They'd only been dating a month when they first discussed it.
It was Makoto who broached the subject - or, rather, Makoto who tripped over the subject, obviously having planned to talk about it with her but having neither the social expertise or the confidence to do so gracefully. And so instead, the topic came up during an otherwise comfortable silence while they washed up after dinner.
"Uh, Kyoko?" He was already blushing, which was how she knew whatever came next was sure to be interesting. "Are we - um, I mean, do you... want kids?"
It took her more off guard than it should have. Logically, she'd known the question was bound to come up eventually. They were dating, and quite seriously at that. Besides, ever since the final killing game, Makoto had seemed more keen than ever to look toward the future.
It wasn't even that it was too soon for such a discussion: by now, they'd known each other for four years and she knew - had known for longer than she cared to admit - that she loved Makoto. In the past few weeks, there had even been a moment, a brief lapse she firmly attributed to the poison wearing off, when she'd allowed her thoughts to drift into a sky of cliche and sentiment and felt, with absolute certainty that one day, she was going to marry him.
Her surprise then, came not from a lack or fear of commitment to her boyfriend, but rather, a lack of preparation for the topic itself.
The idea of having children was something she'd deliberately pushed to the back of her mind since she was old enough to comprehend legacies and linages. She could recall how her expectations of having a child had shifted quickly from baby dolls too dull to hold her attention to the six-year old realisation that duty was something some people were born into. The knowledge that as the only Kirigiri heir she was the one required to pass on that duty troubled her, even at such a young age - she had always been uncomfortable with the idea that any child of hers would, effectively, be born with a job.
While it still troubled her to some extent, Kyoko was older now and observed her family creed with much less reverence than she had as a child. Her first strike was pursuing a string of high profile cases, drawing enough attention to her abilities to get recruited by Hope's Peak to pursue closure with her father; her second had been accepting a desk job at the Future Foundation, even if it was allegedly for the greater good. Her third and forth strikes had everything to do with hazel eyes and sacrifice - the first time, it was keeping quiet about a NG code for fear of the heroic and stupid action it would prompt and the second time, it was turning down cases that would take her out of the country after promising to assist with the rebuilding of a certain high school.
Detective work had not always come first for her and although her grandfather had been very vocal about his consistent disapproval and more recently, his disappointment, remarkably, she had yet to be disowned like her father had. She suspected it had more to do with a lack of suitable substitute heirs than it did a genuine change in her grandfather - despite Makoto's insistence the otherwise icy man had a soft spot for her.
She was not naive enough to believe she could have a child and it grow up without the expectations of any other Kirigiri - she was not even sure she would want that, even if it were possible, because after all she was proud to be a detective, proud of her family name and its success. She would want to pass that on if she could. But she was also very aware of the flaws with her own upbringing and had no desire to repeat them.
While she retained reservations about the compatibility of her busy lifestyle with a child - and quieter reservations in the back of her mind about her suitability to be a mother - she couldn't deny her interest was piqued at the thought of making a baby with Makoto. What would it look like? What kind of parents would they be? Makoto would be a pushover, probably, but incredibly attentive - he wouldn't miss a school play or recital, much less leave like Jin had left her. Naturally, she would have to be the strict one, but maybe she'd also be the one they would come running to when they were afraid.
She raised her head to look at Makoto, who was very still on the kitchen counter where he sat, a plate and dish cloth in his lap. "Right now?" she said, with a straight face.
He looked about ready to choke. "N-no! Of course not! I mean, right? We're just renting this apartment and we don't have a steady income - "
"- and we've only been dating a month," she added, trying to fight the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"R-right!" He was incredibly cute when he was blushing. She wondered if that was genetic. "I'd like to have kids. I'd um, especially like to have kids with you. Just, uh, in a little while."
"Interesting." She prised the now air-dried plate from his grasp and put it away. When she turned back, he was frowning. "What?"
"You got me to give you my answer before you gave me yours, even though I asked first."
"Are you pouting?" Despite trying to keep her tone neutral, it rose in teasing. She went back to washing up.
"Well it's cheating!" Makoto insisted, taking a soap-covered cup from her with a sigh. "You always do that."
"And yet you want to reproduce with me," she pointed out. "What if we had a child and it inherited all of my bad qualities?"
"It's not bad that you can play me," Makoto clarified, "it's just frustrating. I'd want our kid to be like you, though. You're smarter than me."
"You sell yourself short," Kyoko chided gently.
"That's another thing I'd want it to get from you," Makoto piped up, stuck by the thought. "Your height."
"I've told you before, there's only a few inches between us."
"And your eyes," Makoto continued, tilting his head to look at her sweetly. "Cause they're so pretty."
He'd said this before, but Kyoko still felt a fluttering in her stomach at the compliment. She ducked her head and shrugged.
"I'm partial to your eyes," she admitted, trying hard to sound nonchalant.
"Aha! So you do want a kid." Makoto looked immensely pleased with himself at having extracted something resembling an answer out of her.
She met his stare finally. "I wouldn't be opposed to the idea." With you, she wanted to add, but didn't. "In due course."
"How many?" Makoto pressed, eager.
She couldn't help but chuckle at his enthusiasm. "I haven't thought that far ahead." She cocked a brow. "Why? Have you?"
"No." His blush deepened. "I'm just curious."
"Hm. Do you have a preference?"
He raised his fist to his chin and pretended to think. He was...mimicking her. She would have found it irritiating if it wasn't so endearing. "Six," he said, decidedly.
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
Makoto broke into laughter. "Kidding! Ha, kidding - get it?" He sobered, but there was still a hint of mischief in his smile. "See, I can mess with you, too."
"You certainly can," she granted, letting out the breath she'd been holding.
"Okay, so less than six. Four?" He questioned, "Or were you thinking closer to two?"
"Do you have a special fondness for even numbers?"
"Heh. No, I'm just testing the waters." He leaned forward and tugged her toward him by the hem of her jumper.
"Well, consider them thoroughly tested," she said, but she followed his lead and moved to stand in front of him. She reached up to put her arms around his neck, his legs brushing against her waist. "I think specifics should wait until later, don't you?"
Makoto leaned down to rest his head against hers. After a moment, in a quieter voice, he asked, "Am I scaring you off?"
Three years ago, this conversation would have sent her running for the hills. Maybe the same was true of even three months ago, before she'd had to choose between a life without him or her own mortality. The knowledge that one wrong move back then would have surely resulted in them never being able to be so honest with each other made it much easier for Kyoko to be frank with her feelings.
"I think you know me better than to think I scare this easy." She pressed her lips to his, her gloved hand coming up to cup his chin.
When they broke apart, he brightly said, "So, six is still a possibility?" earning a swot with the dish cloth.
The next time it came up seriously was six months into their marriage.
They were driving home from visiting Komaru, who had recently taken in a young girl orphaned amidst the despair some years before.
"Sure seems like Emi's settling in pretty well, huh?" Makoto said, referencing the child. He had been hesitant when his sister first told him about the girl she'd found while on a mission with the Future Foundation.
"You're a little young to take on that kind of responsibility," he'd reasoned, and although Kyoko had stayed quiet, she thought he had a point - Komaru was after all, still finishing college - but the younger Naegi was stubborn.
