Expecting

Kagome would always remember his face in that moment: the slow drift of comprehension lighting his features like the sun on leaves. It was in the cautious lift of his eyebrows, the widening of golden eyes, the way his mouth went soft with surprise. It was in his posture, how his entire body seemed to slacken all at once, his shoulders dropping, arms falling from their crossed position to hang limply at his sides.

And when he spoke, his voice was quieter than she'd ever heard it. "You... Kagome, you're..."

She nodded, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

Something in his face changed. He took a step closer, lifted his hand to graze the pads of his fingers across her stomach.

"You..." He paused, swallowed. "I mean we're..."

She reached for his hand with both of hers, holding it there against her body. "Yes." Her smile, impossibly, widened. "It's really happening, Inuyasha."

And as he swept her off her feet, into his arms, she realized that what she'd seen in his face was joy.

::

::

In those first weeks, she felt a subtle change in her body. There was no external difference yet—Inuyasha couldn't see any physical changes at all, and he seemed to make a point of looking for them. But even if she didn't yet look it, Kagome felt different. Fuller, somehow. Anchored in her own body, like a soft weight rested in the very pit of her stomach, grounding her to herself. She tried to find the words to explain this to Inuyasha, but the closest she ever got was to say, "It's like my body is... more."

He'd only blinked at her, nonplussed. She sighed, cupped his cheek in her hand, and wished that some things were easier to say.

::

::

It didn't take long for Inuyasha to start treating her like porcelain, like a raku ware bowl that would break with the slightest jostle. She'd fetch water from the river and he'd growl, "Don't carry the water buckets, they're too heavy!" She'd offer to help a village woman plant her garden, and he'd glare at her as if she'd suggested diving off a cliff.

He also took to following her everywhere. "What if a demon attacks?" he replied when she'd gently questioned him about it, "Or what if you fall and hurt yourself?" At first she didn't mind it much, and even found it cute. So like a puppy, she'd thought with a smile as he trailed behind her. She couldn't deny enjoying the extra attention. But it became much less cute when he made it clear that he intended to follow her everywhere—even when she needed to relieve herself. One early morning she'd gotten up to do just that, and as soon as she reached the doorway of their hut, she heard the telltale rustle of clothing; she turned around to find him standing next to their futon, pulling on his hakama to follow her out. She arched an eyebrow at him, lips pursed, and all he'd done was scowl at her, as if to say, "Well, what do you expect?"

She lost her temper with him several times, but it didn't seem to faze him in the slightest. "I've gotta protect you," he'd say with a flippant shrug. "It'd be easier if you'd shut up and let me do it."

She might have truly lost her patience with him—nearly did on a few occasions—if his flippancy had actually convinced her. But she heard the real concern underpinning the words, read the flickering worry in his eyes—the same fear that echoed in the deepest parts of herself. The fear of losing something unspeakably precious, something unknown and yet deeply cherished. And she remembered his other behavior, too: the tenderness in even his most casual touches, the way his hands seemed to linger, his hushed tone when he murmured her name in the night, how her nearness seemed to give him ease.

One day Miroku came to visit, and watched Inuyasha hound Kagome as she moved around the hut preparing tea. Miroku's tone was laughing and good-natured when he said, "That's a fine dog guardian you have there, Kagome."

Kagome glanced over her shoulder at her husband's reddening, scowling face. Before Inuyasha could bite out the insult he was clearly chewing on, she turned back to Miroku, handed him his cup of tea, and said, "He's the best." Grinning, she patted her stomach and added, "No one could be safer than us with Inuyasha around."

Miroku smiled and tipped his head in agreement. A moment later, she felt the warmth of Inuyasha's palm settle against the nape of her neck, his fingers brushing a caress across her skin. A thank you.

She could let him be overprotective, if it helped put his fears to rest.

::

::

By the second month, she was constantly exhausted. It was a tiredness like she'd never experienced before, bone-deep and insatiable. No amount of sleep seemed to help. She napped on and off all day, and slept like the dead through most of the night—that is until her bladder began working double time, forcing her to wake every few hours to relieve it. And if it wasn't her bladder waking her in the morning, it was the nausea that would continue to plague her for half the day. Her fatigue grew even worse after that. Dark circles like bruised plumbs stained the skin under eyes.

