Misao couldn't help a small smile as she wrapped and tucked her obi, then belted it. It was becoming more obvious with every day that she was carrying, and it was starting to feel absolutely real. There was actually someone in there.

She pulled her hair into a quick, low bun. No-nonsense but still pretty, she thought. She smiled at the thought of Aoshi-sama's expression — eyebrow quirked, lips slightly parted, eyes warm — when he'd first realized that she'd cut her hair.

He liked it shorter. He would never dream of saying so, but he ran his fingers through it more often after she cut it. Then again, running his hands through it was no longer a five minute exercise that ended up with strands of her hair knotted around his fingers.

Four pairs of feet approached the Aoi-ya.

Misao looked up at the sound, then levered herself down the stairs, keeping one hand on the wall to keep her balance. At the bottom of the stairs, she had to lean against the wall for a moment against a sudden wave of dizziness. Naturally, the muscles in her stomach started to spasm. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. It wasn't painful, but it was definitely weird. She'd talk about it with Chiba-san when she stopped by that afternoon.

The door slid open. Misao opened her eyes and widened her smile. "Welcome to the Aoi-ya—"

The four men in front of her were westerners. She dropped the pretended smile and nodded, crisply. "You're looking for Shinomori-sama?"

The shortest man gave her an uncomfortable stare, while the other three all just looked on blankly, as if they had no idea where they were or who she was.

Nobody said anything. So Misao asked again, speaking a little slower: "Are you looking for Shinomori Aoshi?"

Recognition! Three of them nodded at the name, while the fourth and shortest one — dark haired, too, she noted, with skin tinged dark olive — startled into action.

"Yes," he said. His voice sounded stilted, strained, and Misao wondered if Aoshi-sama had been talking to them in one of their own languages. "Sheno — Shino — Shinomori-san. We ask most humbly."

"Of course! He's in the office." Misao waved down Omasu and nodded in the direction of the private dining rooms. "I'll go speak to him," she told the group of foreigners. "

Aoshi-sama's office was on the second floor. She started back up the stairs, only to find Aoshi-sama on his way down.

"Your party of four is here."

"Aa."

"Omasu is showing them to one of the dining rooms. Should we feed them, or do you want us to leave you with a pot of tea?"

Aoshi-sama was quiet a moment before saying, "The tea will be fine." His eyes narrowed.

He apparently didn't want them thinking they were welcome here or calling on the Aoi-ya in the future. This was getting more and more interesting.

Misao wished she'd maybe eaten a little less in the past month. There were ways to hear what was going on in the dining rooms without going inside, of course, especially for Oniwabanshuu. But they involved either some interesting acrobatics or standing at the stairs — and Aoshi-sama would notice her newly loud heartbeat standing by the stairs long enough to listen.

So Misao kept herself busy by reviewing the letters of prospective guests. Fortunately nobody wanted to try to squeeze themselves in during the Gion festivities; they were completely booked for July. She checked Okina's calendar and wrote a few replies, then sealed them and stuck them in the outbox.

She had just closed the door to Okina's little paperwork hideaway when she heard the shouting start. It wasn't in Japanese, though she couldn't have named the language. German, maybe? Or maybe English. All his words seemed to end with some strange growling sound.

The muscle spasms started again. Misao took a deep breath and tried to force her stomach to relax, but the weird fluttering didn't quit. So she ignored it, making her way to the dining room where Aoshi-sama was entertaining his guests.

She slid the door open unnoticed to find Aoshi-sama and one of the foreigners standing facing each other. This one had curly red hair and she was pretty sure he was the tallest. Also the fattest. He wasn't actually taller than Aoshi-sama, though he was using his bulk to try and loom. He pointed directly at Aoshi-sama's chest and drew in a breath to shout something else.

Aoshi-sama's gaze flicked to her. His eyes widened for a split second, though he got his expression under control quickly. He gave her a hard stare.

Great. She was supposed to ignore the man screaming gibberish, who would of course be disturbing other guests. Even if they'd never admit to being disturbed.

Aoshi-sama's long look drew the rude man's attention to her.