"Emi doesn't have anyone else!" Komaru insisted, staring her brother down. "Didn't Mom and Dad raise us to always help people who need it?"
At the mention of their dead parents, Makoto had relented. He promised to help his sister in any way he could, but Komaru seemed to be doing just fine on her own. She was, after all, not completely alone, as Toko also lived with her and Emi.
"Emi seems very happy," Kyoko agreed, as her husband drove. "Komaru is good with her. So is Toko, surprisingly."
"Right?" Makoto laughed. "I think it helps that Emi likes reading."
"She also likes you," Kyoko pointed out. She poked her husband's cheek. "'Uncle Koto.'"
"Well, I should be good with kids," he said, shrugging. "It comes with the territory."
"Do you allow your students to paint your nails, too?" Kyoko teased, her eyes falling to the nails on her husband's right hand - painted a lovely nude pink - as it reached for the stick shift.
"Oh." Makoto smiled sheepishly. "Nail polish makes Toko sneeze and Komaru and you were catching up. Emi asked so sweetly. I couldn't say no."
"Of course not." She gave into both the smile that came next and the thought that accompanied it, even voicing it aloud: "You'll make a great father."
"Yeah?" Makoto turned to her, briefly, with a hopeful expression on his face. "You really think so?"
"Absolutely. You're incredibly loving, you have impeccable patience, you're a wonderful role model." She leaned her head against the window to better watch her husband blush under her praise. "I can't think of anyone who is better suited to being a parent than you."
"Thanks, Kyoko." He snuck a glance across the car at her to smile. "For the record, I think you'd be pretty great too. Emi was totally impressed by your stories about previous cases."
"I think there's more to it than them thinking you're cool, unfortunately." Kyoko's sigh was a little wistful - she knew she didn't have the qualities most people associated with mothers, but neither did Komaru, and she still made it look easy in a way that made Kyoko feel far-removed, foreign. Was it because she, unlike Komaru, had not had a mother of her own to imitate? Or was it because of her cold nature, because she kept people (people who weren't Makoto, anyway) at arms length even now?
"You're also super good at explaining things," Makoto added, perhaps sensing her apprehension. "And you're protective. In a good way. I don't think anyone would dare bully our kid if they knew you were its mom."
"I suppose." Truthfully, Kyoko doubted Makoto's theory very much - surely any child of theirs would be awkward, clumsy and either oddly standoffish or annoyingly enthusiastic, all of which would make he or she the perfect target for bullies.
"Have you thought about it recently?" Makoto asked, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, an idle tick, but one that usually indicated a degree of anticipation. "You know - us starting a family."
"I've been a little busy," she said, dryly. These days, she devoted her time to re-establishing her detective career and for a while, it had proven difficult. Her reputation had taken more of a knock than she'd have liked, and although she loved Makoto and was proud of his accomplishments, having people recognise her by name because of his previous notoriety as the world's 'Ultimate Hope' stirred something close to resentment within her. She knew it was unfair - had she not been the one to push that particular sentiment so forcefully in the first place? - and she knew she was being weak by letting other people's opinions get to her, but it bothered her nonetheless.
Thankfully, solving a few particularly tricky cases had gone a long way to challenging perceptions. She now had her own agency up and running and had an influx of interesting cases - so many she'd even had to turn some away for practicality reasons. She felt as if she were finally coming into her own and Makoto, to his credit, was nothing if not supportive, even if she did catch the fretful sighs when she came home with mild injuries, or the lonely in his voice on the phone when she was gone for weeks at a time.
"I know you have," Makoto said with a nod. "But...we're always busy. And I've been thinking about it a lot since we got married."
Kyoko knew her husband, knew where this was going. "Not yet," she said firmly. "Not right now, Makoto."
"Okay, so maybe not right this second," Makoto conceded, with a playful smile. "But later this year? If we got pregnant around Halloween, it would mean I'd have the summer months off from work to be with you and the baby."
Something about the affection in Makoto's voice when he said the word 'baby' made her want to simultaneously jump out of the car while it was still moving and run and command him to pull over so she could climb into his lap that very second. Thankfully, Makoto had been stirring such conflictions in her for a long time, so she knew how to handle it.
"Work's picking up for me," she said, steadying herself by smoothing out a crease in her skirt and staring ahead. "I can't afford to take off any time soon."
"You'll never be ready to take a break from work, Kyoko," Makoto said, and although it was said with the same good-natured tone as almost everything that passed his lips, Kyoko didn't miss the strain in his voice.
"Is that a problem?" she asked, very evenly. "Did I give a different impression when you proposed to me? Surely I must have, if you expect me to be 'barefoot and pregnant' within the first year of marriage."
"Hey, come on, you know that's not what I meant," Makoto said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm just saying, I don't think there's such thing as the perfect time."
"Maybe not, but for me, there is such thing as the wrong time, and that would be right now." She looked over at him, but he kept his eyes on the road. "It's non-negotiable, Makoto."
She expected him to apologise for pushing it, or agree with her. Instead, her husband shrugged, a little sullenly. "You're the one who brought it up."
She didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't. They spent the rest of the drive in silence. When they got into the house, he announced he was going to bed and she didn't follow. She stayed up to do paperwork and when she felt her eyes start to drift shut, she curled up on the couch and yanked a throw over her.
It was some time later when she felt a heavy warmth fit itself around her body. Even with her mind still half-asleep, she knew it was Makoto. He shifted closer to nuzzle her neck. She was too tired to suppress the small hum of contentment that escaped her.
"You realise the entire point of me sleeping on the couch is that we're not sleeping together?" she said, but she let her head fall to rest on his.
"I can't sleep properly without you," Makoto confessed into the darkness.
He had admitted this to her first after only a few months together, and sure enough, she usually noticed a definite darkness around his eyes when she returned from work trips. She surmised it was triggered at least partially by the Final Killing Game and her quasi-death.
"Nightmare?" she asked, tugging a glove off to brush his cheek.
Makoto also had a tendency to have nightmares when stressed. It didn't matter if it was a problem at work, a worry about her or Komaru or a financial issue - of which there had been a few, now they were in the process of buying a house - if it was enough to play on Makoto's mind, it was enough to bring the traumatic happenings of the past pounding back. Usually, it would last for a few nights until the issue was resolved. He would wake up in a cold sweat, images of his friends corpses burning in his mind's eye. Each time, it took a while to talk him down, to reassure him all of that was really over and they were safe now.
"Nah," he said with a yawn, as he leaned into her scarred touch. "I just missed you."
Any residual anger she held onto wilted. "Oh." She let him take her hand in his, let him place his lips to her palm, a peace offering.
"I don't like it when we fight," he said, sounding small.
"It was hardly a fight," she reasoned.
"Well, disagreement then." He pushed himself up onto his elbows to look her in the eye, taking her by surprise. Assertive was not something Makoto tended to be after an argument. "I was pushy earlier, and I shouldn't have been. Of course I don't just want you be at home having babies, Kyoko. You're too brilliant at what you do to give that up. I'd never want you to, unless it was what you wanted."
"I know." She stroked his hair. "I may have...overreacted, slightly."
