular arms. Maybe they aren’t fighting a war now, but the two of them are still combat instructors at the Shirasagi Military Academy. They still run drills together that whip the new recruits into shape, even in Setsuna’s condition. Though, now that she’s pregnant, she’d like to file a complaint on behalf of all pregnant people against those who treat them like delicate flowers. Setsuna is still very able to hike to see the mountain wildflowers she enjoys the most, even at the six month mark, thanks! And if her position at the Academy means anything, she can probably kick the butts of most of those upright men and highborn women who hold such opinions as “a woman should stay inside” or “a mother need only bother herself with the home.” If she’s running the home, everyone better run away.
“We should visit the southern mountains soon,” Setsuna decides, thinking of Tsubaki’s arms around her as she pilots Towa.
Tsubaki laughs, the reverberations echoing where her skin touches Setsuna’s. “My wife, your mind has flown with the crows again,” she says.
“Oh, I was just thinking of the Academy, then flowers, then hiking…” She really would like to see the primroses, with their pretty pink that looks so good in Tsubaki’s red hair. “You’re very beautiful.”
Before Tsubaki pulls away, she kisses Setsuna’s cheek. With a little distance between them, Setsuna can see her dimples as she smiles. “Do not ever change, Setsuna. Who you are now is absolutely perfect.”
Now Setsuna laughs. “You know that’s not true. Especially not now.” She pats her bloated belly for emphasis. The thing may be semi-miraculously growing a child, but it sure is uncomfortable.
“Hm, then shall I say, gorgeous?” Raising her hand, Tsubaki kisses it. “Radiant?” She kisses her wrist. “Immaculate?” She kisses her forearm.
Reaching up, Setsuna places her other hand on Tsubaki’s sternum. “How about lucky?” she offers. “I’m just lucky.” For all the ups and downs of her life, for all that others call her hapless and lost, she doesn’t think she has it so bad. In fact, she thinks she has it pretty good.
She wouldn’t call it perfect. Most days, she falls into bed exhausted and more than a little overwhelmed. Her mood is as flighty as her whims because of the pregnancy hormones, and no one told her how bad the cramps would be: stomach cramps, leg cramps, even her lungs feel cramped sometimes. That said, she hadn’t exactly listened very closely in her prepartum health lecture. In her defense, her teacher was Azama…
“Are you flying again, my star?” Tsubaki murmurs against her skin. “Or is this fatigue which plagues you? I know you’re working very hard right now. I hope the extra rest was helpful.”
“Oh, I was just thinking,” Setsuna says, though Tsubaki’s words remind her to take stock of her body. It’s so easy to forget that she needs to pay attention to herself, even now when she’s taking care of herself for two. Like she said, she’s not perfect.
She doesn’t like that word. During this beautiful spring day, it lingers like the last patch of snow. It is no secret that Tsubaki has struggled with that word for years, using the search for perfection as both a shield and a knife. With reflection, conversation, and medication, Tsubaki has grown into her true self, a beautiful woman who is, after everything, only human. Still, though she knows how far her wife has come, the use of the word perfect and the fact that Tsubaki is apparently deep cleaning their apartment makes Setsuna nervous.
“I’m good,” she decides after feeling out the aches and pains of her body—none of them seem beyond what is normal for someone whose organs are out of alignment right now. Cupping Tsubaki’s cheek, she cherishes her cheekbone, her jawline. “Are you okay? You seem distracted this morning—afternoon.”
“Oh, I seem distracted?”
“You know what I mean,” Setsuna says, not wanting Tsubaki to talk her way out of this. For her wife, discussing her feelings, things she used to call flaws, is uncomfortable. Setsuna can sympathize, but they’ve both decided communication is one of the most important things in their relationship and sworn to uphold it. With communication comes trust and understanding, deepening their love for each other impossibly every day. Setsuna’s love for Tsubaki is like the tree which flowers year after year: every spring, it seems those branches couldn’t possibly hold more blooms, yet there is always room for more of the splendor given to her by the light of her life.
The woman before her casts her eyes away, her smile growing stiff. “I’m fine.”
“Well that doesn’t sound very fine…”
Tsubaki sighs, her hair falling in her face before, with a shake of her head, she sets it to rights. “I’m fine. I am a little nervous, but it is nothing I can’t handle.”
