Izayoi woke up beside Togao in the middle of the night, totally disoriented by her surroundings. For a moment she believed that she was still dreaming, that the last few hours of her life were simply something her love-struck mind had worked up for her. She blinked slowly, as though in a daze, remembering the feeling of his hands on her bare skin, the taste of him. As though in answer to this, he stirred beside her and she realized with a rush of giddiness that he was real, his arms solid and visceral where they draped over her shoulders and waist.

Now it all came back to her; after it was over, while they lay tangled in each other and trying to catch their breath, she had asked him to stay. It was a stretch, she supposed, because it wasn't as though she could promise they would remain here undisturbed, or that it was a wise idea for him to linger where they might be found together. But despite all of those things, Togao had told her he wouldn't go until the dawn broke. She fell asleep next to him, blissful to the tips of her toes, lulled away by the sound of his heartbeat underneath her ear and fingertips.

He didn't need to sleep nearly as often as humans did. He'd mentioned offhandedly on some occasion that maybe once a week was more than sufficient – so she could appreciate the oddity of him choosing to sleep now. In that simple gesture lay deep, immeasurable trust; he was completely prone and vulnerable, something which very few living creatures ever got to see of him. She shifted, lying still and trying to see him in the darkness.

Dead to the world, his face looked younger and far softer than she'd ever seen it before, all of the lines and fatigue smoothed out and his mouth lax. His hair was a wild mass of silver, spilling all over her bedding and even onto her, lovely and pale as the stars. He tightened his grip around her, pulling her even closer to the heat of his body. She relaxed in his arms, happy to feel the press of his skin against hers. Her eyes slipped shut and she was gone again.

When she rose the second time – this time awoken by someone saying her name – the thin light of predawn was starting to poke through the cracks of her door.

"I have to go," he whispered, voice rough from sleep.

"I wish you didn't."

Togao smiled, leaning down to kiss her. The sensation of it lingered on her lips, even after he pulled away, even when he crossed to leave and slid the door open, pausing to look back at her one more time.

"Come again tonight?" she asked, sitting up and clutching the blankets to her bare chest.

"Yes, of course," he said tenderly, and then he was gone.

Izayoi sighed as she flopped back down into her blankets, her heart still fluttering.

She was certain she looked like a disaster – her hair was tangled, her skin covered in a fine layer of dried sweat. All over her flesh there were little signs that he'd been with her; a scratch on her hip, a love-bite forming a purple bruise on her neck, reddened lips from teeth that weren't her own. She could still feel the ache of her back to the stickiness that lingered between her thighs.

It shouldn't have been an especially pleasant sensation, but there was no end to her joy when she thought of its meaning. She couldn't wipe the grin off of her face; even when the maids came in to wake her and dress her for the day, she felt like she was dreaming.

"What is this?" Nodoka asked, clearly suspicious as she poked at the tender spots where Togao had left his mark.

"I tripped last night in the dark," she lied, her voice even and smooth. "I came down at sort of a funny angle."

"Clumsy girl," Nodoka muttered, but Izayoi wasn't listening.

When he came to her that night, there was no hesitation. She opened the door for him, pulling him in and smiling.

"Did you miss me?" he joked, but she was already too far gone to tease him back, utterly bewitched by the curve of his lips. She had to pull him down to meet her, and Togao followed her without another word. This time, she was not nervous; there was no reason to be. He loved her with extraordinary tenderness, careful not to hurt her fragile, human body – and all the same it was almost more than Izayoi could bear. Her heart felt so full, like it was going to overflow and spill all around her, and so she opened herself up even more to him and clutched at his shoulders and whispered pleas into his ear.

"Izayoi," he murmured, "Beloved."

She twisted her fingers in his hair, wanting to somehow pull him further into her.

"Dearest," she echoed, smiling up at him.

In the morning he would be gone again, but that was the future, and so it seemed like a distant concern to her now. He kissed her, and the world around them seemed to fade into the periphery.

For a whole fortnight he visited her and every single evening she grew a little more in love with him. In the back of her mind she knew that they needed to be more careful; her maids were starting to notice odd things out of place, like stained bedding and ruined clothing. But it was not their place to ask her about it, and nobody had any concrete proof that Izayoi had done anything wrong.

Eventually they returned to a sort of normal routine – his visits were still more frequent than they'd been before, but she rarely went two nights in a row without seeing him. The bright, hot passion of their affair turned into something sweeter and more durable, as though there was a different understanding between them. Each night, she opened the shoji for him and he kissed her forehead, greeting each other not as lovers but as a husband and wife.

