Henna Fushiguro

You knew him back in college, but after graduation, he vanished from your friend group. No, it wasn’t the usual “getting busy with life.” He disappeared as if he had never existed in the first place.

Then, almost ten years later, you saw him again at a reunion party.

That caught your entire friend group off guard. All of you take pride in staying connected even after so many years, and the only person missing from the group had always been Toji. But given his quiet, no-nonsense personality, everyone assumed he had simply moved on with his life.

This time, though, his demeanor felt different. He looked… smug.

When you and your friends approached him, bombarding him with questions, he seemed more confident somehow. Older. But even then, you still noticed that familiar blank stare in his eyes.

Once the others got busy with different activities at the party, you finally got a chance to talk to him alone.

With a fond smile, you asked, “Zenin, where have you been?”

The same smirk stayed on his face as he answered, “I’m not Zenin anymore. I took my wife’s name. It’s Fushiguro now.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s so like you. You always hated your clan, didn’t you?”

And just like that, the conversation carried on.

But now that you think about it, that night he told you many things—how his wife died, how he had to give his son back to his clan—but every time you tried to ask what he did for a living or why he never contacted any of you, he would bypass the topic so naturally that somehow you ended up feeling like you were the one changing the subject.

The conversation stretched until the very end of the party, even to the point where he walked you back to your apartment.

For some reason, this time Toji stayed.

No more fading away like a mystery.

And that’s how it all started. 

The severed strings between you and him slowly started reconnecting again. Those carefree conversations between the two of you made you feel younger somehow. Like you weren’t a woman in her mid-thirties anymore.

With him, you forgot the lingering tension left behind by your divorce. It felt as if the loneliness started fading whenever he was around.

You didn’t want any misunderstandings, so the next time you met after the party, you told him everything about your life.

A widower and a divorcee… of course the two of you understood each other’s loneliness. The need to have someone beside you again.

Even though the circumstances were different—despite the fact that your marriage had never been as happy as his—you both slowly started emotionally depending on each other.

Meetings turned into overnight stays. Cozy conversations turned into cuddles. Small talk became meaningless as things gradually grew more intimate.

You realized long ago that things might eventually take an unexpected turn once the two of you moved into the same building. Your apartments were different, but most of the time, you were together anyway.

You started noticing Toji’s patterns.

He would vanish for days, then return covered in bruises or cuts. Whenever he disappeared, everything around you felt dull and mundane.

The last time he left, he didn’t return for almost a month.

You started worrying, but what else could you have done when you never truly knew where he went or what he did?

You spotted him returning just as you were carrying groceries down the building corridor. The bags slipped from your hands as you sprinted toward him.

He caught you effortlessly in his arms.

Everything happened too quickly after that—the kiss, him carrying you into his apartment, clothes falling onto the floor one after another…

Your train of thought breaks when one of your friends suddenly shouts, “Wow! Look at that!”

Your eyes finally refocus on the scenery outside the car. The view had already changed from the concrete and cement of the city to the greenery of the mountains.

Then you notice the reason behind everyone’s sudden excitement.

The cottage nestled in the valley finally comes into view—the place where all of you planned to spend the weekend together.

“Do you like it?” Toji whispers near your ear.

You glance back at him. “How do you even know a place like this exists?”

He shrugs. “I had a favor to collect from someone at work. When you all said you were going on a hiking trip, I asked them to arrange the cottage.”

One of your friends from the front seat asks, “Toji-san, this is undoubtedly one of the best places I’ve ever seen, but…”

Toji catches the implication before he can finish.

“Don’t worry. His staff will take good care of us. I already made sure of everything. They’re expecting our group of eight.”

The rest of the people in the car shout in unison, “Thank you, Toji!”

You look outside again.

Five minutes later, you finally reach the cottage. You didn’t expect people in uniform to be waiting for your arrival.

Everyone stares around in stunned silence. This part of the mountain looks like a painting—almost too perfect to be real.

It’s 10 AM. The sun hangs bright and high in the sky, yet the soft mountain breeze still makes everyone shiver and pull their jackets tighter.

Toji and the other two men in the group go to inspect the assigned rooms while you and the girls sign your names at the reception.

The sweet girl behind the counter tells you that if you hike fifteen minutes toward the east, there’s a hot spring nearby too.

The girls immediately get excited before realizing none of you packed anything for a hot spring visit.

The receptionist thinks for a moment before saying, “Let me check with the manager if we can provide the hot spring essentials.”

You hear the others returning while discussing something amongst themselves.

One of your friends says, “Fushiguro-san, you should’ve told us there was a hot spring nearby.”

Toji shrugs again. “You guys only talked about hiking, so I didn’t think it was important to mention.”

A dead silence follows.

Only Toji could deliver an answer as flat as a piece of paper.

One of the men clears his throat. “Besides, we have a situation with the rooms.”

You ask, “What exactly?”

He shrugs. “Nothing serious. I told Toji to book four rooms for us to share, but…” His eyes move across everyone’s faces. “One man and one woman will have to share a room together.”

Before any other thoughts can surface, you shrug lightly. “Me and Toji are perfectly comfortable sharing a room.”

One of your friends immediately wraps an arm around your neck. “That’s perfect. You two already live in the same complex anyway, so it’ll be easier for you guys.”

You glance around at everyone’s faces. No one seems bothered by the arrangement. Some of them are already dragging their trolleys toward their rooms.

One of your friends suddenly stops and looks back at you.

“What happened? Aren’t you coming?”

Maybe it’s because you’re standing too still in the middle of the reception hall.

Toji has already picked up your luggage.

You quickly follow after him, shaking your head. “I was just wondering which room I should take.”

A lie.

You’re only worried that someone might suspect something after how quickly you volunteered to share a room with Toji.

