Tags: Firefighter/Husband!Toji x infertile!reader, mentions of pregnancy, stepson Megs, labour, fire hazard, reader goes through ivf, best friend!Sukuna to the rescue, dr.Shoko.
Part one
Wc: 5.5k
The house is a home to silence that gets broken by a sobbing Megumi every day, every hour like clockwork.
It's been three months since you've left, and Toji is on his last straw.
The seven-year-old has been seemingly going through a tough patch worse than his father's. Which is normal, the woman who had taken care of him since he was still a baby was now gone overnight.
She vanished without leaving a single trace.
Like you didn't become the tether their family needed after their losses. Like you weren't the only person who accepted becoming the mother Megumi needed. Like you didn't build the ground the little boy walked on.
All of that just for you to leave like you were never even by his side.
But deep down, your husband was having it bad on a level that had his skin go pale, his muscles weak, and his life dull.
Toji never thought he'd be so affected by your absence. And he's been selfishly trying to bury the sorrows underneath fire and ash.
This has happened before, he's lost before.
It's all pain and prickling thorns in his throat, meaningless days, sore sights at an empty bed in the morning.
Longer shifts at work when his hours were already long, leaving his child at home with whoever is available at whatever hour of the day.
It's radio silence from your end ever since the day you'd left without sparing him another word.
He remembers how your legs shook after you'd pushed yourself off the couch's armrest. Vividly tattooed in his mind—how the sight of your trembling body and tear-stained face made his chest tighten because he knew he'd done it for real this time.
It's stupid, he used to make you end up shaking and tearing up under different circumstances before, ones that had nothing to do with having your heart ripped out of your chest.
However, while it's physically unable for him to erase how broken you looked that night from his mind, he barely recalls ever hearing you pack anything—maybe he was zoned out when you did—but he found your shared bedroom empty by the time you were gone.
Sukuna called him early in the morning out of the blue. Voice gruff with a heavy underlying layer of irritation.
It was 8 A.M. on a Sunday, but Toji was already slipping his shoes on when his friend practically pleaded him to pick his child up.
Claiming he had more than enough of the Fushiguros because apparently, Megumi had a rough night and he kept crying out for his mom.
Toji didn't know what to tell the little boy when he got to the salmon-headed uncle's house.
The door had opened and his son practically bolted out of the house, straight onto his father's legs where he clawed and clawed until he was picked up.
Yuji was looking at the duo from behind his uncle's legs, looking guilty as if he were the one responsible for his best friend's inner turmoil.
It was quite the contrary.
Megumi had enjoyed himself that night.
The two boys played video games way past the time they were usually allowed to be awake, ate a lot of sweets, as Sukuna didn't care enough to refuse two pre-teens of the candy they pulled out of god knows where.
But now, as he nuzzled his spiky hair further against his dad's chest, Megumi wished for nothing but to go home and find peace in his mother's arms.
The two older and identical copies of their "sons" bid each other a half-assed goodbye—both still too tired to properly socialize—only saying they'd meet up later before Toji was back in the car.
His son slept through the car ride home, and he woke up noticeably calmer and in a mood that improved the closer they got to home.
What his father failed to warn him about was the sheer emptiness he'd find once he crossed the threshold of their apartment.
The key was barely out of the lock when Megumi pushed the door open, hauling himself inside the foyer, shouting, "Mama!" with his tiny, high-pitched voice, buzzing with anticipation.
A moment passed. He was still rooted at the entrance, waiting for you to rustle around, show sign of life, and show up at the end of the hall with your arms wide open—and a comforting smile on your face.
Nothing happened after another few silent seconds.
And little Megumi turned to his father, who hadn't moved an inch.
Feeling the strange coldness seep out of the house and into his bones, caused by the lack of your presence in the apartment.
For the first time in his short life, Megumi saw his father hold an expression on his face that wasn't irritation or disinterest.
Etched into his dark, sharp features.
Today is quite an eventful day for you, not because you have something coming for you, but because you're quitting your job.
It's a silly, extremely boring office job you've been at for less than four years now, but it pays just enough for you to live on the other side of Tokyo, far from Toji and sadly, your little one.