Inuyasha was almost frantic in his attempts to help. He brought her to Kaede every couple of days to make sure she wasn't ill, despite the old healer's repeated assurances that fatigue and nausea were perfectly normal this early in pregnancy. He pestered Sango with questions about her pregnancies, despite her answers confirming what Kaede had already told him. Eventually he forbade Kagome to do any physical labor and took over nearly every chore she normally did. Whenever she offered to help, or tried to do something herself, he'd shake his head tersely and tell her to lie down—and she was so tired that she usually did so without argument.

At night he held her against his chest, ran his fingers through her hair, and whispered in his gruff way, "Sleep, Kagome. You're safe. I'll take care of everything. Just sleep." She would nod and burrow her face into his body, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

::

::

"Why are you crying?"

"I'm not."

"... Kagome."

"I'm not."

"You're sniffling."

"It's just allergies!"

"I can smell your tears."

She scrubbed at her face with the back of her arm. "I told you, allergies."

She had her back to him. Inuyasha gripped her by the shoulders and turned her around, but she dropped her chin to hide the tears still streaking down her face.

"What's wrong?"

His voice was so gentle. When had he learned such gentleness? Kagome could only shake her head and press her lips together against the urge to sob.

Brows drawn low in a frown, ears flicking in agitation, Inuyasha drew her closer. "Are you sick?"

She shook her head.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"I-I'm not h-hurt," she mumbled, wiping at her cheeks.

"Is it…?"

"The baby's fine."

His expression morphed into an odd mixture of relief and bewilderment, eyebrows half-raised but still contracted in the middle, pinching the skin between his eyes. "Then what the hell's wrong?" Pausing for a moment, he added, "Do I gotta kill something?"

A half-laugh, half-sob burst out of her, followed by quick shuddering breaths. Kagome clenched her hands in the fabric of Inuyasha's suikan and forced herself to inhale slowly. "N-no… everything's fine. Really."

His mouth slanted into a grimace, and he stared at her pointedly.

She breathed out a stuttering sigh. "It's… it's stupid, and not anything you can help with."

His whole frame seemed to twitch before his shoulders straightened, and he uttered a low, barely-there growl, offended by the mere intimation that he couldn't help her. One of his hands reached up, palm cradling her jaw, and tilted her face up to his. "Try me," he said, eyes serious and focused.

She couldn't help it—another sob burst out. It took a few more moments before she could catch her breath enough to say, "It's j-just that… I miss my mom."

His mouth opened on reflex, but then he paused, eyes widening a fraction. His mouth closed, then opened, then shut again. A silent moment passed. Then his hand gingerly squeezed her shoulder, clearly at a loss.

Feeling distinctly foolish as more tears coursed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin, she stammered, "I w-wish Mama was h-here… I d-don't know anything about m-motherhood, and I wish she c-could tell me what to expect, or give me advice… I wish she could tell me about when she was p-pregnant." Throat tight and aching, Kagome squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against Inuyasha's chest. "E-every time something new happens, I wish I could tell M-mama about it. I want her to be here through my pregnancy. I want her to be here when the baby is born." She tightened her grip on Inuyasha's suikan, shoulders trembling from the effort to control her sobs. "I just… wish Mama was here."

Inuyasha's arms slipped around her, one encircling her waist, the other her shoulders; he pulled her against him until her whole body was dwarfed by his, enfolded in his, as if he could somehow physically protect her from her sadness.

He didn't say anything, or even try to—he just held her there, and stroked her back as she cried for the family that would never meet her child.

::

::

By the end of the fourth month, there was no mistaking the rounding of her stomach, its gentle slope forming just below her breasts. And by the start of the sixth month, Kagome felt the baby move for the first time.

It was sunny and warm that day, and Kagome had decided to make the most of it by hanging laundry over the low-lying branches of a tree (one of the few chores Inuyasha didn't object to her doing). The smell of the freshly-washed fabric, its cool dampness against her hands, and the pleasant heat of the sun on her face and arms all combined to cast a dreamy haze over the afternoon. Kagome nearly rocked up onto her tiptoes to lean up into the sun's warmth.

Smiling, she reached forward to drape a blanket over the tree branch when she felt a fierce jerk just under her navel.

