It had been a grand total of 24 hours since Tōga had seen his son, and… for the first time in decades, he'd called off of work. Because he couldn't think of anything but Izayoi, and of his son… their son.

The paperwork was the easiest part: a trust fund, to be given to the child when he turned 21, college tuition wherever he wanted to go, fast-tracked paperwork to officially claim the child as his own. He wanted to pay Izayoi the child support he owed… for everything he owed her.

Because the picture he kept replaying in his mind, of that bright little smile and those affectionate little snuggles told Tōga everything he needed to know. That that small silver-haired boy with his Inu ears was loved.

I'm sorry.

That was the last message Izayoi had sent him. And part of him wondered if she was going to meet with him at all. But Izayoi was a woman of her word, a woman of honor. She'd made the choices she made for good reasons, even as it killed him inside to know that those choices had been necessary. Reasons that had to do with his ex-wife, and with the press, and maybe even with him.

Then he saw her—walking slowly toward the coffee shop, her eyes lost but her feet sure of their path. Her hair was still the same shimmering obsidian that he remembered seeing every morning on his way into his office. Her cheeks blushed from the fall cold, and her lips, pink and full, were pursed. And her eyes (Tōga had always been hypnotized by Izayoi's eyes; they shimmered like dew on tree branches), at that moment, were sad, and scared, and full of doubt.

Tōga wanted to run out of the shop and hold her and promise her everything was going to be alright. Even as he himself was not sure.

Izayoi had had his child.

And had not told him.

And he needed her to tell him why (even as he was sure he knew the devastating answer).

As if she could feel his eyes on her, pleading with her to join him, Izayoi took a single deep breath and walked through the door. She saw him immediately, and after a single pause, walked directly to the table where he sat.

Tōga had been prepared for her sparkling eyes and her glowing skin; he was ready for her pursed lips and her flowing hair. He was ready for a smile or a frown. But… he was not prepared for the most important thing: her scent.

Izayoi still smelled like the orange blossom and anise that he would always remember. But there were new notes to it that nearly knocked Tōga off his chair. There was salt, from tears she'd swallowed back down and… sandalwood and rain. Scents he knew came from her son, from his son. Scents that imprinted on his mind the moment that they'd wafted off of Izayoi's clothing as she took her seat across from him.

"I-Izayoi…" Tōga stuttered, surprised at the unsuppressed longing he heard in his own voice.

"H—hi," Izayoi stuttered back, and he could hear her heart skip a beat as he said her name. "I—Tōga… I should have—I-I'm…"

"I know," Tōga said; he knew what she was going to say, and he could smell the tears beginning to pool in her eyes. "We—we have a lot to talk about."

Their eyes met momentarily, and Izayoi nodded. Tōga raised his hand, and the barista set an enormous mug of hot chocolate in front of Izayoi.

"You remembered," Izayoi said, looking down at the steaming chocolate topped with a cloud of whipped cream, and adorned with a powdered cocoa smiley face.

"You always hated coffee," Tōga answered, recalling the time he asked her to get him a flat white and how she scrunched up her nose and asked him how he could drink something that tasted like hot chocolate left out so long it fermented.

Izayoi fingered the edge of the mug. Her eyes grew wide and began glistening as water pooled in them. The salt that infused the air from Izayoi's uncried tears was potent enough to stop Tōga's breath. Her lips started quivering, and her chest started heaving, as if a tidal wave of sadness (and dare he dream—regret?) was washing over her.

"I'm so so so so so sorry," Izayoi stuttered, her tears breaking free of her eyes, her grief contained no more.

He couldn't resist. His hand shot across the table, capturing hers in his. Just feeling her soft hand, protected by his again, pierced his heart. Then, Izayoi opened her hand and clasped his, the little trickles of affection started to fill the rest of his body with warmth, with love. A love that had never abated after she walked out of his life. But, even as Tōga's chest was filling and his heart was calling out for her, he couldn't let himself give in; not just yet.

"Were you… ever planning on telling me?" Tōga asked, trying as hard as he could to ask the questions he'd rehearsed, because his mind wanted to forget everything else and just concentrate on Izayoi's touch. A touch he didn't understand until that very moment just how much he missed.

