Summer came, and with it brought an even hotter heat wave than the previous year. Miaka had never been a fan of the season of sun, preferring instead the times when she could have custard instead of salad dressing, pie instead of sorbet and stew as opposed to lettuce. But however much she considered begging Tai Yi-Jun to make the weather a little more acceptable, she couldn't quite get up the courage to confront the ugly oracle. Not until her baby was safely born.

Miaka had never hated summer quite as much as she did at the beginning of September on what was supposed to be the last day of summer – her first wedding anniversary. A heat wave is never enjoyable when it lasts more than a week or two, and being eight and a half months pregnant made it much, much worse. Miaka thought frequently that if Hotohori didn't have a country to rule, she'd persuade him to relocate to somewhere nice and icy cold. Although in the Universe of the Four Gods, such places were uncommon. Miaka made a mental note to find Tai Yi-Jun's smiting stick and use it against the hag.

I should curb these violent thoughts, Miaka mused. I can't be mean and motherly at the same time, and I'd much rather be motherly. She didn't know what Konan's ideas about how much the empress should care for her child were, and she didn't intend to find out. Hotohori's mother had been cold and impersonal towards him, and Miaka had no intention of treating her own baby in such a way. If there was an unwritten rule that she wasn't supposed to spend twenty-five hours a day cooing over her child, she didn't want to know. If she didn't know the rule, she couldn't follow it.

Rules weren't the only thing Miaka tried not to think about. There were a myriad of things she feared, and rules were the least of them. She worried that she wouldn't be a good mother, she was scared out of her mind at the thought of actually giving birth – no matter how much she wanted to meet her baby – and she tried to avoid thinking about her role as Priestess, because every time she remembered why she was in this world in the first place she felt a horrible stab of guilt.

It's not my fault, she told herself. I couldn't have known, and what could I have done once I got pregnant? And I'm in a book, so the future must already have been written. I'm not changing anything from how it's supposed to be. But the thoughts seemed weak to her, weak and pathetic excuses meant to let her duck out from a chore.

Being the Priestess isn't a chore, she scolded herself. Look where it got me. I wound up with Hotohori and the others and they have really good food here.

Thinking about food made Miaka's stomach rumble, but then a sharp pain distracted her from all thoughts of food.

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It was exactly one year since Miaka had woken up in Hotohori's arms for the first time. As with the previous year, summer and heat wave had vanished overnight and the slight chill of the air heralded the arrival of autumn.

And as Miaka lay back with her newborn son in her arms and rested her head on Hotohori's shoulder and exhaustedly watched him kiss their son's forehead gently, she could hear the trumpets outside announcing the birth of an heir.

I am so, so sorry for the terrible ending. I've been trying to figure out how to end it for ages now, because I don't think I could write anything much longer without descending into ramble. Five chapters are hard enough, thanks :P For all of you that asked me what would happen with the whole not being able to summon Suzaku thing, I am so sorry. I ran out of ideas, which isn't all that surprising as when I started writing this I didn't intend to make it any more than a series of connected ficlets written for a challenge. I toyed with the idea of the baby's birth destroying Seiryu in some weird and wonderful way, but I couldn't make it work. Please don't send the Mafia after me!

Thank you so much for all the reviews :-D