In a two-bedroom apartment that casually has a balcony that bumps up your rent to be higher than it's supposed to be? Yes. However until you moved into a place with a terrace, you'd never realized just how much you had been needing one.
You close the last tabs after saving your work with a small smile you can't stop from stretching across your face. Makoto, your deskmate, looks over the divider with a movie-style comedy with an exaggerated pout on her face.
She's a sweetheart, younger by three years but the most trustworthy person you've ever met while working. Unfortunately though, this is probably the last you'll see of her, as your private lives don't mesh.
The poor girl takes a two-hour train ride for this mediocre job and you certainly won't take time out of her precious weekends to meet when she's such a busy person.
But you promise to stop by and let her take you around Kyoto sometime. A loud, melancholic huff escapes her as she mourns the loss of her favorite coworker.
You giggle at her deflated posture in her chair.
You're entirely too calm and happy for a person who is resigning today.
However, this is a resignation that every person in the office is okay with. Not because you're deeply hated by your now former workplace, but because there is a reason why everyone is willing to let an employee as talented and loyal as you go.
Just in time for you to walk out, your boss, Nanami Kento, appears behind you. He's uptight as ever. Clad in squeaky-clean Oxfords, a mathematically straightened blazer, and his hair gelled back—as organized as the office life at 7:3 Corporate Banking Company is.
Except, you almost feel your eyes jump out of their sockets when you see the bouquet of flowers in his arms.
"Oh! Mr. Nanami, what a nice bouquet you hav—"
He cuts you off before you even finish your awkward comment.
Again, before you have time to be shocked about it, he places them in your hands, almost sending you to faceplant the floor with their weight.
And you also can't get a single word in because he's continuing.
"Congratulations on your pregnancy, Mrs. Fushiguro. It's been lovely having you here."
Two months ago, you moved into a cheaper, smaller, and clammy apartment across town with a heavy heart and a cloudy mind.
You haven't divorced Toji, and you're not sure if you can do that without properly clearing the air between you and your husband.
Though, the idea of going back and looking into his eyes to hear the word no after everything you've been through is enough for you to keep your distance indefinitely.
Even when at night, you miss the feeling of his arms wrapped around you more than anything, keeping you caged against him—warm and safe on the coldest nights.
Or being awakened by the little rascal in the morning. Kissing his chubby cheeks to death while he complained.
The first month was hard. Really hard. You barely ate, lived off the first thing you saw at the nearby convenience store that sells the most out-of-pocket flavors of literally anything, and avoided going out altogether if it wasn't for work.
You'd be lying if you said you didn't miss him though.
If you said you didn't wish he'd come and find you at work on one of those days where the clock ticked too slowly, you would be a horrible liar.
But those dreams never happened.
And you didn't see the light in life.
You didn't recognize the number anymore, having gotten another phone and changed your contact.
So when your old phone buzzed on the nightstand, a week after you'd settled in with a new Blackberry, your heart thumped hard against your chest.
Upon picking up, you'd immediately recognized the voice. Dr. Shoko. It had totally fled your mind that you were supposed to tell her you were giving up.
That evening, your voice felt smaller than anything.
You felt smaller than anything once the remains of a life you were in just a month ago were on the other side of the phone.
You'd almost forgotten the bruises you'd wake up to decorating your stomach, all the nights you retched in the bathroom—holding your own hair, alone.
"It's been a while since we've spoken, hasn't it?"
Your doctor was a woman older by a few years but that possessed a honey-like, calm voice that you're sure could calm anyone.
It was almost comforting to hear it.
But when she calls, it's always for the same thing.
To break your heart into pieces again.
So you brace for impact like you have every other time.
You reply to her question with an, "I'm doing great," even though it's the fakest thing you've said in a while.
Then, you hope she doesn't ask about Toji or Megumi.
Thankfully, she doesn't, and you hear the rustle of papers before she takes a pause from saying it's great to know you're doing good.
"Okay, so if you remember, we took out some eggs during your last cycle and you had them implanted the following week."
There's a brief silence as she prepares her next words.
You take it to let the fact run a lap around your head.
By now, it had totally fled your mind that there was yet another successful implant of fertilized embryos inside of you.
