#its love rika time!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bbyseok · 6 months ago

Text

at first sight? — GOJO SATORU

pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader

word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)

banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!

a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!

content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts

analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.

here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.

with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!

and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.

to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)

it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?

your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.

coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.

because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.

it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.

nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.

well. except for one.

gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.

even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.

his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.

after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.

satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.

so imagine his surprise when he sees you.

a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.

“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.

gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.

you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.

that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.

satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.

but you simply smiled up at him.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.

gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.

how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.

gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?

and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.

was it really worth it?

what if he couldn’t protect you too?

so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.

as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.

and never will.

your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.

and that he doesn’t like you.

it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.

okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.

you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.

besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.

you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.

“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”

you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.

“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)

nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”

you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”

nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”

“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.

nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.

gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.

you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.

“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.

nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.

gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.

you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.

“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”

nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.

does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.

your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.

his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”

who knows, indeed.

megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.

“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.

the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”

satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.

meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”

“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.

his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.

“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,” gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”

megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”

“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”

despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)

your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.

there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.

“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.

as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”

the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”

“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.

you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”

“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.

(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)

you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.

“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”

you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.

a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.

the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)

after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.

“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”

megumi hums.

“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”

his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”

you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.

“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”

“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”

she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.

it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?

“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”

you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.

but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”

you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”

she shrugs again. “your call.”

your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”

shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”

oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”

you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.

why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.

shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.

“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?

as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!

ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.

well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.

“he’s on a mission where??”

you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.

“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.

the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”

you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.

it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)

either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.

you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.

(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)

gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.

while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”

it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.

and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.

“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”

“kikufuku.”

you stare at him, confused. “what?”

“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”

his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”

gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”

your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”

he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”

you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)

“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”

the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).

he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.

“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.

“gojo satoru.”

your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.

against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.

“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”

your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.

though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.

but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.

like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.

“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.

“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”

“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.

you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”

“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.

“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.

just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.

“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

you eye him. “hey, gojo?”

“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)

you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”

he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.

you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”

“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”

satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.

“care to join me?”

but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.

you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.

satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.

but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.

when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”

he snorts. “yeah, i can.”

you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.

he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.

it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)

“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”

he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)

“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.

he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”

“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”

(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.

it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.

“hey, that one looks like you!”

“hah?!”

“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.

it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”

and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.

“yeah, we are.”

this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.

but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.

and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.

was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.

the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)

fuck.

after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..

it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.

once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”

you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”

she snorts. “well, it is my job.”

gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.

“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”

the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.

“they’ll be fine,” she says.

gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”

shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.

but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)

“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.

“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.

he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”

you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”

his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”

you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”

gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.

eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.

“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.

you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”

“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.

(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)

and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.

“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.

“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”

he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”

pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)

“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”

he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.

“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.

before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.

“d’you have a soulmate?”

satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.

and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?

before he can answer, you’re out like a light.

you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.

with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.

you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.

you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.

gojo.

you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.

after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.

you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.

he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.

you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.

when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.

he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.

you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)

“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”

you straighten up. “what?”

“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.

you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”

satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”

(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)

“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.

“satoru.”

“what?”

“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”

you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.

(he does too.)

satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”

“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”

he likes the way his name sounds from you.

“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”

oh.

fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”

“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.

keep saying his name.

“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.

(a lot of people have noticed actually.)

gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”

the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”

gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.

“heh, i guess i am.”

you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.

(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)

you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.

shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.

but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.

he’s wearing his glasses.

you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.

how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-

and then he’s gone.

you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.

he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.

“what the fuck was that?”

shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.

there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.

and you don’t know why.

it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.

satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.

and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.

then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?

however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.

is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?

satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.

“hey, what was that the other day?”

shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.

gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”

shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”

that’s the thing. you just might.

the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”

when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”

“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.

shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”

satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran that night. just my glasses was too risky.”

what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.

“how long have you-”

“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”

the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.

“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.

satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”

“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”

unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.

(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)

and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.

ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.

it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.

what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.

a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.

your heart drops.

it’s a grade one curse.

something’s not right.

satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-

you.

something’s not right.

and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.

fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.

it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.

you’re going to die.

you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.

the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.

your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.

satoru?

you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”

satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.

you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.

“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”

“satoru, we need to head back.”

he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”

he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.

the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—

“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.

“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.

“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.

“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”

“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”

“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.

he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”

you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.

“you did hurt me.”

gojo trembles. “i know.”

“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”

“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,

“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”

your heart skips a beat.

gojo satoru is your soulmate?

astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.

then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.

he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.

“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”

“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.

gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily, “please.”

still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.

“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”

your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”

satoru’s breath stutters.

“you haven’t seen my eyes.”

you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.

“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”

your confession has him stilling.

(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)

his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-

he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.

his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.

the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.

and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.

he’s kissing you.

he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.

and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.

you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-

suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.

less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.

“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.

“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”

his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,

“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”

“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.

your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”

“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”

his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,

the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.

as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.

your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.

“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.

you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.

so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.

that’s okay.

cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.

BONUS!

“you owe me.”

nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.

shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”

“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.

satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.

“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)

he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.

(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)

“‘toru, not here!”

nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”

TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen

+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3

like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist

2K notes · View notes

veronicaphoenix · 2 months ago

Text

the unmaking of a warrior | epilogue pt. 1

word count: 17k | reading time: 1h aprox. | series masterpost | my works ✨

Tags & trigger warnings: this takes place 2 years after the previous events; established relationship; noah & reader are married; fluff; sexual content including p in v (unprotected), creampies, masturbation (not on page), breeding kink, mentioned shibari practices; thoughts/feelings related to fertility issues; pregnancy; childbirth; dad!noah; angst; cliffhanger. — I'm sure I'm forgetting a bunch of things because this is super long and there's a lot going on. I'll keep updating it, but please do let me know if you notice I forgot sth.

This entire thingy is dedicated to @somebodyels3. Needless to say, this epilogue is 17k and not 3k because of her endless ideas and permanent brainrot. I'm forever grateful for your constant messaging and obssessive behavior towards samurai!noah. This fic is exactly what happens when readers reach out to writers 💕🥹

Thank you to all of you for reading and giving my writing a chance. I'm so happy how this turned out.

Author's note: writing this entire thing was a journey on its own. It's super long so I've divided it into "pages" (11), to make it easier to follow in case you need to take breaks or can't read it all at once :) Also, I've revised it a couple of times but my brain is mush now. Oh, and I have 0 experience with pregnancy and delivering a baby so please bear with me, I did my best 🫣

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR — EPILOGUE PART 1

— page one

2 years later

I knew I was ready when I saw Noah coming down the steps from the training grounds, carrying a little girl in his arms.

She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old.

While it wasn’t unusual for parents at the sanctuary to introduce their children to defense and archery at a young age, this little girl seemed far too small. I didn’t recognize her, but she looked completely at ease in Noah’s arms as he made funny faces at her.

A light breeze blew through that spring day, and the sun graced us with a gentle warmth. The girl had her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, but Noah, whose hair had grown to his shoulders since his last haircut the previous summer, hadn’t bothered to tie his own back. When a gust of wind rustled the trees, it caught his hair too. His strands swept across the little girl’s face, and she scrunched up her nose, leaning back in his arms and closing her eyes, her hands flying up to shield her face.

“Sorry,” Noah said, stiffling a laugh.

“It tickles!” she giggled.

“I lost my hair tie,” Noah explained.

Moving her hands away from her face, she sweetly offered,

“I can lend you one.”

“That would be very kind of you,” he said, tapping her nose playfully.

Her response was a bright smile, followed by her resting her head on his shoulder, settling in comfortably.

Noah noticed me, then.

“Oh, hello, love.”

I was still in my training suit and gloves, having just finished an archery session. I had stayed a few minutes longer to chat with Rika before heading home.

“Hi,” I replied automatically, my mind elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he quickly scanned me to make sure I wasn’t hurt.

The girl glanced at me shyly, clearly unsure who I was.

Noah called my name, snapping me back to reality.

“Hm?”

“Is something wrong? Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Oh,” I stammered, “yeah, must be from training. I’m fine.” I smiled, but Noah didn’t seem convinced, studying me with a raised eyebrow—until a soft voice interrupted.

“She’s pretty.”

Noah and I both looked down at the little girl in his arms, who was comfortably settled against him, with one of his arms holding her easily—though that was no surprise, given how small she was and that he stood at 6’3”.

“She is,” Noah agreed, smiling down at her and then at me. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

If I was already blushing before, I was blushing more now. I didn’t know what was happening to me. Embarrassed in front of a girl? Or was it because seeing her in my husband’s arms awakened something in me?

Obviously, it was the latter, and even if I didn’t say anything explicitly, it didn’t go unnoticed by Noah, of course.

“This is Lila. Her parents want to know if she’d like to learn to train, but she’s still very little, so they’ve let her watch one of the trainings. She’s tired and hungry now, so I’m taking her home. Thomas has been left in charge of the group until I get back.”

When he touched my cheek (for his own amusement because my reaction was obviously amusing him), he watched me with an intensity that made me clench my thighs. Noah leaned over and left me a kiss on my wrist after assuring me that we would meet in the common dining room at lunchtime.

— page two

I couldn’t stop thinking about it since that moment. The realization lingered in my mind, and throughout the day, it haunted me like a secret I was too embarrassed to admit—even to myself.

I wanted to be a mother. I wanted Noah and I to become parents, to bring a life into this world that was a part of both of us. I imagined a little one, a perfect blend of Noah and me, running through the gardens, learning to wield a bow or defend him or herself with a sword, just like their mother and father.

At lunch, a swarm of butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach, their wings beating in rhythm with the thought of Noah getting me pregnant. My hands trembled slightly as I held my chopsticks, moving them aimlessly across my plate.

“You’re very quiet today,” Noah observed, his voice soft yet curious.

I glanced up at him, caught off guard. His eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, met mine. The faintest smile played at the corner of his lips, as if he knew I was hiding something.

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” he teased gently.

“Nothing special,” I replied quickly, lowering my gaze to my plate.

“Nothing special?” he repeated, not convinced by my response.

“No, nothing,” I insisted, shaking my head, hoping to divert the conversation. But Noah wasn’t so easily deterred.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your reaction when you saw Lila in my arms, would it?” he asked, his voice laced with a knowing tone.

I felt my cheeks flush. “What? No, of course not.”

“Are you sure you’re not having any thoughts about… us?” He leaned across the table, lowering his voice to a whisper, “About me… emptying myself inside of you?”

“Noah!” I hissed, glancing around quickly to ensure no one could hear. My face grew even warmer, and I looked away, mortified.

Noah’s expression softened the moment he noticed my hesitation, his usual playful smile giving way to something more thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes searching mine, the stillness between us broken only by the quiet rustle of leaves in the wind filtering through the open gates and windows.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked, leaning forward over the low table that separated us in the dining room. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, carried in by the breeze that swept through the open doors, revealing the stunning view of the distant mountains. The sacred sanctuary where we had made our home over the past two years was nestled deep within the heart of the Japanese wilderness. These mountains had become our refuge, our place of peace after years of turmoil and uncertainty.

I swallowed, feeling the weight of my own silence. My mind raced.

“Maybe,” I whispered finally, staring down at the uneaten rice in my bowl.

“Maybe?” he echoed, lifting a brow.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, glancing out at the garden where the soft glow of the sun bathed the wildflowers in golden light. The deer that roamed freely here, so at ease with us, grazed quietly in the distance. “I saw you with Lila earlier… and something shifted.”

Noah studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“Okay…” His voice trailed off, his gaze still lingering on my face as if he were piecing together my unspoken thoughts. “Should we talk about it?”

“Can we finish eating first?” I asked softly. “And then take a walk?”

He agreed with a small nod.

After eating, we wandered through the gardens that stretched out beneath the towering peaks. The trees swayed gently, their branches heavy with late autumn leaves, casting long shadows in the fading light. This sanctuary was the life we had dreamed of since childhood, free from the constant pressure of being a born the daughter of a Shogun and a Samurai bound by honor and duty.

Yet, as we walked, my thoughts were anything but peaceful. The gardens, the scent of pine and mountain air, even the distant sound of water trickling from the springs—they all blurred into the background. My hand fidgeted at my sides. I couldn’t bring myself to hold Noah’s hand. His silence only added to the tension, until finally, after several minutes, he stopped.

Noah took my hand, forcing me to halt beside him.

“You can’t stop thinking about it,” he acknowledged quietly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. He didn’t need to say more; we both knew what he meant. We had been dancing around this conversation for months now, maybe even years, but it had never gone beyond the idea that it would happen… one day.

