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I Felt Something

In the weeks that followed, Katsuka noticed something strange.

That unfamiliar wave of fatigue that had washed over him months ago was long gone — but in its place, something else had taken root. His appetite had increased. Sharply. And not just for food.

Some days it struck him with no warning at all — a lingering trace of Kai’s scent in the hallway, the warm rumble of his laugh in another room, or simply catching the tsar’s eye from across the court. Suddenly his skin would prickle and burn, a molten need curling deep in his belly as if someone had lit a flame beneath his ribs.

And Kai — gods, Kai always delivered.

More than once, Katsuka had grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the nearest dark alcove, or let him pressed him against a wall in an empty room, or hauled himself atop the dining table when no one else was around. As long as Kai’s mouth was on his, as long as Kai’s hands gripped his hips, as long as he was filled — he let him take whatever he needed.

But it wasn’t just desire. That was the unsettling part.

He’d always hated sweets. Always. Even the smell usually made him wrinkle his nose. But one afternoon, after relentless pestering from his ladies-in-waiting, he had begrudgingly tried a small, delicate tea cake.

He had expected to grimace, to spit it out, to confirm what everyone already knew about his tastes.

Instead, he’d blinked. Then taken another bite. Then another. And then he’d asked for a second plate.

Their faces had lit with delight while he sat there in mute confusion, staring at the empty dish as though it had betrayed him.

And the cravings didn’t stop.

Sugared pastries, candied fruit, honey-glazed buns — he sought them with a hunger bordering on need. He didn’t understand it. He’d never had a sweet tooth a day in his life.

Months passed before he noticed the consequences.

One evening, as steam curled lazily from the bath and lanternlight shimmered across the marble, he caught sight of himself in the tall mirror. He paused mid-step, water dripping from his hair, droplets running down his chest.

He turned slowly, staring.

His stomach — once lean and sharply defined — was softer now. Just slightly. A small, unmistakable curve. He pinched the skin between his fingers, eyes widening.

“Suki,” he whispered, horrified, “I think I’m getting fat.”

So lay off the cakes, Kit Kat… Mitsuki cackled from the shadows, his voice almost echoing off the walls.

“Shut up.” Katsuka snapped, cheeks burning hot as he pinched at the soft skin again. He hesitated, shoulders hunching inward, ears lowering until they drooped helplessly.

His voice came out small and shy, a whisper he barely admitted to himself:

“Do you think Kai’s noticed?”

With the way that man watches your every move?... Absolutely....

Katsuka let out a miserable sound, somewhere between a groan and a whine. He sucked in his stomach — it flattened for all of two seconds — then exhaled with a defeated sigh, letting it go.

“How disgusting,” he muttered under his breath as he stepped into the shower.

Warm water cascaded over him, but his reflection still haunted the edges of his thoughts.

He won’t care... Mitsuki said more gently this time. Trust me... He loves you... And if you’re really worried… maybe just avoid the cakes for a bit, ne?...

Katsuka muttered a curse and shoved his hair back beneath the stream of water, pointedly ignoring him.

