/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>45110223 (3/-)
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It's easy to feel defeated after a terrible day, but I'm a teacher—I eat bad days for breakfast. Well, the analogy sounded better in my head as I left my room, eyes droopy and hair a mess, the sun just appearing on the horizon, not hurrying my routine: do my hygiene, get dressed, review the material for the day, catch the Bunbunmaru on the way to the school—and maybe, if I'm on a good mood—yeah…—pray at the Dragon Statue.

Thing is, it's never that simple; "Good morning, Keine!" Mokou yelled, all smiles as yesterday. I stare at her blankly, the immortal taking my obvious silence as a cue; "Sorry for barging in—that spare key you gave me came in handy! Just wanted to make sure the expecting mother would eat nicely!" She proudly glanced at the kotatsu, white rice—an immense bowl of it—thick broth soup, and a big fish all set. It looked like the feast of a sumo wrestler.

Frustration boiled just beneath my skin. My storage room was flooded yesterday with babyware, and Mokou was already planning to make it into a baby's room… Babies that, for the millionth time, do not exist. I breathe in and breathe out to control my rage—I don't have time for this. I do not. I have to get everything ready, or I might be late for class…

"Mokou…" I reminisced about how Mokou thought it was a joke yesterday. "… Good morning." So I sit at the kotatsu, fishing my teacher bag from the side before pulling out my big notebook full of colored and scribbled bookmarks. She giggles a bit, finishing cleaning the dishes before joining me. My worries about fitting all the leftovers in the fridge soon dissipated into thin air.

"So, when are you visiting Eientei?"

"Hm?"

"For your pre-natal accompaniment," she tossed a book to me after fishing it from a pocket; on the cover was the silhouette of a woman holding a tiny baby. "This helped me understand how to manage a pregnant woman—needs, changes in everyday life, cares, and signs something might not be okay. You know, that kind of important stuff."

… I stared at her, dumbfounded, then at the book, then at her again. "When did you study all that, Mokou?"

"Last night." Wide-eyed, I gave her face a closer look, spotting clear signs of a night not well-slept. She spent the whole night studying how to help me during my pregnancy…? I would be ecstatic and probably crying in her arms… if this was not a phony pregnancy. So all I did was look at her like she had grown a second head. Mokou, 'course, laughed. "Don't worry, don't worry! I wouldn't leave my best friend hanging during a life-changing moment like this—I'm not an ass, Keine! A bad night of sleep is nothing!"

"Mokou," I call her again: ‘I am not pregnant’. I wish I could say that and make that big, empty head of hers wrap around EXACTLY what those words meant. Still… "Why are you so excited about my… pregnancy?"

She stops laughing; her red eyes, normally so lively and energetic, taking on a tinge of… anxiety. "Huh?"

"I mean, you're more excited for that than I am."

"Well, you see…" The anxiety doesn't fade away but shares space with a weird desire-like feeling. My heart withers a bit as a hypothesis starts to form. "I don't think I'll ever experience it, you know? I love this immortal body of mine, but… Knowing it'll never change—it'll be forever like this—can be disheartening. I don't think much about it, but with the passing of the decades, it's hard not to wish something more…"

Oh. So she wants to experience the 'joys' of pregnancy through me… The person who's not even pregnant.

Way to strike the heart, Mokou, gee…

Now I feel terrible about telling her the truth. I look at the tiny book in my hands, bitterness taking over my tongue—not even quenched by Mokou's great cooking—and feel my bosom contort. What exactly should I do in this situation? Telling her would be for the best, not letting the lie grow roots. Yet, as I listened her go on and on about helping to build an extension for my house, the hours we’ll spend choosing the perfect spot for a cradle, the decorations, the plans…

I don't even notice I'm caressing my belly, feeling only blood circulation.

Mokou smiles fondly. "Are they kicking?" Her voice is soft as a pillow. I glance again at her face, my body trembling a bit.

… It won't take long.

Pregnancies usually show up six or seven weeks after the fertilization period. It'll be cruel when the time comes and the truth is revealed; I'll maybe even say, 'I told you'… but I nod anyway, tense, watching as she gets up from the kotatsu, treading lightly as if to not wake up a slumbering beast, kneeling by me, staring from below with eyes of pure expectancy and anxiety just as great…

"They… can’t kick already," she nods, frowning. "But it's about that time—their hearts have started to beat."

"… Can I?"

I nodded, and Mokou put her ear on my belly. A tiny pulsating danmaku pellet in my stomach simulated beating hearts.

Her smile was the biggest I’ve seen.

I can’t shake the feeling this is a mistake.