I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. We had survived so much together, ever since we were children. But this? This next step had me edgy.

Noah stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the last rays of the sun as it dipped behind the mountains. His presence was strong, reassuring, as it had always been.

“You’re right: I can’t,” I admitted. “It’s been in my head every since this morning.

“Then don’t treat it like it’s nothing,” he urged. The weight of his words hit me hard, making my breath hitch.

I opened my mouth to speak, but for a moment, nothing came out. Then, I said,

“I want it, Noah,” I confessed, my voice trembling as I looked up into his eyes. “I want us to have a family. I want a baby. But I’m scared.”

He cupped my cheek with his roughened hand, the warmth of his touch grounding me. “Scared of what? Carrying our child? Of the journey? Of the future?”

“All of it,” I whispered. “But mostly… I’m scared I won’t know how to be a mother.”

I dropped my gaze, my fingers twisting anxiously in the fabric of my sleeve.

“I grew up in a palace, surrounded by rules, discipline, and duty. My mother… she was so distant, always the perfect wife to my father, the Shogun. But never my mother,” a loud sigh escaped my lips. “And my father… well, you know what he was like. The Shogun never had time for his daughter’s needs, only for his ruler’s duties. I was never shown love, not the kind I imagine a mother or a father should give.”

Noah’s hand paused for a second as he absorbed my words. His thumb traced a tender line along my skin, a soft contrast to the roughness of his palm.

“I understand,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “It wasn’t easy for you, living like that. So much expectation, and so little warmth.”

I bit my lip, the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“How can I be any different? What if I make the same mistakes? I’ve never been shown how to love a child. What if I end up like my mother… cold, distant, too concerned with doing things ‘right’ to actually love?”

He shifted closer, his hand moving from my cheek to the back of my neck, his grip both grounding and protective.

“You won’t,” he said, his voice certain. “You already know how to love, even though you never saw it from them.” His eyes searched mine, unwavering. “Look at how you love me.”

I blinked, stunned by the simplicity of his words.

“You had nothing to guide you, no real example,” he continued, his gaze holding mine steady, “yet you love me with a strength I never thought I deserved. You’ve given me more than I ever dreamed of, and I know that same love will pour into our child. You didn’t learn love from your parents, but somehow, you’ve always known how to give it.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“But you’re different, Noah. You’re not a child. You don’t need me the way a child would. What if I can’t…”

He shook his head, his hand moving to cradle my face again.

“No. You didn’t just find a way to love me. You made me believe in it. If you can do that—show someone like me, who’s spent his life in war, discipline, and hardship, what love really is—you can do anything. And you won’t be alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

I closed my eyes, leaning into him, trying to absorb his calm certainty.

“But I don’t want to lose myself. I don’t want to become so wrapped up in expectations or doing everything right that I forget how to feel.”

Noah’s hand stayed firm, steady.

“That won’t happen. You’re stronger than you think, and more loving than you give yourself credit for. If we do this, we do it our way. Not the way you were raised, not the way your father would have expected. We’ll make our own path, just like we have ever since we left that castle.”

His words wrapped around me like a protective barrier, pushing back the fear that had held me in place for so long.

His eyes softened, and he smiled.

“You’ve already done the hard part: You escaped that world, found your own way. If you could only see the woman standing in front of me… You’re more than capable of being the kind of mother you want to be. And whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. That’s all that matters.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a wave of emotion crash over me.

“Is it really that simple?”

Noah’s lips curled and his eyes glimmered with something deeper than love—hope.

“It won’t be simple. But we’ll make mistakes and learn. You’ll show our child the kind of love you never had, and I’ll be by your side through it all, doing the same.”

His hand rested over my heart, where it beat fast beneath his touch.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he confessed. “You, carrying our baby, your belly growing with each day, and you—so radiant it’s like you’re lit from within.”

I scrunched my nose, fighting a smile.

“Radiant, huh?”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Like nothing else in the world.”

He stepped closer and reached down to pluck a small daisy from the ground.

“I can already see it,” he continued, “you walking down this path, your belly sweet and round, a few flowers in your hair...” With a careful touch, he tucked the daisy behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Just like this. You’d be perfect,” he murmured, his hand brushing against my cheek as he pulled back. “When you’re ready,” Noah concluded, “I am too.”

When we returned, the sky had darkened, and the streets were alive with the quiet activity of the townsfolk. We made our way home, walking over the cobblestone streets and exchanging evening greetings with neighbors lounging on their porches. As we approached our house, the familiar warmth of its wooden walls and the soft flicker of lantern light welcomed us. The building was newly finished, larger than the first one we had been assigned, and tucked away from the busier center of the sanctuary. It stood in a peaceful corner with a few other homes nearby, offering enough space for a growing family—three or four children could easily fill its rooms.

I could feel Noah’s presence behind me as we stepped into our room. I needed space, time to process what we had talked about, and Noah—being Noah—seemed to understand that without needing to say a word.

I moved slowly, undressing in the quiet of the room.

The fabric of my robe slipped from my shoulders, falling to the floor with barely a sound. I could feel his gaze on me, warm, but he didn’t say anything. He simply watched me with a quiet patience, his expression soft, thoughtful. Noah had always looked at me like I was something precious—something worth waiting for.

I didn’t rush either. The weight of the day lingered, but it wasn’t overwhelming anymore. It was just there—settled between us like a quiet understanding.

When I finally slipped into bed, Noah was already lying there. He didn’t reach for me right away. He just watched as I settled beside him, the cool sheets quickly warming beneath my body. For a moment, we both just lay there, listening to the sounds of the night—distant crickets, the faint rustle of leaves beyond the thin walls of the sanctuary.

Then, slowly, Noah’s arm draped over my waist, pulling me gently into the circle of his warmth. I pressed my back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, his heartbeat a soft, reassuring rhythm beneath my cheek.

I could feel his breath against my neck, soft and even, as if he, too, had found peace in the quiet. He made no move to do anything more, no hint of impatience or expectation. Instead, his body curled around mine, protective and comforting, and I let myself start to drift to sleep in his arms.

For so long, our lives had been filled with chaos—fleeing the expectations of a princess and a samurai, navigating the dangers of our forbidden love. And now, we were here, in this quiet, sacred place we had found together, where there was no rush, no fear chasing us. Just us, in the stillness of the mountains, knowing that we had all the time in the world.

Eventually, my eyes grew heavy, and I felt Noah shift slightly, his lips brushing softly against the back of my head in the gentlest of kisses.

— page three

A week later

Verbalizing my desire to become a mother seemed to have triggered the doubts and fears I had felt briefly when I discussed it with Noah the week before.

In the days that followed, I kept asking myself what would make me feel ready—what needed to change for me to take the next step.

The answer, I realized, was nothing. I was with Noah. We were married, happy. We had a home, and we were safe and healthy.

Still, it took me a few more days to actually say it out loud. It felt like if I didn’t speak up, Noah would wait forever, unwilling to take any steps until I clearly told him I was ready.

So one morning, shortly after we’d woken up, I stood in front of a full-length mirror wearing cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt. My hair was still messy, and my face showed signs of sleepiness, even though I had already washed up and tried to make myself presentable in the bathroom just minutes earlier. We had slept well. The night before had been exhausting, but Noah had coaxed me into sleep by spooning me, his fingers moving in soft circles between my legs until I came with a gasp. I don’t remember much after that—I must have drifted off to the sound of his breath against my ear.

As I stood there, I placed a hand over my stomach, imagining it. A smile crept onto my face, and I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Noah approach until he was right behind me.

He wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me not only with his long limbs but with his familiar masculine, earthy scent. He had just shaved and was wearing his training suit. The only thing missing was his katana, resting on the bamboo stand across the room.

He pressed a kiss to my hair, waiting for my eyes to meet his in the mirror. I let out a long, heavy sigh. Before he could frown, I said,

“Okay. I’m ready.”

His eyes darkened with realization.

“You mean...?”

I took one of his hands and gently slid it down until it rested over my stomach. His hand was so large, his slender fingers covered most of it. The sight was both comforting and thrilling.

I bit my lip and nodded.

“Ready ready,” I whispered.

He stayed tense behind me for a moment, holding my gaze with a fierce determination. Finally, his shoulders relaxed, and he nuzzled my hair with his nose until his lips found my ear. His hand, which had been resting on my stomach, slid a little lower.

“Should we start like this?” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through me. “With you standing in front of this mirror, naked?”

“I—”

“I can undress you in no time,” he promised. “Are you thinking about it? Me thrusting into you from behind until I spill inside of you?”

I bit my lip harder, my mind going fuzzy as my body weakened under his touch.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Without giving him a verbal answer, I rubbed myself against him, pressing my body into his, my derrière against his front.

He growled softly and nibbled at my earlobe.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening...” His teeth lingered on my earlobe as his hands tightened on my kimono. After a brief pause, he let go with a growl of frustration. “Lamentably, I need to be at the training grounds in five minutes. I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Right, so did I, and I was still in my pjs. I couldn’t help pouting a little.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said, stepping back and adjusting his pants. “You don’t deserve a rushed orgasm. You deserve to be given a sweet time.”

Sensible enough to aknowledge our agenda, I turned around and wrapped my hands around his neck, hanging from him as his arms came around my waist.

“Tonight,” I concluded, my voice low but content.

“How could I say no?” he said, and he leaned down to kiss me.

— page four

What turned into some sort of frenzy began that night.

Noah became increasingly determined to achieve his goal of getting me pregnant, even when there was a high chance it had already happened within the first few days, when we made love on every possible surface in the house.

The first time was in bed, though we had undressed each other hurriedly against the wall, his lips on mine, our hands exploring every inch of each other’s bodies. We had been building up to that moment all day—stealing glances whenever we spotted each other on the training grounds, brushing past each other whenever our paths crossed, each touch sparking the fire that smoldered between us. Finally, when we reached the privacy of our newly built home, nestled further up in the valley just a ten-minute walk from the center of the sanctuary, we let that tension consume us.

What began as a heated, passionate encounter soon slowed, Noah letting me have my way with him. I flipped him over, moving above him as he panted beneath me, his lips parted, hands roaming my body, worshipping every curve and imperfection.

Noah let me take control for a while, his desire evident, but as his hands tightened around my waist, he suddenly shifted, rolling us over until I was beneath him. His body was strong, and his gaze filled with a mixture of intensity and tenderness. Hovering above me, he held back, his muscles tense with restraint.

“May I?” he asked, his voice thick, barely controlled. His eyes searched mine, waiting for permission, much like a samurai would wait for his commander’s signal to strike, bound by a discipline that demanded patience, even in the face of raw need.

I could only nod at first, my lips parted, a breathless “yes” escaping me.

He moved with deliberate precision until finally, with a growl deep in his chest, he let go. His release surged into me, filling me up as he trembled against my body. I could feel the warmth of his seed coating my insides, settling deep within me.

When he tried to pull away, I placed my hands on his rear, my fingers gripping him tightly, keeping him pressed against me. His body was still, hot and heavy against mine, our breaths mingling in the charged air.

“Don’t,” I said softly, feeling the heat of him inside me. “It’s warm,” I added, the sensation grounding me, making me want to keep him there, connected.

He let out a low, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan. His eyes darkened further, the control he had just moments ago slipping away. The disciplined samurai had vanished, leaving behind a man driven by pure instinct and desire.

We lay there in silence, our eyes locked on each other, and after a few moments, I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“It’s getting so long,” I said, my voice light. “We’re going to have to do something about it soon.”

But even as I spoke, I could feel him stirring inside me again, ignoring my attempt at distracting him. His body had barely softened, and now he was already hardening once more, his breath catching, his gaze growing darker. Where moments before he’d held the controlled discipline of a warrior, now he was undone, overtaken by the primal urge.

It turned him on, breeding me.

I bit my lip, my own body reacting to the thought, a flush spreading through me.

“Not helping,” he muttered, his voice low and teasing, though the heat in his eyes said otherwise.

As I tightened around him, I felt Noah’s entire body tense. He groaned, his muscles flexing, a thick vein protruding from his neck as he fought for control. His jaw was set tight, teeth clenched, nostrils flaring, and a bead of sweat slid down his temple. The sight of him like this—on the edge of restraint, barely holding back—was intoxicating. It felt like the first time all over again, because this time, everything was different. He had never emptied himself inside me before, and the look on his face, etched with fierce desire and control, was a masterpiece.

I tightened around him again, deliberately, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way he dug his fingers into my hips just a little harder. He muttered my name in warning, his voice a low growl.

I didn’t care.

