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It isn’t the thunder that wakes him, although it’s loud enough. He wakes because his subconscious alerts him to the fact that the space beside him is empty and cold. He looks around the room, searching for her.
His search comes to an end when he sees her on the balcony.
Eri is standing with her hands on the railing, looking out onto the quiet city below. Nobunaga sits up in the futon and takes a moment to admire her. Even in profile, she’s beautiful - even more beautiful than before, he thinks, his eyes falling on the round swell of her stomach.
She hears him stirring and turns just as he joins her on the balcony. “It’s raining,” she says softly.
“It is,” he agrees, his deep voice gravelly with sleep. “Did the thunder wake you?”
“Mm,” she shakes her head. “I woke before it started.”
The wet air is chilly. She’s dressed only in the thin sleeping robe she usually wears. He wonders if she’s aware that it has slipped open a bit, revealing her collarbone. “Aren’t you cold?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder.
“A little,” Eri admits. “I haven’t been out here long.”
He frowns. “Is it your intention to stay here until you catch your death of a cold? You know I can’t allow that.”
She laughs. “Just a little longer,” she says softly. “And then I’ll come in.”
“Hm.”
“I used to hate the rain,” she confesses. “It always spoiled my mood, because it made everything look so dismal. I hated going out in it… I hated the way it made everything cold and wet and uncomfortable. Even on days when I didn’t have to go out in it, I hated how dark and gloomy everything was.”
He turns his head slightly to look at her. “Do you still hate it?”
She breathes in deeply, taking a moment to think about the question. “I still find it somewhat inconvenient and a little depressing,” she starts. “But I’ve learned to see the beauty and usefulness in it. We need rain for plants and crops to grow and flourish, and to clean the air and the land. Those are all important things. And I think I understand better now how rainy days can make me appreciate sunshine more.”
“Is that so?”
She nods.
“That’s very wise.”
Eri falls silent, and Nobunaga wonders what’s going through her mind and if there is something troubling her.
“I’m fine,” she says quietly, as if in answer to his silent question. “I think it’s just that the rain still makes me a little melancholy.” She pauses. “Nobu?”
“Hm?”
“Does the thought of being a parent ever make you nervous?” She shakes her head and laughs a little. “Nevermind, don’t answer that. I think I already know what you’ll say. Nothing makes you nervous,” she jokes.
“Not true,” he rebuts, surprising her. “What makes you think nothing makes me nervous?”
“You’re so confident,” she shrugs. “So sure of yourself, and so sure of what you’re doing. Nothing makes you falter.”
Nobunaga turns her around to face him. “Not showing it and not feeling it are two different things.” He pauses, his eyes searching her face. “Are you nervous, Valerie?”
She nods.
“What are you nervous about?”
“Everything,” she exhales shakily. “I’m nervous about being pregnant, and having to give birth. I’m nervous about whether or not the baby will be healthy. I worry about my inexperience - I’ve never taken care of an infant before. What if I mess up, or forget something, or can’t do things the right way?” She pauses, her face crumpled in distress. “What if I turn out to be an awful mother?”
The panic in her voice is like a punch to his gut; it tugs at some primal part of him, the part of him that’s designed to protect her. “Those are all valid concerns,” he starts slowly, measuring each word before he says it. “I think you would be hard-pressed to find any new mother or mother-to-be that hasn’t felt worried about those things.”
The crestfallen look on her face would be amusing if it didn’t pain him so. “Valerie, you are the kindest, most loving woman I know. Those two qualities are the foundation of every mother’s success. As someone who has repeatedly been on the receiving end of that kindness and love, I can honestly say I have no doubts that you’ll be a good mother. After all,” he goes on, offering her a teasing smile, “you’ve been the wife of the Devil King for some time now. I’m sure the responsibility of motherhood will pale in comparison to the challenges of keeping a tyrant like me as happy as you have.”
“Stop it.” Eri swats at him, but there’s a smile on her face once more. It’s a genuine smile, the kind that reaches her eyes, and Nobunaga is pleased to see it. She gazes up at him, growing serious again. “You always know exactly what to say to me to make me feel better,” she admits softly. “I don’t know how you do it… maybe you’ve just got a knack.”
“You’re easy to love,” Nobunaga murmurs, nuzzling her cheek with his nose, “so I can’t help but want to make you happy with the things I say.” He pauses. "And you should know that I meant every word."
Eri lets out a soft sigh. “Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome, my love,” he smiles down at her. “Now, will you come back to bed and close the door before you really do get sick?”
The rumble of thunder has died down finally, leaving only the soft pitter-patter of steady rainfall. Eri curls into him, letting him lead her back to the briefly-abandoned futon. Once he’s helped her settle comfortably into it, he goes back to the balcony doors, his intent to close them.
“Wait, Nobu---”
“Hm?” He looks back at her questioningly.
“Would you leave the doors open just a bit?” She smiles a little sheepishly. “The sound of the rain helps me sleep.”
He obliges her, sliding the doors most of the way closed before coming back to join her in bed. “Won’t you be chilly?” He asks, wrapping his arms around her and pulling the heavy futon cover over them both.
“No,” she murmurs sweetly, snuggling closer into him. “I have you to warm me up.”
The faint trace of a smile is still on his lips even as he drifts off into a deep, peaceful sleep.