Something had shifted and changed in her – she had been afraid of marriage before, but it was really only the unknown that scared her. She could easily imagine every single thing her mother had described to her: bringing him tea and reassurances when battles and planning became too much, fighting with him until she went hoarse, kissing him every night, waking up next to him every morning, sending him off and greeting him on his returns.

"Will you take me away?" she asked on a night like all the others, sometime in very late winter, as she huddled herself close to him in the darkness. "You know I can't stay here forever."

"I will."

"When?"

"As soon as I can," he told her, something dark hidden in his voice. "Ryukotsusei has only grown more powerful."

"Oh," she replied miserably.

"Please understand," he told her, unusually stern. It was not a tone she'd heard in a very long time, not since they'd first met. "I have to be careful with him. He's vicious and cold-blooded, and he isn't alone."

"What do you mean?"

"He has an army, Izayoi. I thought it would only be a matter of killing him, but battles take far more planning," he said, his eyes suddenly appearing tired. "He's making a mess of the plains. Whole villages have been destroyed. Humans are no more than collateral to him."

Izayoi sat up, gaping down at him.

"People have died?"

"Yes."

Her heart stuttered weakly in her chest. It was so easy to forget what Togao involved himself with, what he had been doing for years before he'd met her. The man that was so kind and gentle to her was a fierce warlord, hardened by centuries of death and of fighting. He barely flinched in the face of death - he clearly wanted to avoid the loss of more human lives, but it didn't cause him to crumple in fear. Even now he only looked up at her, eyes deep and unreadable, otherwise completely calm.

Izayoi felt truly afraid. She didn't think that she was afraid of him, but rather afraid for him. More than that, she felt as though there was something else he wasn't telling her, that he was avoiding.

"Togao," she started, slowly and quietly. "Why did you decide to make me your wife?"

"Because I love you," he said simply, his hand reaching to lay his hand over her thigh. "And because I'm selfish."

He was rubbing his thumb in little circles over her skin, comfortingly. She was honestly and truly distracted by his touch, looking down at where he lay. His hair was unbound, wild, his chest bare, lips parted – she was tempted to kiss him, to plunge herself back into the warmth of his arms, but she resisted. She felt that she needed to press on, and so she did.

"You mentioned Tenseiga, the night we decided to get married," she pointed out, and his hand stilled. "What is it for? What difference does a sword make?"

He went stiff, and then sighed. "It's a sword that can bring the dead to life again. If something happened to you, if one of my enemies… I won't lose you."

"Then why are you still hiding me?"

The tension in the air seemed thick and sharp - there was a heavy feeling in her stomach, a familiar sensation of dread.

"Izayoi-"

"Please tell me the truth," she pleaded, "I just want to know why I have to stay here."

He drew himself up, sitting and facing her. Even disheveled and naked he looked regal, a leader down to his flesh and blood – but Izayoi also knew him well enough to know the worried creases around his eyes, the firm set of his mouth.

"When I thought Ryukotsusei was all I had to contend with, it seemed like the matter would be over and done within a few weeks at most. But it isn't only him, and it's not just my enemies I'm worried about right now."

"I don't understand," she said softly.

"If I'm going to fight him and win, I need an army that trusts me."

In a single, blinding moment of enlightenment, she realized what he was saying. She had been afraid of what might happen if her family knew she was in love with a demon, all without thinking of what it might mean for him if his allies and enemies found out he'd fallen in love with a human.

"I'm a weakness," she breathed, her hand resting over her heart, where the flesh felt unusually cold.

"No," Togao said hurriedly, shaking his head. "I don't see you as one."

"They would think you've lost your mind," she continued, smiling, but it was strained. "They wouldn't be willing to risk their lives for you, then."

"I doubt they would," he sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his temple.

"You know there are already rumors that you've taken a human mistress," Izayoi told him, looking down at her knees. "I've heard them myself."

"There have always been rumors like that about me, I'm used to them."

She bit her lip until she was afraid it might bleed, and then looked back to him. "I've caused you so much trouble," she finally laughed, her voice thin.

He let loose a great sigh, the tension in his face and shoulders releasing as he pulled her into his arms.

"I promise, this isn't forever," he murmured, warming her skin and laying his cheek against her crown. "Be patient for me."

"I'll try," she replied, clinging to him. Izayoi felt his heart suddenly pick up pace, and she pulled her head back to look up at him.

"You aren't going to like what I have to tell you," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm going away for a while," he admitted. "I wouldn't go if I didn't think it was absolutely necessary."

Izayoi wanted to speak, but she found all she had the capacity to do was nod. She felt disappointment rip through her, the sense that even though he was still with her, she'd blink and he might disappear. She fought herself, trying to stay calm, brave, and composed.