But even as he closed his eyes, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something — something he couldn’t yet name — was different now.

~~~

Kai had practically ordered him out of the palace.

“Go have tea with Anubis,” he’d said that morning, arms crossed, voice firm in that way that brooked no argument. “You’re feeling better. You should see your family.”

Katsuka suspected there was more to it. Kai wasn’t jealous — he had never been threatened by the angel — but he knew Anubis still hovered, patient as moonlight on water, always waiting, always watching, always hoping. Sometimes it made Katsuka’s fur prickle.

Still… he had agreed.

Not because he missed the old life he’d left behind. But because he missed them — Ayleia, Raki, and especially the loud, bright, chaotic crowd of grandchildren who seemed determined to unravel whatever remained of his dignity with every visit.

He’d grown used to having a child in the house thanks to Vera, but Raki’s trio of fox kits always stirred something softer in him. A warmth. A fullness. A pride he never spoke aloud.

The twins had been a miracle in themselves — not one of Mitsuki’s, but inherited now through Katsuka’s own bloodline. And then little Noriku had arrived, as sweet and stubborn as morning dew clinging to a blade of grass.

Three foxes. Three.

Every time he thought of it, his tails twitched with quiet joy.

“Come on, Dad,” Raki groaned, rubbing at his eyes as though the weight of fatherhood personally offended him. “You’re the master of gifts. What am I supposed to get my little Duchess when she already has everything?”

Katsuka chuckled as he leaned back on the shaded bench, watching the children race across the courtyard sun-warmed courtyard. “Surely she doesn’t have everything she wants.”

“You’d be surprised,” Raki muttered darkly. Then — shrieeeeeek — He winced. “Girls! No screaming!”

Katsuka hid his smile behind his sleeve. The twins were darting in manic circles around Noriku, who was stamping her tiny foot. Nadia was laughing and demanding they “fight her properly like real fox soldiers.” Her bright green eyes glittered with mischief — the same way they always did when she was about toget herself into trouble.

“She’s incredible,” Katsuka murmured.

“She’s exhausting,” Raki corrected fondly. “But… gods, Dad. She’s growing up so fast.” His voice dipped, softened. “Feels like yesterday I could hold her in one arm. And now she’s talking about battle tactics and climbing buildings.”

He shook his head, smiling at the chaos.

Ruru appeared then, regal as ever despite the two tiny siren twins tugging on her tails and babbling in their musical, watery language. Her ear twitched in irritation.

“They have been clinging to me all morning,” she sighed, lifting one child who immediately protested the movement. “They missed their grandfather.”

“Come here,” Katsuka said, brightening as he reached out. “Give them to Jii-san.”

The siren twins practically threw themselves at him, squealing as they burrowed into his arms. Katsuka settled them in his lap, tails curling protectively around them as he tickled their chubby cheeks. Their tiny webbed hands slapped happily against him.

Ruru exhaled in relief. “Thank you.”

“I don’t think it matters whether you have boys or girls,” Katsuka said softly, eyes warm as the children clung to him. “Having children at all… That’s the blessing.”

Raki hummed in agreement, though his gaze had drifted back to Nadia — who was now trying to scale a tree like a wild cat to escape the foxes.

Then his attention snapped back to Katsuka.

He blinked. Slowly.

Once.

Twice.

A tiny frown tugged between his brows.

“Enjoy the time while they’re young,” Katsuka continued, oblivious. “When is the party? I’ll make sure Kai is free. As long as there’s something sweet on the table, he’ll be there.”

Raki didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on Katsuka’s midsection.

Not judgmental.

Not amused.

Concerned.

“Dad…?” he said cautiously, losing the star-shine in hsi eyes and settling back into cool blue. “Are you… feeling alright?”

“Of course, darling.” Katsuka stood, ignoring the faint twinge in his lower back. “Just a little sore. Nothing that will stop me from playing with the children.”

“Sore,” Raki echoed, tone flat. “Right.”

Katsuka stepped into the courtyard, the children swarming him instantly with shrieks of glee. He laughed, scooping up two at once and twirling them.

Behind him, Raki watched—eyes narrowed, expression storm-tight.

“…yeah,” he murmured finally, almost to himself. “Of course.”

But the worry didn’t leave his face.

~~~

Tea with Anubis had been pleasant — comforting even, in that familiar way only she could manage. Katsuka still found it strange how easily he could slip back into the old rhythms with her, even after everything.

He carefully lifted his cup, grateful that Krau teas were traditionally served without milk. Even the thought of milk tea twisted his stomach these days. He didn’t understand why, but avoiding it had become easier than dealing with the nauseating aftermath.

They spoke for hours, the conversation ebbing and flowing like the old days — light, warm, threaded with memories instead of tensions. All the while, Anubis watched him over the rim of her cup with that knowing, soft smile.

“It’ll be our daughter's birthday soon,” Katsuka said, stirring a ribbon of honey into his tea. The honey shimmered, thick and golden, catching the afternoon light. He didn’t notice Anubis’s raised brow at first. “I’ll be busy for the next few weeks preparing for it.”

“You mean his daughter,” she corrected quietly, though the scowl she wore was anything but quiet.

“No, I meant our daughter.” He didn’t look up from the cup as he reached for more honey. “He’s my husband now—”

“Fiancé,” she interrupted, voice clipped.

“Semantics,” he huffed, temper spiking like a lit match, waving her off. “We’re almost married. I wasn’t trying to start a fight—”

“And since when do you put honey in your tea?” she asked, head tilting, amusement blooming on her face like a slow sunrise. “It seems he’s influencing you more than you realise."

“What? Oh— no, I just…” Katsuka stumbled over his words for a moment, cheeks warming. “It’s a little bitter today.”

“You like bitter.” Anubis laughed, her eyes creasing. “Honesty, Karu, you’re such a strange man.”

“I beg your pardon?” he sniffed primly, taking another sip and humming at the sweetness that melted perfectly into the tea.

The conversation drifted to gentler, safer subjects. They laughed, sometimes so hard Anubis wiped tears from her eyes, that familiar sparkle returning to her features — but it didn't last.

Her laughter died halfway into a breath.

Her smile faded.

Her eyes widened.

Katsuka noticed the silence first. Then the way her eyes began to glow — silver, swirling, rippling with starlight like a galaxy trapped beneath glass.

His tails curled anxiously.

“Anu…?” he whispered. "What is it?"