And that the last week before you left Toji behind, you had a fair amount of bloodwork and lab tests done.
Specifically, on that gloomy day, you had your most recent blood draw.
Still, you had done this many times with no success by now.
She always says the same thing: successful implant, see you in a week.
Then she calls you in for tests, you do them, and she calls again with the news of no baby.
First come the injections, the hormones.
Then the painful surgical extraction of your eggs.
Toji had to submit his own sperm too.
The lab fertilization follows.
The embryos are cultured for a few days.
You go back, they're placed inside your uterus.
Just another scar deep in your heart.
Your doctor had been rambling about something for the last minute, but you were in your head, completely out of it and not hearing a single thing until you heard her call out your name.
Finally, she had managed to pull you back and you replied.
"Yes? Sorry, I got distracted."
A soft sigh came through the phone.
"Did you hear what I said?"
You hadn't missed a beat before replying no.
And you saw the first sliver of light then.
So, you're the happiest pregnant woman there is, despite your crumbling marriage, despite the guilt that tugs at your heartstrings from having abandoned another little one behind.
But you've wanted this for longer than you can remember.
There's nothing that has tethered you to Earth as much as the two-month bump you have subtly poking out from under your clothes.
You're so over the moon, in your little bubble, that you're even grateful you wake up nauseous because of the little being inside of you, and not because of a bad reaction to the drugs you took just to have your baby.
And your cabinets are empty save for the prenatal vitamins you take.
There are no empty syringes in your apartment's trash can.
But there are discarded negative pregnancy tests and used-up, once hormone-filled injections in Toji's apartment.
He can't bring himself to throw them away even when the sight revolts him.
The box of remaining treatments for another cycle is still in the bathroom, the cabinets full.
It dawned on him that he had messed up the second you walked out the door.
That he discarded you, perhaps unwillingly, just like you had discarded negative results after successful implants.
He'd discarded all of your sacrifice.
The months of pain you went through just to have something half you and half him.
And the thought, that realization, makes bile climb up his throat every time.
He loses his mind every single time too.
Leg bouncing up and down, eyebrows drawn tightly together, lips pursed—jaw locked like he's fighting the urge to jump at someone.
When really, he's fighting himself.
Sukuna is lazily lounging on an uncomfortable metal chair he pulled out of the janitor's closet and into the open garage, next to the lined-up fire trucks.
It's lunchtime, he's just had whatever slop their coworker made.
With the heat clinging onto his skin and the salty aftermath of whatever thing he had just eaten, the pink-haired man was sure he was on the road to hell and seconds from perishing.
A firefighter uniform is a layered system of protective clothing designed to protect firefighters from heat and fire, to say the least.
But God, was it hot inside that clingy uniform.
And for men like Sukuna and Toji, it was uncomfortable as it was always too tight around the arms.
Having had enough of the clingy material, Sukuna had his coat thrown somewhere and he's been itching to rip his white shirt off his chest.
So, he's left in his navy blue, yellow-striped cargo tactical pants with the overalls unhooked from his shoulders and hanging by his sides.
He's taken off practically every layer he's allowed to, and he wishes he could throw his shoes away too, but he can't.
By his side, though, is a visibly distressed Toji.
In the 38-degree Celsius Japanese heatwave.
Had his coworker looked normal at the very least, Sukuna would've bet there would be at least three forest fires with the scorching hot sun shining outside.
But he's quiet as a church mouse when he eyes the raven.
He barely lasts a minute before he barks.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Toji groans, sinking further into his own metal chair, subconsciously hiding his face under the high neck of his coat.
His friend continues to talk though, picking at the subject.
"What? The missus giving you shit? Yuji's been saying that Meg is quite upset lately."
Once more, he doesn't get a reply.
That makes him quirk a brow in curiosity and slight irritation.
Even when he knows Toji isn't a man of many words, just like he isn't.
However, it's now that he notices his friend's hands are balled up into painfully tight fists by his sides.
And it's only now that he realizes it's been a while since he's heard about you.
"Toji, where's your wife?"
Sukuna's voice isn't as light anymore. It's deeper when he asks where you are.
Because you've known Sukuna for longer than Toji has.
After all, he's the mutual friend you both met each other through.
