The news of Kyoko's pregnancy transformed Delkira. His immense power, once used to command and control, was now channeled entirely into protecting her. He hovered, a constant shadow of anxiety, unable to stand still while she simply did the dishes.
"Delkira," she would laugh, placing a soapy hand on his cheek,
"I'm pregnant, not ill. I'm strong. I need to be active for our baby."
He would grumble, his brow furrowed with concern, but he would ultimately relent. She was the one who taught him the value of gentleness, after all.
One afternoon, as the pantry grew bare, she asked him to do the grocery shopping.
"It's a beautiful day," she said, kissing him on the cheek.
"Go out, get some fresh air. It'll be good for you."
He hesitated, a gnawing feeling of unease settling in his gut, but he couldn't deny her. With a final kiss and a promise to be back quickly, he left their seaside home, a place that had become his entire world.
A hushed stillness fell over the house. Kyoko, in the final weeks of her pregnancy, sat in their bedroom, folding a tiny, blue onesie. Her heart was full, and she spoke softly to the life growing within her.
"I can't wait to meet you, my little Iruma. Your daddy and I are going to love you so much." A gentle kick answered her from within, a silent conversation between mother and son.
Then, a sudden, jarring sound shattered the peace. The unmistakable crash of glass breaking.
Kyoko's breath hitched in her throat. She got up, her large belly making her movements slow, and peered out into the living room.
Three figures, their faces masked, were tearing the house apart, their hands grabbing at anything they could carry.
"Hey!" she shouted, her voice trembling but firm.
The burglars startled, their eyes widening in surprise. One of them, in a moment of panic and rage, lunged forward. He held a sharp object, and Kyoko barely had time to register the flash of metal before a searing pain exploded in her chest.
The three men, terrified by what they had done, scrambled out of the house, disappearing into the twilight.
Delkira returned to a house shrouded in an unnatural silence. The front door was ajar, and the air was cold. His heart hammered in his chest as he stepped inside. The kitchen was dark, the living room a mess of upturned furniture.
"Kyoko?" he called out, his voice laced with dread.
He saw her then, a dark, crumpled shape on the floor. He ran to her, his knees hitting the cold wood with a thud. She was lying in a pool of her own blood, her breath coming in short, agonizing gasps.
"Kyoko! No!" he cried, his voice breaking. He saw the wound, the cruel, deep gash. Her eyes, filled with tears and an immense, powerful love, found his.
"Iruma..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. The pain became a scream, her body contorting as labor began, the shock of the injury forcing her son's birth.
With her last remaining strength, Kyoko pushed. And then, there was only silence. Delkira held his wife's cooling body, a tiny, wailing baby in her arms. The baby, a newborn boy with his mother's eyes and his father's ears, was the only thing left of the woman he loved.
Something within Delkira snapped.
The silence was filled with an infernal roar, a sound that shook the very foundations of the world. His body shifted, a primal rage consuming him.
The soft, gentle man who loved Kyoko was gone, replaced by the terrifying, merciless Demon King.
He located the auras of the three men who had stolen his happiness, and he hunted them down. He showed them a new kind of terror, a slow, agonizing end far worse than a simple death.
When the rage finally subsided, he returned to the house, to the body of his love and the cries of his son. He picked up the tiny baby, his trembling hands cradling the child. Tears streamed down his face, a raw and human emotion that a demon was not supposed to feel. He looked at Kyoko's peaceful, lifeless face and made a vow.
"I promised you I would protect him," he whispered, his voice thick with grief.
"I will raise him. I will keep him safe, even if I have to do it alone. I promise, my love."