It was about two months before Utaka could manage to switch places with Takeo—and even then, he was back out before summer. When he was in the capital, he tried to make up for it; Erize was stuck doing all of the work herself when Utaka and Takeo were both out fighting. He had hoped—expected, to some extent—that Kuro would lose interest after about a year of skirmishes, but Nari must think that the battle reports were delightful. Most wars with Kuro only lasted two or three years before the fighting died down again, but this was different. Bloodier.
There were about one or two skirmishes each month; roughly two dozen skirmishes altogether by the end of the first year. That rose to fifty skirmishes during the second year; seventy-five by the third. At least a hundred men participated in each one, but Kuro’s groups grew larger as time dragged on—the only good news was that Kuro never managed to get past the people defending the border.
The fourth year immediately saw a lull in the fighting; after a month and a half of no skirmishes, Takeo told Utaka to return home until he was needed again. It was likely just the calm before the storm, but it felt like genuine reprieve—that was enough for him to feel all right with leaving. They sent out a letter to Kuro requesting an end to hostilities, and Utaka went back to the capital.
He stayed home for most of the year. That first night after he got back, he and Erize ended up drinking—for the first time since this thing started, he actually felt his age. It was refreshing to put in dyes, go out to get drinks, pretend like he was anyone else. Another two months passed since he came home, and then Erizedecided to treat him.
She was oddly chipper that morning after having been a bit snappy for the last week or so—a shorter temper was her way of expressing that she didn’t feel well. Gods forbid any of them actually complained about their troubles, instead of acting passive-aggressive with it.
They spent the day wandering around the capital despite the lack of things to do, mostly just enjoying the free time. Considering Utaka was barely able to say a word without her cutting him off, it was strange for her to be so cheerful. Their conversations varied, so he wasn’t sure how to determine the cause on his own.
He managed to ask after it when they went into the garden in town after eating lunch.
“Will you explain why you’re so happy?” Utaka asked. “I don’t mind, of course, but I’ll be honest—it’s a little frightening. Okimi only laughed like that when she was scheming.”
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Erize chuckled. “I’m not planning some grand party, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” she said. “And I did have a reason for dragging you out around town, despite how scattered this is.”
He prompted her with a nod and a gesture. Erize fell silent for a second, apparently realizing that she wasn’t sure how to explain.
She sat down, and Utaka took a seat next to her. She leaned into him before speaking quietly. “When you proposed to me,” Erize said carefully, “You promised both me and Miss Okimi that you wouldn’t be like your father. You said that you wouldn’t leave me just because the love faded, if it fades at all—that you would always be there, in some way or another, to support me, and you wouldn’t just…claim me dead and cut off all ties.” She barely whispered the next part, “And you promised your children would have a father there so they wouldn’t have to learn about that side of life without him.”
Erize only paused for a second; she didn’t give Utaka enough time to question what her point was, but he could guess it easily enough. “I know that might be hard, if Kuro still wants to fight, but hopefully their queen will stop sending people out to fight so she can have some time alone with her children instead of sending them off as soon as they’re fifteen. But by the end of the year, you’ll have the chance, at least, to make due on that promise.”
“All that to say you’re pregnant?” Utaka guessed.
Her laughter was a bit anxious, but still pleasant. “All that to say I’m pregnant. It took me a few days to understand it myself, but…there it is.”
Utaka smiled and gave her a light kiss. “I’ll try my best,” he promised. He was afraid to assure her of any more than that—it was fine and well to promise things when they seemed far off, but now…he was left to wonder. He had originally pictured Okimi being there was well; then if he did need to leave, Erize wouldn’t have to raise a child as the only parental figure.
Those worries did eventually lead to him drinking a bit more than he had before; he always brought Takeo or his sons along to make sure he didn’t go too far. Utaka knew it would likely end up being detrimental to the promise, but it was something of a habit after a while. When Kuro attacked again in the fall—successfully making it past Hiroki territory this time, although they were pushed back again fairly quickly—this little drinking problem only grew worse.
Utaka and Takeo essentially took turns being at the capital—no one could decide if it was better to have the king or an old general on the battlefield alongside them, so they often switched places. Utaka tried to avoid drinking as much when he was with Erize, even if he worried more when he was close to her. The fear that he would end up like his father made it harder for him to make a distinction between the himself and the man he never really knew.
His child was born only a week or two before the end of the year; a little girl that Utaka knew he would disappoint. He tried to hurry up the war and end it before she was old enough to remember it, but he failed—after a particularly rough loss that nearly cost half of Gin’s army, he knew it wasn’t likely to end.