Chapter Text
Marrying Fukuzawa Yukichi had been your dream come true.
The age difference made, well, little difference. Even though he’d been forty-three when you met, the attraction was instant. Buried beneath that unsmiling face and those sternly-set shoulders that had born the weight of the world there was a boyishness, a gentle sense of humor and a deep sensuality that came to life when your eyes met. It was as if, with you, he was making up for all those years he’d spent in monk-like asceticism after the Great War that had stripped so many of their youth… and worse.
The members of the Armed Detective Agency sensed it instantly when you joined as the new part-time secretary, pushing your seats together at banquet tables, arranging to leave you alone together in the office after hours, offering him an umbrella on a rainy night and urging him to walk you home… A gentle fingertip brushing a drop of rain from your cheek, a chaste kiss in return… And slowly, shyly, he opened up to you like a flower unfurling – no – like a dam overflowing. Who knew the stoic president of the ADA could be so passionate, so tender? And how, how were you fortunate enough to be the lucky recipient?
The wedding was a simple and intimate affair, held in the ADA office and attended by your closest friends and family. Well, a few members of the Port Mafia were there, too. Mori Ogai himself poured the sake that sealed your vows, and when you were done the packed room erupted with cheers.
The two of you wanted to waste no time starting a family. While it was true that the members of the Agency provided a sort of surrogate family for Fukuzawa, he’d always dreamed of having a child (or four, or five) of his own to raise. He went to work at it eagerly, and with such enthusiasm that others in the office quickly learned not to knock on his door on the days you stopped by to bring him his “lunch.”
Yet despite all of your efforts, month after month the pregnancy tests remained stubbornly negative. Fukuzawa wrapped you in his strong arms each time you returned from the bathroom with a grim look on your face to announce your period had arrived, and reassured you that next month would be the one…
Finally, after two years, the two of you decided to seek help.
*
“Hmm…” Yosano flips open a folder on her desk in the ADA’s medical room, then extracts a sheaf of papers. She glances up at you and Fukuzawa seated across from her, eyes flicking to you pointedly.
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she says, waving a black-and-white printout. Then she narrows her eyes appreciatively at the x-ray. “In fact, the hysterosalpingogram shows that you have particularly attractive fallopian tubes.” She draws one finger lovingly over the grayish outlines of your reproductive organs left by the contrast dye. “And mmm… such a nice uterus…”
Fukuzawa clears his throat. “Then the problem is with me?”
“Huh?” Yosano looks up dazedly from admiring your internal organs, then refocuses. “Yes, I’m sorry, Shachou.” She sets aside the x-ray and pulls out another report. “Your sperm count and motility are very low, even for a man in his 40’s. It could have been something you were exposed to in the Great War, or maybe the after-effects of some unknown Ability you encountered. Whatever the cause, you’re practically shooting blanks. Natural conception would take a miracle.”
Fukuzawa inhales, then takes your hand in his beneath the desk and squeezes. “Is there anything…” he hesitates, clearly unsettled at the thought and at the odd sparkle in Yosano’s eyes as she’d admired your reproductive organs. He looks down at his lap. “…anything you can do to fix it?”
“No,” Yosano says quickly, setting the paper down and waving her hands. “Let’s be honest, this isn’t anything Thou Shalt Not Die can fix. Although,” she looks up hopefully, “I’d be willing to try?”
You feel Fukuzawa shudder lightly. “No… in that case, what other options do we have?”
“Oh. Right.” Yosano extracts a small pile of glossy brochures from beneath the reports and spreads them on the desk. “In vitro fertilization with intracytoplasmic sperm injection has a nearly 30% success rate, even for cases of severe male factor infertility.”
“Thirty percent?” you ask, your heart sinking. “That’s only one-in-three chances…”
“It sounds complicated. And invasive,” Fukuzawa adds.
“Well, that’s because it is. The other option is a sperm donor.” Yosano taps another brochure and raises an eyebrow. “If you’re not opposed?”
“No,” Fukuzawa shakes his head, tucking his chin to his chest in thought – an unconscious gesture of his you find so endearing. “It doesn’t matter to me that the child is biologically mine. As long as it’s hers… it’s ours.”
You squeeze his hand, overcome with warmth and admiration for your husband.