By the time you reach the room, he’s already watching you carefully.

“Are you feeling sick?”

Your eyes lift toward his. “No. Why?”

In two long strides, he’s already standing in front of you. One of his hands comes up to cup your face.

“You stayed quiet almost the entire ride here. Is everything alright?”

Actually, you are worried.

Ever since your divorce, people around you have looked at you differently. The only people who never made you feel judged were these friends… and Toji.

Would they also turn their backs on you if they found out the two of you were somewhat together?

No… they probably wouldn’t.

You should tell them eventually.

But if they ask what kind of relationship you and Toji have, what exactly are you supposed to say?

Would it sound ridiculous to admit that you’re just two lonely people trying to find someone to lean on?

No, you can’t say any of that to Toji.

Sometimes he feels like the closest person to you, and other times he feels so far away that you realize you don’t truly know him at all.

You answer softly, “It’s nothing. I just had a long week.”

Toji pulls you closer until his arms wrap around your waist.

“If you can’t hike, we can make up an excuse and stay behind.” His head lowers, face so close that you can feel his warm breath against your skin. “I’ll make you—”

You press your fingers against his lips before they can meet yours.

“I came here to enjoy myself, Toji.” You smile faintly. “Don’t you think we should be a little more careful? Our friends still don’t know about us.”

Small kisses brush against your fingertips. One of his hands gently wraps around your wrist, keeping your palm against his lips.

“There’s nothing much to know about us,” he says calmly. “We’re two grown adults. Even if we’re doing something, who exactly is going to oppose it?”

You don’t pull your hand away, but his words sting like the thorn of a rose.

Is that really all this is to him?

Your thumb brushes softly against the scar at the corner of his lips—the one you secretly adore. It stretches so beautifully whenever he smiles.

You let out a quiet sigh.

“We should eat breakfast and start hiking before it gets too late. We probably won’t reach the top until after midday.” A small smile appears on your lips. “I’m really looking forward to having lunch there with everyone.”

Toji doesn’t push the conversation any further.

The two of you get ready quickly before joining the rest of your friends for breakfast.

After packing lunch, enough water, and a small first-aid kit, everyone finally prepares to begin the hike.

Just as you’re about to leave, the receptionist happily informs the group that she managed to arrange enough hot spring essentials for everyone. Once you all return in the evening , the staff will have prepared a spa and dinner near the hot spring site.

After thanking her, your journey finally begins.

You never realized greenery could exist in so many different shades and moods until you came here.

One of your friends carries a camera, taking photos of everything—from your group hiking together to oddly shaped stones along the trail, even tiny beetles and birds. Nothing escapes their lens.

Naturally, Toji remains nonchalant about everything.

No one can ever tell whether he’s happy, excited, or annoyed. But that isn’t anything new to you all. If he isn’t glaring at someone with a murderous expression, it usually means he’s enjoying himself in his own way.

By evening, the trip proves to be a success.

You all reach the top on time, eat lunch together, enjoy the sunset, and make it back down before darkness completely consumes the mountains.

Night falls early here.

So by the time everyone returns to the cottage, it’s barely even 5 PM.

The moment you step into your room, you notice two neatly folded robes waiting inside.

A new wave of excitement immediately spreads through the group.

After all, who wouldn’t want to relax in a hot spring after an exhausting but fun hike?

When everyone gathers at the reception again, the same sweet girl from earlier hands out essential hampers to each person. The staff even arranged a jeep to take your group to the hot spring getaway.

“The jeep will wait for all of you. Once you’re done, the driver will bring everyone back to the cottage.”

Toji responds with nothing more than a curt nod, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

It only takes a moment for you to realize that all this special treatment from the cottage is part of whatever “favor” Toji mentioned earlier.

What kind of favor even was this?

You consider asking him, but the sudden gasps and excited murmurs inside the jeep pull your attention away.

The scenery before your eyes is beyond description.

It feels as though all of you have somehow traveled back to another era.

Once the jeep comes to a stop and all of you step out, you immediately realize your group is the only one there.

Warm lantern lights glow softly against the dark mountain evening, illuminating the traditional wooden structure tucked between the trees. Steam curls lazily into the cold air from somewhere deeper inside the retreat.

The staff members waiting near the entrance bow politely as you approach, dressed in neat traditional uniforms that make the entire place feel strangely timeless.

The small hamper in your hands suddenly feels unnecessary compared to how carefully everything has already been arranged for your group.

As expected, the ladies’ and gentlemen’s sections are separated.

Everyone quickly heads inside.

The moment you slip into the hot spring water, it feels as though every bit of exhaustion melts right out of your body.

The warmth wraps around you gently while the chilly mountain air brushes against your damp skin. For the first time in a long while, your mind feels completely quiet.

After all, what could be better than spending peaceful moments like this with the people you care about?

Time always moves faster when you’re happy.

You only realize nearly an hour has passed when one of the staff members politely informs your group that dinner is ready.

You and the girls burst into laughter the moment you see each other’s flushed faces, all red from the heat of the spring.

By the time the five of you arrive at the dining hall, the three men are already seated at the table, all wearing robes similar to yours.

The moment they look up and notice your faces, they pause before immediately breaking into laughter.

Even Toji lets out an audible chuckle.

You frown and sit down beside him, immediately pinching his cheek for his audacity.

“Why are you so amused?”

He flicks your forehead in return. “Because you look like a red monkey.”

Before you can even protest, everyone bursts into laughter again.

You cross your arms and lift your chin dramatically. “If I’m a monkey, then all of you are monkeys too.”

That only starts another round of teasing, old embarrassing stories, and endless laughter around the dinner table.