Makoto shook his head. "I wasn't listening to you. I just...I dunno, the idea of us having a kid makes me really excited. I know you're right and it's not the time, but I- I think I lost sight of that when you said I'd make a good dad." He ducked his head. "I got carried away. I'm sorry."
If she wasn't over it before, she would have been then: Makoto was too cute to really stay mad at, especially when his crime was something as pure as being overly enthusiastic about their future together.
"I shut you down pretty harshly," Kyoko admitted. "It's a decision we're supposed to make together. It should have been a discussion. I'm sorry, too."
Makoto stretched his neck for a kiss. She pulled him closer to deepen it. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. She paused like that for a second, taking in the way he was looking at her, before edging onto her side and easing him into the space she left behind so she could put one leg over him and shift to sit on top of his boxers. She pressed herself into him, amused by the way he bit his lip and his hands moved, instinctively, to frame her hips.
"Just because we're not ready to try for a baby right now doesn't mean we can't practice, you know," Kyoko said lowly, before leaning down and kissing the grin off her husband's face.
It was about a year later when they started trying.
This time, it had been her suggestion as they lay anchored together in bed one night. "I want a baby," she said simply, and Makoto, once he had recovered from the shock, had been over the moon.
By now, they had settled into a new house and were in the process of redecorating. They made one of the two spare bedrooms into an office space, but lately, when passing by the other on her way downstairs, Kyoko had begun to picture it as a nursery.
She was as busy as ever with work, as was Makoto, but they were financially stable enough to afford her taking a few months off. She'd also recently taken on a temporary apprentice, the teenage nephew of a another detective she had associations with in the past. Although Kyoko typically preferred to work alone, Saihara was growing more competent under her guidance, and had begun to ask for cases to work alone. He was unsure of himself still and more readily influenced by emotion than she liked, but he was intelligent and quick-thinking and she had no real reservations about leaving him in charge for a short while. She had gotten the hint, however, that Saihara may not want to be a detective forever, and as such, did not know how much longer she would have the ability to leave her work in someone else's hands.
Makoto had taken on tutoring Emi - which was amusing to Kyoko, given that during these tutoring sessions, he typically called for her to give him the answers - and seeing his pride as the little girl grew in both confidence and skill had definitely played a part in winning Kyoko over.
She explained all of this to Makoto, going into specifics about financials and timing and other logical things, even though she suspected he hadn't heard much beyond her original comment. She asked him if he had an objections, knowing he would say no, and smiled when he pulled her impossibly close and chanted, 'yes, yes, yes' in a happy whisper like it was a magic spell. The next day, she tossed her birth control pills.
Two months passed. Then three. The excitement that sparked like static between them each time they had sex began to fade into more urgent, more focused lovemaking. He stopped asking her after every time if she felt any different with wide, hopeful eyes.
Four months came and went. Five. She grew impatient, but Makoto's optimism didn't waver. "We just have to try harder," he would tease, punctuated with a wink. She started staying late at work on the evenings he tutored Emi, because watching them together stung, like she was being teased.
After her period came for the six month in a row, she bought ovulation tests from the local pharmacy to track her cycle. They had extra sex on the days it predicted she was due to ovulate. She'd come by during Makoto's lunch break, silencing his offers to take her to a restaurant by tugging on his belt.
Seven months passed. She got tired of hoping. Instead, her mind began to form deductions. Makoto said nothing.
She made an appointment with a fertility clinic, but didn't tell him about it. They ran tests, but seemed unconcerned as they told her the results would be a while, brushing her off on the basis she was still in her twenties.
One night, she arrived at Hope's Peak early for a committee meeting. Although she no longer worked directly for the school, Makoto had impored her to stay on as a board member, along with the other survivors of their class. Ever humble, Makoto wanted the reformed academy to imbody all of their ideals, not just his, and he was always insisting he valued their opinions.
The conference room where the meeting was usually held was occupied by a student council gathering, so Kyoko waited in the gymnasium for the others to arrive. She was unstacking some chairs to form a circle when Aoi Asahina entered and ran to her, yanking a chair from her grasp with ease.
"Kyoko! Be careful!" The swimming teacher scolded. "You need to take it easy."
Kyoko tensed. "Do I?"
"Well yeah." Hina glanced over her shoulder, as if to check they were alone. Then, her face broke into a smile and she half-whispered, "Makoto mentioned you guys are trying for a baby! I bet you'll be great parents!"
Kyoko felt her cheeks flush. "I see. And where is he now, Hina?"
Hina's eyes widened in realisation. "Oh. He wasn't supposed to tell?" She winced. "Don't be mad at him - I practically forced it out of him! And I promise I won't tell anyone."
"It's fine," Kyoko lied. "Where is he?"
Reluctantly, Hina confessed Makoto had been on a call with a concerned parent. Kyoko thanked her friend in an effort to maintain a semblance of composure until she'd left the room, and then she stormed off in the direction of her husband's office.
She caught him just as he was leaving, files tucked under his arm. "Kyoko!" He smiled. "You're here early. We've been pushed to the gym tonight. I'm on my way there now."
"No you're not," she barked, pushing past him to get to his office, away from the prying eyes of his secretary. "We need to talk."
He followed her, concern etched on his face. He abandoned the files on his desk to hold his hands out to her. "Is everything okay? You look upset."
She crossed the room and folded her arms, putting as much distance between them as possible. "What is wrong with you?"
"Um." Makoto blinked at her, dropping his hands. "Did I do something?"
"Why would you tell Hina we're trying to conceive?" She demanded. Once, Makoto's honesty had been one of his most endearing qualities - now here it was, a betrayal of her privacy. "Is nothing off-limits to you?"
"Ah, shit - did she say something?" Makoto rubbed his forehead. "Listen, I'm sorry, she caught me off guard. I tried to lie, but you know what she's like. She's...persistent, and I suck at lying."
"That's your excuse?" she asked, coldly.
He frowned. "I know I messed up, but we've been married for two years. Are you telling me people aren't constantly asking you when we're going to have a kid?"
"The difference is, I don't tell them our personal business."
"I didn't know it was a secret!" Makoto looked genuinely confused. "Why wouldn't I be able to tell our oldest, closest friend? She's happy for us." He let out a sigh. "Kyoko, I don't understand why you're so upset about this."
"That's because you're an idiot," she said, blankly. She turned on her heel. "I'm going home."
"We have a committee meeting," Makoto reminded her, exasperation rising in his voice. "Kyoko."
"Tell them I got a call about a case." She spared him one final glare before slamming the door. "Or better yet, just tell them everything. We both know you will eventually."
In the car on the way home, she called the clinic again to pester the receptionist for her test results. "I'm sorry, ma'am," the woman on the other end of the line said, "it'll be another day or two. The doctor will call you when -"
She cut the call off and slammed her fist against the dashboard, her knuckles aching underneath her gloves from the force. Not having answers, not being able to disprove her theory, left her feeling powerless in a way she loathed. When she burst into tears in the driveway, it was out of frustration, and not at all to do with the way Makoto's mouth had fallen open in sad shock when she'd called him an idiot.
When he got in later that evening, she was in the shower, but she heard his lock turn in the key in between ducking her head under the water. When she came out of the ensuite in a towel, he was waiting for her on the bed, his tie loose around his neck and his suit jacket discarded on the vanity chair where she did her makeup in the morning.