“I’m not scared,” I whispered, my voice steady and full of intent. “Fill me up. Again.”

And he did. Over and over. Night after night. In the mornings, in the evenings—sometimes we couldn’t wait until we got home.

On some days, we’d pack a simple lunch and walk to the quiet spot we’d found months ago, a little clearing not far from our house, near a peaceful pond. We’d spread a blanket under the shade of trees, surrounded by flowers and butterflies, and sometimes we’d forget what we’d even come there for, losing ourselves in each other instead, making love under an oak’s shadow.

Some nights, we’d go two, three rounds. The energy surprised me—how neither of us seemed tired despite everything we did for the sanctuary. Noah spent hours training, guiding both children and adults. His dedication showed not just in his skills but in his body. He was bigger now, his muscles thicker, his presence more commanding than ever. I taught archery, though not for as many hours, and when I wasn’t teaching, I’d help tend the animals or the gardens. But no matter how much we exerted ourselves throughout the day, the moment we stepped into our cozy home, all that energy seemed to refuel. We’d fall into each other, our hunger and desire stretching well into the night, neither of us ever quite ready to stop.

One of the last times, I’d been on all fours, my head hanging low, utterly spent after Noah had had his way with me, first by tying me up to his mercy then having me in that position. Noah was still behind me, his hands gripping my hips firmly, keeping me flush against him as he pulsed inside of me. His breathing was ragged, rough.

“Round three?” he asked, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on my skin, teasing me even though I was already undone.

I turned my head, looking at him over my shoulder. My skin was flushed pink, my hair a mess, my legs aching, my core sore from the intensity of it all. But I didn’t care. I wanted Noah. I wanted him to move inside me again. I wanted him to get me pregnant. I wanted to carry his child.

“Round three,” I whispered with a tired but eager smile.

He pulled out slowly, muttering a curse when he saw some of his release slip out of me. In one swift movement, he flipped me onto my back, positioning himself between my legs. Still on his knees, he grabbed the backs of my knees, lifting me slightly so my hips rested on his lap. His cock was already hard again, throbbing and ready. He didn’t waste time sliding back into me, thrusting deep with a rhythm that never failed to steal my breath.

Every movement was controlled and purposeful, and each time he drove into me, I felt the fire build inside again, spreading through me until I was trembling beneath him. When we finally finished, he pulled out carefully, his hand immediately moving to my hips to lift me higher, ensuring none of his release escaped. He wanted it deep inside me—he wanted it to take.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever, my hips elevated in his lap, his hand gently caressing my navel and lower belly. The room was silent, the air filled with the scent of our intercourse and sweat. Even as we lay there, naked and sticky, a flood of images washed over us. I could feel Noah thinking the same things I was.

We could see it—our future. Us, lying in bed with a tiny baby nestled between our bodies, Noah cradling our child to sleep, gently cooing him or her. I pictured myself breastfeeding in the comfort of our bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets, Noah watching from across the room, his eyes soft and filled with love. His gaze would be alight with that same tenderness he had now, but even more so, as we became a family.

This is what we wanted.

— page five

Weeks began to slip by, and with them came a quiet restlessness. I kept waiting for something—some sign, a shift within me that would hint at the pregnancy we were working so tirelessly for. But nothing came. The thought that there might be a problem, that maybe we couldn’t have children, was a worry I hadn’t wanted to entertain, yet it was growing, subtle but persistent, at the back of my mind.

Noah and I were still consumed by each other, our sex life as wild and frequent as ever. Nearly every day, we made love, keeping it thrilling and passionate. On special days, Noah would devote entire sessions to binding me in every possible way he knew—tying me up, restraining me from different angles, making me feel like each time was the first time all over again. Some of the orgasms were so intense that I completely forgot why we were doing it in the first place. That was the beauty of it—to create life without the pressure of it hanging over us. In those moments, we weren’t thinking about making a baby. We were simply focused on each other and the joy and pleasure we brought to what we had.

I couldn’t have asked for a better husband. Noah was everything—attentive, loving, adventurous—but still, a creeping fear began to gnaw at me. What if we got tired of this? What if the constant focus on sex eventually wore us down, eroding the very foundation of our relationship? I was afraid that one day we’d need a break—not just from trying to get pregnant, but from each other.

When that fear became too loud, I started taking time for myself in the afternoons. I’d leave the noise and bustle of the sanctuary behind, wandering deeper into the forest, away from everyone. I’d explore areas I hadn’t yet ventured into, discovering hidden corners where the trees grew thicker and the air smelled richer, heavy with the scent of earth and moss. It was peaceful out there, a quiet place where I could escape the pressure I felt building inside of me. I found comfort in the endless varieties of plants and flowers that grew around the sanctuary, as if the forest itself was alive with possibility and beauty, even when I felt uncertain.

On one particular day, I set out farther than usual, letting my feet carry me to a part of the forest I hadn’t yet explored. As I walked, I heard a noise—a soft cry. It wasn’t the sound of a bird or any animal I recognized. I hesitated for a moment, my heart skipping in response, before I reminded myself there was no need to be frightened anymore. My father’s pursuit had ended, the Shogun’s reach didn’t extend here, and Noah had seen to every possible detail of our safety.

Still, I felt a strange pull toward the sound. I stepped carefully through the underbrush, following the cry until I saw it—a small creature struggling in a tangle of thorns and spiky branches, just beyond a mossy boulder.

A wolf cub.

It was tiny, barely more than a pup, grey dark fur matted and caught in the sharp tendrils of a thorny plant. I crouched down slowly, unsure at first if it was injured, but its trembling told me it was terrified. The cub dark eyes locked onto mine, wide with fear, and my breath caught in my throat. There was no sign of its parents, no sign of any other wolves. The pup was alone.

I approached cautiously, my voice low and soothing,

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

As I reached for the small creature, intending to gently free her from the thorns, the animal suddenly barked, a warning sound that made me pull back. The animal growled, baring its tiny teeth, its body trembling with fear.

I was unsure what to do. My instinct told me to help the cub, but its fear made it unpredictable.

I held my hands out, palms up, hoping the creature would sense I meant no harm.

“It’s alright, I just want to help you.”

It growled again but didn’t back away. I let the pup sniff my hands, my heart beating fast as I watched it and got closer. That’s when I noticed it was a she.

Her nose twitched as she caught my scent, and after a long, tense moment, she seemed to relax—just a little.

Slowly, I reached out to pet her, brushing my fingers lightly against the top of her head. She flinched at first, but then, to my surprise, she leaned into the touch.

“Good girl,” I whispered.

There was something calming about petting her, as though the trust we were slowly building was enough to quiet both her fears and mine.

But the thorns were still tangled in her fur, the sharp spines digging into her leg and holding her captive. She wouldn’t be able to free herself, not without more pain. I realized I couldn’t do it with my bare hands either, at least not easily. That’s when I remembered the knife.

Months ago, Noah had insisted that I carry a small knife with me, just for safety. It didn’t matter how much I had tried to convince him that we were safe here in this sanctuary, that nothing could harm us in these mountains. Noah had needed the reassurance that I would be able to protect myself if he wasn’t there, no matter how remote the chance of danger. Reluctantly, I had agreed, even though I never thought I’d need it.

Now, for the first time, I reached for the small blade at my waist.

“I’m going to help you, okay?” I whispered to the cub, more to reassure myself than her. She didn’t seem to understand, of course, but she had stopped growling, her dark eyes now watching my every move.

Carefully, I brought the knife to the tangled mess of thorns, using its sharp edge to cut away the thickest parts of the plant. The wolf cub shifted uneasily as I worked, her little body tensing, but she didn’t fight me. I spoke to her softly, trying to keep her calm.

“I’m almost done, I promise.”

The thorns were stubborn, but after several moments, I managed to free her leg from their grasp. I set the knife down and gently checked her leg. It was swollen and scratched from where the thorns had dug in, but the wound didn’t look too deep.

“There you go,” I said, stroking her head again. “You’re free now.”

As if in response, she licked my hand, her tongue warm and rough. The small gesture of gratitude caught me off guard, and in that moment, a strange dizziness washed over me like a sudden gust of wind.

I closed my eyes, steadying myself with a deep breath.

When the dizziness passed after a couple of minutes, I opened my eyes again to see her nuzzling my stomach, her small nose pressing curiously against me. I frowned, unsure why she was doing that. She nudged my abdomen again, and again. With her injured leg, she moved in slow, careful circles around me, her little tail brushing against my skin. Without giving it a second thought, I scooped her up into my arms, her small body trembling slightly but no longer resisting me. She felt fragile but also strong in a way that reminded me of the quiet strength Noah always said I possessed.

“Let’s get you to the sanctuary,” I said, standing up and making my way back through the woods.

The cub stayed nestled in my arms as I made my way back. I could feel her warmth against my chest, but I was worried, that’s why I decided I needed to get her to the temple. If anyone could help her, it would be the elderly couple that lived there, with their healing hands and wisdom.

As I approached the ancient stone steps of the temple, my eyes caught the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. The place always felt timeless, as if untouched by the worries of the world. The old couple, whom everyone in the sanctuary regarded with quiet reverence, would be behind the main gates, always tending to those in need—human and animal alike.

I climbed the steps carefully, the cub stirring slightly in my arms. When I reached the door, I knocked gently. After a moment, the door creaked open to reveal the warm, gentle smiles of Master Jiro. His wife, Yumi, who had tended to Noah’s wounds a couple of years ago, was kneeling in front of the hondō but immediately rose to greet me. Their eyes, bright with age yet sharp with wisdom, softened as they took in the little creature cradled in my arms.

“Come in, child,” Yumi said softly, her voice like a lullaby, soothing and warm. She stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter the quiet temple.

Jiro followed her, his movements slow but purposeful, a peaceful aura surrounding him. His ever-present gentle smile grew a little as he saw the cub, his eyes taking in the situation with quiet understanding.

“You’ve found a friend,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of calm, like a steady river.

I stepped inside, feeling a wave of calm wash over me as the familiar scent of incense filled the air. The temple was quiet, save for the soft sounds of nature filtering in through the open windows. I laid the cub down on a woven mat, her leg still swollen and bruised from where the thorns had gripped her.

Jiro knelt beside her with his slow movements, his eyes filled with compassion as he examined her wounded leg. The cub, sensing the shift, bared her small teeth and let out a frightened growl, her body tensing with fear.

Yumi, always watching, always knowing, knelt on the other side, her hands folded in her lap, calm and still. She smiled softly at the cub, her eyes twinkling.

“She’s scared,” she said quietly, looking at Jiro. “But her fear is only natural.”

Jiro nodded, his expression never changing. “Fear can be soothed with time and care,” he whispered, gently reaching out to touch the cub’s leg.

The cub snapped at him, her little teeth missing his hand by inches. But Jiro didn’t flinch, nor did his gentle smile fade. He continued working, his hands patient and sure, as if this kind of resistance was something he’d long grown used to. He dabbed a soothing balm on the scratches.

Yumi watched quietly, her hands still folded, her eyes flickering from the cub to me with that knowing look she always had, as if she could see more than what was in front of her.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?” she asked, her voice kind but curious, her head tilting slightly as if she could sense something I couldn’t.

I blinked, caught off guard.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though her question left a strange sensation swirling inside me, the same faint dizziness I’d felt earlier. I brushed it off, smiling at her. “Just tired, I think.”

Yumi’s smile never wavered, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something almost maternal, like she knew something before I did. She didn’t press further, only nodded and patted my arm softly.

“Be sure to take care of yourself, child.”

I nodded, her words would echo in my mind later on as I made my way down the temple steps, the cub resting peacefully in my arms.

For now, the cub, despite her initial resistance, began to relax under Jiro’s steady hands. Her growling subsided, replaced by soft, almost resigned whimpers. Slowly, she allowed him to treat her, her body going limp as if she understood, finally, that she was safe.

“There,” Jiro said after a few moments, finishing up with a soft bandage. “She’ll heal just fine.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, kneeling beside the cub as she nuzzled into the mat, finally calm. My hand found her soft fur, and I stroked her head, feeling the tension in my own body begin to ease.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Take her home with you,” Yumi suggested. “She’s found you for a reason. She’ll rest better with you.”

I hesitated for a moment, imagining Noah’s reaction when I brought the cub into our home.

As if sensing my doubt, Yumi placed a hand on my arm, her touch light but grounding.

“Don’t worry. Sometimes, creatures like her come into our lives to remind us of something important.”

Jiro nodded slowly.

“She needs you,” he added simply.