When dinner finally comes to an end, some of your friends are drunk while others are simply too full and sleepy to keep their eyes open.

You lean back with a satisfied sigh, rubbing your stomach after finally setting your chopsticks down.

“That was so good.”

On the way back to the cottage, the cool mountain air makes something inside you feel strangely peaceful.

Maybe this is what life is supposed to be.

Good people. Good food. Warm conversations.

What more could anyone really ask for?

Even after returning to your room, the lingering nostalgia and quiet happiness keep sleep away.

Through the thin wooden partitions of the old cottage, you can still hear your friends laughing and gossiping amongst themselves.

Before long, you start joining the conversation from your own room whenever you can, lazily responding while lying beside Toji.

At some point, one of your friends begins telling a ghost story.

Suddenly, a strong arm slides around your waist, making you gasp softly.

“Toji, you scared me.”

He pulls you back firmly against his chest, his voice a low murmur near your ear.

“Shhh… keep your voice down.”

Your pulse immediately jumps.

Before you can reply, he is tugging at the collar of your robe, dragging it down over your shoulders until the fabric bunches at your waist. His mouth closes over your nipple, hot and hungry, tongue flicking in maddening circles as you try not to be too loud by pressing a hand over your mouth.

The muffled story of your friend still carries through the wall, but all you can focus on is the scrape of his teeth and the greedy pulls of his lips. One of his hands pins your hip while the other slips lower, tugging your panties down in one swift, practiced move.

His fingers trace over your inner thigh, teasing, circling, until your breath hitches. He hums against your skin at the sound, smug and possessive, his mouth moving from one breast to the other, sucking hard enough to leave marks only he would see.

“Thought you’d get away with teasing me all day, huh?” he murmurs against your skin, voice dripping with heat and warning. “Tch. You’re mine.”

You glare at him in the dim light of the room and whisper, "I didn’t tease you at all.”

He sucks harder, his voice muffling against your skin. ”You were talking with everyone except me. Looking all pretty and happy while ignoring me the whole day.”

Your fingers grip his hair. 

You are already shaking under his touch, your teeth sinking into your lip as you fight to stay quiet. But a breathy whimper slips past anyway, just loud enough to carry through the thin wall when you protest, "I wasn’t ignoring you, Toji.”

He pulls back from your breast with a wet pop, a deep growl vibrating in his chest, “Tch… can’t even keep your voice low.”

The disappointment in his whisper makes your cheeks burn. You reach up, cup his nape, pulling him closer again. ”Are you jealous?”

He clicks his tongue before his lips seal with yours. He doesn’t answer you, but his hungry kiss and his hands desperately pulling off the robe completely give it away.

When he dips lower, you tilt your head, opening yourself more for him. 

Your lips press together; you try hard to not make a sound when his tongue licks every curve and dip on your body. 

But there’s a limit of yours too.

The moment he spreads your legs, your eyes widen. You sit up, stopping him. "Toji, wait!” even though your voice comes out in a ragged whisper, the worry laced in your voice.

He lets out a disapproving huff. "What? Can’t I eat my sweet girl now?"

You suppress a giggle looking at his pout. "You know I can’t hold my moans if you eat my pussy.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in a kiss.

He sucks on your lips eagerly; his tongue is about to push past your lips when he pauses.

You lean away as well when he whispers, "I know a way.”

Then in a blink he gets down from the bed, tugs his own robe open in urgency before grabbing your ankle and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

You let out a quiet yelp, "Toji, what the…”

But he is too busy to adjust you to his desirable position.

Quickly, you find yourself lying on your back, head near the edge of the bed while his thick, veiny cock is pulsing just above your face, the pre-cum at the tip glistening in the dim light.

He taps the tip on your lips, smearing the pre-cum. "Open up! Just keep it in your mouth and let me enjoy my sweet girl. Okay?”

You don’t need to be told twice. You open your mouth, taking him in with practiced ease inch by inch. 

“Toji-san, why isn’t she saying anything?” the friend who was telling the horror story asks from the other room.

”She has fallen asleep," Toji answers while feeding you more of his length.

Your throat swallows around the thickness to slide more of it in.

“Okay then, good night.” Her voice comes before everything goes completely silent.

He lets out a hiss at the sensation of your warm mouth, "Good night," while his body covers yours and his mouth latches onto the small pearl between your thighs.

He mumbles, "I said only to keep your mouth busy.” His words add a sweet vibration. 

You never planned to just 'keep it in.' 

The more he laps on your pussy, the more you start sliding his cock in and out of your mouth.

Soon, you both caught the rhythm of having what you want despite the odd position.

His fingers join the party too. He shoves two of them inside you, curling them just right, making you whimper around the base of his length. 

One of your hands flies to his hair, holding his mouth down on your clit as you lift your hips up, fucking yourself with his fingers. Your other hand grips his thighs, urging him to thrust in your mouth.

His hips give a twitch before he sets a steady pace, like he has no hurry.

His tongue draws mean circles on your clit, making your hips falter; he mumbles, "I can never get over this taste.”

You feel your body tensing up, the familiar warmth pooling between your legs. 

Somehow you manage to let out some broken words between his thrusts: "Mhmm… don’t swirl. I nghhh cum… mnph…”

Hearing it, he grabs your hip with his free hand and arches you up at an angle so his whole mouth closes around your pussy.

Both his hands now grip your hips so hard it’ll definitely leave marks, and the pace of his hips quickening makes your moans cut off completely. 

His maw sucks you like he wants to pull everything out of you.

The bliss takes over you so quickly that your whole body jerks and your vision turns white. Both of your hands keep his face buried between your thighs as waves after waves of pleasure flow through your every nerve.