"Ah!" she cried out, dropping the blanket and wrapping her arms around her stomach.

Underneath her hands, she felt another lurching motion, like a sharp muscle spasm.

She gasped, heart fluttering in her chest, and rubbed her hands across her stomach, hoping to feel more movement. Hoping it wasn't her imagination.

There, another one! The baby was kicking! Or maybe elbowing?

"Kagome!"

She registered Inuyasha's alarmed voice a moment before the hanyō himself appeared, dropping down next to her from an airborne leap. His eyes raked over her from head to toe, and his voice was low and urgent when he asked, "Are you okay?! I heard you yell."

Now accustomed to his abrupt appearances—her husband was never very far from her these days—her only response was to grab his hand and press it flat against her stomach.

"Kagome, what the—?"

"Just wait!"

A beat passed, and then another spasming sensation. Not painful, but a distinct jabbing motion around the navel.

Inuyasha's face went blank for a moment. "Is that…?"

She grinned up at him, guiding his hand along her belly. "Baby's feisty today."

They felt another burst of movement, and Inuyasha let out a barking laugh, lips tugging up at the corners. His ears stood to attention atop his head, his whole being focusing on the activity beneath his hand. He swiftly laid his free hand against her stomach, too. "Did you feel that? This kid is gonna be strong!"

"It's definitely your child," Kagome teased, feeling a rising lightness and warmth in her chest, expanding with every second. She felt so light she thought she might start levitating any moment. "The very first time I feel it move, and the baby's kicking like it's trying to pick a fight."

Inuyasha's smile was so full, it made her breath catch. When was the last time she'd seen him smile like that?

"All right, runt," he chuckled under his breath, claw tips faintly tickling her as his hands trailed over her belly, "don't be too rough in there. Your Mama's got a temper, y'know."

She had the perfect retort to that, but a sudden lump in her throat kept her from saying it. It hit her that what she was feeling was her daughter or son. A person, whose real living presence was moving against their hands, proof of a new someone in the world. Someone she longed to meet. Someone she and Inuyasha had formed between them, brought forth from their love like a sapling from soil.

Inuyasha looked up from her stomach, eyes connecting with hers. She wished, yet again, that some things were easier to say. All she could do was cover Inuyasha's hands in hers and squeeze, blinking against the prickling at the back of her eyes.

::

::

As her pregnancy progressed, and her stomach continued swelling (reminding her more and more of a balloon attached to a helium tank), she experienced new and less-than-enjoyable symptoms. Her lower back and abdomen started to ache, her ankles and hands to swell. She always had heartburn, and some form of digestive trouble—if it wasn't constipation, it was the other problem. Stretch marks striated the sides of her stomach and her breasts; but worse than that was the appearance of a thick dark line that ran vertically from her belly button to her crotch. If that wasn't enough, small patches of darker skin began developing along her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

She consulted Kaede about this development, who confirmed that although not all women experienced it, it was not an abnormal part of pregnancy; Kaede then very kindly rubbed Kagome's back when she burst into tears.

Kagome had never felt uglier in her entire life. And she'd been covered head-to-foot in demon guts more than once.

But at night, when they were alone in their hut, Inuyasha would press his lips against each of her stretch marks, across the dark patches on her face. He would part the edges of her sleeping yukata and trace a finger down that dark line stretching from her belly button, his touch slow and intent, as though he was on a pilgrimage to a holy place. His hands would map her body, every lump and dimple, every discoloration and spider vein, all while kissing her so feverishly her body would catch his burn.

It was hard to feel ugly those nights, because Inuyasha made her feel more known than she'd ever been.

::

::

"What do you want to name the baby?"

Light and shadow dappled Inuyasha's face; above them, a breeze ruffled the foliage of Goshinboku, and Inuyasha's nose twitched, no doubt reading the scents carried on the wind. His eyes were closed, his arms stretched behind him, pillowing his head.

He didn't even open his eyes when he replied, "Haven't thought about it."

Kagome reached over, idly stroked one of his ears. "So think about it now."

Content silence fell about them. The day was hot and muggy, but the breeze helped cool the sweat on their skin. Birds called in the distance, and nearby a cicada began to chirp. Inuyasha lay stretched on his back along the ground, his head next to Kagome's thigh; she sat with her back propped against Goshinboku's trunk, hands folded across the top of her stomach.