But really, she was simply tired of missing him. She didn't want to ask any more questions for the evening; she was too afraid of their answers. So instead, she did the only thing she could think of.

Izayoi rested her hands on his shoulders for a moment, and gave them a firm shove. He went down, unresisting, and she settled over him. She felt cold, so terribly cold and aching, but he was warm. She guided his hands, his palms flat and fingers splayed, over the dips and curves of her waist and lower back.

"Your skin is freezing," he whispered against her lips.

"Fix it," she breathed back, sliding her fingers over his wrists and forearms, up to his shoulders once more. He pressed his mouth up into hers, his breath hot as it puffed around her like a sort of fog.

She wished time would stop for them, just for a moment. Every time they moved forward something seemed to come up, a harsh reminder that they were different creatures from vastly different pasts. Even though he fought against it, tried to be reasonable and level headed to ground her temperament, she could feel his frustration as she kissed him. His lips moved too fast, too hard, sloppy and desperate against her. Izayoi knew he wanted the distraction just as badly as she did.

For now, all they could really do was surrender to blessed thoughtlessness, and shut out the cold, hard world around them for just a little longer.

o0o

He left in early spring. As always, the details of his departure were sparse – he promised to send Myoga as often as possible with updates and for the company. Her stomach seemed in upheaval at his departure, her heart clenching painfully.

"I have to speak with Totosai," he'd said. "And then I have to find Sesshomaru."

"Sesshomaru? What for?"

"He's my son, Izayoi," he said, though it seemed that his words were touched by something a little bitter, not at all the fondness that he'd always held before. "All the same, he isn't a child. I'm going to need his help in this fight… but I think I'm going to have to convince him."

"Convince him?"

He looked almost pained by the question, as though he wanted nothing more than to avoid the subject entirely, but then his eyes became steely and he spoke –

"He's furious with me, of course. I think he believes I've betrayed him and and his mother."

"By being with me, you mean?" she asked nervously. He nodded, and then he closed his eyes and exhaled. "So they both know, then."

"They'll keep it a secret, at least. His mother is one of my most trusted allies, and I've known her long enough to be certain that she wouldn't tell anyone," he explained, trying to placate her. "Besides, she needs to see Ryukotsusei defeated just as badly as I do. He's spread out into her lands, too."

"Does Sesshomaru have any… reason to feel betrayed?" she asked, wavering.

"He's young, still, and sometimes foolish. The boy doesn't understand why things came out the way they did, but his mother and I left each other in good terms, and we did it for his benefit. You've done nothing wrong," he told her, firm and calm. "Sesshomaru says that he's concerned for her feelings, but she couldn't care less about you. This is his burden alone, not yours or hers."

"I'm still sorry," she admitted, twisting her fingers together. "I hope that you can get through to him."

"I hope so, too," he grumbled, but it was softer and more kind. Izayoi felt a wave of sadness, but it was not her own; he was distant from his only son, but all the same she could tell that he loved him.

"Please be careful," she said, reaching forward to take his hands. The moon's beams streamed in from the doorway behind him, setting the glint of his hair and golden eyes alight. "I'll wait for you, dearest."

"Of course," he replied a little gruffly, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Take care, Izayoi."

When he left, she had the strangest sensation that he'd taken half of her body along with him.

o0o

Only a few days after Togao left her, Takemaru returned to the Nanase mansion. The year that Izayoi had promised was nearly up, and she felt the pressure of their impending marriage beginning to build. Her parents were in a frenzy of planning, talking long and late into the evening with him.

His visits grew more and more frequent as the weather warmed, and the length of time he stayed grew longer. Lord and Lady Nanase had essentially given him permission to treat their home as his own, now, since he was so close to becoming their son-in-law anyway. It made Izayoi feel jumpier than ever before, and so she remained elusive, only catching him in hallways or open verandas – before she'd skitter away like a frightened bird.

One cool, misty morning in spring, she sat down to her koto and played for herself. For a little while it was easy to lose herself in the notes; she loved the sound of the strings, echoing and sweet. But it had been a long time since she'd played, and so her fingers strung wrong and produced a sour note. She grimaced, and heard the light sound of laughter from behind her.

She whirled, twisting where she sat to see Takemaru leaning against a doorframe. Hastily, she bowed her head in greeting, but didn't lift it again.

"Are you nervous, Izayoi-sama?"

"I didn't realize you were there," she said, trying to mask her embarrassment. "Please forgive me."

"It's alright. Forgive my intrusion," he replied, kneeling next to her. She pulled the pics off of her fingers, feeling suddenly clumsy and unsure. Takemaru took her hands, stilling them, before doing it himself. "Has something been on your mind?"