“Great,” Yosano claps her hands. “You can apply to be a donor recipient. There’s a screening process, which I’m sure won’t be a problem, and after you’re accepted you can select a donor!”
“Select a…” you hesitate.
“Mm-hmm,” Yosano waves one hand blithely. “You get to pick based off education level, height, hair and eye color, health history, even psychological traits! Many parents choose a donor who comes close to the father in physical appearance. It’s all anonymous, of course.”
Something about that doesn’t sit right. You can tell, by the way Fukuzawa’s shoulders stiffen, that he feels the same way. It all sounds so cold and unnatural to choose a child like that. Like something out of a science fiction movie.
“It has to be anonymous?” Fukuzawa asks. “A stranger?”
“Well… yes,” Yosano explains quickly. “Some couples might ask a close friend or a relative of the man to be a donor, but most fertility clinics won’t consider it due to legal and ethical concerns.”
“Hmm.” Fukuzawa stands. He once again bows his head, chin to chest, and collects up the brochures. “Thank you, Yosano. This has given us a lot to think about.”
*
Two nights later you are lying in bed, cat in your lap, scrolling on your phone. Fukuzawa is reading his book of poetry – the Book of Ten Thousand Leaves. He reaches out, absently, to stroke your cat and frowns in disappointment when the creature moves away subtly to avoid his hand.
“What’s wrong,” you ask, even though you know the same topic that’s been weighing on your mind has been on his, too.
He sighs, setting his book aside and reaching over to the pile of brochures and the donor recipient application on the bedside table. He picks a brochure up, turns it over thoughtfully, then sets it back on the stack and removes his reading glasses. When he rolls back towards you the cat slips away towards the end of the bed. Fukuzawa pulls you into his arms, and you cuddle in against him. It’s nice how his voice rumbles in his warm chest when he speaks again:
“I’ve been thinking that we need to decide on a course of action, and soon. I don’t like the idea of IVF.”
You nod in agreement, feeling his cotton sleeping yukata against your cheek. All those hormone injections, the monitoring, the invasive injection process… not to mention the disappointment when the pregnancy test again comes back negative.
“It sounds very stressful,” you say.
“I wouldn’t want to put you through that – put us through that.”
“So… a sperm donor?” you offer.
“Of course I want to hear how you feel about it, but…” he pulls you in tighter, kissing the top of your head. “…the thought of it being a stranger like that… it feels like a child shouldn’t come into this world through an impersonal transaction like that – through an anonymous line of tests results and figures.”
“I agree. But… do we know anybody?”
“It would have to be somebody we both trust and respect, and who would be willing to potentially be the biological father of our child. They would have to be a good friend, indeed.”
He trails off and you wonder if he is thinking about Fukuchi. From what Fukuzawa has told you, they were best friends when they were young, and even looked similar. And despite the ways Fukuchi strayed, he turned out to be supremely honorable and self-sacrificing in the end. Yes, he would have been the best choice, had he lived…
“So who?” you ask, wondering if your husband is starting to have the same idea as you’ve had, but didn’t dare to voice.
“It’s just a thought,” he massages your shoulder, searching for words, “but perhaps I could ask…”
*
“…and that is what I have brought you here to ask.” Fukuzawa bows deeply to the members of the ADA gathered in the cramped conference room. Everybody but Kyouka is there. Based on the delicate nature of Fukuzawa’s request, perhaps it is for the best that Koyo took her out of town on a sight-seeing tour in the mountains.
The silence is uncomfortable, and you squirm in your chair, blushing. Fukuzawa sets a comforting hand on your shoulder.
“I know this is… unconventional,” he continues. “And I know that, as the leader of the Armed Detective Agency, it might be an inappropriate request for me to make of you, my subordinates, but we sincerely need your help. And I value and trust each of you with my life. If anybody would like to discuss this further, please reach out to me in private. That is all.” Again, he bows.
“Wait a minute, Shachou,” Yosano speaks up. “We discussed this… fertility clinics aren’t likely to accept a known donor.”
“That’s right.” Fukuzawa crosses his arms into his haori. “I’d intended to discuss this in private, with any potential volunteer, but…” He trails off, clearing his throat.
By now your cheeks are flaming. You glance up at him, then down at your hands in your lap. Your husband is a man of few words, at times, but it’s rare to see him speechless.