She lowered her cup. Her hands trembled. And when she looked at him, her eyes blazed — not with fondness, not with longing, but with a cold, furious clarity he hadn’t seen since the day he confessed the affair all those years ago. He felt a creeping dread twist in his gut.

“What's wrong, darling?” Katsuka asked, voice thinning. He hated when she looked through him like that. Hated how reapers could see things other didn’t even feel yet.

She said nothing.

Her silence was worse.

Much worse.

For a panicked moment he thought she would strike him again.

“Anu?” His voice cracked. “You’re scaring me.”

He stood abruptly, but she caught his wrist before he could move away. Her grip tightened — iron and ice, painful enough to bruise.

“Do you feel alright?” she asked, voice low. Controlled. Too controlled.

Katsuka instinctively tried to pull free. “Let go. Anu— please. Let go.”

Her eyes flickered, starlight swirling violently, and she released him so suddenly he nearly stumbled.

“Wait here,” she ordered, vanishing into the inner rooms in a flurry of feathers.

Katsuka rubbed his wrist, the skin already mottling purple. “What in the f—?”

"Everything ok, Kitten?"

He spun, ears flattening, to find Kai leaning in the doorway, arms folded, a questioning half-smile on his lips.

Katsuka’s heart jumped. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes flicked to his wrist as Katsuka pulled his sleeve down to hide the mottled bruises that were already forming. His eyes narrowed.

“I heard you call,” Kai said simply, stepping in close to cup Katsuka’s cheek. His thumb stroked once, soothing away his fears. “So I came to make sure you were safe.”

“But I didn’t—”

Anubis reentered — and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Kai. It was almost like the temperature in the room plummeted.

“Here,” she said sharply, shoving a small pouch into Katsuka’s hands. “You should drink this.”

He blinked down at it. “…Why would I need this?” He recognised the blend immediately — every midwife in the kingdom kept bags of it. “Anu, this is for—”

Anubis's eyes blazed once more.

"Just take the bloody tea, Karu," she snapped. "It won't be bitter."

Kai raised a brow, utterly entertained by the angel's rage.

Anubis’s glare swung toward him, hatred and fury coiling behind her reaper’s stare. She didn't look away even as her eyes watered, refusing to let her best him again. “Whatever you’ve done,” she hissed, “this is an abomination.”

Kai only smiled.

Bright. Easy. Mocking.

Almost like he was saying I won with his gaze alone.

He gave her a cheerful little wave as he slipped his arm around Katsuka’s waist and guided him toward the door.

Once they were back in Rassua, Katsuka asked in a low whisper, “What did she mean by that?”

Kai took the pouch, sniffed it, then handed it back while rubbing slow circles on Katsuka’s lower back. The touch instantly soothed a knot of tension Katsuka hadn’t realised he was holding.

“What’s this?” Kai asked, shaking the bag. “Is she trying to poison you? Very un-angelic of her.”

“It’s not poison,” Katsuka snapped, snatching it back. “It’s herbal— some kind of pregnancy tea. I don’t understand why she—”

“I'll have Turia check it,” Kai said easily, pulling him closer for a quick kiss. “Don’t worry about her, Kitten. She’s always hated me.”

Kai gave a carefree shrug and strode off, tossing the tea pouch in one hand as he went, humming to himself.

Katsuka stood alone in the hallway, staring after him…

…and for the first time, he felt a flutter of low in his belly.

Not fear.

Not pain.

Something else.

