Disclaimer: I only own Taro, the unnamed woman (Amia), Iyani, Aidien Aoyagi, and the dream woman. Ritsuka, Soubi, Seimei, Misaki, and anyone/anything else canon to Loveless belongs to Yun Kouga. I make NO money off writing in this category.

Dedication: After trying so long, my best friend Kristen and her fiancé John welcomed two little healthy baby boys, John and Owen, into the world today, August 5, 2017. I don't know what time because she had a c-section and is only able to communicate in short bursts and didn't mention it. But they're finally here. I can't wait to meet my little nephews. (Not going to bug her in the hospital since SO many people are going to do that already). Congrats, girl. You're going to be a great mommy!

000

He didn't want children. That is what Aoyagi Aidien convinced himself at age sixteen, when his Fighter died and left him alone. He couldn't bring children into this world, knowing they might end up Sacrifices like him or Fighters like her maybe a mix of the two statuses. He couldn't bring children into this world, knowing what a harsh, unforgiving place it really was. After the incident became too much to bare, the pain became too real, and Iyani showed him mercy with her memory erasing spell, he forgot why he made that oh so important vow in the first place.

He was just a kid when he found out his girlfriend was pregnant; that's what he convinced himself. He was only nineteen. He wasn't old enough, wasn't able or willing enough, to raise a child. Neither was she. He knew, he could tell. But when he finally came to accept that his offspring was growing deep within her womb, he figured that maybe having a child wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps he could try his hand at being a father, more of a father than his own old man. He couldn't imagine the heartbreak he would feel only weeks later when they received the news that the baby he'd come to accept as coming into this world was no longer going to do so.

He didn't want kids anymore, he decided. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth preparing, both mentally and physically, and all the waiting just for it to go up in smoke, so to speak. He tried to be furious the second time she was pregnant, he really did. He proposed, he knew he had to. Whether or not the baby survived, he had to do what was right and what would keep his family off his back. Despite the attempts from both sides of the family to dissuade the couple on their marriage, they ignore it, and marry a few months before the baby comes.

A beautiful, happy, wonderful baby boy. Seimei, she names him Seimei. He doesn't know why. She claims to love the solstices, and thus its only appropriate for her to name her child after one of them. He doesn't argue. Seimei just somehow fits the little bundle of job in his arms. He's happy, for once in his life, he's genuinely frigging happy. He can no longer remember the anguish at losing his Fighter, he can no longer remember the pain at losing his first possible child. A sacrifice he didn't want to make, though not having a child so young was probably better for the down on their luck couple.

He doesn't mind having a child, he realizes when Seimei is about a year old. He can't remember the vow he made as a teenager, and if he could remember, he'd probably wish that he didn't. here was still loss, there was still mourning. Misaki still cried over their unborn, their departed child every year on the anniversary, every year at the grave. They didn't know the gender. The grave marked "Unknown" feels like it weighs heavily on his heart. And he can't help but feel that fragile heart break under the pressure when Seimei asks questions as he grows up. Why is momma weeping? What's wrong? Who are we visiting every year? When he is four, they stop coming. It's too much pain, too many questions.

He doesn't mind having a child, but how can they afford two living on their measly budget? A good lawyer he was, a good provider for the family he was. But there were still old hospital bills from the unborn, let alone from Seimei's birth. There are still mortgage payments and electric bills, cable bills and food receipts. There was still so much to pay for, for three hungry mouths, three hungry lives. But he can't stop it when she becomes pregnant once again. He hopes, he practically prays for the child to pass, to suffer the fate of their eldest. And he hates himself for it. He hates her for stopping birth control without telling her. He hates Seimei for being so damn excited when Misaki opens her damn mouth. He hates everything about it. He tries to convince her to get rid of it one way or another. He tries to convince her they can't do it. She threatens to leave if he doesn't stop, threatens him with child support and court orders. When he first hears the heartbeat of his second child, he knows in his heart that he almost forced his wife to make a grave mistake.

His name is Ritsuka, named after another solstice. The doctors love him, the in laws love him, his brother loves him, his wife loves him, his son loves him, hell, he loves him. The little bundle he feared, he resented, is now a little bundle he loves, he admires. He wants nothing more in the moment Ritsuka first cried than to protect and provide for his growing family. Misaki agrees to tie her tubes, the chances of them having another unprepared, unplanned child shot down. They are a family of four, and they're going to stay that way. When he was a teenager, he never could have comprehended that the thing he feared the most would be the thing his life depended on, his reason for living.

It's not the children's fault his wife is slipping in her sanity, he knows this. It's not Ritsuka's fault there's been an accident and now his memory is missing. It's not Seimei's fault he's not there twenty-four seven to defend Ritsuka. It's not their fault, he knows. But Seimei can blame him. They can fight and shout and scream and punch, but in the end, it solves nothing. It's just more pain and aggravation. The sons he loved with all his heart, the sons he gave up his very no children philosophy and policy for have now become the things he hates the most.

As all tragedy seems to do, it comes in waves. One upon the other, crashing and roaring like the waves in the ocean, leaving nothing but broken shells and devastation in their path. Seimei is gone. They had one child. Then they were gone. Then they had another, and then two, and now there's only one. He can't survive in this house, he knows, not for long with Misaki and her rage and insanity. He can't take it. And for many reasons, he runs. He doesn't look back. His second son, his only surviving child is now left with that monster that he created. His perfect family is nothing more than shambles now. It's nothing. Just like his bond with her is now nothing. Her. Who is her? Who is this woman that plagues his dreams and curses his existence? Who is this woman he knows, but doesn't know, but sees so often that she can't be just a figment of his imagination. She had to have been real. She had to exist in his life at some point, but now she's just gone. How does she have such an effect on him? how does her scolding him for being a coward, from running away, make him groan and shout himself awake in shame? There are many women in his time, many relationships. But none of them mean anything, none of them have such an effect. Who is she?