Your throat clenches around him so hard, he loses his control at the same time. He pushes his length so deep, your nose gets buried in his pubes as he cums hard. Ropes and ropes of his salty, bitter, and oddly sweet nectar spill straight into your throat.

You gulp down everything so eagerly and clean his length with your tongue while he licks off every bit of your juices.

When he finally pulls away, you are giggling as quietly as possible while rubbing your face all over his softening length.

He smirks and picks you up, and before you can tease him, you are cradled against his chest. His fingers are working through your hair like nothing happened.

But your naked bodies say otherwise.

He whispers, "Are you alright?

You nod and kiss his cheek before pulling the blanket around both of you. "More than alright.”

Sleep pulls you in like a magnet. After a long time, you sleep there heavily from all the exhaustion. But, unlike your weekdays, this exhaustion was pleasant.

You wake up to the bright light of mountain mornings. You blink your eyes open to see Toji is still sleeping beside you. 

Generally, he wakes up early to go for his workout.

You squint your eyes at the light and draw the curtains before picking up your phone. 

Your eyes widen. Toji isn’t late; the sun is early.

You forget in the mountains the sun rises up the horizon faster.

You let out a groan and turn to your other side. 

Toji was holding you so tight the whole night that you needed to stretch your limbs a bit.

But you haven’t even closed your eyes again before Toji pulls you back in his arms and buries his face in your shoulder. You try to wiggle away, but his grip is already tight.

Then you feel it. Something obvious is poking you from behind while his hips are grinding against you slowly.

His raspy morning voice muffled against your neck, “You are up early.”

You interject in a smug tone, "Something else is up early too.”

He sucks your pulse point lazily. "Umm… I am a man, sweet thing. I can’t help it in the morning.”

A smile stretches on your lips. You settle in his arms more, letting him continue. 

His touch gets bolder the more his brain wakes up. 

Your eyes flutter close when he sucks on that specific sensitive spot on your neck before his arms snake around completely and his hands start fondling your breasts.

You slowly turn your head over your shoulder, and immediately he catches your lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

No words are exchanged, but the things are so obvious that you don’t need a word.

You press your ass back on his aching morning wood, making him groan. "I was wondering if you feel the same around me in the morning.”

You bite on his lower lip lightly and let it go with a gentle pull before you whisper, "Let's find out.”

You spread your legs, reach back, and guide his cock to your entrance.

That's all it takes for him to push into you in one swift motion.

The stretch has your eyes flying wide, muffled moans spilling helplessly against his lips. His own jaw tightened at the sight of your trembling, your muffled cries. You see clearly his pupils blown wide in the light filtering through the curtains.

He grunts, "You are going to wake everyone up.”

You grab one of his hands from your breast and guide it over your mouth. His rough palm clamps firmly, swallowing your sounds as he moves slow—deliberately slow—each thrust measured to keep the room silent. No harsh slap of skin, just the intoxicating drag and grind of him inside you, the creak of the futon barely audible beneath the steady rhythm of his hips.

Your body arched, your muffled moans growing more desperate against his hand. He leans in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice a dangerous whisper, “Don’t make me stop."

His thrusts are deep, rolling, almost torturous in how controlled they are. Each movement drives you closer to the edge, every muffled sound feeding his ego, his eyes burning as he watches you unravel, ”Stay quiet if you want more.”

And even as his voice sounds annoyed, his hand over your mouth is trembling just slightly, because the truth is he is just as undone as you.

His voice comes ragged, "Bite on my palm if you can’t stay quiet," and you did. Your eyes close in pure bliss. You both are too lost in the moment, his lips showering your shoulder, neck, and cheek as much as he can reach with kisses while whispering praises for being good. Your lips won’t stop mumbling his name like a chant.

Suddenly a knock comes. Your eyes fly open. You are about to tug Toji’s hand off your face, but his grip tightens. His hips never stopped their rhythm when he asked, "Who's it?”

One of the cottage staff answered from the other side, "We brought the bed tea.”

Toji quickly answers, "Not needed," as if that is all it takes to dismiss the person on the other side of the door. 

He tilts your head back and kisses you clumsily. Even his hips become faster, making you let out a weak whimper against his mouth.

He only pulls away from your lips when the footsteps fade away.

Without a warning he pulls out, making you whine, "No, Toji! Come back.”

Instead of answering you, he sits up, pulls you on his lap, and slams back in. 

This time you can’t hold back the moans from spilling out. 

Both his arms lock around you, one at your waist, the other at your back, holding you flush to him. And then his hips snap upward. The new angle steals the air from your lungs. His thrusts are sharp, deep, and devastating, his pace unrelenting but controlled enough to smother the loudest sounds of skin-on-skin. Instead of the lewd slap of rhythm, it is just the low creak of the futon, the guttural rumble of his breath in your ear, and the wet, obscene heat where your bodies join.

You clung to him like he was your only anchor, arms tight around his neck, nails digging into his shoulders. Your moans spill freely against his skin, and every broken sound makes him drive up harder, faster, chasing his own undoing.

“Don’t let go," he growls, his voice hoarse, wrecked with restraint he no longer had. His hands tremble as they hold you against him so tightly as if he wants to merge with you. His chest heaving against you.

Your body is trembling violently, sitting in his lap, his thrusts pounding up into you from below; the sensation is overwhelming—so deep, so raw, you can barely breathe.

Your face is buried against his chest, mouth open against his skin, muffling moans that keep spilling out no matter how hard you try to hold them back. The taste of sweat, the smell of him, the strength of his arms crushing you to him—it is everything, too much and yet not enough.

Toji’s grip tightens, almost bruising, as his pace loses its measured restraint. He is chasing it now, driving up into you with a frantic rhythm, the futon groaning beneath the force. His jaw is clenched, veins bulging along his neck as he tries—fails—to keep his composure.