She couldn't look him in the eye. "Hi," she said.
He patted the space beside him on the bed. Reluctantly, she sat.
There was a long beat of silence. He was watching her, carefully, his expression focused. "Kyoko," he said finally, reaching over to tuck a wet strand of hair behind her ear. "What's going on?"
"You should have told me you told Hina," she said, flatly.
"It only happened today." He tilted his head. "This isn't about me telling Hina."
She wasn't quite ready to apologise, even though she knew she'd made a mistake. Still, she managed to acknowledge, "I...shouldn't have called you an idiot."
"I don't care about that." Makoto's brow creased in concern. "Kyoko, something's up with you. You've been...weird for a while now. Distracted. It's because we're trying, right?" When she didn't reply, he sighed and took her hand. "If you've changed your mind, or you're not ready, we can - "
" - it's not that." She pulled her hand away. She almost itched to reach for her gloves - she hated being exposed to him when all she wanted was to put up walls to protect herself. But she knew how much it would hurt him to see her putting them on when he was trying so hard to understand her, and she kept her hands tucked in her lap instead. "I haven't changed my mind. I want a baby."
"Then…?" She could hear the question in his voice.
Something inside her cracked, and a far too agitated, "Aren't you concerned about how long it's taking?" spilled out.
Makoto shook his head. "You were on birth control for years before. I read that it can just take a while."
I read. So he had been concerned.
"I don't think it's that." She turned her hands over, to look at the scar on her wrist where once, the skin had been punctured and poison had bled into her. I think it's me, she wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come.
And yet wordlessly, he understood.
"Kyoko," Makoto said gently, his hand closing over her wrist as he thumbed the scar there with all the care in the world. "You don't know it's got anything to do with that."
"If not the poison, then the anecdote." She hadn't known much about the antagonist drug developed by Seiko Kimura; hadn't cared much for its side-effects when she realised it could save her life. She'd taken it without care for the consequences, knowing it was her only chance at a future where neither she nor the man she loved had to die. When she'd awoken with not much else but a bruised arm and some dull aches, she'd been a little smug at how well her plan had worked.
Which was exactly why this felt like such a slap in the face.
"You don't know that," Makoto insisted.
"Well, not yet." Kyoko turned to Makoto, dully. "I went to a clinic. They ran some tests. I'm waiting to hear back."
Predictably, he flinched back a little, but he kept his hold on her wrist. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Because I still prefer to handle things alone, even after all this time; because I wanted to come to terms with my own disappointment without having to deal with yours; because I'm a coward.
She crossed her legs and straightened up. "I wanted to wait until there was something to tell."
"We're supposed to be in this together." She could tell by the way he was holding himself, like a balloon that had been deflated, that he was not angry - just sad. "You shouldn't have to go through stressing about this on your own. I'm your husband. You're supposed to be able to come to me."
It had occurred to her it might go this way. Makoto had a tendency to be self-deprecating, particularly when he felt he'd let down someone he loved.
"It's not you," she clarified. "I didn't feel like I couldn't come to you, I just...chose not to."
Kyoko knew this hurt, and she knew it made her look worse, but at least it meant he couldn't blame himself.
"Well, you're telling me now," he said, after a long moment. It never failed to amaze her how easily and fully Makoto could forgive. "I want to be here for you. Things always work out better when we're a team and you know it." Makoto nudged her with his elbow, before hesitating and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. "But you gotta let me in, Kyoko."
She leaned against him because it was easier. "I didn't want Hina to know how long it's been taking. I don't want people to ask questions or making assumptions before I - we have answers ourselves."
"I understand. I didn't give her specifics, just said we're trying. I don't think she got a sense of how long it's been." He may have only been saying this to comfort her, but Kyoko let it go without interrogating further. "And don't worry, I know now to keep this between us."
The next morning, she was laying into Saihara for mishandling evidence when her phone rang. She recognised the number as the clinic. She watched it ring.
"Kirigiri?" Saihara prompted from underneath his cap where she imagined he was wearing a look of apprehension. "Do you need to take that?"
"No." It stopped ringing. Why didn't she answer? "Yes, actually. I should call them back. Track down the brother-in-law for me."
"Sure." He slunk off, but hesitated when he reached the door. "I'm sor-"
"- Saihara." Her voice rose in warning. "Go. Don't mess it up."
The younger detective did as he was told. She let out a breath and checked her voicemail. Sure enough, the doctor had left a message, telling her to schedule an appointment. After a lengthy debate with the receptionist about why it was she couldn't get her own damn results over the phone, she gave in and took the first slot they had. She called Makoto because she knew she should, but when he answered and his smile filled the line at the mere sight of her caller ID, she felt herself relax.
"I'll take the afternoon off," he insisted when she told him about the upcoming appointment.
"You can't do that." It was the first time she felt relief, rather than regret, at him knowing about the clinic. Makoto was a soothing presence and she needed to be soothed right now.
"Why not? I'm the headmaster." She closed her eyes and imagined him at his desk, shrugging, his hair messy from running his hands though it all morning. "I have a deputy for occasions like this."
"I'm not sure Togami would take too kindly to hearing you say his role is simply to cover you sneaking off with me in the middle of the day."
"Probably not." Makoto chuckled. "Hey, you missed his rant at the meeting last night. Can you guess what it was about?"
"Oh, let me guess. He thinks 'average' students are a waste of resources and should be shunned?"
It was Byakuya's usual line and had been since the origins of the re-opening. Despite this, in practice as deputy headmaster, he seemed to hold an equal disdain for students of all abilities. He was bad cop to Makoto's good, an arrangement that seemed to work for the most part. Although Kyoko had not always gotten along well with Byakuya, she was glad Makoto had someone more realistic and harsh like herself to balance his idealism out. Hina frequently joked Byakuya was Makoto's work wife, which naturally, wound Byakuya up to no end.
"My girl got it in one," Makoto marvelled, "You're a genius, Kyoko Kirigiri."
She listened to his idle conversation until his secretary called for him. "I can call you right back," he offered, but she told him she was fine. Before they hung up, he thanked her for telling him about the appointment. "Whatever's going on, Kyoko, we'll get through it together - like how we've got through everything else so far. You know that, right?"
Her mouth felt impossibly dry. It was so like Makoto - considerate, loyal Makoto, to say such a thing for the purposes of comforting her, without giving it the thought such a promise required.
"I love you," she said, and he returned the sentiment happily, taking it as an affirmative, when in fact it was more of an apology.
A little under a week later, they sat in front of a specialist and a wall decorated with photos of babies. "My success stories," the doctor said, when he caught them both staring, and Makoto squeezed her hand, but Kyoko didn't return the gesture.
The doctor talked about the scans they'd taken, about how everything looked normal, promising even. Makoto sat on the edge of his seat, still wearing a positive expression, obviously not having sensed - like she had - that the doctor's speech was lending itself to an upcoming 'but.'
"However," the doctor said, flipping the page of his chart, "I'm afraid your bloodwork wasn't quite so favourable."
Makoto's shoulders tensed. "What does that mean?"
"The hormones that stimulate egg production are at abnormal levels. It would seem you're not always ovulating when you should be and if or when your body does ovulate, the quality of egg that's being released isn't what it should be to be viable."