With the cub nestled back in my arms, I made my way out of the temple, the warmth of their words still settling in my heart. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows through the trees as I walked back home. I looked down at the sleeping cub, her tiny breaths even and calm now, and I felt that same strange pull inside me. Something about her nuzzling my abdomen earlier still lingered in my thoughts, but those were quickly replaced by Noah. He was always so protective—of me, of this place. Bringing a wolf cub into our home felt like crossing a line, one I wasn’t sure he would understand. But leaving her alone to fend for herself wasn’t an option either.

With a sight, I climbed the steps to our porch. The house stood quiet and peaceful as I stepped inside. I set the cub down on a blanket near the windows facing the back garden, her leg still tender from where the thorns had torn at her. She sniffed around cautiously, her tiny paws padding across the floor as if testing her new surroundings. I watched her for a moment, chewing my lip.

Maybe I could explain it calmly, show Noah the cub’s innocence, how small and harmless she was. But the thoughts in my mind twisted into nervous energy. Wolves weren’t exactly house pets, especially in these mountains. He might see her as a threat, or worse, a reminder of the dangers we had escaped.

The main door opened a while after. I heard the familiar soft clink as Noah removed his katana. The thud of his boots followed, and his steps grew louder as he walked through the entrance of the house.

I exited the living room to meet him there. His dark hair slightly damp from his training session, his eyes softening when they found me. His presence, always so solid, always so calm, made my heart race for an entirely different reason now. He crossed the steps to me with a quiet grace, leaning in to kiss me softly on the lips, his hands cupping my face. But I was stiff, and the moment I pulled back, biting my lip nervously, he noticed.

He narrowed his eyes, instantly reading the tension in my stance.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said too quickly, offering a smile I didn’t feel.

“Why are you standing like that?”

Before I could respond, a loud crash echoed from deeper in the house—something falling and breaking. I winced, glancing toward the noise.

Noah’s eyes darted over my shoulder, and just as he stepped forward, the wolf cub came barreling into the entrance, her small body bounding toward us, paws skittering across the wooden floor. My heart leapt into my throat as I stepped aside, and before Noah could react, she leaped straight into the air, aiming for him.

His reflexes kicked in, and he caught her midair, holding her at arm’s length. The look on his face was a mixture of surprise, confusion, and disbelief.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, staring at the wriggling cub in his hands. The cub, oblivious to his shock, wagged her tail furiously, her tiny teeth trying to nip playfully at his fingers.

I hesitated, wringing my hands nervously.

“I found her in the woods,” I began, my voice shaky. “She was hurt, tangled in some thorns. I couldn’t just leave her there”

His eyes darted between me and the cub, still struggling in his grasp, as if trying to make sense of the situation.

“And so you brought her home?” His tone was incredulous, but not yet angry.

“She needed help, so I helped her. Then I thought… we could keep her,” I continued, stepping closer, my heart racing. “She’s just a baby. Look at her.”

Noah glanced down at the cub, her small body wriggling with energy, her bright eyes full of innocent curiosity. But his expression remained skeptical.

“You thought… what?” he prompted, still holding her at a distance.

“I thought we could keep her,” I said, biting my lip, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

His brow furrowed, and he gave me a long, searching look.

“You can’t be serious.”

“She’s a baby,” I argued. “She’s harmless.”

“She’s a baby wolf,” he corrected, his voice firm but not unkind. “And a she, on top of that.”

“What does that matter?” I asked, frowning at his tone.

“Have you thought about her mother?” he replied, his voice lowering as if explaining something to a child. “Wolves are fiercely protective of their cubs. If her mother’s nearby, and she scents her here, it could bring trouble.”

I shook my head.

“She was alone, Noah. I’m sure her mother abandoned her. I searched, but there were no signs of other wolves nearby.”

Noah’s eyes softened, but his grip on the cub didn’t loosen.

“Even if she was abandoned, this isn’t wise. Wolves don’t belong inside homes. When she grows, she’ll be wild.”

I took a deep breath, stepping forward and gently taking the cub from his hands. She nestled into my arms, her soft fur brushing against my skin as she relaxed against me.

“But she’s so small now. We can train her, teach her.”

Noah ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply.

“Training a wolf isn’t like raising a dog. She’s wild by nature, and when she gets bigger… it could be dangerous. She’s going to hunt the deer, eat the chickens… She could hurt you.”

“I know… You make a valid point…”

“A few, actually.”

“Yes,” I conceded, “and obviously you’re worried,” I said, understanding. “But look—she already likes you.” I gestured toward the cub, who was now pawing at his arm, her tail wagging furiously. “We could tame her and…”

He glanced down at the pup, his expression wavering. She let out a small bark, and Noah’s stern façade cracked just a little. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She’s just a pup,” he acknowledged, more to himself than to me.

I sensed his resolve weakening.

“Exactly. And you think she’ll suddenly stop liking you as she gets older? From what I’ve seen, the opposite happens,” I said, smirking a little.

He chuckled at that, shaking his head and looking up from the pup at me.

“You’re impossible.”

I grinned, pressing closer to him, the cub still cuddled in my arms.

“Please, Noah? Just until she’s healed. We can decide what to do after that.”

He sighed deeply, giving in at last.

“Fine. But if she chews through my boots, I’m holding you responsible.”

I beamed, standing on my toes to kiss him.

“Thank you,” I whispered against his lips.

Noah glanced down at the wolf cub, who had now settled in my arms, her eyes slowly closing.

“But remember,” he said, his voice serious again, “a wolf isn’t a pet. We need to be cautious. Her instincts could change as she grows.”

“I understand,” I said, though I couldn’t help but feel a sense of victory.

— page six

Three weeks later

I found myself walking through the forest near the temple, Trouble padding along by my side.

Her legs had grown remarkably strong, her once clumsy steps now confident as she darted between trees, stopping occasionally to sniff the air.

Despite Noah’s concerns, she had become a loyal friend, never straying far from me.

I smiled as I watched her chase a falling leaf.

Her adaptability to the sanctuary had been extraordinary so far. Each day, she learned more about her new home, her instincts slowly reshaping as she experienced the tranquility of the forest and learnt to become familiar with our little community. At first, she had been wild and skittish, causing trouble wherever Noah and I took her—hence her name. Her eyes had been wide with uncertainty as she navigated the unfamiliar sounds and scents. But now, her confidence was blossoming like the flowers in spring.

In just three weeks, she had transformed from a fragile cub into a robust young wolf, growing almost a third of her body length and gaining noticeable muscle. She had gone from fitting snugly in the crook of my arm to nearly matching my height at the shoulder, her powerful legs carrying her with grace and agility.

Noah and I devoted ourselves to her training, determined to help her shed the wild instincts that could pose a threat to the sanctuary’s other inhabitants. We spent countless hours teaching her commands, introducing her to various animals, and reinforcing positive behavior. Her ears would perk up at the sound of my voice, her tail wagging excitedly as she responded to commands. With Noah’s patient guidance, she learned to obey—“come”, “stay”, “don’t”, and even the critical “leave it,” which became essential when we were near the smaller animals that roamed the sanctuary. She even seemed to grasp Noah’s firm “don’t you dare,” though I suspect it had more to do with the sharp look Noah would shoot her just as she was about to misbehave.

There had been a lot of misbehaving, of course.

One afternoon, I returned from tending to the garden to find Noah in the entrance of our home in a fit of frustration, standing over his chewed-up boots. Trouble had taken a particular liking to them, her little teeth having left marks all over the leather. Noah’s face was a mix of anger and disbelief as he scolded her rather loudly. He stood tall, his posture rigid and commanding, embodying the discipline of a samurai as he confronted the wolf. The authority in his voice was terrifying. Trouble understood quickly. She bowed her tail and retreated, her ears flattening against her head as she scampered off to hide beneath a bush in the back garden. For two long hours, she remained hidden, a small bundle of fur trembling in fear, while Noah paced back and forth, trying to calm down.

Eventually, his irritation faded, replaced by concern.

“Where did she go?” he asked after giving up on his boots—he would need new ones.

I pointed towards the shaking form behind the plants and bushes in the garden. He walked outside, barefoot and knelt down, taking a deep, resigned sigh before calling her name and coaxing her to come out.

“Come here, little one. I’m sorry I yelled. It’s okay.”

It took him fifteen minutes to convince her to come out. Her big eyes cautiously met his, and the moment they locked gazes, she stood on her four legs and stepped out, approaching him hesitantly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, extending a gentle hand. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. I won’t do it again.”

She sniffed his hand, then gave it a quick lick.

“But please, promise you won’t chew on my boots again.”

Maybe it was the softening of his tone, but Trouble barked as if agreeing, and as soon as Noah smiled, she charged at him, knocking him down into the grass. I burst into laughter, watching the two of them tangled up, Noah grinning beneath her playful assault.

From that day on, they became inseparable. Noah had learned to temper his frustration, and Trouble, having experienced his wrath, understood the bond they shared was deeper than a moment of anger. She followed him everywhere whenever I stayed at home—otherwise Noah would command her to follow me. Her loyalty was so dedicated—it felt as if she had made it her mission to be by our side. Whenever the three of us went for a morning or evening walk, it was a sight to behold—my husband, once a formidable warrior, now calmly navigating the forest with a young wolf trotting obediently at his heels.

I could see the joy in Noah’s expression as he worked with her, his deep voice steady and calming. He took her on long runs through the forest, where she could expend her energy and learn the boundaries of her new environment. The more we trained, the more she thrived. She became a graceful creature, her body maturing rapidly, and I marveled at her transformation.

But it wasn’t just our training that made a difference; I couldn’t shake the feeling that the magic of the sanctuary played a role in her growth and adaptation. The land itself seemed alive with a higher power, its essence wrapping around us every second of the day. I noticed the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting ethereal glows that danced around us, and how the gentle whispers of the wind felt like the sanctuary itself urging us forward. Perhaps it was this nurturing environment that allowed her to adapt and grow so quickly, her size now nearly matching mine, her presence so majestic and commanding whenever she would walk next to Noah or just as she stood by herself guarding our home.

We even included her in our daily routines, teaching her how to interact with the animals we cared for in the sanctuary. I introduced her to the goats and chickens, her curiosity piqued as she approached them with cautious enthusiasm (she did, unfortunately, kill a couple of chickens the first few times we set her free when she was just a pup). However, the way we taught her to interact with the other animals was a step forward, and her behavior became more refined every day. Soon, she was lying beside the goats or running with the deer or chasing kitchens just for the fun of it. Her wildness was tamed but never fully extinguished, and it was beautiful. Her spirit was still there, vibrant and alive, just now channeled into something more harmonious in par with the place Noah and I were building our life.

As Trouble and I grew closer, I began to notice how she mirrored my movements, always keeping me in sight, as if she were as intent on protecting me as I was on protecting her—or as much as Noah was on protecting me. Although I suspected this had something to do with the time she spent training with him, a swell of pride filled me.

Now, as I watched her chase that leaf, I couldn’t help but think of the journey we’d both been on, how we were shaping each other in ways I never anticipated. The sanctuary was becoming a place of growth for all of us, and I looked forward to the adventures yet to come.

We meandered along a narrow path, the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves surrounding us. I paused to admire a cluster of wildflowers, their vibrant colors brightening the forest floor. Glancing down at my companion, I noticed her ears perked up, as if she too was taking in the beauty around us.

After a while, as my feet began to ache a little, I glanced down at Trouble and ran my hand through her fur.

“What do you think about visiting the temple to pay our respects to the spirits of the forest?” I suggested.

Trouble tilted her head, as if contemplating my words.

As we approached the temple ten minutes later, a wave of nausea hit me, sudden and overwhelming. I stopped in my tracks, one hand instinctively going to my stomach. Trouble noticed immediately, her ears perking up, and she bounded back to my side, her bright eyes full of concern as she started to bark in alert.

I tried to steady myself against the wall of the temple, but the pain intensified, and I let out a scream. Before I realized it, Jiro and Yumi emerged from the temple’s main gates just a few feet away, their robes fluttering around them, faces a mix of sudden concern and reverence as they approached. Instinctively, Trouble placed herself between us, letting out a low, warning growl, her body tense and protective as she stood guard, ready to defend me if necessary.

“No,” I struggled to say to her, kneeling to her level and placing a calming hand on her head. “It’s okay. Let them.”

Trouble hesitated, her dark eyes fixed on the elders, then backed off slightly, though she remained watchful. I straightened, forcing a reassuring smile as the elders finally reached me.

They nodded toward the wolf, then looked back at me.

“We need to take you inside. You don’t look well.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but another wave of nausea rolled through me, stronger this time, making my vision blur. I nodded weakly, letting them guide me toward the inside of the temple, my feet feeling heavy and unsteady. As I took a step forward, Trouble let out a sudden bark and bolted into the trees, vanishing from sight.