“You are cleaning the room,” Setsuna acknowledges. Housework isn’t one of Tsubaki’s worst habits. Sometimes, the voice in her head that tells her everything must be perfect you must be perfect leads her to hurt herself: too much exercise, too little food, lost sleep from worrying about what passed today and what tomorrow will bring. Yet it is still a sign of Tsubaki’s innate search for perfection. The apartment is spotless, even Setsuna’s absentmindedness no match for Tsubaki’s quick hands. The furniture is all placed in a certain way, facing a certain direction, with just the right amount of space between the pieces. It’s interior decorating on another level; in a way, it is an art.
There’s another side to it, too. Tsubaki has to be able to walk around the empty space in the room in multiples of eleven. There cannot be too many or too few matching pieces of art, or Tsubaki will take all of it down and threaten to throw it away. Tears well in her eyes when she has her worst days, days where nothing seems to flow just right, where nothing is balanced enough, where everything is out to get her.
Setsuna is sure, in this scenario, she doesn’t help.
If she puts her teacup down, she’ll forget it exists. If she stares at the same artwork for too long, she gets bored. If she comes home and finds all the furniture in a different place, she has to memorize her way around her home all over again like she’s in a stranger’s house. She remembers where something is by remembering what is next to it: of course the floor is the most sensible place for most things, out where she can see them. She’s pregnant, and erratic, and leaving her mark all over everything she touches because it is just impossible for her not to.
“I am,” Tsubaki answers. She looks back to Setsuna, her gaze uncertain in a way it never is where anyone else could see. Seemingly embarrassed, it takes her a moment to admit, “I want everything to be perfect before the baby comes.”
“The baby’s not coming for months, you know… You’ll have plenty of time to clean up messes after they are born,” Setsuna says, thinking about a grubby, grimy little monster crawling around their apartment.
“Yes, I know.” One of Tsubaki’s hands takes the one Setsuna has at her cheek, holding it softly yet with a slight tremor which belies how much this means to her. “You’re working so hard to bring our marvellous baby into the world and I want things to be just right for the both of you.”
Setsuna shares another fact: “You know babies come out looking like something you’d find at the bottom of a fish net, right?”
“Setsuna!” Tsubaki cries, eyes wide, “Do not say that about our baby!”
“It’s true.” Setsuna wonders how they smell. “Ugh, I hope we aren’t having fish again tonight, they’re too boney…”
“Setsuna.”
“Hey,” she says, looking right into Tsubaki’s glittering brown eyes, “You’re gonna make a great mom.”
At that, Tsubaki is speechless. The two of them breathe together, first unevenly then all of the sudden, perfectly in sync. Setsuna’s hand is still at Tsubaki’s cheek, where she strokes it subconsciously, letting her mind wander down the path it chooses. She thinks of Tsubaki holding their baby, dressed in the frilly clothes she had picked out for them. She thinks of Tsubaki with a seashell in one hand, scooping water over their baby’s head and washing them clean. Tsubaki preparing neat little jars of baby food after having found the most nutritious recipe that two working parents would be able to make. Tsubaki with one calloused, manicured finger in their baby’s small fist. Tsubaki folding little blankets and teeny tiny socks. Tsubaki rocking their baby to sleep, pillowing their head on her shoulder.
“I am going to try,” Tsubaki says, promises.
Setsuna’s lips twitch. “That is all I ask of you.”
The silence between them lingers, lifted by the agreement, the promise between them to cherish each other for the rest of their days, to help each other through whatever comes their way, to give as much as they ask for and try as hard as they can. Leaning forward, Setsuna rests her head on Tsubaki’s tummy, her hand falling to her shoulder. She is so happy they are pregnant. She hopes Tsubaki feels the same. “I love you.”
Fingers smooth through her hair, rat’s nest that it is after just waking up. “I love you too. Thank you.”
“For what? For loving you? Well, I didn’t really get a choice…” Setsuna says. “I couldn’t be on a team with anyone but you… I couldn’t be any better with anyone else…”
“I feel the same,” Tsubaki says. Her hand slows its petting of Setsuna’s head, resting upon it tenderly. “Will you allow me to stay like this? At least until you get hungry? I am… perfect with you.”
“Oh, hungry…” Setsuna realizes. There was something about melon, and, well, the sooner she figures out what Tsubaki’s done to the dining room, the sooner she can adjust to it…
“You’re hungry now, aren’t you?”
“No,” Setsuna says, not telling a lie, but saying, “Stay here. Let’s stay here like this for a while longer.”
Time moseys along, a petal in the wind as Tsubaki considers this. Eventually, her fingers start combing through Setsuna’s hair again, delicately working out the tangles. Even though she can’t see it, Setsuna smiles for her wife, so caring and quirky in the cutest way. Shutting her eyes, she breathes in the smell of cherry blossoms, resting here in her lover’s arms…
At least until she gets too hungry.