"Why?" Kyoko asked. She wasn't surprised. She'd done her research. This scenario had made her top three most probable conclusions. "What would make that happen?"
The doctor frowned. "A lot of times, there is no obvious cause. It can be related to stress, weight, genetics… it's near impossible to know for certain."
Makoto nodded, accepting this explanation, but Kyoko was a detective, and a great one at that - it was in her to interrogate further.
"What about toxin poisoning?" She pressed. "Could it cause something like this?"
"Kyoko," Makoto murmured, a plea for her to stop.
The doctor looked between them, visibly alarmed. "Ah, well - I suppose it would depend on what kind of toxin you're referring to?"
Beside her, Makoto had begun fidgeting. He bounced his left knee, anxious.
"You're not familiar with it," she said, brushing the doctor off quickly, resulting in a sharp inhale from Makoto and look of affrontation from the doctor. "But theoretically, it's possible?"
"Certainly. As is an autoimmune disease. Anything that would disrupt the body's natural hormone production could be a factor. As I said, though, it's really impossible to know for sure."
That was all she really needed to hear.
While Makoto asked about their options, she stayed silent. The specialist recommended daily hormone injections in addition to drugs to enhance egg production. He also sent Makoto into another room with a plastic cup and told him to come back when it was filled so they could test his sperm count. Her husband looked about ready to die of embarrassment, but Kyoko couldn't make herself feel sorry for him. When he returned to her, he looked like he wanted to joke about it, if only to break the ice, but he seemed to think better of it and took her hand again instead. She signed whatever paperwork she needed to in order to collect her prescription and they left.
"Dr. Yajima seems like he knows what he's doing," Makoto said, his hand on her small of her back as they stood shoulder to shoulder in the elevator to the main floor of the clinic. "Did you see how many kids were on his wall? He's a pro."
She ignored this and stepped out of the elevator first. "I need to get back to work," she said, as Makoto fell into step behind her.
"Kyoko." He caught her wrist when they got outside and tugged her toward him. "I have the afternoon off, remember? Let's just go home."
"I left Saihara questioning a witness - "
"- yes, and he is more than capable." He took a step toward her and perched up on his toes to place a kiss on her forehead. "We should be together right now. Come home with me."
She thought about lying - making up something urgent that needed her attention, or insisting that Saihara was useless without her guidance, but she knew Makoto would see through it.
"I can't just sit at home and think about it," Kyoko said, folding her arms and looking away. "It's not how I handle things."
To her surprise, Makoto did not protest further. He simply sighed and gave her another forehead kiss. "I love you. Please be back for dinner?"
She nodded, because she didn't trust herself to speak around the pressure in her throat. They parted ways to their separate cars and she returned to the agency, where Saihara was hunched over a novel, instead of a case file. He jumped when he saw her - she had said she would be gone for the entire afternoon - and, she assumed, prepped himself mentally for a lecture. Instead, she bypassed him completely and slammed the door to her office.
An hour later, she emerged with the most intricate case she could find on short notice and a composure that would rival that of her younger self. "Let's go," she commanded of Saihara, and when he asked her if she was okay, she told him it wasn't relevant.
"That's...kinda a worrying answer," he pointed out, before she distracted him by firing orders regarding their new case in his direction.
She knew she would miss dinner, so she text Makoto beforehand. He replied saying he was going over to Komaru's for a while, and she understood, because Makoto was not someone who fared well alone in trying times. If anything, it relieved her from the duty of having to go home before she was ready.
It was very dark and very late when she got home. He was waiting up anyway, wrapped in a blanket on the couch. He held it open for her to slip into the space beside him so they could share.
"Our heatings busted," he explained, resting his head on her shoulder. "Talk about a crappy day, huh?"
"Hm. Indeed."
"It um, got me thinking." Makoto stuck his thumbnail between his teeth. "It could be my luck."
"The heating?" Kyoko yawned. She did not realise how tired she was until Makoto was nestled against her. "I mean, probably."
"No," Makoto said, quietly. "The fertility stuff."
"Did you not pay attention to anything the specialist said?" Suddenly, she wasn't tired anymore. She shrugged him off and sat forward, letting the blanket fall between them. "It's not you, Makoto. It's not luck. It's me. It's my body with the problem."
"He said he didn't know for sure," Makoto argued. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Besides, we won't know till we get my test results back that it's just you with the issue. Even if it is something to do with toxin poisoning, we've both been given a lot of weird drugs over the years: whatever induced our amnesia, the stuff to make us pass out -"
"It was the cure, Makoto." She glanced over her shoulder at him, lowering her voice when she saw the desperation on his face. "I spoke to Nurse Tsumiki. She agreed the known properties in it were conducive with this kind of long term damage."
Makoto scoffed at this. "There's no way she knows that."
"I have much less faith her in than you do, Makoto, believe me," Kyoko said, "but she did save my life. On this occasion, it's safe to assume she knows what she's talking about."
The next morning, she started the hormone injections. Makoto paled when he saw the size of the needle, and even more so when she held it out to him.
"It goes in my hip," she explained. "The doctor told me while you were busy with…" she glanced at his groin pointedly, "the cup."
"I hate you," he sulked, but he took the needle and waited patiently for her to lay down on the bed and hitch up her pajama shorts.
She kept perfectly still. A moment passed, and then another. "Makoto."
"Needles make me nervous!" Makoto yelped. "I'm scared of hurting you."
"You won't, I promise."
"How could you possibly guarantee that? Or, crap, what if I inject the wrong place?"
Kyoko rolled onto her side to point to the correct spot. "Right there."
"Alright, alright." She watched as Makoto took a deep breath. "Just give me a second."
"You have had many," she pointed out. "Stop overthinking it."
"You are getting progressively easier to stab with something sharp, my love," Makoto said, through gritted teeth.
Kyoko laughed out loud. She shifted back onto her front. "Good. So get on with it."
"Do you want me to count down from three?" Makoto offered, after another beat of silence.
"Makoto, I don't care," she said, trying to smother the second laugh bubbling inside her in favour of sounding stern. "Just get on with...it."
She stiffened as the sharpness pierced her skin. It was strange to think her fertility problems might begin and end with something foreign shot through her bloodstream.
"Thank you," she said, grabbing the tissue she had set aside to press to the mark the needle left behind. She didn't want Makoto to see blood and think he'd screwed up.
He abandoned the now empty syringe on the bedside table and flopped down beside her. "I'll get better," he assured her.
"You did good." She brought her other hand up to ruffle his hair. "Eventually."
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Kyoko, you know we don't have to do this, right?" He bit his lip. "I know the doctor mentioned side effects...then procedures if the drugs don't work. It's a lot, and I know you're already stressed out. I don't want you to feel like you can't stop if you need to."
Makoto, what if I can't give you a baby, ever?
The question died on her tongue - dissolved by fear and uncertainty. She pushed it to the back of her mind, like she'd been doing since month four.
"I know," she said, instead.
The next month, her period was late. She knew she should wait it out - they had another appointment at the clinic at the end of the week, after all, and she also knew it could just be a symptom of the drugs she'd been taking - like the hellish headaches and the very un-Kyoko-like tendency to tear up. And yet her hands shook ever so slightly when she took the home pregnancy test.
