ｉ＇ｌｌ ｌｏｖｅ ｙｏｕ ｌｉｋｅ ｔｈｅ ｓｕｎ

one.

"When the doctor said that exercise was good for you, this wasn't what he meant."

The look that your husband gives you is dry, and you know that he would have preferred it if you'd stayed behind with Hikage and Hinata, but the familiar walls of the guardhouse close in on you, and claustrophobia claws at your gut. You need something new, a space of oxygen – even if it is only for an emergency meeting with the other Fire Force Captains.

You wave his concerns off, more concerned with placing both your feet carefully on the ground. Your centre of gravity has changed; keep a tight hold on Beni's hand as he manoeuvres you up the marble stairs. Behind you, Konro keeps a careful eye on your back, ready to catch you if you stumble.

You reach out to smooth down a strand of his hair. "I'm being careful. Besides, I'm not going to stay cooped up in the house forever."

"So, you'd risk going into labour in the church with only us to help you." Beni grabs the handle of the cathedral door.

"There's still four weeks to go." You counter, putting your hand over his, and helping to pull open the door. "Baby and I are both fine."

A little white lie, but Konro and Beni don't know that. The baby's been increasingly restless the closer you've gotten to Amaterasu, twisting and flipping about in the pit of your stomach, but the sensation is preferable to being kicked in the ribs – the baby somehow has a penchant for kicking you there, and knocking the breath out of you in one hard blow.

Already you can tell he's a fighter, like his father.

The sweet, smoky smell of incense immediately fills your nose, and you close your eyes, taking it all in. When you open them again, you see the light filtering in from the huge stained-glass windows, casting colours on the altar and the white marble tiles.

You're the last ones to arrive, with none of the muttered prayers and gestures that the country's religion demands. A few people shift, creaking the wooden pews as you walk past, and you're sure that they're wondering who you are, and why you're here when you're so obviously pregnant. Carefully, Beni helps you manoeuvre your bulk into a pew three rows from the front, and settles himself next to you.

A carefully whispered conversation is going on in the pew next to yours; you peer at the people there through your eyelashes, recognizing only the Eighth and Fifth Captains; the boy and girl with them are unfamiliar figures. The conversation is one you've heard before – when people mention your husband's name, it's usually accompanied by the title of the "strongest Fire Soldier". Though, what strikes you as odd is how the boy seems to be smiling, widely and a touch uneasily in your direction.

Predictably, Beni doesn't take well to it. "What's so funny, you little brat?"

Konro sighs. "Young Master –"

An ache throbs in your lower back like you've been sitting on the pew for far too long. You shift into a more comfortable position. You poke him in the ribs, right where he's the most ticklish. "Beni, he's just a kid. Don't be mean."

There's the padding of feet, a quiet commotion as the Emperor arrives. Everyone pushes to their feet, joining their hands in prayer. Beni and Konro give him no such respect, and you're glad that you don't have to stand; standing has become a rather complicated and painful process for you, and you prefer to sit whenever you can.

The long days and short nights inevitably catch up with you if you sit still for too long. Your eyes drift shut. You jerk awake. Next to you, Beni is warm, and his heat against you relaxes your core.

"[ NAME ]?"

Your eyes fly open. Already, an empty silence has descended and filled the space. The ever-present ache in your back ebbs, vying for your attention. "Oh. Are we going home already?"

Beni nods, and offers you his hand. "Yeah. We're done here."

Your breath hitches with effort as you stand. A flash of pain throbs through your lower back and halfway up his spine. You can't help but think that you should have stayed at home, but you aren't going to give Beni the satisfaction of being right, and so you grit your teeth and push through the pain.