Something he couldn’t name.

~~~

Katsuka had been trying—truly, stubbornly trying—not to let any of it get to him.

The weight gain he had never experienced before. The sudden shift in taste—sweetness becoming addictive instead of nauseating. Scents that once meant nothing suddenly turning his stomach. His temper snapping like brittle twigs at the slightest provocation. The fluttering.

Gods, the fluttering.

He told himself it was nothing. Stress. Fatigue. Maybe indigestion. Anything but the thing he feared.

He tried to pretend he didn’t wake in the night pressing a hand to his stomach, certain something had twitched beneath his fingers.

He tried to pretend he wasn’t terrified.

But the unease clung to him like fog.

That morning, he walked through the corridor with his ladies-in-waiting trailing behind him, discussing Vera’s upcoming birthday. It required effort just to stay upright — fatigue washing over him in warm, lethargic waves he was beginning to fear were simply normal now.

“Should we organise it in the gardens?” Anya offered as she balanced her planner against her hip.

“Or do you think she’d prefer something in the snow?” Mira added.

“You know your daughter’s tastes, Mistress,” Elen chimed. “Has she mentioned what kind of party she wants this year?”

“Yes, she’s been quite into—”

He froze completely. Mid-sentence. Mid-step. Mid-breath.

The colour drained from his face.

“Mistress?” the maids cried, rushing forward, skirts swishing as they steadied him by the elbows.

Katsuka pressed a hand over his mouth to hold back the panicked gasp threatening to rip out of him.

Because he had felt something.

Inside him.

A soft shift. A brushing flutter. A gentle push from within.

Not pain — worse.

Movement.

He went rigid, terror flooding him ice-cold and immediate.

“Mistress, are you alright?” “Should we fetch water?” “Come, sit down—there’s shade just there—” “Do we need to call the Master?”

He didn’t answer.

Because it happened again.

A small — almost curious — tap beneath his skin.

Like a knock.

A soundless, delicate hello from something that shouldn’t exist.

Katsuka’s panic hit him so hard his breath shattered. He jerked away from their hands, nearly tripping as he staggered backwards.

Then he ran.

Bolted down the corridor like his life depended on it — because in his mind, it did.

“Mistress!” the maids shrieked as they hurried after him, but he didn’t hear them over the thunder of his heart.

He was dying.

He knew it. He’d known something was wrong from the beginning.

He was a demon — demons didn’t get sick. But he was sick. Something was inside him. Something was moving. Poison. Curse. Some consequence from Li’s dagger years ago. Some delayed attack.

Maybe Li had found another way to get to him. Maybe this was punishment. A curse finally blooming to kill him slowly.

Oh, whoa—whoa whoa… Easy, Kit Kat… slow down, Mitsuki murmured from the back of his mind, trying to rise, trying to calm him. You’re gonna hurt yourself...

Katsuka shoved him down, panic making everything inside him shake.

“Oh Suki— Suki, I knew something was wrong!” Katsuka gasped, breath hitching as tears pricked hot in his eyes. “I’m dying, aren’t I? This is punishment for all the shitty things I’ve done—”

Just slow down... let me explain...

“I’ll lose them all,” Katsuka whimpered, not listening. “I just— just when I was starting to feel happy— when everything was good— and now I’m dying—”

His legs carried him without thought. Down a corridor he barely recognised. Straight toward the door he never used. The one he always avoided.

Kai’s office.

He didn’t knock.

He threw the door open — and immediately wished the earth would swallow him whole.

Kai sat behind his desk with three officials gathered close, papers strewn across the surface. All four men turned sharply toward him, wide-eyed at his dramatic, breathless entrance.

Katsuka froze, mortified.

He had never — never — come to his office before. He had sworn he never would. Too many memories about his time with the Duke. Too much shame. Too much past.

And now he had barged in like some hysterical idiot.

“S-sorry…” Katsuka stammered, face flaming. “I… I just—”

Kai didn’t let him finish.

He didn’t ask why. Didn’t scold him. Didn’t question his presence.

His expression shifted instantly — from confusion to concern to a cold, commanding fury.

“Get out,” Kai said to the officials. “Now.”

They scrambled, muttering apologies as they fled the room, nearly tripping over each other in their haste. The door shut behind them with a heavy click.

Kai let out a breath, then patted his lap. “Come here, Kitty. What’s wrong?”

Katsuka stared at his own trembling hands, twisting the fabric of his shirt. His shoulders shook, breath shallow and uneven. He stepped forward hesitantly, barely aware he was moving until Kai reached out, guiding him gently to sit on the edge of the desk so their eyes were level.

“What’s going on with my princess today?” Kai asked softly. No teasing — just warmth. Just concern. Just Kai.

It nearly broke him.

“I think I’m dying,” Katsuka blurted, ignoring Mitsuki’s audible groan in the back of his mind.

Kai blinked once. Twice. But the smile in his eyes only deepened.

“I haven’t been feeling well,” Katsuka continued, voice cracking. “But demons don’t get sick. I don’t understand it— and now, now something’s wrong. I felt—”

He pressed a hand to his stomach, swallowing hard.

“I felt something.”

Kai’s gaze sharpened. “Something?”

“Something moved,” Katsuka whispered, breath catching. “Inside me.”

Kai’s lips slowly curved.

Softly. Knowingly. Infuriatingly.

“Kai,” Katsuka snapped, tears threatening. “Why are you smiling at me?! I said I’m dying!”

Kai stood, stepping between Katsuka’s knees, hands warm as they framed his hips. He brushed loose strands of hair behind Katsuka’s ears, his thumbs stroking reassuringly along his sides.

“My pretty Kitty,” Kai murmured. “We’ll go to the doctor. We’ll check everything. I promise you, nothing bad is going to happen to you.”

His voice was so sure. So calm. So disgustingly gentle.

Katsuka didn’t understand any of it.

But he clung to Kai anyway.

Desperate, shaking, terrified.

Like a drowning man grabbing the only solid thing left in the world.

#rp katsuka #kaisuka #writing #chesham st breakdown #Himbo Kitty