She raised an eyebrow, tried to summon the sharp, withering, coolness that Okon sometimes used to shame idiots into being a little less stupid. "Just what could be so important that you must shout in my dining room?"

The redhead blinked and looked to the shortest man, who was still sitting down. The short one supplied something in their weird growly language. He and the redhead exchanged more words, while Aoshi-sama seemed to become frostier and frostier.

After a few moments the redhead and the short man looked back to her. The short guy said, sounding a little pole-axed, "We apologize most humbly for the disturbance, hostess."

"Good," she said, clapping her hands together once. "Then no more shouting?"

"No more shouting," he replied.

Misao bowed and left the room. She closed the door behind her, pressed her hand to her chest as if that would calm the beat of her heart. She tried to soothe way the sudden irrational fear that Aoshi-sama would be uspet with her or that she'd just stuck her nose into something she really shouldn't have.

The hostess of an inn should comment when her husband's guests are being loud. It wouldn't look right if she didn't. She had done that and left.

Now, if only that weird little flutter would stop.

Chiba Inko was beautiful for a woman over forty. She had aged gracefully, the lines at her eyes and gray in her hair surprisingly elegant. Misao thought she must have had the kind of stunning, glamorous looks of Okon and Megumi when she was younger. But what had drawn Misao to this particular licensed midwife, out of all the others, was her no-nonsense attitude. It put her very much in mind of Megumi while she was working.

And Chiba-san had good hands. They were warm, faintly lined, but not arthritic. She had a good grip, but she was usually gentle. And she wasn't pushy.

Today, she pressed three fingers against Misao's bulging stomach. Her eyebrows had knitted in thought.

"Fluttering?"

"Like some sort of weird muscle spasms, but whatever it is, I can't... I can't control it." Although honestly, that last part could have been about the rest of her body, too. It felt like she was spiralling out of her own control, sometimes.

Chiba-san looked down, mentally evaluating. "And when did you say your last cycle was?"

"Five or six months ago by now." At her midwife's dour look, Misao shrugged. "They're not regular. It's actually pretty normal for me to skip two months straight."

"Because you don't weigh hardly a thing," Chiba-san groused. "You'd better fatten yourself up after this baby if you want another to follow anytime soon."

Misao almost said she didn't want to be pregnant again soon, because she didn't want to be pregnant ever again. Then she caught herself.

"Is it crazy not to want to be pregnant again too soon?"

"Crazy, hah! When you're delivered of this one, you'll swear you never want another child." Chiba-san patted her stomach. "No, it won't be until later, when your little one's crawling around and mouthing off, that you'll remember how sweet they are as babies and want another."

Misao had no idea what to say to that. Kaoru-san had certainly never mentioned it, though she did sometimes say Kenji had been easier before he could climb fifteen feet and then become afraid to climb down.

Chiba-san patted her stomach again. This time it fluttered somewhere deep inside and Misao pressed a hand to her stomach, wishing it would stop.

"The spasms?"

"Yes," Misao said, gasping to find her breath.

"It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No."

Chiba-san smiled. Her mouth curved gracefully, lips peeling back to reveal just the briefest glimpse of teeth. "Then that's your child kicking."

"Kicking?"

"Or possibly moving around, swimming about. You don't imagine they just stay put, do you? I'm sure you've heard of a pregnant woman complaining of the child moving around?"

"Well, yes, but..." She stared down at her stomach. "This is what it feels like?"

"Oh, you just wait until it completely takes over your belly. You'll know every move it makes. When it gets big enough, you'll see the outline of its hands and feet."

Don't turn green. Don't turn green. "That sounds disgusting."

"More inconvenient than anything. It can get painful at times." Chiba-san's smile turned a little fond. "You'll see soon enough, I'm sure."

If there was one place in the world Aoshi-sama would speak freely and comfortably (about things that had nothing to do with combat, martial arts, or criminal weirdness), it was their shared bedroom at the Aoi-ya. So, when Aoshi-sama finally joined her in bed, she asked him about earlier.

"It was necessary," he said, softly, against her ear. He rested his hands on her hips. "But don't engage them again."

"Is that an order?"

"Aa."

"So what was he yelling about, anyway?" Hard to imagine anybody met Aoshi-sama and thought they could shout at him.