"No," she replied, but it was far too quick to be convincing.

His hand came up to her chin, holding it still so that he could see her face. She felt as though she looked every bit the liar she was, her eyes wide and round and her skin going pale. Nothing about his gaze was particularly threatening, but she was unnerved by the depth of his eyes, how they seemed to scrutinize her.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asked gently, his voice low and quiet.

"I haven't meant to," she lied again, blinking slowly, wishing she could avert her eyes. "I'm only nervous."

"There's nothing to be nervous about," Takemaru sighed, pulling back from her. Izayoi felt herself release the breath she'd been holding, tension leaving her body in a rush. "The plans have more or less been made already. There isn't anything left to do but wait."

"There's still a month left, isn't there?" she asked, gnawing at her lip as she spoke. "And you are still sure that you want to marry me?"

"Yes!" he laughed, putting his hands on his knees. "By all the gods, is that it? Were you afraid I wouldn't still want to?"

She nodded. Another tiny lie, but it was becoming easier to lie to him.

He flashed his usual charming, handsome smile, and leaned in to kiss her. She shut her eyes, waiting for it to pass.

In another life, Izayoi realized, she might have loved Takemaru – he had a particular sense of humor that had made her laugh in earnest, a certain tenderness in the way with which he spoke to her. But this was not another life, and beneath the surface pleasantries she found him lacking. He refused to see her as fallible, as flawed and prone to mistakes: every move she made was interpreted as more evidence of her soft, feminine nature. She knew herself better than that; she was capable of deceitfulness, and of cruelty, and of pettiness. But she was also capable of being strong and assertive in ways that women were not always expected to be. It was so difficult not to compare the two men in her life, but she couldn't help it. Togao had seen her ugliest sides, her most selfish and weak moments, and still he had chosen to love her. Takemaru had never seen any of those things, and she felt compelled to hide them from him.

It was as though the strain of hiding had started to affect her physically. As spring started to arrive fully, she became tired and sluggish. Her mother deemed it a case of fever, but Izayoi thought it had to be something far worse; this time of year, she was usually antsy and anxious to go outside, to feel the warming, clean air on her face. Now all she wanted was to sleep and be left alone.

She wondered if the gods were punishing her for not breaking things off cleanly and making an honest start of her life with Togao. The thought made her laugh out loud, but it was bitter and frightened; she wished that he was with her instead of far away and in danger. Her heart felt like it was going to break all over again, and without warning she found herself on the verge of tears.

"Daughter," her mother said as they all sat down for the evening meal. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Izayoi replied, but her voice sounded hollow and dull even to her own ears. Her dishes were passed to her, simple roasted fish and rice with yellow pickles. She'd eaten it many times before - she'd always liked it, the sweet and salty flavor of rich, oily fish, the sticky rice, and the crunchy tang of pickled vegetables.

But tonight, something about the scent struck her as distinctly unpleasant. She couldn't tell what it was, but when she brought a mouthful to her lips it seemed to hit her foggy brain and wake her up. She dropped her chopsticks with a clatter, holding her hands over her mouth.

"Izayoi?" her father cried, alarmed.

Her stomach rebelled violently against the smell, and all at once she was terrified that she would throw up. She shut her eyes, ignoring her parents' concerned questions and the sounds of them getting up to question her, simply waiting for the feeling to pass. When it didn't, she was ushered off to bed in a hurry.

That entire night she lay restlessly under her blankets, clutching her stomach and trying to will away the nausea by force alone.

In only a week it had worsened to the point where she was barely interested in food and her head seemed to be aching constantly. Everyone seemed to be unsure what to do with her; none of her mother's common remedies had helped, the maids were afraid to upset the already irritable and sickly princess, and the pain came and go in waves. One morning she might wake up feeling perfectly healthy, and then the next the aching and nausea had returned in full force.

"I'm dying, Nodoka," she joked lightly as the old woman wiped her sweaty brow with a wet cloth. The light from the brazier threw the room into an odd, orange glow – Izayoi felt almost like she was hallucinating. "I'm being punished for being so difficult."

"You aren't dying, missus," Nodoka replied, her voice tense. "But I should have kept a closer eye on you."

"What do you mean?"

The nursemaid sighed, long and heavy, her hand stilling on Izayoi's forehead. She looked as though she was disappointed, but it wasn't her usual fierce, fiery anger – it was almost as though she was sad or distraught. Izayoi had never seen her quite like that before, and her stomach churned.

"Have you been paying much attention to your cycles, missus?"

"No," Izayoi said slowly. "Why…"

"You've missed the last one. It never came," Nodoka said quietly, nearing a whisper. "I've been looking for signs that it might have arrived, but there was no blood. Do you know what that means?"