“In the samurai past,” you say, “before modern medicine, if a man was unable to have children he might ask an intimate friend to assist. An open secret, maybe, but sometimes it might’ve been the only way to produce an heir.” This was true – ancestral scrolls were probably full of such secrets… “We want to do this as simply and as naturally as possible, so we were thinking…”
There’s a soft pop of Ranpo’s lollipop slipping from his mouth in surprise.
“Wow,” Dazai breathes. “Shachou, are you two asking…”
“I would be honored to assist!” Kunikida cries, leaping to his feet with his book of Ideals in his hands. He raises it to his forehead and bows deeply. “As your second-in-command, I volunteer!”
“Kunikida,” Fukuzawa says evenly, “I had mentioned discussing this in private afterwards. I-”
“Well if he’s going to, I might as well, too,” Dazai smiles, giving Kunikida a smug glance.
“Dazai!” Kunikida twirls and grabs Dazai by the shirt collar, tossing aside his book of ideals and shaking him like a ragdoll in his seat. “You’re only offering because you want to annoy me!”
“Help!” Dazai chokes, grabbing at Kunikida’s furious hands until Kenji pulls him away. “Shachou didn’t say there could only be one volunteer!” he informs him petulantly while straightening his bolo tie. “The more the merrier, right?”
“Honestly, there’s some scientific basis in what Dazai is saying,” Yosano muses. “Evoluntionarily-speaking, a woman who had multiple partners during her peak fertility was likelier to conceive.”
“See?” Dazai smirks at Kunikida. “It’s scientific.”
“Firing squad rules,” Ranpo adds.
“Huh?” Everybody turns to him, aghast.
“Well…” He shrugs, squinting. “It makes sense like that, too. In a firing squad, only one rifle is loaded. That way, there’s no way to know who actually did the deed. The more volunteers Shachou gets, the more it’s a group effort with no one man certain that he’s the biological father. Just like a firing squad execution!”
“Ranpo, dear.” Poe leans forward, eyeing his boyfriend from beneath his shaggy bangs. “Remember how we talked about thoughts you say out loud, and thoughts you keep to yourself?”
“Is this one of them?” Ranpo asks, sticking his lollipop back into his mouth and twirling it.
“Very much so,” Poe nods.
“I’ll do it, too!” Kenji raises his hand excitedly. “Shachou, we all owe you so much. Why, I’d be happy to pitch in!”
“Kenji, are you sure?” you ask. At nineteen years old, Kenji is closer to you in age than you are to Fukuzawa. Still, it’s hard to get over your image of him as the innocent farmboy…
“Oh sure!” Kenji beams brightly. “It’s just nature. I see it all the time on the farm, when it’s time to breed the cows!”
“Charming mental image, Kenji.” Kunikida shakes his head.
“But it’s true!” Kenji clasps his hands together beneath his chin, honey-colored eyes sparkling with pink heart-shaped thoughts. “And later on when the baby cows come… they’re so cute! I’d love to help Shachou and Mrs. Shachou get a baby of their own!”
Ranpo glances at Poe beside him, who nods. “I’ll do it, too,” Ranpo says. “If partners are allowed in.”
“Well… I…” You hesitate. Neither you nor Fukuzawa had anticipated this type of response. “I think so, yes. It seems like that’s only fair.”
“As long as everybody is comfortable with it, and with some ground rules... I don’t see why not,” Fukuzawa agrees. “This is something that committed partners shouldn’t be excluded from. ”
“I know Ryuu would be fine with it,” Atsushi says. “So count us in?”
Your head is spinning. Honestly, you hadn’t expected this to work. But now, nearly everybody in the conference room is cheerfully volunteering…
Naomi elbows Tanizaki. “Onii-chan,” she says severely. “Are you seriously considering this?”
“Huh?” The redhead looks up from his hands, fiddling with the drawstring of his hoodie. By now you’re all well-aware that the two of them aren’t actually siblings. Still, even with the engagement ring sparkling on her finger, the two of them are still in the habit of referring to each other as brother and sister. Honestly, they seem to enjoy the discomfort it causes…
“Well… I, uh…” Tanizaki blushes furiously as Naomi slides into his lap, playing with his barrettes and tousling his red hair.
“Seriously how could you not consider helping Shachou?! ” she frowns. “After everything he’s done for us!”
“I mean, if you’re okay with it, sure,” Tanizaki stammers.