“Fuck—” he hisses under his breath, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin as his thrusts grow rougher, less controlled.

You whimper his name, "Tooojiiii…," broken and breathless, and that’s when it snaps. He growls low and guttural, like the sound is ripped from somewhere deep inside him.

His hands lock on your hips, slamming you down onto him harder, faster, until your voice is nothing but muffled cries against his chest. He can’t stay quiet anymore either—grunts and curses tear out of him with every thrust, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

And then, right as he buries himself deep, the words slip out—raw, unfiltered, too honest to take back—"mine. You’re fucking mine.”

His voice cracks with it, half growl, half confession, and he holds you so tight you could barely tell where you end and he begins. The force of it sends you spiraling, your body clenching around him as your vision goes white.

He follows right after, hips jerking hard, a strangled groan ripping from his throat as he cums deep, shuddering, his whole body trembling against yours.

And at that moment, Toji isn’t pretending anymore. He is just a man lost in you—desperate, unrestrained, and entirely yours.

For a long moment, the world is just the sound of his heartbeat hammering against your ear, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps, your own body limp in his crushing embrace.

He doesn’t repeat the words. His face is stony when he finally leans back to look at you, jaw tight, eyes guarded. But his arms don’t let you go.

Not even a little.

He watches you like a predator stunned by how quickly you unravel—your eyes glassy, breaths slow and shallow, and the dazed expression soft and helpless. For a beat his features stay hard, like he’s trying to force the mask back on, that usual unbothered one. Then, without meaning to, his face loosens. It’s tiny — a slackening at the brow, a vulnerability he didn’t plan on showing. 

He reaches for the water bottle on the bedside table with the same precise, almost brusque motion he uses for everything. You feel the world in slow motion as he tilts your chin up and tips the bottle. A few clumsy, grateful sips, your lips sticky and warm, and when he pulls the bottle away, he doesn’t glance away. He’s watching you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the room.

He holds you in his arms—not the possessive grip from before, but a surprisingly gentle hug. He lays back, your weight against him heavy and real, his heartbeat thudding steadily under your ear. His hand finds the small of your back and holds you there like he’s anchoring himself too.

When he speaks, it’s quieter than the growl you know, almost factual, like he’s stating an observation: “You make me lose my mind.”

There’s no bravado in it. No denial. Just the admission, stripped of theatrics. It’s small, stunned, and honest.

You just smile hearing him. Your fingers find the planes of his chest, his ribs, and the taut muscles along his sides. You rub slow, soothing circles up and down where you can reach, tracing a path of warmth and reassurance. Each touch seems to settle him a little more, to close whatever frayed edges are left.

He hums low, the sound half apology, half contentment, and his grip around you loosens just enough for you to press a kiss to his sternum. For once, neither of you has to say the thing that’s hanging in the air; the silence holds it for you both.

You stay like that — tangled and quiet — while the cottage wakes up around you. Outside, friends murmuring through paper-thin walls can be heard again, oblivious. Inside, the tough facade he wears for the world is temporarily abandoned, and the two of you just exist: messy, warm, and dangerously close to whatever this is becoming.

After taking a quick bath, you and Toji finally step out of the room. The breakfast hall smells of coffee and toasted bread, your friends buzzing around the buffet with sleepy chatter. Toji looks like he’d rather be anywhere else—slouched in his chair beside you, hair still damp from his shower, eyes half-lidded beneath that permanent scowl.

You pick a few things for your plate, carefully avoiding the eggs like you always do. When you sit down, you think you’re safe.

Then, without warning, a boiled egg lands on your plate with a quiet clink.

You turn to glare at him. “You know I don’t like—”

He doesn’t even look at you. He simply picks up his chopsticks with deliberate laziness, grumbling under his breath so quietly only you can hear it.

“Eat it. You need the energy.”

Your whole body goes hot.

You nearly choke on your own spit, eyes darting around the table to make sure no one heard him. Your friends are too busy gossiping over pancakes to notice.

You pout and shove the egg back onto his plate. “Then you eat it.”

His lips twitch—not quite a smile, but the ghost of one. He clicks his tongue, sliding the egg right back onto your plate before muttering even quieter this time, his tone edged with dark amusement,

“Don’t make me feed you in front of them.”

Your pout deepens, but your chest flutters because underneath all the gruffness, there’s no mistaking it: he’s watching over you. Just like he was this morning. Just like he always does, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

And when you finally give in, cutting into the egg with your spoon, his eyes flick down toward your plate before quickly looking away again, pretending he hadn’t been waiting to make sure you actually ate.

The morning air still carries the scent of pine and crisp mountain wind as everyone pulls away from the cottage. Your friends wave goodbye to the staff before piling back into the car.

You lean against the passenger seat, watching the trees blur past outside while the cottage grows farther and farther away behind you.

Your heart tugs a little.

“I’m gonna miss this place,” you sigh softly, almost wistfully.

Toji doesn’t answer right away. His eyes stay fixed on the road, jaw working lazily like he’s chewing over the thought.

But his silence doesn’t feel cold anymore.

It feels grounding. Steady.

Then he murmurs quietly beside your ear,

He had been standing behind her in line at a restaurant. She was searching for her phone in her bag and didn’t notice it was her turn at the counter. A tap on her shoulder caught her attention, and she turned back.

The man who had tapped her shoulder was clearly irritated, but the moment he saw her face, his expression faltered. His eyes lingered on her a second longer than necessary.

She stared at him for a few more seconds.

“Your turn,” he said, pointing at the register.

Yumi realized and bowed politely before moving forward. With hand signs, she placed her order.

She sat down at a table at the back of the shop. It wasn’t like the other tables weren’t empty—she just preferred to be left alone. People sympathized less when she stayed out of the way.

