Geishu Province. Early spring.

The gardens around Lord Noriyuki's castle were just beginning to turn green. The air smelled of young grass and melting snow.

You sat on the veranda of your house, your palms resting gently on your stomach—almost unconsciously. The movement was new. Natural. Protective.

Soft footsteps on the gravel. You didn't even turn around. You knew.

Usagi.

He always walked like this—softly, yet confidently. Not a single branch wasted its life beneath his feet.

He stopped at the steps. For a few seconds, he simply looked at you. There was no surprise in his gaze. No fear. There was... awe.

He walked up to the veranda and sat next to you. Not too close, so as not to intrude. But close enough for you to feel his warmth.

His palm gently covered yours. Then slowly moved lower.

He froze.

As if he was afraid.

"Are you tired today?" he asked quietly.

Not "how are you feeling." Not "is everything okay?"

He always asked about you.

Not about the future. You were carrying his child. And he treated it... like a sacred trust.

He didn't touch you without asking. He didn't let you carry heavy things. And every night, he checked to see if you were cold.

A few days later...

Drills were taking place in the castle courtyard.

Gen was training with a group of young samurai, brandishing his weapons as if the world needed to know he was the best. Tomoye stood a little to the side, watching with her usual attentiveness.

Usagi was next to you.

Not on the training field. Nearby.

When one of the students lunged too hard, raising dust, Usagi stepped forward slightly, shielding you. Automatically.

Tomoye noticed. Her catlike eyes narrowed softly.

Later, when you went to talk to the cook, Tomoye approached Usagi.

"You've become even more cautious," she remarked calmly.

Usagi didn't deny it.

"That's as it should be."

Gen, overhearing the conversation, chuckled, leaning on his spear.

"I've never seen you like this, Usagi. You look at her like she's made of glass."

Usagi turned to him. Calm. Confident.

"She's not made of glass."

Pause.

"But now I'm responsible for more than just myself."

Gen was silent for a moment. Then his grin widened.

"Well... it looks like the world will have to endure another stubborn rabbit."

Tomoye smiled faintly.

"Or a stubborn female rabbit."

Evening.

You were walking through the garden when you suddenly swayed slightly—just tiredness.

But Usagi was at your side faster than the wind. He grabbed your elbow.

"Slowly."

His voice was soft, but it held a firm, protective edge. He dropped to one knee before you.

Yes, right in the garden. Not for show. To be level with your gaze. His palm rested on your stomach again. Carefully. Tremulously.

"I swear," he said quietly, "that no blade, no spell, no lord will come near you."

Not loudly.

But so that even the wind seemed to freeze.

When you were returning home, he walked a little closer than usual.

His hand rested on the small of your back.

Not possessively. Like a support.

When you settled down to rest in the evening, he sat next to you, placing his katana against the wall.

But he didn't lie down right away.

He looked at you. For a long time. His gaze wasn't that of a warrior. Not that of a ronin. But that of a future father.

And that gaze held everything: fear of failure, determination to protect, love for you and already—love for someone who hadn't yet been born.

He leaned down and touched his lips to your forehead.

"You make me stronger," he whispered.

And then his ears twitched slightly as he listened. And he smiled softly.

"I think... he or she already knows they have the bravest mother."