"... what do you want to name it?" he mumbled after a few minutes, cracking open an eye to give her a sidelong glance.

She thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. "I'm not sure, really. I've thought of a few names, but I'm not sure how much I like them. That's why I asked you."

Inuyasha yawned and stretched, then slowly lifted his torso up until he sat in a cross-legged position next to her. He watched her, eyes intent on her face. She smiled, tilting her head in question, but in answer he only reached over to grasp a tendril of her hair between his fingers.

"Well," he said, thumb and forefinger rubbing her captured hair, "if… if you don't have your mind set on a name, then maybe…"

"Yes?"

"I was just thinkin'," he said, "if it's a girl, we could… name her after your mother."

She went entirely still, and he panicked, dropping her hair and holding his hands up in the universal sign of surrender. "It was just a thought, is all! We can name it whatever you want, okay? It's not like I care anyway. Don't go gettin' all—"

She started pushing away from the tree trunk, and he went from panicked to scolding quicker than a blink. He rose up onto his knees, reaching to push her back down by the shoulders. "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing? Don't try to stand up by your—oof!"

She fell against his chest—the best she could do while hampered by her huge belly—kneeling between his knees and hugging him around his waist, her stomach cushioned between them. He tensed at the initial impact, but pretty quickly wrapped his arms around her in return.

Her voice was choked and distinctly watery-sounding when she asked, "And if the baby's a boy…?"

His large hand cradled the back of her head. His own voice was thick when he answered, "Always thought 'Sōta' was a good name." She laugh-sobbed against his chest. "But," he added, "guess we could name him after your batty old gramps, too."

She nodded, squeezing his waist.

The hand on her head gently tugged at her hair, and she followed its cue, pulling back enough to see Inuyasha's face. His eyes were somehow both gentle and blazing all at once. "Whatever you want, Kagome," he rasped, "okay?"

She nodded again, cupping his face in both her hands. "I like your plan. Mai for a girl, Sōta for a boy."

He brushed his fingers along her cheeks.

"Whatever you want, Kagome."

::

::

As the months passed, Kagome started to befriend one of the young village women, Chōko, who was also pregnant. It was nice to talk to someone who was experiencing everything she was at the same time that she was. The mothers and grandmothers in the village were well-intentioned, but they tended to give Kagome more advice than she really wanted—usually by way of horrifying anecdotes.

"When I was that far along, I started vomiting blood!"

"Mark my words, you'll be living in the outhouse."

"My breasts have never gone back to normal. You'd do well to rub yours with this poultice every night."

"You think it's bad now? Wait until the baby is born—you'll forget what it means to sleep."

Sango was better than most at keeping this impulse in check, but even she would slip into it, being the battle-hardened mother of three that she was. Once, when Kagome complained that the smell of vomit was becoming too normal, Sango arched an eyebrow and said (with a tone unsettlingly similar to a certain monk's), "Motherhood will make you an expert on every body function imaginable."

Kagome was more careful about which complaints she voiced after that.

But Chōko was a safe harbor of sympathy in the middle of that maternal halestorm, and Kagome was grateful for it. The two of them would often commiserate together about their latest symptoms, chatting by the fire as they sewed or chopped vegetables—the perfect camaraderie of pregnancy without the terrifying stories.

"You should let your husband pamper you while you can," Chōko had once said with an impish grin after her husband, Jirō, insisted she sit down while he finished washing their dinner dishes. Chōko's brown eyes gleamed downright wickedly when she added, "It's good for them to get it out of their systems." Kagome had only laughed, thinking that ship had long ago sailed, and probably circumnavigated the entire globe by now.

One day, Kagome was sitting by the hearthfire, working on her latest sewing project—an infant kimono—when Kaede came with the news.

"Chōko went into labor late last night," Kaede said, her mouth a flat, grim line, "but neither she nor the child survived the birth."

Kagome's sewing dropped to the floor.

"The midwife did all she could, but…" Kaede rubbed a hand over her aged face, sighing deeply. "There was nothing to be done. Childbirth is always risky."