"Money." Aoshi-sama blew against her ear, apparently just to make her squirm, and said, "It won't happen again."

That wasn't an apology for his guests disturbing the Aoi-ya. Well, not just an apology. She had no doubt he was as irritated as she that his guests had thought they could do that, never mind show up here in the first place.

But what he was really saying was that the situation was under control, the matter was closed, and it was time for her to drop it.

She sighed a little, then gently placed her hands over his. He didn't object or twitch his hands away, so she carefully slid them from her hips to her stomach.

He breathed out slowly against the back of her neck.

"Did you know your child doesn't want to just sleep and grow? It's already on the move. I think it inherited your perfectionism."

He went still. "Is it... kicking you?"

"I think it's just swimming around. If it is kicking, I guess it must still be too small to really feel."

"Perhaps it inherited your energy."

His hands pressed down against her stomach a moment. The fluttering started up again almost immediately and she actually had to laugh.

"I think it wants you to stop squishing its house, Aoshi-sama."

"Oh?" he asked. And then he pushed down again, resulting in a flurry of spasms.

"Oh, it's fun for you to tease the baby. You don't have to feel it swim around or kick or whatever it's doing."

"Aa," he said, but he slid his hands back to her hips.

She laughed again and rolled over to kiss him.

He was playful — well, as playful as he ever was — that night.

And gone again by morning. He left five strips of purple silk on their pillow. She gathered them up and sighed, then hauled herself to her feet.

Five scraps of silk. So he fully expected to be gone five days. Misao eyed his side of the bed. Was it crazy to miss him already? Was that just pregnancy messing with her mind, or was it because she wasn't used to being apart from him anymore?

No use standing around wondering. Leaving straight lines of silk was almost as good as a promise; if he hadn't had any idea when she could expect him back, he wouldn't have been so specific.

The next few days were a strange blur. The days passed quickly; there was always something to do at the Aoi-ya, some guest in need of something or some ruckus to quiet down or a room to clean. The baby was so active that she almost imagined it as a squid or jellyfish, zooming aimlessly around inside her.

Nights, though, seemed to go much slower. She lay awake for hours that seemed endless, only to realize that she'd been drifting in and out of sleep.

She never had much liked sleeping alone.

The last night before Aoshi-sama was supposed to be back, Misao woke alone to the empty bed. The baby was kicking, and it felt less like a flutter and more like, well, a very, very, very tiny foot.

She pulled her blankets back over her head, listening in the silence of the Aoi-ya, but there were no new heartbeats. She thought about rolling over and going back to sleep. Aoshi-sama would be back within a day, there was no need to be unsettled by an empty bed and the empty darkness.

But she was hungry. For something chewy and warm. Misao thought a moment before deciding: bubuzuke. Bubuzuke with gari on top. Oooh, or gari and pickled cucumber.

She heaved herself out of bed and trundled down to the kitchen. She had to stop herself from sneaking into the asazuke Kuro had left out to pickle for the next day, instead quickly boiling water so she could steam some rice and make tea.

When it came down to it, bubuzuke was a quick treat. Tea over rice and then throw in gari and pickled cucubmers — kasuzuke cucumbers, the ones for the household. Delicious.

She was just beginning to dig in when she heard movement in another of the rooms downstairs. A heartbeat, too. Misao set her bowl down and reached for one of the kitchen knives. As she reached, she tilted her head, listening hard.

She stopped reaching for the knife, but couldn't stop her smile. "Aoshi-sama?"

The other person on the ground floor stopped moving, then began moving closer to her. Within moments, Aoshi-sama entered the soft glow of her lantern in the kitchen.

He was wearing his white coat with his Oniwabanshuu uniform. She ran her hands along the white leather for a moment before she tugged at the coat's gold lapels. Aoshi-sama obliged her, bending to press his mouth against hers. His mouth was warm, insistent; she got the feeling he'd have pulled her in for a kiss even if she hadn't asked for one.

He broke the kiss — leaving her flushed and dizzy — and pulled her close. He was probably listening to her heartbeat, or maybe her breath rhythm; just assuring himself that she was there, that he was home.