She was eagerly looking toward the counter, waiting for her order to be called, when the same voice caught her attention.

“Would you mind if I join?”

She shook her head and pointed at the empty seat.

He sat down across from her and said, “My name is Toji.”

She smiled and signed her name. Her bangles jingled softly at the movement.

Toji hummed. “So… you can’t speak?”

Yumi nodded.

Toji didn’t react the way people usually did. There was no sympathy, no awkward softness, nothing. And somehow, that felt refreshing to Yumi.

Even after their food arrived, they kept talking. The soft sound of her bangles accompanied Toji’s voice as they communicated.

Yumi had been mute since birth. When she was diagnosed, her mother stopped looking at her directly, as if Yumi herself had brought disgrace. Her father, however, was different. He understood her without signs and adored her completely. As long as he was alive, Yumi had known peace.

But after he passed away, she quickly realized she was becoming nothing more than a burden. She left the house and never looked back. A basic corporate job and a small apartment were enough for her to get by.

Wearing bangles all the time had become her habit. She learned it from the teacher who taught her sign language. He used to say that people naturally look at faces while talking, so if she used her hands to speak, she should give them a reason to look there.

Toji had no trouble understanding her. Her expressions, her quick thinking, and her positive attitude easily held his attention. He could have sat there watching her talk with her eyes and hands even without those bangles.

Curious, she signed, asking how he knew sign language.

He answered, taking a bite of his sandwich, “In my line of work, I have to know many things.”

Her eyes widened instantly before her hands even moved to sign, "That’s so cool."

Their meeting at that restaurant should have been the first and last.

But while gathering intel about the Star Plasma Vessel, Toji found himself walking through the same streets again. It was a big job, and he didn’t want any mistakes. Even though he planned to strike when least expected, his satisfaction came from more than just success. There was a certain thrill in watching hope vanish and panic settle in when he attacked at a moment no one could recover from.

He wasn’t planning to meet Yumi again. He had finished collecting the information he needed for the day and was heading back to his temporary safe house.

Then he heard it, that familiar jingle.

His eyes followed the sound. Of course, it was her.

Her eyes looked helpless, signing something to a vendor who clearly didn’t understand her. Toji clicked his tongue and walked over.

“She’s asking for two of each flavor of mochi you have.”

The vendor nodded quickly and began packing the order. Relief and happiness lit up her face, and she greeted Toji with a bright smile.

As always, she began explaining everything to him through her hands, how she had forgotten her communication notepad at home, how she needed the mochi for a gathering.

Why wouldn’t she? Toji was one of the few people who understood her without making her struggle.

She even bought two extra mochis for him as a thank you.

Toji stayed and walked her home. Today, he was quieter than usual. His mind was occupied with calculations about the mission. If he was right, there was only a fifty-fifty chance he would make it out alive. He needed a foolproof plan to eliminate the sorcerers and survive.

His train of thought stopped when Yumi halted and signaled that they had reached her apartment.

He simply hummed. “Good night, then.”

But she didn’t leave. After a brief pause, she signed, asking him to meet her again.

He chuckled and tapped her forehead lightly. “Give me your number. I don’t have a permanent contact right now.”

Yumi looked around and shifted on her feet.

Toji raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

She signed that she didn’t have anything to write her number with.

Toji sighed and took out his burner phone. “Put it here. It’s not my main phone. I’ll call you next week. By then, my problem will be solved.”

She nodded and quickly typed her number before handing the phone back. He saved it and gave her a missed call, a small smirk on his lips.

“See? I won’t ghost you. Don’t call me on this number unless it’s something important.”

This time, he didn’t linger. Yumi stood there, watching him leave before finally entering her apartment.

One week passed. Then two. Then three.

A month went by, and she never received a call.

Had he left her too?

Yumi let out a silent chuckle. She was just an acquaintance. Why would he bother?

But the need for closure kept gnawing at her.

So one day, she did it. She called the number Toji had given her.

Her eyes filled with confusion, hurt, and disbelief when the dial tone responded:

“The number you are calling is not reachable.”

She tried again. How could that be possible? She had seen him give her a missed call from this very number.

Her chest felt heavy.

Had something happened?

Had she been unfairly doubting him?

No. She couldn’t keep drowning in her own thoughts.

Tracing a number wasn’t that difficult.

With the few connections she had, she found an address listed under the name 'Toji Fushiguro.'

She would just go and make sure everything was alright. She wouldn’t bother him at all.

Now, standing just a few steps away, she paused before turning the corner.

“I don’t know how I’m going to tell the kid his father is no more.”

Her heart nearly stopped.

Another voice replied, “You don’t have to. At least not yet. Let the kid live his life.”

The weight in her chest pushed her forward. She stepped out.

A tall man with white hair and glasses stood in front of what looked like an abandoned house. The door was open. The other man must have gone inside.

She quickly took out her notepad and wrote, "Do you know the residents of this house? and held it up."

He tilted his head slightly as he read it. “Yes. Why?”

She wrote again, "I’m a friend of Toji. I haven’t been able to contact him for a month. Is he alright?"

He read it and fell silent for a moment, which only made her anxiety worse.

Then he said quietly, “He’s no more. I’ve taken responsibility for his kid. I tried to find his wife, but—”

He kept speaking, but Yumi couldn’t hear anything anymore.

Her head felt heavy. A sharp ringing filled her ears.

She leaned against the worn boundary wall.

The man stepped closer, but she raised her hand, stopping him.

Her breathing grew uneven, and her eyes stung.

A water bottle entered her line of vision. She looked up to see him holding it out to her.

“Are you okay?”

She took it, drank a few gulps, and nodded.