Makoto was waiting in the bedroom, fidgeting. She handed him the result, her chest aching at the way his eyes had lit up for just a second, before they settled on the words 'not pregnant.'
"I'll be working late tonight," she told him, turning to the mirror to fix her hair and check her disappointment was really hidden. "Don't wait up, okay?"
Makoto understood this meant she wanted space. For the next few days, he did not protest at the erratic work hours she kept, or her increasingly withdrawn nature. When the doctor assured them his tests results were fine, he looked more despondent than relieved, and she supposed it was because it made the reality of their situation more difficult. Maybe he had even begun to realise he might have to choose between having her and having a child.
He began to spend more time at his sister's and, although Kyoko knew it was only because he didn't like being home alone - and she was the one working all the time - she couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Even if he hadn't told Komaru about their fertility issues (and she suspected he had) just having someone outside of their relationship to turn to for comfort was something she didn't have. Hina was out of the question, being their mutual friend and besides, she'd always been that little bit closer to Makoto anyway. For the first time since planning her wedding, Kyoko found herself yearning for her mother, her father, or even Koichi Kizakura - someone who belonged just to her.
As if she had conjured him, her grandfather arrived on an impromptu visit, evoking instant regrets. It was the very last thing she or Makoto needed, but unfortunately, neither of them were quite brave enough to ask him to leave, which was how they ended up locked in their ensuite each morning for Makoto to give her the shot.
"Don't you think we should tell him?" Makoto asked. True to his word, he had gotten much better at injecting her with the hormone, and hesitated for only half the time he had before. And yet, any time it left a bruise, he was distraught and apologetic for hours. "I mean, maybe if he knew, he wouldn't be so…"
"Critical?" Kyoko's lips turned up when she turned to face her husband. She tilted his head so he was looking at her. "That's just the way he is. It's not personal."
From the moment he'd arrived, her grandfather had been very obviously sizing up their life together, wearing an expression that indicated he was not impressed with the estimation. She knew he could hide his discontent - he was the one who had taught her to put her emotions aside, after all - and so she suspected the choice not to had something to do with wishing to intimidate Makoto.
"Right." Makoto frowned. "It's just, you know, he's mentioned a few times about wanting us to...hurry up with a Kirigiri heir, and I don't think he gets its insensitive."
"I don't want him to know," Kyoko said. She knew it would be another strike against her, another family duty she was failing to see through - except this was one even her father had managed. It was worse, somehow, because she knew her grandfather wouldn't even tell her she was letting generations of Kirigiri detectives down down - he would just look at her with pity, maybe the same way he had once looked at her father, and she knew with absolute certainty that that would be the moment she would break.
"Alright." Makoto had gotten good at backing off lately - he sensed she was on the edge, and was being very accomodating of keeping her there, as opposed to nudging her off by fussing. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Can you at least get him to stop making digs about my hair?"
"You do need a haircut," she admitted, tugging on two particularly long strands of brunette to touch below his ear, emphasising her point.
"You're supposed to be on my side," he mock-huffed.
"I always am." She pecked his cheek. "Don't cut your hair. I like it like that."
It was a Saturday, and although Kyoko had promised to be around to relieve Makoto from her grandfather's quiet rath, she got a call on her work phone around noon that couldn't wait. She gave her husband an apologetic look as she grabbed her coat and her grandfather - who she was quite certain knew less about home improvements than she did - listed all the issues with the particular wood Makoto had chosen to use to build their backyard deck.
She was gone most of the day. The case was interesting on the surface, but turned out to be boringly easy to solve. There were parts of it she thought Saihara would get value out of being privy to, but he had confessed to her the day before that he had a date with a girl from school, so she decided against calling, not wanting to interrupt.
Makoto's text messages kept her entertained.
Why didn't you tell me your grandfather had such strong opinions about plumbing?
We're going to lunch so we can 'talk' about my 'future.' Kyoko, I think he might actually be planning to kill me.
He just wrote me a cheque for a haircut because he thinks I can't afford it myself. I hate you so much right now.
Hope your day is going well and you're not working too hard - I can't relate, seeing as I have a job, and not a career, according to Fuhito.
When she returned home that night, her grandfather was at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.
"Have you scared my husband off?" she asked, neutrally, as she crossed the room and poured herself a cup.
Her grandfather snorted. "Hardly. The boy is hiding from you upstairs."
Makoto had been regarded as the boy by her grandfather since they were reunited after her escape from Junko's game, long before she'd even begun dating him. Over the years, she had given up correcting her grandfather, stopped urging him to see Makoto as a man, or at the very least to refer to him by name, because he never obliged.
It wasn't until her wedding day, as she walked down the aisle in her grandfather's firm hold, that she noted for the first time that he eyed Makoto with the skepticism not of a detective, but of a grandfather for whom even someone who had saved the world would never good enough for his only granddaughter, that she understood.
"Hiding from me?" Kyoko sat down beside her grandfather. "Why?"
"I made a deduction," Fuhito Kirigiri said, eyeing her carefully over the lip of his cup. "I posed it to him. His attempt at lying was...well, rather excruciating to be privy to. It at least confirmed to me he will never successfully deceive you."
"What was your deduction?" Kyoko asked, although she already had a fair idea. Makoto had stopped texting her rather abruptly and she suspected it had something to do with him saying too much.
"The two of you are having difficulty conceiving."
Kyoko looked down at her tea. There was no use lying - he would see through her. "I don't want to discuss it."
"Then I won't pry." He took a long sip of tea. She found herself mirroring the action, subconsciously. When she was small, she used to hold a pen between her lips, the way he held his cigar; on cases, she would literally follow his footsteps, her feet a quarter of the size of his, because she believed that wherever he was leading was safe, that it was the correct path. She wanted to be just like him, once - had it hurt him, she wondered now, when she stopped? "As your grandfather, however, I do find it necessary to advise you whenever I feel you require guidance."
"I don't think this something you can really help me with," she said. Truthfully, the topic was not only painful to discuss for obvious reasons, it was also embarrassing. She did not want to discuss her and her husband's efforts in babymaking with her seventy-six year old grandfather.
If it were awkward for her, she could only imagine how poor Makoto had felt.
"Kyoko," he said, very seriously, followed by what just might have been the very last thing she ever imagined her grandfather would say to her, "You must prioritize your marriage."
"My marriage?" Kyoko blinked at him. Was he trying to suggest she and Makoto just need to... try more?
What had she done to deserve such a mortifying conversation?
"Your father was an only child," Fuhito said, setting his cup down and lacing his fingers together in front of him delicately. "It was common for families of our generation, and certainly our importance, to have two children. An heir and a spare, so to speak."
Kyoko pulled her chair closer, listening intently. Despite everything, her grandfather still had the ability to command her attention - and hold it - like no one else.
"After your father was born, your grandmother experienced some complications. She recovered, but the consequences were that we would be unable to have more children. Eventually, it began to wear on us. We grew apart. I believe we came to begrudge each other. While I focused on my work, she spoiled your father, overcompensating, and well...we both know how that turned out."
Kyoko let this dig at her father slide. "Makoto and I aren't like that," she said, blankly. "We're on the same page."