It was some time after Kaede left that Inuyasha entered the hut, eyes hooded and face tight. He took one look at Kagome, huddled by the hearth with her arms wrapped around her stomach, and said, "You've already heard, haven't you?"

Kagome nodded numbly.

He walked over, dropped to a crouch next to her. His hand came to rest on top of hers where it clutched her stomach, but he otherwise did nothing.

They sat there, staring into the fire for a long time.

"Inuyasha?" Kagome mumbled after what seemed like years of silence.

"Yeah?"

"If… if that happens to me…"

His fingers tightened around her hand. "It won't."

"But if it does—"

His grip on her hand became nearly painful. "It. Won't."

"Kaede said that… that childbirth is always risky, and—"

"Nothing is going to happen to you. Ever."

"—we s-should… we should at least think about what to do if…"

He yanked. She lost her balance, falling sideways, and suddenly found herself sitting in his lap, his arms around her shoulders and his face buried in her hair.

"Nothing," he growled, low and rough, "nothing is going to happen to you, hear me? Nothing. I won't let it."

"But—"

"I won't!" His breath was harsh against her neck. "I won't fucking let it happen that way!"

"... Okay," she whispered softly, tonelessly. She leaned into him, clutched his sleeve with her fingers. "Okay," she said again, needing to say it as much as he needed to hear it. Needing to believe it was true.

::

::

In her ninth month, they sat together under the Goshinboku, looking up at the star-studded sky.

"I wonder who's in there," Kagome murmured, stroking her stomach.

"Keh!" Inuyasha poked a finger at her protruding belly button, earning an annoyed slap from his wife. "We'll find out soon."

::

::

Then one day there was pain. So much pain. Pain like every part of her insides was trying to claw its way outside.

There was the darkened, thatched roof of their hut above her head, all she could see as she screamed and groaned and grunted out her agony.

There were voices, many women's voices, Kaede's and Sango's and the midwife's and other women from the village. There was Inuyasha's voice as he cursed at the women trying to keep him out of the hut, and Miroku's calm reasoning voice in reply. She heard a loud "Keh!", the flutter of the reed mat, scandalized huffs from the village women surrounding her.

Then there was the cool press of Inuyasha's hands on the side of her face, lifting her head and resting it on his leg.

"I'm here, Kagome," came his voice. "You're doing great." She caught the silver gleam of his hair around her, the gold of his eyes above her. "You're doing great, Kagome," he said again, stroking her temple, "Keep it up."

There was more pain, longer contractions, squeezing the very breath out of her.

Pain pain pain, the muddle of voices—whispered encouragements, stern commands to breathe—all clouding the air around her, suffocating her, making her want to scream even louder. Then her entire body seemed to clench around a fierce contraction of muscle, she thought she must be dying, warm liquid flooded against her thighs, dampening the bedclothes, and—

A single, high-pitched cry rang through the hut. Clear as a bell, it drowned out every other sound. It was all she could hear, all she wanted to hear, the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.

And then a tiny, flailing bundle was pushed into her arms.

Her child.

Tiny, screaming, red and glistening. A thin tuft of black hair above the forehead. Tiny triangular ears, curled down a little at their tips. The smallest nose she'd ever seen, wrinkling as it worked, taking in smells.

Then Inuyasha's hand came into her field of vision. Slowly, cautiously, the pad of his thumb stroked along the baby's head. His fingers lingered in the air above the baby's ears, as if too awed to touch them.

Eyes watering, Kagome tilted her head back, glancing up at her husband, the father of her child, just in time for his lips to crash against her forehead and a tear—not her own—to drip onto her face.

And after—when everyone had cleared out of the hut, and Sango and Miroku had hugged her, and Kaede had congratulated them—Inuyasha gathered her in his arms, their child gathered in hers; she touched her forehead to her child's, and whispered, "Welcome home."

::

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A/N: This was written in response to an anonymous prompt I received on Tumblr, which read: "Inuyasha's reaction when Kagome tells him he's going to be a father? If you could do the whole wait and birth too that would be great but it's up to you." Decided to try the whole shebang!

I'm dedicating this to my dear and lovely friend Inunanna as a belated birthday present. As soon as I read the prompt, I thought, "Nanna would love this!" So happy birthday, dear!