"By the way, do you think i can still do it?"
Yata's mother, blushing and sounding slightly desperate, asked me that.
Ever since Kohaku's father passed away about 20 years ago, she had been like a shell of herself—just going through the motions of sleeping and waking up. But now, it seems she's finally opened her eyes a bit and woken up.
And, well, she's only useful when she's in her "in-love" mode, which is a bit of a problem.
Some of the younger ones are still a bit scared of her, but back when Kohaku's father was alive, she was fierce and had no time for fear.
Well, honestly, most women in this area, old or young, are more or less like that.
"How many years has it been since she stopped?"
Murmuring to myself, I tap and click through the digital medical records left on the PC.
"Probably since Grandpa Kohaku died, right?"
So, about 20 years. She's been completely stopped since Kohaku's father died. If that's the case...
"It's likely not menopause, but rather psychosomatic, right? If so, taking ovulation inducers and having it all pumped in to the max, with the semen being directly absorbed from the vaginal wall—if that balances her hormones well enough, then maybe… well, there might be a tiny chance."
I tilted my head, wondering how realistic that was.
She could take it orally, but for formality's sake, it's probably better to have it injected directly into the uterus.
Incidentally, the structure of the vaginal wall is somewhat similar to intestinal villi, so some absorption is possible. It's not common knowledge and not very efficient, but this method isn't entirely wrong.
Directly accessing the ovaries to check for remaining eggs is taxing on the body, so instead we run a blood test to check hormone levels. They should show a significant difference before and after the insemination. But AMH values aren't very reliable anyway, so it's mostly for peace of mind.
As for the results…
Well, maybe there's still something left?
It doesn't look like the ovaries are totally depleted.
So maybe it really is a psychological issue.
When Kohaku's father passed away, she couldn't be looked at. She just kept crying without moving, like an empty shell. She'd wake up once every few weeks, eat a little, chew absentmindedly, and go back to sleep—wasting away her days in idleness.
It stayed that way for about a year until the troublemaking Ospreys dragged her out of it.
Probably still paying the price from back then. Since then, Yata's mother has lacked her usual energy.
You could say she's calmed with age, but she doesn't even look old enough to justify it.
Lately, ever since Misago brought in Hisui, she's been quite bubbly again, and we're all watching over her fondly.
Whatever the reason—infatuation or otherwise—we just want our loved ones, especially our mothers, to be happy and healthy.
And if we end up with a much younger brother or sister out of it, we'd laugh and celebrate all the same.
We're not ones to talk about acting our age.
The finances are bursting at the seams, so money is no issue.
As long as she gives birth, raising the kid is something the family can handle together.
So, really, there's no one who would object.
"Natural birth is out of the question, so you'll have to go for another C-section, okay?"
"Well, it can't be helped."
She nodded with a determined look. She had a C-section when she gave birth to me, so she's used to it by now.
Wolbachia-compatible individuals stop growing at different stages, which comes with its own issues.
In my mother's case, her pelvis never grew enough, so a natural delivery is impossible—C-section it is.
Trying to force a natural birth would only lead to complications and more harm to both mother and child.
It's not that we like surgery, but it's the safer choice.
By the way, it's said that the earlier growth stops, the longer the lifespan. But there aren't enough cases to say for sure—it's probably just a rumor.
Wolbachia carriers have high metabolism and long youth, which is why non-Wolbachia mothers are nearly extinct.
Even if they exist, they're too few to matter—almost like urban legends.
"By the way, Toki, what about you? You're not... stopped, right?"
"Me? Hmm… maybe I'll ask when it's my turn?"
Naturally, everything mentioned above applies to me too. Even if I don't show it, I'm kind of excited inside.
"So, you're in the reservation slot?"
With that, a marriage registration form fluttered out.
"Is it okay for Mom to be holding onto this?"
"I've already gotten Hisui's permission."
How far along are they, really?
"Alright, alright."
This kind of thing is like sharing a bit of happiness. Refusing would be rude.
Saves me the trouble too.
Let's just write my name—
Toki Umino
Can't help but grin as I write it. I'll quietly sneak into the bride meeting later.
"By the way, no matter how wet or relaxed you get, there's still a limit, so please use this, okay?"
Judging from what I saw on the security cameras and during our recent mixed bath, Hisui is… well, huge. Even if my mom is experienced, there are still limits.
So I handed her some medical-grade lubricant. Hopefully that helps things go smoothly.