Her grandfather's anecdote did not make her feel understood - if anything, it made her feel more cheated. Her grandparents had managed to have one healthy child, after all, while she was struggling to even get pregnant. She already knew life wasn't fair, but that didn't keep her from resenting the fact that her grandfather was likening his inability to have a second child he admittedly regarded as a 'spare' while under her bed, there was a box of cuddly toys she was not supposed to know about, a collection Makoto had been quietly adding to for their much wanted one-day baby.
"Are you really sure about that, Kyoko?" Her grandfather prompted.
It was a rhetorical question, but still - she wanted to jump in, defend her marriage, but she was too familiar with the self-righteous way her grandfather thought, and she knew losing her temper would only make Fuhito think he was right.
"When you father left, the first time, your grandmother and I realised how little we had in common anymore. By then, of course, it was too late for us to go back to the way it had been - too many years had passed, too many things had gone unsaid." His eyes narrowed on her. "Do not misunderstand me - your detective duties should come first, above everything else. But that boy, hapless as he may be, loves you very dearly. You would be foolish to allow your determination to have a child to overshadow that."
With that, he stood. "I'll be going home tomorrow - I'm consulting on a cold case. I'll email you the information, perhaps you might like to assist me."
"I have too many of my own cases." It was a lie. She'd simply had quite enough of her grandfather observing her life, reaching his verdicts.
"Very well." He hesitated, before patting her shoulder as he passed by. "Goodnight, Kyoko."
She finished her tea and then went to bed. Makoto was pretending to be asleep when she slipped in beside him.
"I'm not mad at you," she said quietly, a little amused by his fake snores. "You can open your eyes."
The snoring trailed off. He cracked an eyelid. "How do you always know?" Makoto sighed as he rolled toward her. "I know, I know, that's a dumb question. You're a detective."
"I'm also your wife," she said. Kyoko reached for his hands to link with her own. She'd stopped wearing her gloves to bed a long time ago. Makoto had teared up the first time and promised she would never regret showing him her scars. "I know you better than anyone."
"You do," Makoto agreed, happily. His arm wrapped around her waist. "So you know I'm really really sorry that Fuhito sussed out us wanting a kid."
"Makoto," she said, as he pressed against her. "Are you happy?"
"That Fuhito knows? Well, no, but I got the impression he felt kinda bad for giving us a hard time about it before so I dunno, I guess it's not the worst thing."
"Forget about him." She turned her head to look at him. "Are you happy...with me?"
Makoto fixed her with a look before climbing on top of her and peppering her with kisses - on her forehead, on her nose, on her cheeks, on her neck. He didn't stop until a giggle escaped her and her cheeks were flushed.
"That's a dumb question," he scolded, finding her hands again and squeezing them. "Kyoko Kirigiri, the girl of my dreams and the greatest detective in the history of the world, doesn't ask dumb questions." He drew back to meet her eyes. "Did he say something to upset you?"
"He implied we're not on the same page."
Makoto winced. "Oh. That may have been my fault." He eased off of her, but didn't lie back down. "He could tell you're more pent up than usual and he asked me if I was putting pressure on you, you know, to have a baby, cause he didn't think it was something you were all that interested in before me."
"What was your response?" Kyoko asked, examining Makoto's bowed head with her eyes.
"I said I hoped not. Then...I got a little upset." He sounded embarrassed, but more worryingly, he sounded guilty.
"You shouted at him?" Kyoko pressed, not understanding. She was sure her grandfather would have mentioned it to her if Makoto finally snapped. She half-suspected that was what Fuhito was hoping for: he made no secret of perceiving Makoto's passivity to be weakness.
"No." Makoto dropped her hands and rubbed his forehead. "I got emotional. I may have cried. A bit. Not a lot! But like, enough for him to look at me like I failed whatever suitability test that was all a part of."
Kyoko frowned. "Why were you crying?"
"I felt bad in case he was right, and all of this - the stress, the medications - is because I pushed you to have kids."
"You know that isn't true." Met with silence, Kyoko tilted his chin up. "Don't you?"
Makoto's eyes were weary. "Sometimes, I wish we never talked about it."
That took her by surprise. "You want a baby," Kyoko said. It was a statement, not a question. She knew her husband - didn't she?
"Of course I do." Makoto's voice sounded too full and so it was no surprise when it wavered under the strain of his affirmation. "I want us to have a kid so badly, Kyoko. But - I want you more. I want us more."
"You still have me. You still have us." She tried to steady herself, while her thoughts spun. "These things aren't mutually exclusive."
"Some days it feels like they are."
At this, she dropped her hold of his face. "I don't know what you're saying."
"I'm saying that sometimes I want to actually go for lunch with you, or watch a movie together or hear about your cases, instead of having sex. I'm saying that I don't like that you're taking a bunch of drugs that are giving you headaches and cramps, messing with your emotions and making you not feel like yourself. I'm saying that lately, I miss you more when you're here than I do when you're not around because even when we're together, I feel like you're somewhere else." Makoto shook his head. "I'm not trying to be like 'poor me', here. I know it's so much harder for you. I just...I love you, Kyoko, and if having a kid means I have to lose you, even if it's only temporary, it's not worth it to me."
"Makoto," she said, numbly, although she had no idea what should come next.
He moved toward her and it was only when he was close enough to touch that she realised he was crying. "You told me you'd never leave me again, remember? You promised."
Her heart ached at the memory. She greeted him at the dock after the Final Killing Game, and after a moment's hesitation, he ran to her and engulfed her in a hug that almost knocked her off her feet. Eventually, the two of them ended sitting together on the ground anyway as she explained her return from death. When she had finished, he fussed over her, asking if she really truly okay, if anything hurt, if he could get her anything. Brushing him off, she gingerly touched her hands to his bruised face and asked just what had happened to him.
"I got into a fight," he'd admitted, a little sheepish.
She'd raised an eyebrow. "You can't fight."
He smiled a little, but winced, indicating it hurt. "Heh, well yeah, that's kinda what happened."
She gave a long-suffering sigh, hoping it would lighten the mood. "So this is what happens when I'm not around."
Makoto's eyes had filled with fresh tears then. "Yeah," he said, shakily, nodding his head frantically. "Yeah. So you, you can't leave me anymore. I-I need you here, with me. You're not allowed to just leave me."
Her breath had caught in her throat. Don't make me cry, Naegi, she'd thought. "I can accommodate that," she said gently, with a reassuring smile.
He threw himself into her again, his grip on her fierce and desperate. "Do you promise?" he sobbed, against her shoulder, and she blinked back tears of her own as her hands moved of their own violation to stroke his hair.
"Makoto," she murmured, "I already promised that, remember?"
"Promise it again," he sniffed. "For real this time. Dying for me still counts as leaving."
She felt her lips curve. "Fair." She'd pulled back from him but he kept his fist gripped to her shirt, ready to pull her back to him at any moment. "I promise. I won't leave again."
Now, she reached her hand out to her husband. "Makoto, I'm right here. I'm not leaving you."
"I'm scared you are," he said, his breath hitching with the effort of maintaining composed enough to speak. "That the stress of all this is driving you further away from me. That one day, I'll look up and you'll be too far away from me to get you back."
"Makoto," she said, sharply. "Come here. Now."