The elders followed her with their gazes until she disappeared, puzzled, their brows furrowed with concern.

“She’s going to find Noah,” I managed to say.

They brought me inside the temple, laying me gently on a cushioned bench. The aroma of herbs and incense filled the air. My mind swirled with confusion and discomfort as I lay there, one hand resting protectively on my stomach.

I closed my eyes, whispering a silent prayer, trying to calm my racing heart. The dim glow of the temple’s candles flickered against the walls, casting long shadows that danced eerily around the room. The gentle murmurs of the elders filled the space, their voices a soothing balm against my unease.

Suddenly, I felt the coolness of a cloth on my forehead. I opened my eyes to see Yumi’s kind face hovering above me, her expression warm and knowing.

“There is nothing to worry about. You will be fine,” she said calmly.

And I believed her.

— page seven

Ten minutes later, I found myself kneeling in front of the hondō, alone. The elders had slipped away, leaving behind a stillness that helped soothe my racing heart.

As I breathed in the fragrant air, I felt a shift, a subtle energy dancing through the atmosphere.

I heard the familiar rustling of leaves being stomped upon. The hurried footfalls of Noah drew closer, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness at the sight of him as I turned my head.

He looked especially handsome today.

Trouble padded softly behind him, her eyes bright and alert, darting between us as if trying to communicate something to Noah.

Noah’s voice cut through my thoughts as he called my name, his tone laced with concern. I felt a wave of warmth wash over me as he hurried to my side.

“Hey,” I said, feeling a joy that seemed to swell within me. He knelt to meet my gaze.

He looked into my eyes with such intensity, tilting my chin upward to assess me, and I saw the love and worry etched on his face.

“What’s wrong? You look pale. What is it?”

My heart raced. Before I spoke, I took a moment to look into his eyes—my husband’s eyes, the love of my life, the best choice I’d ever made.

“I’m pregnant, Noah.”

He blinked, still crouched on one knee, his grip gentle yet unyielding on my chin, as if he were trying to ground himself in my reality.

“What?”

“I was taking a walk with her in the woods,” I explained, gesturing toward Trouble, who now sat proudly beside me, probably feeling content that Noah was by my side and danger was out of sight. “I decided to climb up to the temple, and suddenly I had this weird nausea and dizziness. The elders took me inside. It’s because I’m with child.”

For a long moment, there was only silence, his eyes widening with every passing second. I could see the shock ripple through him as the words sank in.

“Pregnant?” he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief as if confirming that this was indeed real.

After so much trying, it finally happened.

I nodded.

“Yes, you know... the thing we’ve been trying for the past few weeks?”

The realization hit him fully now, and his expression softened, a mix of joy and concern flickering across his face. Without missing a beat, he stood up, glancing around the temple as if assessing the situation. “Sit down,” he said, his voice filled with sudden authority.

I laughed softly, shaking my head.

“I am sitting.”

“No, I mean... stay down. You need to rest. Let me find some pillows, something to help you feel more comfortable…” His eyes darted toward the elders, who were now gathered near the doorway, watching the scene unfold with gentle smiles and waiting for Noah’s orders.

“Noah, I’m fine,” I insisted, though I could feel a certain exhaustion settling in my bones.

His gaze returned to me.

“You’re pregnant. You need to—”

“I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton,” I interrupted gently, standing up despite the weariness tugging at me. A smile tugged at my lips, buoyed by the joy radiating between us. Noah immediately took my hand, his other arm wrapping around my waist, securing me to his side.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated, more to himself than to me, his voice a mixture of wonder and disbelief.

I nodded, feeling a rush of emotion welling up inside me as I watched the realization dawn on him fully. The joy, the fear, the responsibility—it all played across his face as he held my gaze.

“We’re going to have a baby,” I whispered, feeling the weight of the words settle over us like a precious promise.

Trouble, who had been lying quietly beside me, suddenly lifted her head, her tail wagging with enthusiasm as if could understand the news. Noah glanced down at her, then back at me, letting out a soft chuckle.

“She knew, didn’t she?”

I reached out, running my fingers through Trouble’s soft fur.

“I think she did. From the very beginning…”

We stayed like that for a moment, the three of us surrounded by a profound sense of belonging.

“Let me take you home,” Noah said. “I’ll tell Rei I’m canceling today’s remaining training sessions.”

— page eight

As my pregnancy progressed, the roles Noah and I played began to reverse in a way I never expected. While I was growing a baby in the most comfortable way possible—despite the relentless waves of nausea, the weight pressing down on my stomach, back pain, sleepless nights, and constant trips to the bathroom—I felt an overwhelming joy. There was something profoundly beautiful about carrying Noah’s child; it felt as if my body had been designed for this purpose after everything we had endured together.

But Noah, who had once been so eager to embark on this journey, struggled in ways I hadn’t anticipated. His confidence eroded with each passing day. The man who had been so eager and enthusiastic about getting me pregnant now found himself gripped by anxiety, worrying that something might happen to me or our baby. His protectiveness, which had always been endearing, had escalated to an almost suffocating level. Even Trouble, who had grown really big, seemed unable to provide Noah with the comfort he desperately sought.

The situation began to wear on me. For two months, Noah let me continue my training sessions with children, which I loved. But one day, in a moment of desperation, he knelt before me, his eyes wide with fear, and asked me to quit the sessions.

“Please, just stop,” he begged, his worry hanging heavy in the air.

I began to question whether he might have a breakdown or if he’d have to distance himself during childbirth to maintain his sanity.

I wanted to handle this conflict as best I could. I didn’t want to let myself succumb to tension or anger, fearing the baby might feel it. But Noah was really testing my patience with his insistence that I stop my archery lessons when I was still perfectly fit.

“I will stop when I can’t walk two steps, Noah. There’s nothing wrong with me teaching archery. I’m okay. I feel good. I’m safe. The baby is okay.”

He rubbed his forehead, pacing back and forth in our bedroom.

His anxiety unsettled me.

“Noah…” I walked over and grabbed his hand. I could hear Trouble barking and growling outside, likely scaring the chickens away. “I know this is hard for you, but I need you to let me do this.”

Puffing out his chest to release a heavy sigh, he said,

“I need you to have the most restful, peaceful pregnancy any woman has ever had. I can’t risk losing you or the baby,” he said, his tone serious as he enveloped my hands in his. “I’ve spent most of my life fighting for you, always believing I might never get this chance. Now that I have it, I need to do everything I can to protect it.”

I wanted to be angry at his protectiveness, but his words only made me love him more. I was truly head over heels for him. I had fallen for a boy, and now I was in love with this man standing in front of me, begging.

“I wish you wouldn’t make it so easy for me to love you more every day,” I replied. “I keep falling for you every time you say these things, even when it’s to try to keep me away from the training fields.” I said the last part through gritted teeth, finally coaxing a smile from him. “What would make you feel relieved?” I asked.

“You staying home.”

I scoffed.

“Noah, we should go to the temple and talk to the elders. They’ll reassure you that there’s nothing wrong with me continuing my training. In fact, it’s good for me to keep exercising. I think the baby loves it,” I said, placing a hand on my belly.

Noah frowned, glancing at my growing stomach.

“How could you know that?”

“It started moving,” I replied, my excitement bubbling over.

His eyes widened.

“Not much,” I clarified quickly, “but I think it has. Please, let me keep training?”

For a few seconds, he stayed quiet, eyeing me. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Okay, but the moment I hear one complaint from you or see that it’s taking a toll and you’re exhausted, you’re listening to me. And may I remind you I’m a very skilled samurai with ropes?”

I opened my mouth in playful disbelief.

“Are you threatening to tie me up so I won’t leave the house?”

“Absolutely.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, a bittersweet chuckle that echoed through the tension. Here I was, a woman accustomed to overcoming challenges, and he was worried about me slipping on an apple on my way to the training grounds. I understood his fears; after all, this was uncharted territory for both of us. But it was hard not to feel like I was carrying not just our baby but his worries too.

In a strange way, I was learning about love and fear. With each flutter of our child’s movements, I could feel the weight of Noah’s apprehensions and my own anxieties blending into something more profound. We were navigating this journey together, even if it felt like we were often two steps out of sync.

Noah’s tenderness, though at times overwhelming, was a reminder of his commitment. I had to remind myself that he was doing his best, even if it sometimes felt like he was trying to wrap me in bubble wrap.

As the days passed, I found ways to reassure him. We created rituals together—talking to our baby, reading stories, and planning for the future. Slowly, I could see the tension easing from his shoulders.

In the chaos of our fears and hopes, we were finding humor in our new roles. And while Noah’s protective instincts might have felt overwhelming, they were also a testament to the love that had brought us to this moment. In this blend of laughter and anxiety, I began to understand that our journey was not just about bringing a new life into the world; it was also about growing and adapting together, one quirky moment at a time.

— page nine

But I wasn’t one to give up easily. I’d been defying my father’s rules since childhood, so it wasn’t surprising that I wouldn’t follow Noah’s either, though I didn’t like hiding things from him.

At seven months pregnant, I was restless. After a month of bed rest due to high blood pressure—which had sent Noah into a panic—I was desperate to move.

That morning, with Noah off in town with Rika’s and Milla’s husbands for supplies, I seized the opportunity. The moment the house grew quiet, I slipped on my boots and made for the door, but I wasn’t alone in my plan.

Trouble nudged my leg, her muzzle gently but firmly pressing against my thigh. Then, just as I reached the door, she tugged at the folds of my kimono with her teeth, trying to keep me from leaving.

I sighed, shaking my head.

“Oh, come on. You too?” I muttered, feeling a hint of amusement despite myself.

It was ironic, really, how Noah hadn’t wanted to keep Trouble at the beginning, when she was just a tiny bundle in his arms, insisting a wild animal would be too much trouble. Yet here she was, doing exactly what Noah would’ve asked of her—keeping me home, or at least trying to. I knelt down, giving her a gentle pat on her head.

“You’re just like him, you know? Always keeping me in line.”

Trouble gave me a soft, questioning look but didn’t let go of my kimono.

With a little coaxing, I finally managed to free myself, and Trouble, loyal as ever, followed me out the door. She walked silently by my side, her dark eyes still watchful, as though she knew she couldn’t stop me but would make sure nothing happened—to me or the baby— while I was out. She had grown so much during my pregnancy, just like the baby in my womb. There was something oddly beautiful in that—two lives flourishing side by side, both growing stronger with every passing day.

At the training fields, Trouble watched me intently as I practiced with my bow. Her eyes followed my every move, her calm presence giving me a sense of safety. I trained carefully, enjoying the freedom, while she sat watchful and protective.

Afterward, feeling the pull to visit the temple, I walked with her through the woods. The air was still, the sun filtering softly through the trees. Once there, I knelt before the hondō, my hands resting on my belly, offering a quiet prayer of thanks to the spirits for their protection. I asked for strength, for wisdom, and for the safety of our baby.

But merely half hour into my prayers, a sudden shift in the air made me pause. It was subtle but unmistakable, a change in the atmosphere around me that by then I knew too well.

Trouble, who had been lying at ease beside me, calmly stood up, her posture relaxed but aware. That was all I needed to know.

Without even turning around, I already knew who was there.

A voice, stern and unmistakably not happy, broke the silence.

“You’ve been to the training fields.”

I closed my eyes, biting back a curse.

So much for a peaceful praying day, I thought. I should’ve prayed that Noah wouldn’t find out.

I took a breath, biting my lip before getting to my feet with some difficulty. A sharp ache shot through my back, and I winced, suddenly aware that maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t have spent so much time training.

Before I could fully steady myself, Noah was there, his hands on my arms, helping me up. His face was close to mine now, and I could see the tension in his jaw, the silent disapproval written across his features. He was not happy.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes for a moment.

His grip tightened slightly, steadying me, but his voice remained low and firm.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, not in your condition.”

I met his gaze, trying to find the words to explain. But Noah’s eyes held a mixture of worry and frustration that left me speechless, and for once, I didn’t have a quick retort. Maybe, just this once, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“I haven’t been training the kids, I swear.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Noah replied, his voice low and measured. “You’ve been training yourself.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, biting back a retort.

“Noah, I’m pregnant. I don’t have a broken leg.”

He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tunic, dusty from the road, smelled faintly of earth and the woods.

“Clearly you don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be wandering around in your condition,” he said, his tone a mixture of frustration and worry.

I threw my hands up, exasperated.

“Will you stop talking about me as if I had some kind of problem? I don’t have a problem. What I have is your child in my womb, that’s all. Now stop making a fuss about it. You’re really getting on my nerves.”

His eyes softened for a brief moment, sensing my own tension, but his stubbornness didn’t waver.