He leaned beside her. “Are you his relative?”

She shook her head.

Silence settled between them again.

He searched his pockets absently. “You know, I felt like I’d seen you somewhere before. I just realized.”

She looked at him, confusion filling her eyes.

He continued, “While cleaning the house, we found some documents. Toji was married twice, you know?”

Yumi slowly shook her head.

“That’s odd,” he murmured. “You look a lot like his first wife. That’s why I thought you might be a relative.”

He pulled out a small photograph and handed it to her. “We found this with her death certificate."

Yumi took the photo with trembling fingers.

He wasn’t lying. If she cut her hair short like the woman in the picture, they would look almost identical.

Is that why Toji had taken an interest in her?

No… that couldn’t be.

It cannot be overlooked. He tried to gamble with multiple lives when he approved an untested medicine to be sold without any restrictions, using citizens as test subjects without their consent.

Of course, you are in that crowd, marching and shouting slogans along with everyone else. The adrenaline, the rush of rage, it is enough to keep everyone going despite the harsh summer heat.

By the time the procession reaches the politician’s mansion, he has already hired a group of privately owned guards. The mansion is blocked off with yellow barricades, and just behind them stands a line of tall, broad bodyguards, forming a solid wall.

The government has denied any support or protection to the politician and has dismissed the use of that untested medicine across the country. What remains now is for him to publicly apologize and return the money he took from innocent people.

You are holding your banner high, shouting at the top of your lungs.

The crowd becomes even more suffocating as media and news channels arrive to cover the protest.

You don’t notice it at first. How could you? Your focus is on supporting the people around you.

But for some reason, your eyes linger on the guards like many other protesters around you. You can never be too cautious in rallies like this. You never know what tactics they might adopt to scatter the crowd.

There is a strange sense of relief when they don’t act. Not yet.

Your scanning eyes pause on a face that is far too familiar.

Even from a few rows behind, you can never mistake those green eyes, that bored expression, and especially the scar on the right side of his lips.

It is Toji. Your husband.

You know he works at a facility that hires people for… unofficial tasks. But you never thought they provided private guard services like this. And you certainly never imagined seeing him here.

Despite the tense situation, you can’t help but feel a little giddy seeing your man dressed in black protective gear, a helmet covering his face with a transparent visor.

You make your way to the front, trying very hard to hold back your giggle. Your voice keeps joining the chants—

“APOLOGIZE TO US!”

“WE WANT JUSTICE!”

"GIVE OUR MONEY BACK!"

Toji doesn’t notice you until you are right in front of him, pressed against the barricade, clearly trying not to smile. He is so close, his visor only inches away from your face.

His expression doesn’t change, but you catch the way his jaw tightens with effort, how his eyes fix only on you now.

His eyes always melt you.

And just like that, it happens again. Even as your voice doesn’t waver with the chants, a smile spreads across your lips. You notice Toji’s gaze soften. His head shakes ever so slightly, and his lips curve just a little.

The blush on your face is impossible to hide.

You glance around. People are busy.

You lean forward, just enough to reach him through the barrier, and press a quick kiss against his visor before pulling back.

You have to suppress a chuckle when you see his eyes close briefly, his lips mouthing, “brat.”

You behave after that. No more mischief.

By evening, the politician finally agrees to all the public demands. Protesters hug each other in celebration.

You are hugging a fellow protester when you notice the guards retreating.

Toji lingers for a second longer before turning away.

It takes another hour for the chaos to settle.

When you finally reach home, you hear the news playing inside.

You ring the doorbell instead of using your key.

As expected, Toji opens the door.

A smirk spreads across his lips as he pulls you inside. “You little troublemaker. Do you know what you did?”

You grin brightly, wrapping your arms around him. “What did I do? I’m just a responsible citizen.”

Toji bumps his forehead lightly against yours. “Don’t try to act smug now. My colleagues noticed it. That’s not the issue, but…” He trails off, a chuckle escaping him.

Your brows furrow. “But what?”

Instead of answering, he picks you up and carries you into the living room.

He gestures toward the TV with his chin. “See for yourself.”

You turn your head and freeze.

Your eyes widen at the news on screen.

“Romance in Rally: A protester was seen admiring a guard.”

Two photos follow.

In one, you are blushing while looking at Toji.

In the second, your lips are pressed against his visor.

You gasp. “They captured this mid-protest?”

Toji smirks. “No. My troublemaker tried to kiss her husband mid-protest.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: one of my lazy writings. I don't like my writing style here but I wanted to post something.

Also, if someone didn't get the reference it was inspired by this 👇🏻

An heir.

It is not that he is childless. But he does not want just anyone to inherit his legacy. Sukuna wants a child from his first wife, his Hana.

But she never agrees.

He has tried everything; threatening her, scolding her, persuading her, attempting to win her heart with expensive gifts, even softening his own behaviour for her sake. Nothing works.

She only looks at him with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

Sukuna even gave her power within the palace, making her the head of the women’s affairs. And he cannot deny that she performs her duties with remarkable grace. Since she began managing the inner palace, everything has run smoothly, allowing him to focus on his own matters without concern.

Yet still… she will not let him touch her.

She was not always like this.

Hana has been with Sukuna from the very beginning. Back when he had nothing but his sorcery, he married her simply to silence the pressure of society. Even now, he believes it was one of the best decisions he ever made.

Because Hana used to make him feel that, even after a massacre, he still deserved softness.

Her intelligence and elegance are still among the highlights of his day. But once, she used to touch him as if she could mend every broken part of him.

Then his estate grew.

To strengthen his status, he began marrying noble women. One by one, alliances were formed, and with them came more wives. Somewhere along the way, Hana’s love began to fade.