He did not need to be asked twice. Just like he had a little over three years ago, he came crashing into her, all fear and relief, all hope and despair.
For the longest time, they just held onto each other. She pressed her face into his hair and ran her hand up and down his back until he calmed down.
Then, she eased him off her, so she could look him in the eye. "Tell me what you want."
Makoto's eyes fell to the space she'd put between them. "I want whatever you want."
"No." She shook her head. "That's not an answer, Makoto. You're telling me all this for a reason. Do you want to stop trying?"
She expected him to respond with wide eyes and a panicked no. Instead, he bit his lip. "I - think so. It doesn't need to be forever. Maybe, in a year or two if you still want to we can try again, or look into adoption or something. I just - right now, I think I want to stop."
She felt all kinds of disappointed then - in herself, for not knowing Makoto felt this way; in the knowledge that this meant they would have to stop, at least for now, and that that felt like failure; that this of all things was what finally made her husband give up hope.
"I'm sorry, Kyoko," Makoto mumbled, misreading her silence - or, perhaps, reading it correctly.
"You don't need to be sorry." With a sigh, she pulled him close again. "It's for the best. We're still fixing up the house, and we should really be thinking about securing more funding for the academy and besides, I have quite possibly the most inconsistent apprentice ever."
They didn't have sex. Instead, they booked a short vacation. Although Makoto suggested Jabberwock Island, Kyoko was far from enthused at the prospect, so they opted for a cabin in the countryside instead. Then, they laid down together and Makoto sweetly asked her if they could get a dog.
"You're pushing it," she warned, and he chuckled, but she made a mental note to look into it. His birthday was two months away, she could surprise him. Something that didn't shed, she thought, but with enough energy to keep up with her husband.
It was the first night in Kyoko couldn't remember how long that she fell asleep first. She wondered why it had taken her so long to realise how tired she was.
It was her last evening of five spent in Kagoshima on a case when she first suspected something. She was getting out of the hotel bath when the wave of nausea hit. She steadied herself against the wall and eased onto the edge of the bath. She stayed perched there until it passed, and then she grabbed a towel and dried herself off, forcing impartial thoughts.
Perhaps it was the food. She made a mental note to ask Saihara, who had ordered the same as her almost everywhere they went, if he felt similarly.
The next morning, she awoke to a tingling in her chest. She touched her hands to her tender breasts and felt her heart beating underneath.
Although she had stopped actively tracking her cycles seven months ago when they made the decision to stopped trying, the rough dates remained burned into her mind, and so she knew she was late. But she also knew that wasn't something to dwell on, as she had yet to have a regular period since coming off the hormones and fertility drugs.
She ignored her suspicions until they were in the airport waiting for their flight home. When she felt the urge to pee - the third time in the last hour - she bit the bullet, stopping at the airport pharmacy to pick up a test before joining the annoyingly long queue for the ladies bathroom.
Kyoko was not a procrastinator, but the second she took the test, she turned it upside down and set it on the toilet paper holder. She didn't want to know, she decided - except, exactly two minutes later she picked it up again, because she absolutely did.
She managed to stifle a gasp when she saw the word 'pregnant' ficker in front of her eyes - moot really, because it only took seconds of realisation for her composure to shatter entirely. In hindsight she wouldn't remember the moment she lost control - the second she gave into the pain of the last two years and the hope hammering inside her and pulled her knees to her chest on the floor of the airport bathroom stall, sobbing like she hadn't since she was a child. How long she sat like that, people coming and going to the other stalls, strangers calling through the door to her to ask if she was alright, she had no idea. It was all so hazy, so brilliant and breathless and surreal, it felt as if she had dreamed the whole thing: perhaps she would have even believed she had, if not for the evidence in her lap, still reading the result she'd longed for for so long. She waited until she was all cried out, until she had begun to feel dizzy from all the crying, before she picked herself up and set about fixing her make up.
Saihara did not need to be the above-average detective he was to figure out something was up. He didn't ask until he seemed to realise he'd been texting his girlfriend for forty-five minutes instead of doing paperwork and had yet to be scolded.
"What's wrong?" he asked her, and although she told him everything was fine, she could tell he didn't believe her. Even as he sat next to her on the plane, he kept sneaking suspicious glances at her. She didn't even tell him off for staring, too distracted doing the math in her head.
When she got home, Makoto was throwing a frisbee for their maltese pup, Nori, in the backyard. Kyoko waited to announce her presence, content to watch her husband cheer enthusiastically for the yelping ball of white fur that already looked bigger than it had been she left. When Makoto caught sight of her in the doorway, he smiled widely.
"You're home!" He abandoned the frisbee - to the dog's chagrin - to walk toward her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and squeezed her tight, before launching into a mile-a-minute catch up, "How was your flight? I tried to Facetime you this morning but it didn't go through - airport wifi, huh? Sorry I didn't text you back last night, I fell asleep - I didn't even need the sleeping pills this time. And oh, yeah," he said, a little shyly as he planted a kiss on her nose, "I missed you."
"Leave the dog outside for a minute," she said, tugging him inside. "I have a surprise."
Makoto's smile turned to a beam when he realised he was being led into their bedroom. He sat down on the bed per her direction.
"Wait here," she commanded.
"Did you get new underwear?" He asked hopefully.
She smirked and pressed a quick kiss to his warm lips. "Better."
She didn't bother to lock the door of the en suite - her husband liked surprises, so she knew he would wait.
Kyoko took the test she'd bought on the way home from the airport from her coat pocket. It was convenient timing, because she needed to pee again, and she had a feeling that was going to get really annoying really quick, but for now she tried to see it as useful.
While she waited for the test to be ready, she looked at herself in the mirror. Tomorrow, she would have to be the realistic one, the killjoy, the one who managed their expectations and pointed out that this was just the first hurdle they had to overcome, that it was still so early to be getting their hopes up.
But for at least the rest of the day, she just wanted to enjoy this moment with her husband.
"Kyoko, I'm dying," Makoto wined from the other room.
She picked up the test, goosebumps rising on her arms again at the result, before opening the door. Makoto's eyes widened when he saw she was carrying a test. She held it out to him, expectantly. He took it with a furrowed brow and hesitant hands.
"Kyoko," he managed, after a moment of blinking at the test. Then, his eyes filled with tears, and she smiled before stepping forward to wrap her arms around his neck. He pressed his forehead against her chest.
"Congratulations," she said, softly, stroking his hair.
He touched his hand to her abdomen, just above where her blouse was tucked into her skirt. She felt the giddy butterfly feeling she thought Makoto had worn out years ago. "There's a baby in there," he murmured, just loud enough so that she could hear.
"I don't know that it's a baby yet. More like a tiny collection of oddly-shaped cells."
"Our tiny collection of oddly-shaped cells," Makoto corrected her. When he lifted his head to look at her, his cheeks were damp. "We weren't even trying. After everything - I can't believe this." He shook his head, but didn't move his hand from where it rested on her stomach. "Kyoko, we're so lucky."
For once, Kyoko didn't refute Makoto's luck with her logic. For once, the detective just suspended her belief and smiled.
At the minute this is complete, but I'm totally down to write more - I'm a sucker for these two and all their potential domestic angst. Let me know what y'all think! Thanks for reading ^^