“You’re carrying my child,” he said quietly, stepping even closer. “For that to happen, I got inside of you. We did this together. You allowed me in your body, so now…” His voice took on a teasing edge, though the worry was still clear in his eyes “you have to allow me to get on your nerves.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Noah…”

“No, hear me out,” he insisted, his hands still dusted with traces of dirt from hauling supplies in town. He’d been gone all morning with the other men, gathering food and materials for the village. “You let me in your heart, your body, and your life. I’m in. I’m part of this. We’ve talked about this, for God’s sake. You don’t get to ignore my pleas and hide things from me when it’s inconvenient for you— not when it’s something this important.” His hands gently rested on my shoulders, his calloused fingers warm against the fabric of my kimono. “I’m worried because I love you—because I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you, to our baby. Do you not get that?”

I sighed, biting my lip as I met his eyes. His protectiveness had always been a double-edged sword, one that both frustrated me and made me love him even more. I softened a little, feeling the weight of his concern.

“I do, Noah, but you can’t treat me like I’m fragile. I’m not made of glass. I know my limits. I wasn’t pushing myself. I just… I needed to feel like myself again.”

As we spoke, Trouble, settled down beside me, lying on the ground with her head on her paws, watching the exchange. Her eyes flicked between us, calm and quiet, as if she too sensed the tension and waited for it to pass.

“I’m sorry I went behind your back when I agreed to take it easy…”

Noah stayed silent for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked down at my belly. His hand reached out to rest gently over the growing life inside me.

“Every time I see you like this—pushing yourself, running around—it scares me.”

I placed my hand over his, squeezing gently.

“I’m okay, though. Really. You’ve got to trust me on this.”

Noah sighed, the weight of the day’s work still visible in the way his shoulders slumped slightly.

“I do trust you. But you’ve got to trust me too. Last time, your blood pressure increased because you refused to rest, and you convinced me to let you do more, and look where that got us. When I say I’d rather you didn’t train or walk around too much, it’s not just worry. It’s because I need you to be safe. I need both of you safe.”

I nodded, touched by the rawness in his voice. My shoulders dropped as I let out a deep breath. I was actually tired, and my body felt heavier than it had all morning.

“Can we go home?” I asked, the admission quiet, almost as if saying it aloud made the exhaustion and guilt settle in deeper.

Noah touched my cheek gently, his other hand instinctively moving to my rounded belly, the connection between us—between him and the life we had created—undeniable.

“Of course.”

Trouble let out a soft huff, as if in agreement, her dark eyes fixed on us. I chuckled lightly.

“You’re in trouble too, as usual,” Noah said, pointing at Trouble. “We’ll have a talk when we get home.”

In response, Trouble barked and quickly ran to my side, hiding her face from Noah. Noah shook his head with a smile and focused on helping me out of the temple.

“And I’m sorry if I was too harsh,” he said to me, his voice lower. “Ever since we found out… I’m on edge. I can’t seem to relax.”

I raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile forming on my lips.

“Hmm. I can help you take that edge off.”

Noah paused, rising an an amused eyebrow at me.

“I can never win with you, can I?”

I shook my head, barely containing my grin.

“If I say yes, what do I get?” He asked.

“Besides your release?” my voice dropping to a teasing tone. “You’ll have me on my knees for as long as you want. I won’t move from there.”

Noah chuckled, the tension in him easing even more as he fell into my playful banter.

“On your knees doesn’t seem like the ideal position for a pregnant young lady,” he continued, his eyes gleaming. “Maybe I’ll just lay you down on the bed and tie your hands. Maybe I can take that edge off myself by keeping you on edge, considering you’ve been quite disobedient lately.”

“Whoops,” I said, grinning. “Am I in trouble?”

He leaned in closer, his voice low.

“In a lot of trouble, young lady.”

I met his gaze, my pulse quickening, and for a moment, the tiredness I had felt earlier melted away, replaced by the familiar spark that always flickered between us. Despite everything—the worry, the exhaustion, the uncertainty—there was still this. Us. That, no matter what, would never change.

— page ten

During my last month, even the simplest tasks had become nearly impossible. Bending down, sitting up, even turning over in bed felt like monumental efforts. And putting on socks? Absolutely out of the question.

One morning, as I sat at the edge of our bed, staring at the socks in my hand like they were the enemy, Noah walked in, fresh from the fields, his hair tousled and smelling faintly of the crisp morning air.

He looked at me, then down at the socks, and without a word, knelt in front of me, taking them gently from my hands.

“You know you could just ask,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he slid one sock over my swollen foot.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh.

“And let you say ‘I told you so’ every day about taking it easy? No, thanks.”

Noah smirked as he slipped the second sock on, taking his time, being so gentle with me. But as he adjusted the fabric around my ankle, his brows furrowed, and he leaned back a little, scrutinizing my belly with a worried expression.

“You’re too big,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’m concerned. I don’t think it’s normal for you to be this big.”

I raised an eyebrow, barely containing a snort.

“Noah, I’m about to pop. What did you expect? I’m carrying your child.” I placed a hand on my belly, feeling the familiar stretch under my fingertips. “Besides, I bet it’s probably a boy with your long legs. He’s just taking up all the room in there.”

Noah’s face softened at that, his hand moving to rest beside mine on my belly.

“Long legs, huh?” His thumb stroked gently across the swell, a look of wonder in his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s a girl, who’s just as stubborn as you and refuses to stay still.”

I laughed, feeling our baby give a little kick as if in response.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Noah leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my stomach, then looked up at me, his brown eyes filled with tenderness.

“I’m just worried, you know. You’re everything to me.”

My heart swelled at his words, and I reached down to cup his face, running my thumb over the stubble on his cheek.

“And you’re everything to me, Noah. But I’m okay. We are okay. You’ve been taking such good care of us.”

He gave me a small, sheepish smile, but I could see the relief in his eyes. He pressed one more kiss to my belly before standing up and helping me to my feet.

“Okay, Mama. Socks are on. What’s next?”

I grinned, leaning into him for support as I stood, his arm slipping around my waist in that familiar, protective way.

“Next? I need some food. A lot of it, actually. And then maybe a nap.”

Noah chuckled, kissing the top of my head as we slowly made our way to the kitchen.

“I think I can handle that.”

As we walked, Trouble emerged from the back garden, her fur brushing against my leg. She sniffed at my clean socks before moving over to Noah, licking his hand as if to say thank you for taking care of Mama. I couldn't help but laugh.

— page eleven

It was a peaceful afternoon, the kind of day that seemed to stretch lazily under the warmth of the sun. I sat comfortably in the living room, surrounded by the laughter and light chatter of my closest friends, Rika and Milla.

We had gathered for tea and pastries, a weekly ritual that helped ease the wait for the baby. I wasn’t due for another estimated two weeks, so we didn’t think much of it as we munched on sweet biscuits and sipped warm tea.

Outside, the garden was bathed in soft light and green colors. I noticed Trouble pacing through the open gates, her large form moving with a nervous energy I hadn’t noticed before. This was not her usual behavior. I furrowed my brows, setting my tea down.

“Trouble,” I called. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

At the sound of my voice, she paused, her ears twitching in my direction. Then, as if responding to some internal command, she trotted inside, her eyes sharp and alert. She came directly to me, nudging my legs with her nose and bumping her muzzle insistently against me, something she rarely did unless something was wrong.

I chuckled softly, brushing a hand through her thick fur.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze. But as I looked into her eyes, I saw something there—a kind of urgency, almost pleading. Trouble let out a low whine, and then, with a deep breath, she tilted her head back and howled.

Both Rika and Milla stopped talking mid-sentence, their eyes wide with surprise.

“Trouble!” I exclaimed, gently pushing her away. “There’s no need for that! I’m fine, really. We’re just having tea.” I pat her head to calm her down. “Go on, now. Everything’s fine.”

She stared at me for another long moment, as if trying to will me to understand something. But when I didn’t budge, she let out a resigned huff and settled on the floor next to me, her body close.

Rika chuckled, shaking her head.

“I swear, that wolf’s more protective of you than Noah sometimes.”

I smiled.

“She’s been like this ever since forever. Can’t blame her, really.”

For the next half hour, the afternoon continued in its gentle rhythm. We chatted about everything—Rika’s latest weaving project, Milla’s son learning to ride a horse… The tea was still warm, and I felt a comfortable tiredness spreading through me.

And then, it happened.

At first, I felt a strange pressure, followed by a sudden warmth that spread across my lap. My teacup slipped from my hand, shattering onto the floor as I looked down, wide-eyed.

Oh.

“My water just broke.” The words came out of my mouth as I remained frozen on my spot.

Milla’s eyes snapped to mine, and she immediately jumped into action, pushing the tea table aside.

“Rika, go find Noah,” she commanded with urgency. “I’ll get her ready.”

Rika bolted up, nearly knocking over the tray with pastries and sweets in her haste. She darted out the door, disappearing down the path toward the town to find Noah, her sandals slapping against the stones.

Milla turned back to me, her face calm but determined.

“How are you feeling?” She asked with her arms extended toward me.

I shook my head.

“I don’t know,” I truthfully answered. I felt like panicking.

The baby was coming, earlier than expected, and Noah wasn’t there.

“It’s okay. Let’s get you comfortable.”

She helped me up slowly, guiding me toward the couch where I waited with a hand below my belly while she quickly prepared a makeshift bed with a thin futon from a nearby cupboard and pillows and blankets, her hands moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this before.

The windows were quickly shut, and the curtains drawn to dim the light inside. Milla kept talking to me, keeping my mind focused. She helped me remove my wet clothes, and wrapped me in clean blankets. Then she helped me lay down on the futon.

But through the flurry of activity, I could hear Trouble outside the window, pacing and scratching at the door, whining softly to be let in.

Milla shot a glance at the door and shook her head.

“Sorry, girl. Not this time,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, before returning her attention to me.

I winced as the first wave of contractions began to ripple through me.

“Noah...” I muttered through gritted teeth.

Milla squeezed my hand, her voice gentle but firm.

“He’ll be here soon. Just focus on your breathing.”

Outside, the afternoon had grown still. All I could hear now was the sound of my own breathing, the soft rustle of Trouble’s restless movements beyond the closed doors, and the quiet urgency in Milla’s voice as she prepared me for what was to come.

Time seemed to stretch and bend, slipping through my fingers like sand as the minutes dragged on. The early contractions, though uncomfortable, had been bearable at first—just a dull, rhythmic wave of pressure that slowly grew more intense. But now, each surge felt like a storm tearing through my body, and Noah was nowhere to be seen. Every breath felt heavier, every muscle trembling with the effort of staying calm.

Milla was still by my side, her voice steady and reassuring, but I could barely focus on her words. My mind was elsewhere, spinning with thoughts of Noah. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here yet? Had something happened?

Another contraction hit, harder this time, and I let out a low, involuntary groan. Trouble’s whining could be heard faintly through the walls, her claws scratching at the door, and that small sound somehow gave me comfort. Even though she couldn’t be by my side, I knew she was trying to get to me. She knew something wasn’t right.

Then, just when I thought I was completely alone in the room, an old, familiar presence appeared at my side. I hadn’t even noticed her slip in, but there she was—Yumi, the old woman from the temple. She sat quietly, her weathered hand resting on mine, her face calm and wise. I didn’t know how she got there or when she’d arrived, but her presence brought with it an unexpected peace.

For a moment, I closed my eyes, listening to her soft, rhythmic breathing. But suddenly, a new feeling overwhelmed me. Fear. A deep, paralyzing fear gripped my chest, and my heart raced. I wasn’t ready. I thought I was, but now that the reality of childbirth was crashing down on me, I realized I wasn’t ready at all.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

The old woman didn’t say a word. She simply gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her ancient eyes filled with knowing. She had seen countless births in her lifetime. She understood. But still, fear gnawed at me, filling every corner of my mind.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I finally heard it—Noah’s voice outside, low and tense. Relief mixed with fear shot through me, and my head fell back against the pillows as I listened, straining to hear his words.

“It’s time, man,” Kenzo, Rika’s husband said, his tone bright and cheerful, though it barely registered with me.

But Noah’s voice, quieter, held something different. A knot of dread. I could feel it, even from where I was lying. He was scared. For the first time since this journey had begun, I realized that Noah—the man who had fought for me, protected me, never once wavered—was afraid. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face this.

“Noah,” Milla’s voice came from the doorway, soft but firm. “You need to be by her side. She needs you now.”

For a brief moment, Noah hesitated, as if unsure if he was even allowed to be there. I could almost picture him standing outside, paralyzed by fear, feeling utterly helpless. It was strange—this man who had always been so confident, now feeling as lost as I did.

