Shiki's first immediate assumption when she looks down at herself and notices the new set of lines, shining quite clearly from what looks to be the inside of her own body, is that maybe she's got some sort of stomach illness. The memory of Asagami Fujino's appendicitis is what first comes to mind, and it gives her pause, but upon closer scrutiny, the notion is waved away. Shiki doesn't feel sick, and anyway, these lines don't really look the same as a disease.
No, as small as they are, these lines of death resemble those of a human life.
The moment Shiki fully understands the implications of that, shock washes over her, and she gapes down at herself. Logically, it would make sense, she supposes, because she and Mikiya never bothered with protection, but to think that someone who so yearns to end lives on a daily basis has gone and created life…
It seems so ridiculous she could almost laugh.
So Shiki touches her hand to her stomach, wondering just what she's supposed to do now. She flirts briefly with the option of simply reaching down and running her own fingernail along those lines, cutting them, bringing about death and putting an end to this before it even really started—but she just as quickly dismisses it.
It's not like she particularly wants to kill something that's growing inside her own body, and anyway, she'll have plenty of time to do that later if she changes her mind.
So Shiki shakes her head and tells herself that she'll figure this all out later, and even when Mikiya comes over for a visit later that night, she doesn't breathe a word about her discovery.
When the lines are still there a week later, Shiki knows for certain that it's indeed not an illness. When they're still there after another month, she knows for certain that she's never going to cut along them, that she'll have to see this pregnancy through to the end.
Unfortunately, it's also around this time that Shiki really starts to feel the effects take a toll on her body.
It's pathetic, really, how weak it makes her; how her breasts often feel so sore that it hurts to even stretch her arms, and how her fatigue makes it hard to do anything other than sleep, eat, and then puke whatever she just ate right back out. Morning sickness is a bitch and Shiki would totally kill it if she wasn't so unsure of whether or not that would harm the unborn child.
So for now, Shiki is stuck, her head dipped over the toilet bowl as her half-digested lunch launches itself up her throat and out. Her own loud retching must block out the sound of her door clicking open, because she doesn't notice that anyone else is here until the hands are suddenly on her, pulling back her hair, rubbing at her back in soothing strokes until her stomach settles and her coughing dies down. Panting for breath, Shiki wipes her barf-stained lips with the back of her hand, but when she turns her head to face her helper, she's not expecting the person who stares back at her.
"Azaka?" Shiki gasps, surprised, especially since there's an unusually sympathetic look on the girl's face. "What are you doing here?"
The other girl looks Shiki over for a bit, but after apparently discerning that she is more or less alright, the concern ebbs away, and the familiar irritation returns. Azaka furrows her brow and huffs, averting her gaze, placing her hands on her hips. "Nii-san couldn't make it so he told me to come in his place. Honestly, what an inconvenience."
Azaka makes a face before she then turns to Shiki again, bringing her hand up to her chin and failing to hide her smile behind it. "Though, I suppose it might be worth the trip if I get to see you sick." The brat sounds a little too happy about that, so Shiki can't help but goad her in return.
"Oh, I'm not sick," Shiki shoots back, grinning smugly. "Your brother's child is just kicking up a storm inside my stomach."
She hadn't been planning on spilling the beans so soon, and she was really supposed to tell Mikiya first before anyone else, but when shock lights up Azaka's face like a firework and then lingers as disbelief in her slackened jaw and widened eyes, Shiki has a feeling that this is going to be worth it. And once Azaka gets a hold of herself again, she growls and stomps right over to Shiki's phone, punching buttons aggressively and then tapping her fingers irritably against the floor as she waits for the line to pick up—
"NII-SAN, I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU KNOCKED HER UP!"
—Yeah, Shiki decides with a victorious smirk. Definitely worth it.
Shiki doesn't really put effort towards keeping in touch with her family nowadays, yet somehow, it's only the day after Azaka breaks the news to her brother that Akitaka and Mikiya show up at Shiki's door, the latter laughing nervously as he admits that he told her butler everything. Said butler comes bearing a whole new set of kimonos, specially designed to accommodate her expected future increase in girth, and several papers that her family evidently wants her to sign for a marriage license. Shiki doesn't care nearly as much as her clan does about whether or not her child is born out of wedlock, but she readily scribbles her name down to get Akitaka out of her hair—only to be informed that it's also been arranged that she have an obstetrician's appointment in a few hours.