So, when it comes to his childhood best friend, it's not funny at all to Sukuna anymore.
That he's dancing on a thin line.
Either he gets punched by the short-tempered man, or the next months are going to be spent in psychological warfare.
"Gone? What the fuck do you mean gone?"
The man has already pushed himself off the chair, sending it a few meters back. The sound of its feet scratching against the floor momentarily echoes.
He would never admit it, but the fact that you have been gone for four whole months without him finding out about it irks him on a level that most people never get to.
Anyway, Sukuna is on his last thread too.
He's called your old number a hundred times in the last hour after his shift ended.
Not once have you picked up.
And you haven't heard the phone ring once.
You're at your trusty convenience store, struggling to crouch and reach the snacks on the lowest shelf with your three-month bump between you and glory.
It's hard, satisfying these end-of-trimester cravings.
To add salt to injury, when you can't reach the bottom packets of mochi, you can't reach the chips on the highest shelves.
So you have been staring at the ketchup-flavored bag of chips on the shelf for the past five minutes, debating whether you give it up and go home, or wait for someone to waltz into the deserted convenience store where even the cashier is absent so they can grab it for you.
But your patience is stretched thin quickly.
You decide to try one last time to reach it yourself, despite the strain in your lower back.
Slowly, you lift yourself onto the tips of your toes and deliberately angle yourself to graze the end of the bag.
Then, you feel the presence of someone taller behind you reach past your body and grab it.
You're about to complain about how rude that was, maybe even accidentally start crying because of your hormones, but the man drops the chips in your hands before you can turn to look at him.
However, you quickly manage to catch a glimpse of the man's forearm.
Fuck, who wouldn't recognize those tattooed forearms with ink that make grown men swallow hard and fear him?
Right there, you hope he doesn't pay attention to who he has just helped—
And you're unlucky because for the first time in his life, Sukuna bats an eye to a random person.
He catches a glimpse of your side profile as he lets the item fall into your hands, already turning to leave, but he stops dead in his tracks to take a second look.
Oh, of course he has to run into you after calling about two hundred times in the last two hours.
But Sukuna is shocked for the first time in ages.
His MIA friend, in a convenience store that doesn't even have a name, miles and miles away from your home.
"Y/N? What the fuck are you doing here? Why haven't you answered my calls?"
You're stiff as a tree, hoping that the comically large bag of chips will hide the bump you're sporting under your sundress.
Because one look from Sukuna and you're exposed.
You're sure the clerk comes out of the back after hearing Sukuna's loud voice booming.
Can a man curse more than Ryomen? Jesus.
Unfortunately for you, bolting is out of the question with your mildly swollen feet.
So you force him to pay for your random snacks in exchange for an explanation.
And you make it seem like a casualty that you're coincidentally pregnant during a rough patch with your husband.
You don't tell him that divorcing is something you think about some days, or the horrible last year and a half you lived through in order to even lie about your baby.
He doesn't need to know that.
He wouldn't understand if you told him you left your husband because you wanted a baby.
If your own didn't, how could he?
By the time you're done shrugging his concerns off, it's late.
So he insists on taking you home. You make him stop at the foot of your building and swear.
"I don't want Toji to know." You say. He purses his lips because he doesn't believe it.
Again, you shoot him a pointed look. "You owe me the discretion, asshole."
He's retorting like you've shot him.
"What for? I literally just paid for your things. If anything, you should stop lying to my face and tell me the truth."
Accidentally, your lips make an "o" and you expose yourself once more. But you don't care.
Shrugging again, you say, "Nah, I'm good, don't tell him." A pause comes in the middle of the next sentence.
Now more serious, you shift around as you plead. "Please don't tell him. It's complicated right now."
He scoffs, mumbling something incoherent but really similar to "Fucking idiot." under his breath before tossing your purchases back to you, giving you a side hug, and saying he'd catch you later.
That night, you don't sleep out of fear that Sukuna would snitch, even if he's never done that, being a man of his word, and that Toji would show up at your door.
And part of you is disappointed.
No, every part of you is disappointed.
It's been nine months, you're full term, about to pop out a child, and he hasn't reached out once.
Your husband hasn't looked for you once.