He stepped through the door, and the room grew quieter, as if the world had been holding its breath for his arrival. The doors closed behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. He looked at me, and I saw the shock in his eyes. I was lying down, prepared for what was to come, but in that moment, I must have looked so fragile, so utterly different from the woman he was used to. My eyes were half-closed, unfocused, and I struggled to keep up with the pace of the pain that kept crashing over me in waves.

Noah knelt beside me, taking my hand in his, and suddenly, his presence made everything feel just a little more bearable.

“Baby?” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Through the haze of pain, I heard him, and my heart clenched. I turned my head toward him, blinking through the tears.

“Noah,” I breathed. “The baby is coming.”

“I know. I know. It’s time, isn’t it?” Were his eyes watery as he tenderly smiled and moved some hair away from my forehead with his palm?

I wanted to nod and smile but, but then my voice cracked with exhaustion and frustration as the next contraction tore through me.

I screamed.

His face twisted in anguish.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed to say, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Across the room, Rika, who had been helping Milla with preparations, shot Noah a sharp look.

“Noah!” she barked, her tone stern. “You’re not helping her.”

He blinked, startled, then nodded rapidly.

“Yeah, right. Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

He straightened up, squeezing my hand more tightly, his face a mixture of panic and determination.

“Okay, baby, listen to me. You’ve got this. You can do it. You need to push now, all right? Our baby wants to come out, and it needs your help. You’re strong, you can do it, I know. Now push. You’ve got to push.”

And so, I did. I gritted my teeth and bore down, the pressure overwhelming, the pain like nothing I’d ever experienced. Noah’s hand was firm in mine, his voice steady now as he guided me through the hardest moments of my life. Each push took everything I had, every ounce of strength I didn’t think I could muster, but Noah kept his eyes on me the whole time, kept talking, kept telling me how strong I was, how close we were.

I could hear the women’s voices around me, Rika and Milla encouraging me to stay strong, telling me it was almost time. Their words blurred together, just background noise to the sound of Noah’s voice and the pounding of my heart.

Finally, the pain reached its crescendo, and I felt the final push tear through me with a force I didn’t know I had left. Noah was right there, holding me, his eyes wide as he looked down at me, love and fear written all over his face.

“Push, baby,” he whispered one last time. “Just one more push.”

The world outside seemed to echo the chaos inside me. Through the walls of the house, I could hear Trouble howling, her voice raw and wild, piercing through the air. Her howls mixed with the frantic voices of the women around me, and everything felt as if it were spiraling out of control. My body was no longer my own—it was something caught in a storm, tossed and pulled by forces I couldn’t control.

Another contraction hit, and I let out a scream that tore from the deepest part of me. I gripped Noah’s hand so tightly, my knuckles white, as though he were the only thing tethering me to this earth. The room blurred, sounds became muffled, and the pain swallowed everything else. Trouble’s howls outside grew louder, almost mournful, as if she too could feel the chaos coursing through me.

“I can’t—Noah, it’s too much. I don’t think—” I cried, my voice strained and hoarse.

“You can,” Noah insisted, though his voice trembled, betraying his fear. His thumb rubbed small circles into my hand, trying to ground me. “You’re almost there. Our baby is almost here. You’re so close. Just one more push, sweetheart.”

Everything felt disjointed—Milla’s hands guiding me, Yumi’s soft murmurs of encouragement, the sound of the shutters being scratched from the outside by Trouble and her desperate howls still seeping through the cracks. It was too much. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths came in ragged gasps. I could feel the sweat pooling on my skin, dampening my hair, as the waves of pain crashed over me, relentless.

I felt like I was losing control, drowning under the weight of it all.

Then, out of the whirlwind of chaos, I heard Noah’s voice, softer this time, cutting through the noise.

“I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes, searching for something—anything—to cling to. His face was a mixture of love and terror, his jaw tight, but his eyes were steady, fixed on me. He leaned in close, his forehead touching mine.

“Push,” he whispered. “One more push.”

With everything in me, I bore down, gritting my teeth against the agony that seemed to split me in two. Trouble howled again, her voice almost synchronizing with my own scream, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world was suspended in that single, agonizing moment.

Time seemed to collapse, and all I could feel was the raw force of life moving through me. The pain, the noise, the fear—all of it swirled into a cacophony, and just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, the pressure shifted, and suddenly, there was release.

A loud cry filled the room—small, sharp, and so precious—and everything stopped. Trouble’s howls ceased. The chaos around me faded into nothing, replaced by an overwhelming, breathtaking silence.

The world felt distant, like I was floating in a haze. The pain was still there, a dull ache in the background, but it was overshadowed by a deep sense of awe and exhaustion. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw wasn’t the room, or the people buzzing around me—it was a tiny, wrinkled baby, nestled carefully in my arms.

A baby girl.

Her face was scrunched up, her skin soft and pink, with the faintest tuft of hair on her head. She was beautiful in a raw, fragile way, the miracle that we had created, our daughter. I couldn’t stop staring, my breath catching in my throat as the weight of it all hit me. This was her. This was the life we had waited for, the one I had carried for months.

“Noah?” I whispered, barely able to tear my eyes away from our little girl. “It’s a girl. We made a girl.”

There was no response at first. I glanced up at him, expecting a reaction, but he was frozen, staring at the baby in my arms as if the world had stopped spinning. His lips parted slightly, his eyes wide in disbelief, taking in every detail of her—the small fingers, the way her tiny body fit snugly against me.

“Noah?” I said again, gently. “Do you want to hold her?”

Still silent, he finally moved, his hands trembling as he reached out. Carefully, oh so carefully, I placed our daughter into his arms. For a moment, he just looked at her as he held her kneeling on the futon, his breath uneven, his expression stunned. He held her close to his chest, cradling her in the crook of his arm as if she were made of the most delicate glass.

“She’s… tiny,” he murmured. “Like, very tiny.”

I smiled, warmth flooding my chest as I watched him—this strong, protective man who had spent months worrying over me, now completely undone by the sight of our tiny daughter. I leaned my head back on the futon, utterly drained but so happy, watching Noah hold our little girl like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Minutes passed, whispered conversations from Rika and Milla filled the background as they sorted things out, quietly making sure I was okay, tidying the space, checking on me. Occasionally, they asked for the baby to ensure she was healthy, but Noah wouldn’t let go of her, not even for a second. His eyes stayed locked on her, as if nothing else mattered. She wasn’t crying anymore, she was content just being a tiny, warm bundle nestled in her Papa’s arms, her little chest rising and falling softly.

After some time, Noah glanced down at me, his expression worrying as he noticed how tired I looked. He brushed some damp hair away from my face, his fingers warm and soothing.

“Love?”

“Hm?” I responded, my voice barely more than a hum, utterly exhausted but content.

“She’s here,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Our baby girl is here. And she’s perfect, just like you. I can’t believe you did this.” His fingers traced gentle patterns on my forehead, his other arm still cradling our daughter securely against his chest. “I never thought I would feel this much happiness. Thank you.”

A soft, tired smile tugged at my lips as I closed my eyes.

“It was worth it…” I said, my voice trailing off. “Everything we went through… it was worth it.”

Noah cradled our babygirl. The soft rise and fall of her breathing, the feel of her tiny hand curled against his chest—it was everything he—we—had ever dreamed of. Beside him, I was drifting into sleep, my body finally relaxing after the hours of labor.

But suddenly, the peace shattered.

It started as a sharp, burning pain deep in my abdomen, sudden and violent, like something was tearing apart inside me. My eyes shot open, and a scream ripped from my throat before I could stop it. It was primal, a sound I didn’t even recognize as my own.

Oh God, what was happening?

My muscles tightened in agony. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. All I knew was the pain. It was unbearable, consuming every inch of me. I heard Noah’s voice, panicked, but I couldn’t focus, couldn’t respond.

“What’s happening? Why is she in pain?” His voice trembled, desperate. “Baby? What is it?”

I could hear the women moving around me, their hands gentle but quick as they pressed on my stomach, their words hurried but distant, like they were underwater. Everything was spinning, slipping. I could barely keep hold of my thoughts. Noah’s hand was on me—warm, strong—but the pain swallowed everything.

I heard the cries of my daughter next to me. And I screamed again.

“Do something!” Noah shouted at the women in the room.

“You need to step back,” Rika said to him, her voice firm but fading in and out. “We need to focus on her.”

“No!” His voice cracked, and through the haze, I heard him. “I’m not leaving her!”

I wanted to reach for him, to tell him I needed him, but I couldn’t. My hands felt useless at my sides. I felt his presence, could sense him so close, but I couldn’t open my eyes. The pain was too much, pulling me under, making it hard to breathe.

“I’m not leaving her! She needs me,” I heard him say, his voice broken. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Noah, we need to—”

“Tell me what’s wrong!”

“We don’t know!” she spat back. “Just let us do our job,” she continued as she tried to get him to step away.

“I said I’m not leaving her. Don’t make me leave her!”

I wanted to cry, to scream his name, but I couldn’t. I could only feel the burning agony spreading deeper, consuming me. My breathing came in ragged gasps, my chest tight.

I could hear Rika and Milla exchange quiet, frantic words. That’s when I heard the shuffle, the loud whimpers of our babygirl, and Noah’s agonized voice.

“No,” he growled, a sound so raw, so desperate. “Don’t—don’t take her from me. Please. She needs to be with me. She needs to be with her mother.”

Rika stepped closer.

“Noah, she needs care. Give her to us, and please, step outside.”

“No! No, no, no,” he choked, his words tangled in sobs. “She needs to be with me—I need to stay with them both.”

I tried to focus, to fight against the haze. I wanted to hold them, to tell him it would be okay, but my body wouldn’t listen…

I heard footsteps. The presence of more people in the room. Men. Rika’s husband and Milla’s.

“Please,” Noah begged, his voice breaking as I heard the soft shuffle of our baby being lifted from his arms. His pain hit me like a wave. I could feel it, could hear his breathless cry.

“Don’t! She’s my daughter! Please!” His voice cracked with grief as he struggled. “She needs me. She needs me!”

I felt her absence too. The warmth of her little body slipping from his arms and out of reach. It was like losing a part of me, a weight crushing my chest, making it harder to breathe.

“Noah,” Kenzo said, restraining him with his brother’s help. “You have to let them work.”

“No! I’m not leaving her! I’m not leaving them!” His cries were frantic as they tried to pull him back.

“Asher, help me!” Kenzo called out.

“No, please, don’t—don’t make me leave them!” Noah’s voice shook as I heard the struggle. He was fighting them, trying to stay, but I could hear the scrape of his boots on the floor as they dragged him away, Trouble’s howls intensifying outside.

“Noah, come on,” Asher said, his tone tight. “They need space to work.”

“I said I’m not leaving her!” Noah shouted, his voice hoarse, but even as he fought them, he was being pulled farther and farther from me. “Please, I need to help her. I need to be with her.”

I felt the door close. His voice, distant, muffled, was slipping from me, as if he was being dragged into some other world. And I couldn’t follow.

Taglist:

@girlfromrussia-universe | @kankuurohs | @somebodyels3 | @missduffsblog | @respectfulrebel

@badomensls | @shilohrosechicken | @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @concreteangel92 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

#noah sebastian #samurai!noah #noah sebastian fanfic #the unmaking of a warrior #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #dad!noah

86 notes · View notes

rahuratna · 3 months ago

Text

Love Thine Enemy

The JJK sorcerers find themselves faced with a slippery customer - a cursed spirit with the worst pick-up lines imaginable ...

CW: Suggestive and explicit language.

Characters: Ijichi, Nanami, Ino, Kusakabe, Gojo, Yuuta, Miwa, Rika.

Genres: Crack, humour.

It was Ijichi who encountered the cursed spirit first. He was, in fact, probably present for the series of events that had birthed the unfortunate being into existence.

The exorcism he was assisting on was currently taking place in a well-known photography studio, known for its high production value photo shoots of models, actors and sports stars. Somehow, this place had become a breeding ground of negative energy. Ijichi could feel it, soaking into the very fabric of the building, saturating it until it came flooding out in a sickly, sour-edged aura.

The exorcism had gone successfully enough, with Ijichi producing his well-practiced veil, covering the area in a dense, impenetrable curtain. It was when everything was seemingly over, when the grade two sorcerer, Kiryu, had spoken in crackly fashion into his ear piece, that Ijichi felt it.

That sly, barely perceptible winging of cursed energy just within his radar. Spinning on his heel, Ijichi scanned the area where he stood, just outside the building. Something was here. He had no doubt. He'd felt it, and he trusted his instincts.

