They were alone in the room, now. Momo leaned back against the hospital-issue pillows, the sweat finally dry on her brow. Her husband sat next to her in a plastic chair, almost looking more relieved than she was that it was over. Kyoka and their other friends had left so that the new parents could have a moment.

The baby slept peacefully in Momo's arms, swaddled in pale blue blankets and wearing a little matching hat. Like his father, his wispy hair was split down the middle— the left side red, and the right black.

Though she was physically exhausted, the excitement of having their first child was enough to energize her mind. Endless calculations, plans of what they would do together, advice she'd read from innumerable parenting books— all of it flashed through her mind with enough speed to make her sweat.
"Shoto, would you mind opening the window for me?" Momo spoke quietly to avoid disturbing the child. "It's getting a bit hot."

"Sure." Her husband stood up robotically and cracked open the hospital window, allowing a gentle spring breeze to sweep into the room, lightly ruffling some documents on the table and cooling Momo's skin. Though the air carried the distinctive scent of fresh rain, the sky outside was now a brilliant blue, sprinkled with feathery cirrus clouds.

Momo sighed contentedly as Shoto returned to his seat, sitting just a little more stiffly than usual. The baby stirred, managing to open his sticky eyes before they closed again with fatigue. With delight, Momo caught a glimpse of his eye color for the first time— different in each eye. "He has your eyes."

"Yes." Shoto leaned back in his chair, hands folded. Probably, he was trying to give her space, but Momo knew he must have been impatient for his turn.

With a smile, she extended her arms. "Here, you can hold him."

Gingerly, Shoto took the child from her arms, holding him close without looking away. Seeing them together filled Momo with a warm feeling. She fixed her eyes on their child, now, too. It was a new and intimate feeling, to know she and Shoto were looking together at their future as a family.

"Isn't he beautiful?" she said, her voice soft and full of wonder.

Her husband didn't answer.

Momo frowned, looking at him, but he didn't meet her eyes. His body was rigid as he stared at the baby without a smile. "What's wrong, Shoto?"

Another pause.

The thought suddenly came upon her with suffocating weight, a chill tingling down her back. They'd agreed on having a child, hadn't they? It was true that she'd been more enthusiastic about it, but she'd concluded it was simply his reserved nature that prevented him from showing more excitement. Could it possibly be that…?

"You're not...happy?"

"I am," Shoto insisted, his voice tight. His eyes were still focused on their son even though he spoke to her. "Of course I am."

Ah. Momo understood, now. He was on the verge of tears; perhaps he wouldn't meet her eyes out of embarrassment. Half-joking, she inquired, "What is it?"

"...Nothing."

Momo couldn't help but smile a little. "If you're feeling nauseous from witnessing the birth, there's a pressure point—"

"No, it's just…" He wasn't smiling at their old joke as he usually did. Instead, he stared at their child with a strange look in his eye. Her smile faded, the sense of insecurity from before returning, almost as though she'd unknowingly been in the eye of a storm until now.

He spoke in a hoarse whisper. "I'm terrified, Momo."

The words were like ice. "...What?"

Shoto caressed the left side of the baby's face hesitantly, as though the skin could melt away at his touch. The light from the open window hid his own left side in shadow, making his scar seem especially dark. His voice was brittle, on the verge of crumbling.

"What if I can't do this?"

Momo was quiet for a moment, simply observing her husband more carefully. The small hunch of his shoulders, the subtle forward tilt of his head, the slight furrow in his brow...she could see it, now. Doubtless, he was remembering what the word 'father' had meant to him for so many years...and how long he'd struggled to make sure he was different. As much as she wished she could change his past, that was out of her power.

However, there were things she could do. "It's fine if you make mistakes here and there," Momo reasoned, her voice becoming lighter, more confident. "I'm sure you will— we both will."

He hesitated, still looking at their child. "Yes, but…"

"And you trust me, don't you?" She looked at him pointedly, waiting.

Slowly, Shoto met her gaze, eyes as vulnerable as the baby's. "Always."

"Then just remember that we're doing this together." Momo leaned forward and grasped his hand. "Right?"

Finally, he smiled, his face softening as he turned to their sleeping child again. He squeezed her hand back. "Right."


Thanks for reading! Critique is welcome! :D