He'd never fall in love again, that's what he claimed. He'd date casually, find some quick, easy lays when he's not working and being blackmailed by clients he's shagged when he's gotten too drunk to care about the boundaries between client and lawyer. That was alright with him. But there was just something about that mousy little coffee shop woman that caught his eye, that resonated with him. he couldn't look away. A little light flirting and some touching of the hands melts away and is replaced with fun dates, passionate stares, hungry kisses. But there is one thing he does not count for, one thing he no longer wants in his life. She has a child.

He can't be a father to a kid that's not even his; the idea is absurd. That is what he tells himself until he finally meets the baby boy with so much love and fear in his eyes that its frightening. He's too young to know the harshness of the world, of the man in front of him that his mother is introducing for the first time. He can't let this little one grow to suffer like his own children had, he can't. There's a connection, a love, he knows it. He can feel it, the child can feel it, she can feel it. he must protect this child from all the evils of the world. He is happy to be a father again, to a little boy that's not even his.

His son won't even look him in the eye when they cross paths. The now sixteen-year-old is not in the mood for his father's lies, nor his excuses. He's not in the mood to meet the woman and child he decided were worth more than his own wife and blood son. But he'll play nice for her, for the child. He won't show them the hurt and anger and hatred he's nearly succumbed to all his life. He'll just make an excuse, take the hand of that tall, somehow familiar, blonde with him, and disappear like smoke on the water. That man. He's so familiar, and yet, his mind cannot place where he knows him from. And then they are gone.

Their engagement and consequent marriage was quick, the divorce was quicker. With his ex-wife and their son out of the picture, he feels free to begin his new life. He adopts the child, he marries the mother; he does everything you are supposed to do when you are in love, everything he should have done with Misaki the first time around. No mistakes this time. Then why, oh why, was that dream woman still there, shunning him, scolding him? Why didn't she just leave?

They haven't been married long when she discovers the meaning behind her sickness, her illness and lethargy. It can't be happening again, and yet it is. He got a second chance with Seimei, a third with Ritsuka, a fourth with Taro, and now a fifth. He's getting the chance to be a father again, to raise someone of his own flesh and blood into an adult. He's not ready. He contemplates running away. But the dream woman scolds him, his wife convinces him that things are going to be okay. And although he knows they aren't, he can't help the tiny nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him he's been running from being a father for so long that he needs to just sit down, shut up, and man up.

The moment he first holds his daughter, his only daughter, he finds himself full of a love he hadn't felt in a long time. She is his pride and joy, his third chance at being a biological father, his fifth chance at being a father. She won't grow up to find a man like him, to become a woman like him. She will grow up to be a fine young lady, with a life and a career and a passion unlike any he'd ever felt. This time, he can't run, he won't run. This time, he'll get things right. This time. This time.

She practically begs him to bring his son home, to bring him back into their lives. He refuses. The dream woman scolds him, denies him, shuns him. She won't answer his questions, only cause him more and more guilt, more pain than anything else had before. He caves. He calls. He comes home. He's not greeted warmly. His ex-wife wants him gone, his son doesn't particularly care to talk to him but does so anyway. They hear one another out, listen to their reasons and their excuses and explanations. It's the first time he feels like he's connected with the memoryless child since the first day he came into this world. The blonde his boyfriend, one he intends to marry when the time is right and he is of age. He can't say that he understands his son in that moment, to know who he wants to spend the rest of his life with at such a young age. He's seventeen, barely an adult yet, still retaining his ears-thank God. How can he be so sure of himself when his own father still doesn't know? How?

He can feel the walls of his memory, of insanity cracking and crumbling to pieces around him. He doesn't like it, he hates it. He blames the dream woman, who only shakes her head in disgust and calls him a coward, faulting him for forgetting who she was, who she is and what she means. He still doesn't know. There's a face, a name. There's something. He just needs to remember. Kofai. The word dances across his dream mind. His partner in crime, his partner in life; the first woman he ever really connected with. He knows who she is, what she is. His son, he realizes what he is. A Sacrifice. What he feared, dragging more children into his secret world of spells and pure hell, has come true. Ritsuka is only mildly shocked when his father asks his status, and his father is only mildly surprised when he admits that his fighter is the blonde he's promised himself to.

His life is slowly but surely coming together. His daughter will be graduating high school next year. His only living son has made a living as an artist with his boyfriend and their friends. Their wedding was short, but formal. Brief, but overwhelming. He walked his son down the aisle while his daughter glowered and pouted about not being the first to be walked by their father. Taro is starting to date. He brings home a few trashy girls, but finally settles on a good one, an honest one. Their engagement is surprising, and came quickly, but they are happy; happier than he ever could have been the first time he said I do. Ritsuka and his blonde, Soubi, come over for dinner with the family once a week. Taro and his fiancé join them. Kofai is still there in his dreams, still scolding him, still smiling with him. But it's a teasing scold. And suddenly they're teenagers again, vowing to take down the organization that oppressed them and their friends, vowing to never have kids to save any possible offspring the hell they were forced to endure growing up. It's nice, it's quiet, it's comforting.

He is only mildly interested when his mother complains about him letting his son marry another man.

She couldn't possibly understand the bond he shared with his son as a father who his son gave a second chance. She couldn't possibly understand when he was just a brat she threw out into the cold on his eighteenth birthday and regretted having. She couldn't parent. He learned how to parent watching her, watching his departed father. He relearned how to parent by watching his children, all four of them. And somewhere up above, the unborn looked down with pride, lovingly watching over the family they were not yet ready for.