Warily entering the small alleyway where he'd felt the presence, Ijichi knew that Gojo would have his head on a platter if he knew the risk that he was taking, but he couldn't very well leave without investigating fully. What if there had been something the sorcerers had missed?

That something was eerily evident when he felt it coalesce in the alley behind him. Before Ijichi had any chance to react, something brimming and fetid with cursed energy brushed his ear, and a voice whispered to him.

"Hey, cutie. Want me to fog up those glasses of yours?"

Ijichi, who had been preparing for a quick getaway, froze in place.

"Wha - "

"You heard me. Hmmmmm. I like that little pocket organizer. Got something else in your pocket for me?"

"Are ... are you - "

"You're stuttering right now, but did I? Don't think so. What're you packing, hot stuff? I like my men skinny, timid and begging for a spanking - "

There comes a moment, in everyone's life, when their most primal survival instincts kick in. There is a shutdown of unnecessary bodily functions as a fight-or-flight response asserts itself, lending unnatural speed or strength.

This was one of those times for Ijichi. The discarded newspapers in the alley fluttered gently in the aftermath of his very speedy exit.

Ijichi did report it, of course, being the stickler for proper mission protocol that he was. Thus it was that the next unfortunate encounter with the dastardly 'flirting curse' occurred with none other than Kusakabe.

The curse had moved on from the photography studio, to some hotel in an upmarket area nearby. Not good for business, obviously. Atsuya thought it would be excellent practice for the students, however, and so had brought Miwa along. While Ijichi's experience told him that the spirit hadn't been particularly dangerous, evolution was a possibility, and so he intended to stick close by.

Prowling through the airy, marble floored corridors, Atsuya unwrapped a lollipop and stuck it between his teeth. This hunt was taking a little longer than expected. The spirit was good at remaining concealed. Yawning a little, he linked his fingers and stretched his arms overhead, hearing a satisfying crack.

"Sensei!"

Miwa's warning shout was entirely unnecessary, as Atsuya's sword was already unsheathed, glinting menacingly as he faced off against the dark cloud that descended from the ceiling, adopting a vaguely feminine shape. The voice that spoke was indeed an evolution, sultrier, with a husky cast.

"My my. I do love a man in a suit. I bet that lollipop takes the shape of your tongue, just like my pu- "

"Cut the crap," Atsuya growled. "Miwa, stay alert."

"Easy, tiger. You're a little rough around the edges. Are you rough between the sheets too, big boy?"

Miwa let out a surprisingly martial yell, springing forward and slashing at the fog-like miasma. Her attack was true, but the spirit was obviously talented at evading.

"Stop harassing sensei, you cow!"

A hushed giggle reached their ears.

"The kitten has teeth. Wonder if you bite too, my Trenchcoat Tomcat. Wanna get to the nice, creamy centre of my lollipop?"

Despite Miwa's impressive efforts, Atsuya was growing increasingly annoyed with this spirit. Couldn't it just shut up? Discreetly, he let a near-invisible slash from his sword reach the end of the room. Part of the wall crumbled; gilt wallpaper sliced to shreds. The spirit was now on the other end of the hallway, that irritating cackle now echoing, elusive.

"Oh goodness. What a hairy temper. Wonder if you're hairy everywhere, huh? I like a bit of manhandling from a big, hunky - "

"Ewwwwww!"

Miwa's horrified scream was a tad juvenile, but Atsuya couldn't really blame her. The curse evaded them this time, escaping through a nearby window, leaving him with the strong desire to scrub himself clean. He almost didn't unwrap another lollipop.

Inexcusable.

And that was how Nanami and Ino ended up dealing with the flirting curse next. At this point, it had become a running bet in the grade one sorcerer group chat as to who would run into it in their upcoming mission.

Gojo would win some cash. Not that he needed it.

Ino was the first to come across it. They'd found themselves in a country club of sorts, the kind only present in this kind of affluent area. Out near the pool and suana, Ino had tugged off his shirt, diving into the water and performing a rapid check for traces on the pool floor. Finding nothing, he'd re-emerged and climbed out, water dripping down his bare chest, when he heard it.

"Damn, sugar. You got me so thirsty on a hot day like this."

There was a woman seated on one of the poolside chairs, shaded by a parasol. She hadn't been there just a few minutes ago. Ino tensed, fists bunching at his sides. Unperturbed, she pulled down her sunglasses, her dark, dark eyes tracking the droplets of water as they made their slow pathway down the young man's abs. She licked her lips.

"Want me to dry you off, honey? Or make you ... more wet? I bet I can show you a thing or two."

Ino opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment, the woman's eyes widened, and she vanished in a wisp of smoke as a powerful slash of electric blue energy bisected her chair and destroyed the wall behind her. Nanami strode out of the wide glass doors, rolling up his sleeves, blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. If Ino didn't know any better, he'd say the stoic sorcerer looked annoyed.

Nanami straightened his glasses and inspected the ghostly movement of the spirit with predatory menace.

"I'll thank you to leave my colleague out of this. Now why don't you take a more corporeal form so we can see how ... appealing you are."

A soft shriek of laughter reached their ears.

"And what do we have here? A real daddy, looks like. Coming to protect your cub? I'll let you fill me up so much. I bet I can give you ten more cubs like him."

"Unfortunately for you, unprotected sex with cursed spirits is not one of my preferences. Now stay still, please."

Nanami was undoing his tie, and Ino saw this as his cue to make a hasty retreat to the entrance, because things were bound to get dangerous. The spirit hadn't received the same signal, because it was still speaking.

"I can be a human for you. Heck, I can be anything you want me to be. Why don't you tie up my wrists and make me feel how hard you can - "

"How hard? Here, let me show you."

The sheer power of the blast sent bricks and mortar rocketing across the paved driveway beyond the wall of the pool area. Ino gave silent thanks that they'd evacuated the building first. Nanami wasn't usually this reckless with his strength, but something about this spirit was obviously pushing his buttons.

In the chaos that followed the settling of dust and rubble, the spirit had made a hasty escape once again. Sighing, Nanami re-did his tie, making his way over to Ino. The younger sorcerer eyed him curiously.

"You good?"

"Yes."

Nanami's angry mumbling wasn't fooling anyone however. Ino caught the tail end of his complaint.

" ... as if I didn't have to deal with harassment at my other job. And here we are, having to listen to this drivel. Didn't even have the decency to introduce itself ... "

Lips pursing tightly, Ino hid his amusement as he followed Nanami back into the country club, snatching up his shirt as he did so.

Gojo was not a good match-up for the spirit, when he inevitably did encounter it. Unlike the other sorcerers, he couldn't be bothered to take it seriously. The spirit registered as a bothersome house fly in his periphery as he stalked bigger prey through a deserted shopping mall, one that had been evacuated due to Jujutsu Tech's influence.

Gojo was hunting a rogue curse user, one that had plagued the market district at night, consuming his victims in alleyways he had dragged them into. A real piece of work.

When he eventually found the curse user, holed up in a frozen meat section, sharpening his tools, Gojo did take note of another brief, flitting presence that wove in and out of his perception. Another curse. But one unrelated to his current mission.

With his usual power, flair and panache, Gojo dispatched the curse user, dodging and weaving gracefully around the other's lightning fast strikes and dealing a concussive blow to his opponent's head. Someone in the background was cheering for him.

"Oh, God damn, aren't you just in a different league? That hair, that face, that body. Mmmmm hmmmm. Whip his ass, boss man. Show him who's in charge. Make him crawl. Make him beg."

Gojo turned slightly towards the direction of the voice, smile simultaneously pleasant and flippant.

"And who are you, pretty gal?"

The curse, for the first time ever, faltered.

"Uh ... I'm ... well, I'm me. Your number one admirer. Ahem. Yes. You sexy beast. So tall. I'll bet you're really long everywhere."

At this, Gojo's lips curved into a cocky smile and he flicked his wrist, sending the curse user careening into a nearby wall, smashing into the bricks with force, head lolling as the pain of consciousness was given up for blissful darkness. The crystalline flame of Gojo's gaze danced with flickering intensity in the shadow of the dimly lit storefronts.

"Hell yeah. Didn't know you were kinky like that, babes. I got a pretty sizeable monster, right here, behind this zipper. Wanna come see?"

The spirit laughed, but something about it sounded nervous, uncertain.

"And what's in it for me, big boy?"

Gojo spread out his arms, grin growing more feral by the second.

"But sweetcheeks, I thought we had an understanding. I was gonna try out my new technique, that's all. The one where I turn my cum into tiny bullets and fire them right into your mouth so you explode."

There was a brief silence.

"E - explode?"

"From pleasure, of course!" Gojo let out an unconvincing giggle, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah. Can't believe I forgot that part."

Needless to say, Gojo didn't hear anything more from the curse. Its presence had disappeared from his perception fairly quickly. Tapping his chin, Gojo reflected on the fact that Nanami was right. This was one slippery customer.

The young man hadn't seemed like much from afar. Just another sorcerer on its trail. It had escaped all the others, including that powerful one in the deserted mall, so the curse now had a healthy dose of confidence in its ability to exit the stage.

Of course, even astute cursed spirits, like the Flirting Menace, faced their Waterloo at some point. Sometimes fate favours spirits, enabling a series of evolutions that render them more powerful. Sometimes, they pick the wrong victim entirely.

Slipping out of the laboratory at the medical centre it had been recently inhabiting, the curse took on the voluptuous form of a technician, her sizeable cleavage all but spilling from the low cut shirt she wore beneath a lab coat. The young man turned slowly, shadowed eyes taking in the shape of his opponent. The spirit spoke.

"Now you look like a treat, little lamb. Wanna come sit in my lap? I bet I can show you all kinds of things with my probe and pipette."

The response was certainly not one the spirit had been expecting. There was something in the sorcerer's eyes that was kind, pitying almost.

"Oh, there you are. How about you give up now and come quietly. It'll probably make things easier."

The spirit dissolved in a fit of giggles.

"Me? Come quietly? Baby boy, I have a much better idea. How about I discipline you with a paddle on your naughty, naughty, tight little ass until you obey your mistress? Even good boys need some discipline from time to time."

The look on the sorcerer's face had shifted to something like pained expectancy. He sighed and grimaced.

"If you stop doing that, she might not get so agitated, you know."

"She? Oh my. Don't tell me you're already taken. I mean, she's probably nothing compared to me - "

The spirit's words cut off abruptly as something large, vast and powerful, moving with ferocious speed, shot from inside the boy (how was that possible?) and coalesced in the middle of the foyer. Spiny white and purple flesh, an eyeless mask of menace, a presence that filled the building with sheer dread, the lesser cursed spirit could recognize an apex predator when it beheld one.

A moment of deep, existential fear gripped the flirting spirit as the young man addressed the spectre that had come from inside him.

"Rika?"

"Yuuttaaaaaa. I'll kill, kill, killkillkillkill. Don't look at Yuta. Don't talk to Yuta. Don't exist near Yuta!"

The nightmarish voice lashed through the foyer like a whip, buffeting the smaller curse with such malice that it was blown back.

Oh boy. Now this was ... unexpected. Time to beat a hasty retreat ...

As it had done countless times before, the cursed spirit slipped through a handy crack in the nearby elevator doors, seeking out the grate above through which it could ...

A sudden, white-hot pain lanced through its form, rendering it immobile. Panicking, the spirit glanced back, perceiving the hideous talon that had shot with unnatural speed across the space, through the doors, and speared its 'body' in place. In this incorporeal form, nothing should have been able to hold it down, besides ...

The elevator doors suddenly buckled under extreme force and the spirit found itself tugged back across the glossy tiles, towards the sorcerer and his ... companion. Slowly, surely, the spirit was dragged towards the jagged teeth of that gaping white maw, horror and finality warring as its brief existence flashed through its own memory.

The sorcerer was smiling now, the corners of his eyes crinkling in charming helplessness, such that the spirit could discern (too late) the terrifying and implacable steel behind those sweetly curving lips.

"I'm awfully sorry. You're kind of cute, for a spirit but ... Rika? Take care of this, would you?"

And so, the brief, but bright career of the Flirting Menace faded slowly from the memory of the sorcerers it had tormented. It had been unique, after all.

Even with their packed schedules and the increasing tension now permeating Jujutsu society, there were still occasions when Kusakabe would glance at the creamy centre of his lollipop with distaste, when Nanami would remember with fondness what it was like to destroy a millionaire's poolside aesthetic, when Gojo would wonder how much money he could have won if he'd just bet on Yuuta in the first place.

As terrible as those pick-up lines surely were, they had found a rightful place in posterity.

And in the mysterious depths of Rika's stomach, of course.

71 notes · View notes