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Fem!SouMako Week, Day 1: Fluff/Angst

Her hand trailed over his sleeping face, a soft ache in her heart as a result of a flaw in her own design, of flaw of her own making. It ached for the things she’s been unable to do for him, it ached for the things he’s had to do in place of her, it ached for the independence she had been forced to forfeit. In their courtship, he had told her not to worry about him.

She’d been told that he was happy to do things for her. She’d been told that he didn’t want her to hurt anymore, she’d been told, “I can get that,” or “Let me get that for you.” It was nice, yes. Did he allow her some independence once and a while, yes, 

This doesn’t negate all of the things the things that she could no longer do. 

She felt the anger swell inside of her, but also felt the warmth collect in her eyes again at the familiar sting in her heart. It made her want to do things, it made her want to prove to the wind, to the empty air, to the heavens that she wasn’t broken. She was as good as she once was. She was still good enough for all of this. 

Sou let the old wounds open themselves up again, she let the frustration carry her to her feet, frustrated when the two beings that grew inside of her womb created an obstacle of getting up, though they were only five months in development. Her feet padded against the floor, her movement making soft padding noises on the cherrywood.

Those two, what could she do for them? What on earth could a mother who can only use one arm to its fullest capacity do for two babies that could do nothing? When they grew up, what could she do, but sit there while their father helped them carry things, what could she do when they cried? She couldn’t support them with a broken wing, she couldn’t dry their tears with both arms as her mother did, one arm wasn’t enough to comfort a broken heart, or pick them up when they fell. 

Hormones made every stress in her heart twice, no, thrice as potent, the weight of it she could feel in her chest. The souls of her son and daughter squirmed in response to their mother’s movement; she’d been so still for a second, but now her heart beat’s become frantic, her breath has become shallow and labored, what happened to their mother? They moved in a hesitant manner, both of them assessing her mother’s condition and unaware that they were the crux of their mother’s worries, they were the center of her heart. Their mother loved them very much, yes. Their mother already wept for them, so many tears were shed on these babies’ behalf. 

These babies were a permanent thought in her mind as soon as she and Makoto had found out that shortly after their conversation of starting a family together, they would be blessed with two children. They were both emotional, their emotions brought tears from their eyes, both the father and the mother cried when the doctor showed the proof of their love in Sousuzui’s womb. They were loved so much by their mother and father, yes. 

Makoto cried because it was a profound experience, to hold his family in his arms at night, to know that the woman he loved so much was carrying their miracle. He was amazed that the human body could be capable of such a selfless act, that he had proposed to a woman with a heart that could love a being so soon into creation; he had watched his mother carry his siblings, and witnessed what a privilege it was to witness a life growing inside of someone you loved. Inside of his mother grew two very special people to him, people that made him want to be stronger and try harder because in a way, they were his babies, too. Ren and Ran were born with their older brother’s love, and they were a gift to him; on days when it was the hardest, he found he could simply take one of them, or both into his arms and watch the world from their eyes. Neither of them knew it, but they were the reason why he was able to be so peaceable, they showed him his own strength, and from that strength, his own confidence. 

Makoto knew that the tears of fear were proof of her love, too. She was, he knew, so moved by her own fear of not being what she knew the babies growing inside of her deserved. He’s tried to get her talk about her fears, her anxieties, not just because stress was harmful for her babies, but because he knew it would destroy her if her stress had any effect on the children’s birth. His fiancee, he knew, had a heart worth more than its weight in gold. His lady was someone he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with; he wouldn’t have asked her for her hand if he hadn’t been absolutely sure she could do this. 

Sousuzui’s activity in the night wasn’t unnoticed by Makoto, nor did she realize that her performance mopping the floor had an audience of one. 

He watched her as her shoulder flared up as a result of her stress, as well as her growing frustration at her inability. Her injury was partially psychosomatic, and flared up in her darker moments. His green gaze concentrated on her shoulders, and took note of how she traded hands when she mopped the floor. 

She’ll get through this, she knew he didn’t need her help. 

But he’d always make sure she wasn’t ever truly on her own.