On many nights, you cry about it.
It's no longer the hormones that have you so sensitive, you know your helplessness comes from deep within you.
It hurts more when it's Sukuna taking you to the hospital on the night your water breaks.
It hurts more than the contractions.
Because you don't want Sukuna to be driving you.
You don't want him here at all.
Which is incredibly selfish as he's been supporting you all throughout your pregnancy.
Except at ultrasounds, you refused to let him take you there.
Refused to let him inside the appointment.
Toji was supposed to be there finding out the gender of your baby by your side.
He was supposed to be looking at your little girl's face inside your womb.
You weren't supposed to be alone.
Or receive judgmental looks from the women in the waiting room.
Some equally as pregnant as you, some less or more, but all accompanied by their partners. The fathers of their children.
And you wanted to yell that you're married, and not the slut they look at you like.
You wear your wedding band with "through sickness and in health" promised to you.
So, where is your husband?
On the night your water breaks, you're cooking. Something sweet, a new recipe you've never tried where making caramel—homemade caramel—is crucial for its success.
None of that store-bought stuff.
You blame the baby in you for wanting such complicated things.
Halfway through the process, right as you're mixing sugar, butter, cream, and a pinch of salt that's going to transform into a rich, golden confection, you think you pee yourself.
The water that spilled on the floor was in fact not pee, but your water breaking.
And you panic so hard all you do is dial Sukuna in a hurry—making him call out of work—and haul the hospital bags out of the apartment all on your own.
Not sparing a single glance at anyone who sees you in your flowy nightgown, with a distressed face and two suitcases by your side.
Right, that pan you left on...
Spawned a team of Tokyo firefighters, amongst them a tired, sunken-eyed, wrecked Toji to the rescue.
He was handed the information of the situation while a teammate drove the truck without question to the location, like it always is.
Over the truck's blaring siren, he read out the data to the other firemen.
"Neighbors reported a house fire on—" He reads out the name of the street, region, floor, and everything they know that has been reported about the fire.
He gets to the end of the report and his heart drops.
"The tenant is FUSHIGURO Y/N." His coworkers don't hear what he mumbles at the end, but they know something is wrong with the horrified look he's wearing.
The truck is shaking as it drives through traffic, but Toji's bark at the driver makes it tremble even more.
"Hurry the fuck up, get us there now!"
Toji hauls himself out of the truck first, body moving before his mind does.
Every inhabitant of the building is found outside, scared and worried, but Toji's heart is reaching the sky. He has it in his throat, ready to jump out.
Because how is it that the first time he hears about you, it's because you're engulfed in the one thing he prayed you'd never get close to?
His vision starts to get blurry as he reaches the floor.
You'd think it's inhuman, that a man of his height and stature, wrapped in those clothes, can pass more than ten flights of stairs to reach your apartment in record time.
He smells the ash from the hall before he throws your door open, calling out your name through his hoarse throat.
It's closing in on him. Everything, the walls.
There isn't a single sign of life.
He's not even supposed to be there.
He knows because he faintly hears his men scream from the staircase for him to leave, get out, that there is nobody.
What do they mean nobody?
On ground level, water is already being sprayed. Multiple men are at work. Placing ladders, climbing, watering down.
Yet nobody does damage control on him.
"Toji!" He hears his senior's voice call out from nearby.
But he stands there in the living room.
Even though he's not touched by them yet.
"Toji! Get out of there right this second!"
He feels like he's already burned.
"You have a son and a wife! Get out!"
The superior hesitates at the threshold Toji passed to get inside. Except it's now barricaded by fire.
"Your wife is at the hospital, she's not here!"
Crying like you're on the verge of death.
Maybe you are. Sukuna definitely knows he's about to die though, you're gripping his forearm like you need him to hold you on Earth while you send him to the sky.
"Fuckfuckfuck, you're killing me, woman—" He doesn't even think about how much his words annoy you, causing him to barely dodge the fist you had heading for him.
The thing is, you're not pushing or anything. Nor are you in pain with the epidural in your spine. But you've been in labor for the last four hours, only 5 centimeters dilated, and sobbing profusely without stopping.
Even the nurses are worried because all you say is "I want my husband!" like you can't do it without him here.