“Of course I’m okay with it! I’d get to be an auntie! And just think…” Naomi leans in closer, whispering encouragingly into his ear until Tanizaki swoons into his chair, grinning feebly.
“Uh-huh.” Dazai drums his fingers on the conference table, watching as Tanizaki and Naomi grope at each other, giggling. Then he looks up at you and your husband and shrugs. “Well, looks like we’re all in.”
*
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” you ask for the tenth time as you slide into bed with Fukuzawa.
“Of course,” he responds, looking up from his book of poetry. “I trust you – and them – completely.”
“I know…” You hesitate. “It just didn’t seem real at first, but now that it’s really happening it just… it’s hard to sort out my feelings. We could always adopt.”
“Hm.” Fukuzawa considers this. “Like I said, it would be a last resort. And I’m concerned that with my history and occupation, we might not even be accepted. Besides… call me selfish, but I’d love to see you carry my child.”
“I’ll be big and ugly,” you pout, laughing as he lets his book fall and turns to tickle your ribs.
“No, you’d be beautiful,” he responds, his eyes very serious as his hand finds your belly and strokes it lightly.
“I’m just… worried, I suppose.”
“Tell me,” he says, setting his reading glasses aside and sitting cross-legged on the futon to face you. He pulls you into his lap. “What are you feeling right now?”
“A lot of hope, I guess. I want this to work out.”
“But you’re also worried it might change things between us?”
“I suppose so.” You nod.
“Nothing will change how I feel about you,” Fukuzawa says simply. “You are the light that’s come into my life. It has nothing to do with physical possession – I know that we belong to each other completely, and without jealousy. Whatever happens, it’s a means to achieve the family we both want.”
“I know,” you reply. “But…” you hesitate.
“I see.” He turns you in his lap until you’re straddling him, foreheads pressed close, his silvery hair brushing your cheeks. “You feel bad that you might enjoy it? That it makes you less than loyal?”
Somehow, Fukuzawa can always tell what you’re thinking. “Yes,” you say honestly.
“To be honest, I want you to enjoy it,” he replies. “I’m asking a lot of you – and of them – as it is. If it were in any way unpleasant for you, emotionally or physically, I could never forgive myself.”
“I care for them,” you blurt out. “Every one of them.”
“Of course,” Fukuzawa squeezes you close, his lips finding your collar bone. You inhale the bergamot smell of his shampoo. “As you should. And as do I. Each one of those men is special to me, too. But I know you don’t feel towards them the way you feel towards me. And I know they’re capable of respecting that.”
You smile as he slides down the strap of your nightgown, warm mouth grazing your bare shoulder.
“You’re doing this for us,” he continues. “And I love you, without limits.”
“Thank you, Yukichi. I love you, too,” you whisper as he lays you back on the soft futon.
*
Within days Yosano arranges everything.
Surprisingly, even Dazai passes the health screening and proudly tapes his results to the breakroom fridge showing he’s STI-free.
Next is the order in which they’ll go. Kunikida argues furiously that he should be allowed to go first, so as not to risk being after Dazai.
“Scared I’ll show you up, hey?” Dazai gloats, and receives a thrown stapler from Kunikida’s desk in response.
Second are Ranpo and Poe, followed by Kenji, then Atsushi and Ryuunosuke. Dazai expresses indifference, so is placed fifth when Tanizaki and Naomi ask for the final night.
“I think six nights would be perfect,” Yosano says, consulting a fertility app on her phone. “That’s the typical window of a menstrual cycle when women are fertile, anyway. I’ve gone ahead and reserved that many nights at a nice resort for these dates.” She shows you the calendar and you swallow, seeing that the appointed check-in is only a week or so away.
At last the day comes. You feel excited, but slightly nervous as you zip your suitcase. As usual, your husband calms you.
“I’ll be staying in the same resort,” he reminds you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist from behind and giving you a reassuring squeeze. “There if you need me, but also far enough to give you your privacy.”
“I love you so much,” you respond, turning in his arms and taking his face between your hands, gazing at him adoringly. What could you have ever done to deserve a husband like this? Never in your life have you felt so respected, so cherished…
“And I love you,” he replies simply, releasing you and picking up your suitcase. He offers you his arm gallantly, and you take it. “Ready to do this?” he asks, smiling gently.
You nod. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”