Honestly, what a pain.
Akitaka drives her there, Mikiya tagging along, and while it's not exactly common for the child's father to be present for the appointments, he insists on following her inside. The nurse gives him a questioning glance but lets him have his way, and honestly, Shiki's soon-to-be-official-husband is probably more attentive than she herself is throughout it all. Whatever mumbo-jumbo the doctor spouts goes flying clear over her head—at least until he reaches the subject of ultrasound, and mentions that they won't be able to discern the baby's sex this early on.
"That's fine," Shiki mutters before she can help it. "It doesn't really matter anyway."
Not when she is of the Ryougi bloodline, not when she knows that there's a very distinct possibility that her child could develop dual personalities. One male and one female, regardless of the body's physical sex—just as she used to have before…before she jumped out in front of that car.
Silence reigns where SHIKI used to be, and Shiki clenches her fist.
Mikiya must know what she's thinking about, though, because he reassuringly slides his hand over hers, squeezing it gently, before turning to the doctor again. "Yes, she's right. It's much more fun if we leave that a surprise."
The doctor doesn't really look like he agrees, but as Shiki unclenches her fist to instead lace her fingers with Mikiya's, she couldn't care less.
Shiki is never going to own up to it, but the truth is, she's developed quite a bit of a sweet tooth these past few months. She insists to herself that it's only the pregnancy cravings, of course, that the weird chemicals in her body are just messing around with her mind and that's the only reason she yearns so for candies and cakes and strawberry Häagen-Dazs. But no matter where she places the blame, it doesn't change the fact that every time Mikiya brings home something sugary, Shiki scarfs it all down, even if she acts like she does so grudgingly.
Except tonight Mikiya's brought home some cream puffs from a new bakery that make Shiki's eyes bulge with awe upon first taste, and after that, she can't help popping them into her mouth in a rather zealous fashion. Mikiya's eye twinkles at her as he laughs, "You know, I'm starting to wonder if the baby isn't the only reason you're bloating up."
Shiki glares mildly but otherwise doesn't try to retaliate to his teasing, and Mikiya bends down to where she's sitting on her bed, then places a hand over the bump of her belly. "Now, how are you doing today?" he asks it.
They lie still for a while, Shiki still chewing away, but then the baby suddenly starts kicking vigorously, making her stomach bounce, and Mikiya breaks into a radiant grin. "Doing well, I see," he chuckles, and his expression is so joyful and warm and sweet that Shiki can't help but stare, swallowing her last cream puff with a rather hard gulp.
"Idiot. It can't actually hear you," Shiki grumbles, averting her gaze as she feels her own cheeks flush.
"I'm not so sure," Mikiya laughs. "You know, you should try it yourself, Shiki."
That is a ridiculous notion, and Shiki tells him as much. But he's still grinning at her, giving her that puppy-dog-eyed gaze that never fails to break her down, so eventually, Shiki sighs and glances down at herself.
It occurs to her briefly that this entire pregnancy ought to be a ridiculous notion, really, because several years ago, Shiki could never have pictured herself having such a loving husband and bearing his child, and even now, she still can't fully wrap her head around how a killer is supposed to also be a mother. Before, she never would have hoped to have something so normal, and yet, here it all is.
Shiki rubs her own belly, feels a soft kick against her palm, and smiles.
"Your father is a fool," she tells the bump, and brings her other hand up to lightly flick said father in the forehead—but Shiki knows she wouldn't have him any other way.
In the final stretch of her pregnancy, Shiki aches, in more senses than one.
Oh, there's her physical body, of course, which often groans in complaint of the constant strain on her back, and the soreness of her muscles and the sensitive state of her engorged breasts. But there's another sort of ache, too—one that resides ever-present in the back of her mind, that flares up every morning when she wakes up, urging her to grasp for a knife and go out into the world and just kill.