"I… was…" Izayoi replied, her eyes fixed upon the place their hands were touching, "when he was older… when I wasn't as worried about… well… about…"

"Had you… so little faith that I would protect you?" Tōga asked; it was another rehearsed question. And the tremble of Izayoi's hand almost made him stop asking before he started, but… Izayoi's choice had already meant 3 fewer years with his son.

"It was so bad Tōga. What she did to you," Izayoi whispered, but she burrowed her hands further into Tōga's. "And… here I was… the other woman. A human no less… And then… when I found out I was pregnant? What—what would she have done to you if she found out? To me? To Inuyasha..."

Inuyasha. His son was named Inuyasha.

"Inuyasha…" Tōga tasted the word on his tongue.

"Y—yeah." Izayoi finally turned her eyes—her beautiful eyes—back to Tōga. "When I found out that he was a boy, I looked into Inu yōkai customs, to make sure his name—well, fit him. And Inuyasha seemed right."

"You gave our son a name fitting for my clan," Tōga said, but even as his yōki was suppressing his emotions, he felt a tear pooling in his eye.

If he ever needed proof that Izayoi would have told him, it was this. Their son was not named "John" or "Michael", he was named Inuyasha. A name worthy of the son of the Inu no Taisho.

"I… I never intended to… keep him from you," Izayoi whispered, "I just… I… I was so afraid." Izayoi's trembles had not abated. "I just thought about the press… and how they hounded you relentlessly for even thinking about ending your marriage. Then… then… what if they found out who Inuyasha was? He—he's the sweetest boy. And… he's too young for—for the flashes of cameras and constant badgering… All because he had the misfortune of being born from my stupidity… I—I couldn't do that to him. Not until… not until it was safe. For him."

Izayoi had broken eye contact once again, and her head hung low, trying to hide the tears that were splashing into her hot chocolate.

"I… would have protected you," Tōga whispered, unable to resist leaning his head closer, letting his forehead touch hers, "with everything I was…" Tōga took a breath. "And… I will never consider that night with you to be a night of stupidity."

"Well, it gave me my sweet little boy," Izayoi said, her voice barely audible; speaking for Tōga's ears only.

"Our sweet little boy," Tōga corrected.

In that moment, he saw the picture: his child, Inuyasha, sitting on his shoulders as they walked along the river at night. Inuyasha, showing off his new drawing of Santa Claus with his list of toys (that dad would never be able to resist).

And he saw Izayoi, holding his hand, her skin aglow as they watched the sunset. He saw her under him, whispering his name as they made love quietly to avoid waking Inuyasha up. He saw the bright smile that used to greet him every day in the office waiting for him to get home to his family. Their family.

He was in love with Izayoi.
And it had only taken a single glimpse for him to fall in love with Inuyasha too.

He'd known that forever. From the moment he hired her as his assistant. From the moment that it just became natural that his favorite part of the day was the moment he saw her. From the moment he kissed her back. From the moment he had sex with her on the carpet of his office. He loved Izayoi. And four years, a bitter divorce, and a surprise son had done nothing to diminish that. In fact, sitting there in the cafe, touching Izayoi's hand and finding out his second son was named Inuyasha, Tōga, despite himself, loved her more.

"I… I want to be in your life," Tōga whispered, desperately. "I will protect you, and I will protect Inuyasha." He had so much more he wanted to say; he wanted to know where she'd gone, how she'd taken care of a hanyō with Inu energy, whether she loved him back as desperately as he loved her. But right now, he needed only one thing. "I want to be Inuyasha's dad. More than anything, I want to be his dad."

"Are… you sure?" Izayoi asked, pulling back just far enough that her forest brown eyes met his golden ones. "Because—if you're in, then you need to be in."

"I'm in," Tōga promised, "all in."

He thought about telling Izayoi about the trust fund, about the college fund, about the… dreams of dressing as Santa Claus and holding hands while strolling through the park. But that could wait. The first step was meeting his son, and claiming him. And hopefully, coffee and hot chocolate and dates and Santa Claus and family walks in the sunset would follow. At that moment, Tōga could settle for meeting the dog-eared silver-haired child named Inuyasha, his son, whom he'd created on a wonderful night with the only woman he'd ever loved.

