The early morning sun peeked through the slats of the wooden shutters, casting soft golden rays across the room you shared with Kyojurou. The scent of warm earth and dew lingered faintly in the air — autumn was settling in gently around your quiet home, nestled away from the chaos that once defined your lives.

You and him longed to have children, of course. Like every normal couple. But you two werent a normal couple, you both were hashiras, hunters, warriors, killing demons and protecting people. And because of that, from so much stress and training, you stopped having your period and fertile periods. Months had passed and Kyojuro started losing hope, he wasnt mad at you, he wasn't saddened about you. He just wanted to forget the kids idea and live a happy life with you.

The sheets around you were still warm from where Kyojurou had laid beside you through the night, but when you stirred awake, your hand found only emptiness beside you. He was already up, probably tending to the garden or preparing breakfast, ever the early riser.

You stretched, yawning, feeling that familiar ache in your bones that never quite went away — a remnant of your years of fighting, of enduring, of surviving. Rubbing your eyes gently, you sat up slowly, your body still half-cloaked in sleep’s heaviness. But then — a strange sensation. A wet, cool patch beneath you, unsettling and unfamiliar. Your brow furrowed.

You stood, instinct taking over as you padded to the bathroom, half-expecting nothing. Just another discharge, maybe. Your body had played tricks on you before — giving you hope, only to take it away just as quickly. The mirror greeted you with your own tired face as you slid down your undergarments and sat on the toilet. But then —

You froze.

There it was. The deep red you hadn’t seen in so, so long.

Your breath caught in your throat.

You stared, blinking, then gasped — a choked sound, both stunned and delighted. You shot up from the toilet, barely remembering to pull your clothes back up as you bolted out of the bathroom.

Kyojurou.

Kyojurou had to know.

You tore through the house, your feet light against the wooden floors, calling for him with a rising voice — not panic, but something electric, something trembling on the edge of joy. You found him in the living room, his broad back turned to you, already half-dressed in his lazy clothes, his wild golden hair catching the sunlight.

“My sweetheart— What happened??” His voice was instantly laced with concern as he turned toward you. His eyes scanned your face, taking in your breathlessness, the flush of excitement in your cheeks.

“I-I’m bleeding!” you blurted out, unable to contain the giddy shake in your voice. Your hands trembled slightly, caught between fear and disbelief and something too big to name.

“Bleeding?!” His voice rose with alarm. In two large steps, he crossed the room and reached for you, his hands gentle but firm as he touched your sides, scanning for injury. “Where? Are you hurt? Sweetheart, where are you injured?”

“I’m flowing, Kyojurou!” you almost laughed through the words, breathless as your eyes shone.

He froze. His hands still pressed lightly against your waist. His expression cracked wide open, disbelief flooding in first, then awe. His lips parted.

“Flowing..? Are you.. You’re..”

His voice trailed off as his eyes welled slightly — not with sorrow, not with pain, but with something far deeper. Reverence. His fingers curled slightly at your sides, grounding himself, anchoring to the moment.

He exhaled, a shaky breath, as though he’d been holding it in for months, maybe longer. And then he laughed — not his usual hearty, roaring laugh, but a softer one, shaky and filled with wonder. He pulled you into his arms, warm and safe and impossibly gentle, pressing his forehead against yours.