Her stomach lurched again, her heart racing furiously in her chest.

"And now you've fallen ill. Your parents aren't any the wiser to it, and I'm not about to tell them, but that's only because you're going to be married in a month. Can you imagine the trouble you would be in if you weren't, missus?"

"Nodoka," she breathed, her voice tight. "Are you angry with me?"

"I'm only angry that you have no sense," she said, frowning. "Young women are prone to their fits of passion. I thought Takemaru-sama might've behaved a little better than you, but I can see now that I was being foolish. Men are men, whether they're farm boys or samurais or emperors."

For a moment she laid very still, even as Nodoka finished wiping off her face. She realized at some point that she must have been crying, hot tears leaking out of her eyes. Her gut roiled again, and this time she couldn't help herself – she sat up, leaned over the big earthen pot beside her futon, and threw up.

"I'm pregnant," she gasped, clutching the pot as Nodoka held her heavy, sweaty hair away from her face. "Will I be in trouble?"

"This is trouble enough for the moment, missus."

Izayoi groaned weakly, and then immediately threw up again.

The rest of the evening passed in utter misery, between crying and retching, but for once Nodoka seemed more set on soothing her than watching her suffer. Izayoi lay flat on her stomach, the only thing that helped her feel any better at all, while the old nursemaid rubbed at her tired and aching shoulders.

"It's been years since I've dealt with this," she murmured, and Izayoi turned her head slightly. "The last time was when your mother was pregnant with you. Imagine that."

"What was it like?" Izayoi asked softly, words muffled by the bedsheets.

"Horrible. You were a rebellious and spiteful child even then," Nodoka said. "She almost lost you."

Izayoi felt a fresh wave of tears over her, but she tried to choke them down. "I wonder if it would have been better if she had, sometimes."

"Don't you dare talk like that!" Nodoka said sharply, her hand gripping the fabric of Izayoi's yukata. "Your mother loves you more than anyone in the world. It would break her heart if she heard such nonsense."

"I'm sorry, Nodoka," she sniffled. "I just feel like I can't get anything right."

She heard a great sigh from above her, and then the old woman patted her head softly, dragging her fingers through her hair and untangling it. It was an odd thing for her to do, but comforting all the same.

"The lord and lady will love you just the same. I'm sure that Takemaru will be just as welcome here as he always was," she explained. "The world's not going to end just because you've gone and gotten yourself pregnant."

"Thank you," Izayoi whispered. It was a strange sentiment, but from Nodoka's mouth, words of comfort and reassurance were rare and special.

"I'm going to leave you for a while," she finally said, sighing as she stood up. "Just breathe through your nose, sleep on your side, and try to get some sleep."

"Yes, Nodoka."

And then she was alone.

For a long while, she just lay still, completely thoughtless. It was hard to wrap her brain around - even then, she felt like it couldn't possibly be real. Izayoi wanted to sink into self-pity, but something in the back of her brain told her not to give in to the urge. She was frightened, but Nodoka was right: the sun would still rise in the morning, the world would go on, and she would live and survive through her fear.

It was only that she missed Togao so, so very much. She wondered if he'd be angry with her, since this was yet another complication in their already delicate situation. There were so many things that were left unknown, and the distance between them seemed greater than ever before.

Then, of course, she wondered what it might mean to give birth to a hanyo. She had only heard of them in stories before, children who were forced upon young human women as divine punishment or used as a way to warn against going out too late at night. They were supposed to be terrible little creatures, half formed and dangerous, unloved and unwanted by their human and demon families. They weren't even supposed to exist in the first place.

Immediately, that idea sat wrong with Izayoi. She couldn't imagine any child of Togao's being monstrous or ugly – it seemed absurd to her, that such a beautiful creature could produce anything half-formed.

She turned onto her side, curling up in a tight ball. Her hand rested over her abdomen, still soft and small, where the child was hidden away. It was hard to know exactly what she felt about it.

Under the fear, something else seemed to be growing. It was, after all, her beloved's child. She almost felt a sense of affection blooming up in her chest, pushing past the dread and sadness. It felt strangely like she was making peace with it, the tiny life inside of her. She tapped her fingers against her belly, contemplative.

There was nothing she could do right now but wait. He would return to her as he always had, and she would tell him then. Even if he was unhappy, it seemed impossible to imagine him leaving her to suffer alone, after everything he'd already done to protect her.

There was a fragile calm building in Izayoi's mind, just enough to allow her to finally fall asleep.


(edit as of 11/26/2016:

There's a bun in that oven. Can't say you didn't see it coming, Izayoi!)