Izayoi made the most musical little huff, as if she was laughing and crying at the same time. Her hand, which so recently had been trembling, relaxed, and the smile that painted her lips gave her entire body an unearthly glow. As if, for the first time in three years, a great burden had finally been lifted off of her shoulders.

"Would… would you like to come and meet your son?" Izayoi asked, just before downing all the rest of her hot chocolate.

"More than anything," Tōga exhaled.

The two left Witch's Brew hand-in-hand. Tōga relished in Izayoi's warmth, and in her tentative looks at him, as if she couldn't quite believe that all it took was one glance and one coffee to reunite and start anew.

But that was the thing about love: it was hard to explain why it was okay. Why, even as he would mourn his lost three years, they'd found their way back to each other, through his cataclysmic divorce and her rapid departure from New York, through the birth of their son. Because Tōga knew that he'd found his family.

"Are you ready?" Izayoi asked, standing in front of the door to her parent's house.

"Yes," Tōga said, and they entered the house together.

The bright-eyed, dog-eared child looked at Tōga in wonder. Upon seeing Tōga's form, his little ears pinned back and he scrambled behind a couch. But as Inuyasha's head peeped out, his little clawed hands reached up to touch his own hair, as if confirming for himself that his hair was still silver, as silver as Tōga's. It was the second moment that day that Tōga had to choke down tears.

"Inuyasha?" Izayoi held Tōga's hand and led him further into the room, closer to his son. "This is Tōga, your daddy." Izayoi knelt down near where Inuyasha was hiding. "Don't worry. Your daddy is here to protect you. He's a good yōkai, not a scary one."

Had he the willpower, Tōga would have argued that he was in fact a "scary yōkai"; that if anyone ever so much as threatened to lay a hand on Inuyasha or Izayoi, he'd tear down the world to punish them. But here and now, watching his son for the first time, seeing him pull on a strand of the silver hair that he had inherited from him, his heart was too overfull to flesh out all the ways he would 'contain' the threat. Tōga's heart had spilled over, and he knew that he would move heaven and earth to make Inuyasha smile, to make his little ears perk or wiggle, to make his wide apprehensive eyes beam with excitement.

Tōga kneeled down, inhaling the scent of sandalwood and rain—his son's scent—and memorizing every subtle note to it. He looked into Inuyasha's eyes, molten amber, like his. He took in Inuyasha's triangular ears, which were still facing back apprehensively, and how the downy fur on them blended seamlessly into his silver hair.

"Hello Inuyasha," Tōga said, careful to project calm even as his inner demon wanted to reach out and embrace his son proudly and lovingly, and nuzzle his little cheeks. "I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you."

Inuyasha seemed to consider the situation briefly, looking at Tōga, then back over at his mother, who nodded at him, giving silent assurance that it was safe, that Tōga was safe.

It was all it took. Inuyasha crawled out from his hiding place, emboldened by the words of his mother and the gentleness of his father, and Tōga couldn't hold back the choked chuckle that broke from him as he watched his son's ears flip forward and wiggle excitedly.

"Want to play ball?" Inuyasha asked, grinning just enough that his little fangs peeped out of his mouth.

"I do," Tōga answered, and he didn't think he'd ever wanted to do anything as much as he wanted to play ball with his son.

Once in a while, a little family walked along the river path, enjoying the last fiery rays of the sunset. On one side was a small human woman, with long black hair and eyes as deep as the woods but as warm as a hearth. On the other side was a great demon, with long hair that shone silver against the lights of the city. And in between, there was a small boy with shaggy silver hair and triangular canine ears atop his head.

"Mommy, daddy! Swing me higher!" Inuyasha often said, and let Izayoi and Tōga swing him as high as they dared, eliciting melodic and impish giggles at their game.

On this particular night, on Inuyasha's fourth birthday, Tōga patted the box in his pocket that held a diamond ring: the promise of the family that he'd seen on that cool fall day in the park with the multi-colored jungle gym.

Never in his life had he been so happy for a second chance.

FIN