Sukuna has said many times he can't get Toji because 1: He's on the clock so he probably won't pick up, and 2: You won't let him go.
Though, his arm hurts so much—it's red, and even with his thick skin, he's sure a fat bruise will appear in a few hours—that he decides it would absolutely not hurt to call the raven-headed idiot that is supposed to be in his place.
You hear him promise to call and immediately let go.
Just as Sukuna steps outside of the room though, still hearing your sobs from the hall, heavy and rushed footsteps near before he even has the chance to ring Toji.
Because there he is, running past Sukuna, probably not even registering that he's there, and he goes inside.
But your husband wasn't ready to be met with what he was.
Toji Fushiguro looked like a man who had crawled straight out of hell.
There was soot smeared across his jaw and neck.
His chest rose and fell violently as he struggled to breathe.
For a moment, nobody moved.
A huge stomach which you have both your hands over.
Tears paint your face in a glossy layer.
That's not what makes his heart stop though.
A pin drops in the silence and you're sure a continent cracked.
He chokes out a sound you can't understand.
It all crashes over him right then.
He can't form a single coherent thought.
But he shakes, he starts shaking.
His dark eyes find you instantly.
Yet the second you saw him, every memory came rushing back at once.
Megumi sleeping between you both after a nightmare.
The wedding ring still sitting on your finger.
Toji looked like he was about to collapse.
Your name broke coming from his throat.
You've never hated yourself so much.
But the physical pain is slowly creeping back up on you.
And the cry you let out snaps your husband out of his shock.
Even after months apart, his body moves on its own.
You can't get the words "I'm sorry" out, but you try.
Knowing that they won't ever be enough to earn forgiveness.
And suddenly, you feel something warm hit the back of your hand.
It was loud with medics preparing you to push.
But you couldn't pull your eyes off him.
Couldn't stop smelling the smoke, fear, and regret he was radiating.
You let out a loud groan amidst the moment, subconsciously squeezing the life out of his hand.
"Mrs. Fushiguro—" For the first time, you hear the midwife.
"We have to get this baby out of you, mama, please help us."
Because it hurts everywhere now.
You don't find the strength within you.
They yell at you to push again.
Toji lifts his head, red eyes finding yours.
There's nothing but worry and something fragile, something Toji doesn't know how to name, fear, behind his eyes.
A rough, calloused hand finds the apple of your cheek.
He doesn't care about the baby, but he does care about you.
Through your blurry vision, you finally manage to.
He wipes the tears that fall as you cut the circulation off in his bicep.
"Okay, mom, good! Keep pushing!"
Her cries are the most beautiful thing you've ever heard.
It hurts a bit to see them hand her over to her father first, but you find it okay.
You find it more than okay when you see him hold her.
A man of so much sorrow and pain, holding the purest thing on Earth.
The world is frozen in time.
Somewhere, the birds stop chirping.
The waves swallow the shore.
Something shatters in him.
It feels illegal to hold her.
So beautiful, nothing like him.
No dark eyes, no dark hair.
He can't believe this is his.
After countless negative tests.
One he didn't even try to.
His hand gently brushes against her tiny head.
It was silent in the room.
And for the first time in nearly a year, your husband looks at you the same way he had on your wedding day.
Like you were the most important thing in the world.
The damage isn't repaired.
There will be conversations.
But as your daughter yawns against your chest and Toji carefully wraps one arm around both of you, neither of you lets go.
Tsumiki has two broken parents.
A mother that went through hell for her.
Who would do it again to see her tiny fingers wrap around her mother's.
A woman that needed answers from her husband.
Who isn't aware that he did look for her.
At her old workplace, asking everyone, spending every day calling, searching, dying inside.
She has a father that's messed up by life.
Past relationships, family trauma, a fear in his heart he can't allow himself to admit exists.
A man who doesn't know how to hold on.
But he's never been so sure that this time, nothing is escaping from him.
And an older brother standing by the door, brought by Sukuna himself.
That has a completely different set of eyes and thoughts.
But a brother that has already deemed her the most precious thing on Earth.
Hmm... as for dessert.. the masterlist maybe?
Please lmk how u felt about this little story, i love reading coms!!
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