"You've missed me," she teased. "How far did you go?"

Aoshi-sama said nothing, only let go of her and stepped back to survey the kitchen. So she sighed, rolling her eyes a little, and pointed to her bowl of bubuzuke. "Would you like some?"

"You went to the kitchen alone in the hour of the ox." His tone had gone almost entirely flat. The only sign that it was a question was the fact that he was stating the obvious. His shoulders looked tense, and that made Misao tense a little in response.

"Well, it's not like I could clap my hands and food would appear. Is something wrong?"

"In the future, wake me if you need anything." The tension worsened, seemed to weight the air between them.

"I couldn't do that!" Wake Aoshi-sama? Ask Aoshi-sama to do something for her when she could just as easily get up and do it on her own? The very idea seemed absurd and selfish and grossly self-indulgent.

"You can and should." His tone had shifted from flat to matter-of-fact. He was prepared to make this an order, if he thought she wouldn't comply with a request.

"Aoshi-sama, I don't want to impose. Isn't it... isn't it selfish to just throw everything on you when I can still do things for myself?"

She had no illusions that eventually, pregnancy would render her close to useless. The swollen feet and ankles, the swollen stomach, the changed balance — she wasn't exactly looking forward to it. She'd heard of dizzy spells and headaches and forgetfulness, too. But for now, she wasn't helpless.

"It is not an imposition." His eyes glinted dully and he returned to the flat tone from before. "With the traitor residing here and your chosen midwife... questionable, you should not wander alone at night."

He still hadn't decided to trust Chiba-san. Of course he hadn't. He didn't trust easily, and now he had a few extra reasons to be suspicious of everyone and everything.

Misao almost opened her mouth to keep the discussion going, but stopped and thought. Aoshi-sama had a lot on his mind and all the reasons a paranoid ninja needed to be extra cautious. Absurd as the idea seemed, would it actually hurt her to rely on him a little? The way the fear would hurt him?

"Alright, Aoshi-sama." She smiled for him. "You win. I'll stay safely cooped up in our room after dark."

"And if the traitor tries to enter when I'm not in?"

"I'll wake the house. I promise."

"Good." Some of the tension that had held him so upright and thrummed between them seemed to ebb away. If he were anyone else, Misao was sure he'd have been sighing in relief.

"Ugh, now I'm sleepy and hungry." She rolled her eyes again, softening her complaint with a wry smile. "Why'd you have to tell me what time it was?"

Aoshi-sama raised an eyebrow at her. She laughed, unable to stop herself.

"I'm glad you're home," she told him.

"Aa," he replied. "Eat, Misao."

Aoshi-sama slept heavily that night. He still woke, immediately reaching for his kodachi, when she had to crawl out of bed and go to the bathroom, but the moment she was back with him he woudl simply pull her close and fall right back asleep.

Misao woke before he did for once. She watched him for a moment or so, privately marveling — just like every other time she'd seen him asleep — at how slack his face went. No subtle tension, no eloquently curved brow or stoic frown. He looked like a sleeping thirty-one year old who wasn't having a nightmare.

Another doting housewife might have smoothed her hand along her husband's face to wake him, or perhaps pressed a kiss to his brow if they were very fond of each other. Misao simply heaved herself up from the futon into a standing position. Aoshi-sama woke instantly.

Later, when she was dressing for the day and he was eyeing his own clothes chest, she asked, "Am I allowed to ask where you've been?"

"Arranging a business meeting." At that, his gaze flicked down to his hands, then the door, then her. His eyes widened a fraction for a second before he added, "It should happen within two weeks."

There was something to his tone. Misao couldn't quite put her finger on it: it wasn't shifty, or guilty. But there was a subtle tension there, like he expected her to be unhappy about it or something.

"Does this business associate speak Japanese like a normal person, or is he going to shriek foreign gibberish in one of my dining rooms?"

Aoshi-sama was silent for a long, long moment. The silence stretched itself and started to weigh the room down.

Misao could feel the dismay start to build. The feeling must have affected her heartbeat, because the strange, feather-light kicking sensation started up again. It almost tickled.

"I'm expecting Saitou," Aoshi-sama said at last.