Six Hantengus in a Room Bitching
You tell your husband's son and grandchildren that you are expecting. It goes... about as well as you'd expect.
For a few moments, there was silence. Your husband's grandsons shared horrified glances with one another. Slowly, their explosive personalities began to emerge from the cracks of shock like a moth from a cocoon.
“You're what?!” Sekido's jaw clenched, realizing he'd likely be responsible for his grandfather's spawn.
He was by far the most responsible of the bunch, and let's face it, grandpa did NOT have many “good” years left in him. Hantengu had been around longer than the earth itself, surviving like a stubborn insect. When the world one day came to a halt, only Hantengu and the roaches would remain.
“Pregnant, dipshit!” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your tender breasts.
“How is this even possible?!” His teeth clashed harder, grinding almost painfully.
Last he knew, Hantengu was too frightened to even share a room with you, let alone a bed. But he should have known: a gold digger would do anything for the bag, even if it meant banging a bag of bones like his grandfather.
Sekido swore up and down Hantengu's bones rattle like chimes on particularly windy days. After that, he stopped allowing the old man outside during those days, not wishing for him to blow away, even when Aizetsu coldly suggested it wouldn't really be much of a loss if he did.
“Ew, you actually fucked that old man?” Karaku's typically lax expression contorted in disgust. “Willingly?”
“Can he even get it up?” Urogi cackled, finding the pregnancy announcement highly amusing. “Are you sure it's even his?” he asked, slapping his knee with each gasp.
Oh, you'd definitely be slipping laxatives in his food later. It wouldn't even be difficult. Urogi would eat just about anything. You had even once seen him eat stale McDonald's fries that had fallen onto the car floor two weeks prior.
“It's a pity that the child will be born without a father,” Aizetsu murmured to himself, unsure if he was joking about Hantengu's demise or him being old enough to be the kid's great grandfather. Jokes were not his forte.
“My husband isn't going anywhere,” you protested, ignorant to his past of abandoning lovers.
All across Japan, many children unbeknowingly shared his DNA; a curse really. Most were locked up for various crimes, a net positive to the community. But some had ended up successful, and Hantengu eventually worked his way back into their lives.
Urami looked up from the romance novel he was indulging himself in. “Should he, however, you will have a support system. I wouldn't want my brother's mother out in the cold.”
Frankly, he'd prefer you warm in his bed.
“Thank you, Urami,” you smiled, holding your hands to your womb, “Such a charmer, unlike these four.”
“I can be charming!” Urogi shouted. Golden eyes went wide as he broke wind, nullifying his point, “Usually.”
Sekidi gagged, “Ugh, what have you been eating?”
“Oh, some roast beef, some chicken, a pizza...” Urogi counted on his fingers.
‘I meant just this morning…” Sekido offered the benefit of doubt.
“Roast beef, chicken, a p-”
“You better not have eaten that much, boy!” Urami raised his voice, fingers trembling as he gripped his book tighter.
Karaku snickered, finding immense pleasure in his father's distress. “I watched him do it.”
“And you didn't think to st-”
“Guys!” you shouted, regaining their attention, “The pregnancy?”
Living with this family was like living with a pack of wild cats. When they got along, things were splendid. But more often than not, they were at each other's throats. Honestly, only Urogi and Karaku genuinely got along; the rest of the family had a dynamic that thrived in tension.
“I bet you're going to queef dust now.” Urogi slapped his knee as if he had just said the funniest thing imaginable. “Get it? Because you married an ancient artifact.”
Aizetsu looked at you pitifully. “Just be glad he knows what the word artifact means.”
“I'm not stupid!” Urogi's hair fluffed up, reacting to Aizetsu's nonsense.
“Spell stupid,” Aizetsu sighed.
“You picked a hard word on purpose!” Anger flashed on the surface of Urogi's golden irises.
Had you been smarter, you would've seduced the widower head of the Rengoku household. Given that Urami and Shinjuro were estranged cousins, sharing similar looks, attraction wouldn't have been an issue. Chaos like this was unmatched, irreplaceable in any capacity, so at least the Rengoku estate would be calm.
“Spell circle.” Aizetsu's plump lips curved into a faint grin.
“S?” Karaku chuckled, assuming Urogi was bluffing.
A glimpse of sadness moistened Urogi's eyes. The pride that typically swelled in his chest deflated. “Circle doesn't start with an s?”
“No, dude.” Karaku's smirk dropped for a split second, a flicker of vulnerability. “But it's fine. Reading is for dorks who can't get laid anyway — like our father.”
Had Karaku still been a child, Urami would've smacked the shit out of him for such blatant disrespect. Honestly, he was half-considering doing so anyway. Each and every one of his children deserved to be beaten with sticks.
Urami's only regret in life was not hitting them more during their tender years.
He feared he may have smacked that one around TOO much.
“Don't mind him, father,” Sekido mediated between clashing teeth, “Karaku isn't well.”
“Yeah, probably herpes…” Aizetsu side eyed his most promiscuous brother.
“I do NOT have herpes!” Karaku scoffed, blowing stray locks of his hair from his face only for them to face back into place, “It was clap, two years ago.”
Of course he had swiftly nipped that in the bud. He couldn't exactly maintain his carefree habits with an itchy dick. That would be next to barbaric.
“Anyway…” You cleared your throat, regaining control of the conversation, “I was thinking about the name Zohakuten for a boy. What do you guys think?”
“Eh, pretty gay,” Karaku shrugged, scrolling through his Instagram feed.
“You can't say that anymore.” Aizetsu feigned outrage.
“I've sucked Shinazugawa's dick in a back alley, and then again in his backseat, and again — you get the point.” Emerald irises rolled, Karaku's pupils remaining fixated on his phone. “I can say gay.”
Urami cursed under his breath.
“Kid is gonna be a fuckin’ chud!” Urogi's chirp morphed into a wet, uncontrollable bellow. He clutched his abdomen waiting for a reprieve that never came. "Future incel!”
“Aww.” You could almost hear Karaku's smirk, “Just like Uncle Aizetsu.”
Ignoring your step children, you turned to the man of the hour: your husband.
“What do you think, dear?” Your eyelashes fluttered, perfectly enchanting your pet dinosaur.
“Y-you can name him as you — as you please,” Hantengu sobbed, hugging his knees. He was totally ill prepared for a second round of fatherhood. If you weren't even more frightening, he'd flee.
“Could she name him, fart face?” Urogi waved his arm in the air as if he were seeking a teacher's attention.
Hantengu made an incoherent noise, followed up with more sobbing. His hands were practically covered in his own snot.
“Sounds like a yes,” Karaku concluded, offering his favorite brother a high five.
“Will you two grow the fuck up?” A vein was throbbing painfully in Sekido's forehead. If you asked him, he'd approve of the whole lot of his brothers being lobotomized. It couldn't possibly be worse than whatever was currently wrong with them.
“And have wrinkles like our future uncle will be born with?” Karaku gagged at the thought of aging. “No thanks.”
“You have a gray hair,” Sekido lied, pointing to Karaku's scalp, “Right there.”
“Fuck off!” Karaku pretended not to care, but intermittently checked his hair through his phone camera.
You sighed, rubbing the swell of your stomach.
One thing was certain: this child was fucked.