Shiki doesn't have a knife on hand, though, so when she wakes up this morning and the urge is even worse than usual, she curls her fingers into the bedsheets instead. Burying her face in her pillow, she muffles her own long-suffering groan—the bloodlust has always been there, sure, but whether it's the hormones or the pain or actually probably both, something about her pregnancy only aggravates it. Shiki is tense and twitchy, and even though it's been a long time since she last fought and her body's not exactly in ideal shape at the moment, her whole being is all too eager to cut someone.
After all, there's nothing holding her back anymore. You can only kill someone once in your life, and she already crossed that line with Shirazumi, so there's nothing left for her to lose—
"Mmm, Shiki…"
Shiki glances up as Mikiya mumbles and stirs next to her, still half-asleep as his eye flutters open. He slept over again last night, just like he has been for so many nights in the past few months, and now he shoots her a soft smile before shifting closer to kiss her neck.
"Morning," he yawns, sitting up and stretching, but Shiki continues to lie still. Soon enough, he apparently notices her mood, and frowns. "Hey, is something wrong?"
He leans over her, reaches down to grab one of her hands with both of his own and cradle it with a comforting tenderness that is so unmistakably Mikiya, and Shiki slowly brings her other hand up to cup his face. She thumbs his cheek, stares at the scar beneath his hair where his left eye used to be, and sighs. Her own murderous urges are at least partly to blame for that happening to him, she remembers, and once she does, that unbearable itch to kill suddenly seems to scratch itself.
There is a child inside of her, meant to enter the world in under a month, and no matter how odd and ridiculous she may still think it is, Shiki has created a family.
She intends to keep it.
So Shiki pushes herself up until she's sitting too, then scoots over so that she can wrap her arms around Mikiya and bury her face into his chest. His pulse thrums against her cheek, his warmth enveloping her as he readily hugs her back, and she savors the way it leaves her feeling soothed, healed.
"No," Shiki murmurs, and means it entirely. "It's nothing."
Pain is an old, familiar acquaintance. Pain has been with Shiki ever since she got hit by that car—during her slow recovery at the hospital, during those vicious battles she fought for the agency, even during her pregnancy, if only in the form of mild but constant muscle soreness. Shiki knows pain and she has felt agony worse than birth, but birth is nonetheless a new sort of agony: a relentless series of horrible cramping contractions, and an overwhelming burn in her crotch, and the sensation of her entire body being turned inside out.
Mikiya is here, though; he's been here the entire way to the hospital and hasn't left her side since the moment he plopped down beside her patient bed, and now Shiki forces herself to focus on him so as to not focus on everything else. She focuses on his hand that she's squeezing tight within the grip of her own, she focuses on his other hand gently stroking her arm and wiping her face in an attempt to offer comfort, she focuses on his voice speaking words that she doesn't actually register but that sound something like encouragement and praise—Shiki focuses on Mikiya and pushes with all her might until suddenly all the pressure releases and she lets loose a strangled scream…
And then it's over, and she's going limp against the bed, and through lidded eyes and a disoriented haze, Shiki only barely registers that the nurse is scooping up a bloodied, wailing lump and carrying it out of the room. Turning away from the nurse, she looks to Mikiya, who attempts to give her a tight, pained smile until she realizes that she's still gripping his hand and immediately lets go. Mikiya breathes a sigh of relief as he shakes his wrist out, then brings his other hand up to brush her sweaty bangs aside.
"You were amazing," he tells her, and later, Shiki's gonna feel like a total sap for smiling at that, but for now, she can't bring herself to care.
Mikiya shifts partway onto the bed so that an exhausted Shiki can rest her head in the crook of his neck, and they stay like that up until the nurse returns a while later, cradling a bundle that she happily hands to the mother. "She's a girl," Shiki hears her say but doesn't pay it any mind, instead giving her full attention to the newborn in her arms, pinkish and shriveled and sporting a little tuft of black hair. Her eyes are shut but her fingers are outstretched and grabby and very much alive, and Shiki sinks back against the headboard as her husband lets their daughter wrap her fist around his finger.
"She's beautiful," Mikiya murmurs, looking almost entranced, and Shiki laughs, nudging his shoulder with hers to snap him out of it.
"She's a wrinkly little mess."
"Still," Mikiya insists, beaming at Shiki before pressing a kiss to her cheek, whispering the rest into her ear. "Beautiful."
And in the end, Shiki supposes, she really can't argue with that.