At first, he did not notice. Sukuna was too consumed by politics and the constant presence of beautiful women surrounding him. Glamour, fame, and power blinded him for a time. He became more ruthless, more arrogant.

He never realized it was because her quiet, grounding presence was slowly disappearing from his life.

When the chaos of ambition finally settled and the glitter of it all lost its charm, Sukuna found himself craving something else.

Stillness.

The calm that Hana once brought him.

Only then did he realize how long it had been since he had seen her. For a moment, he even wondered if she still lived within the palace.

When he finally found her, she was staying in the smallest room of the estate, wearing the same simple clothes she had always preferred.

He could not bring himself to meet her eyes.

If he had, he might have noticed that the sparkle in them had long since faded into quiet indifference.

He tried to fix everything the only way he knew how.

He gave her status. The largest chambers in the palace. Authority so great that, after his own command, her word would be the final one. He named her his legal queen.

For years he did not even dare ask her for an heir.

But as children from his other wives and concubines began filling the eastern wing of the palace, the desire returned.

Still, he refused to choose the firstborn among them.

His heir had to be Hana’s.

With her intelligence. Her elegance. Her eyes. Her smile.

He thought perhaps she was finally ready when he saw how gently she cared for every child in the palace, treating them as though they were her own.

So, one evening, he brought her favourite sweet.

Hana disliked grand gestures, so he did not make one. And that night, luck seemed to favor him. After so long, she allowed him to rest his head in her lap.

He felt certain she would agree.

But she said no.

When he sat up and asked her why, she simply replied that she had too many responsibilities. She had no time to raise an heir.

Still, Sukuna did not give up.

No matter whom he spends his days with, he always returns to Hana’s chamber at night with the same quiet hope that one day she might open her arms for him again.

Tonight is no different.

He is exhausted. From meetings with royals, from the endless temptations of concubines, from the demands of wives.

He is genuinely tired.

His rigid shoulders finally relax when he enters her chamber and finds her reading beneath the soft glow of candlelight.

She lies on her stomach, dark hair spilling around her like the night itself had taken inspiration from it. Her back is bare.

A faint smile spreads across Sukuna’s lips.

Sukuna’s voice softens without him even realizing it.

“My precious, what are you reading?”

She doesn’t sit up or stand the way everyone else in the palace does when Sukuna enters. And to be honest, he doesn’t mind it at all. He likes being the same old Sukuna for her.

She hums almost inaudibly.

“The reports of this month’s expenses. I was checking if I can fit some mango trees into the garden budget.”

Sukuna sinks onto the tatami beside her.

“You need more money? Why adjust anything? You can just take it from the royal treasury.”

She adjusts a palm under her chin while her other hand scribbles something onto the scroll.

“I don’t want to burden you with that.”

Sukuna lets out a quiet, defeated sigh.

“Why do you say it like that? You know everything that’s mine is yours.”

He leans forward, cupping her face and turning her gently toward him.

“Just ask me for once.”

She looks into his eyes with that same indifference.

Sukuna’s heart twists.

She used to get so shy in moments like this. She used to demand things from him—anything, everything; like she had every right to what was his. He would have given up everything just to see her like that again. To make her feel safe enough to demand whatever she wanted.

His thumb traces over her cheek instinctively before he even realizes it.

She pushes his hand away.

“You appointed me to manage the women’s affairs and the matters of the inner palace. I don’t have the right to take anything I want.”

She starts rolling the scroll back up before adding quietly,

“Your wealth isn’t mine. You earned it for yourself.”

Sukuna’s hand stays suspended in the air for a few seconds before dropping beside him. He closes his eyes briefly, refusing to let anger take over.

“Please, Hana. I am tired. Can’t we talk like before?”

He finally says it after holding those words back for so long.

She has already risen from the tatami, placing the scroll back into a drawer.

“Like before?” she says.

“Nothing in my life is like before. I don’t recognize this palace anymore.”

She turns toward him with a small, humourless chuckle.

“You changed. You upgraded yourself. And you expect me to stay the same?”

Sukuna stands, his fists clenching at his sides.

“So what did you want?” he snaps. “For me to remain a weakling my entire life? Aren’t you happy we have everything now? Aren’t you happy I can place the world at your feet?”

Her arms fold across her chest.

“How could you blame me for my behaviour?” she asks calmly.

She glances around the room.

“Is all of this really for me? Or are you compensating for your mistakes?”

Sukuna always tries to keep his temper in check when he is in front of her. But something inside him snaps today.

“I did everything for you.”

Her cold indifference breaks for a moment as she scoffs.

“For me? You are hilarious, Your Highness.”

“I have never heard of a husband marrying other women for his wife’s sake. I have never seen a man abandon the woman he loves once he achieves his goals. And I certainly never knew a palace full of wives and concubines could exist for my benefit.”

Sukuna knows she is right.

Somewhere along the way, he was selfish.

Still, he argues, “You know very well those marriages were for political reasons.”

He can make the whole world fall with his words alone.

Yet he flinches when he notices the clear disgust in her eyes for the first time.

“Having offspring from other women is politics now, Ryo?”

Ryo.

The nickname that once brought him solace now feels like a thorn digging into his chest.

Sukuna feels defeated. He steps back.

“Y-you… you’re angry. We’ll talk later.”

She turns away from him and begins removing hair ties from her hair.

“I’ve been angry for years,” she says quietly.

“You just noticed it now.”

Sukuna stumbles back a few more steps. The room suddenly feels suffocating.

“We’ll talk later,” he repeats.

Then he somehow manages to leave her chamber.

He breathes once he steps into the long balcony of the palace, lit by rows of fire torches. The cool night air brushes against him, easing the throbbing in his nerves a little.

His fist slams against the wooden railing.

How could she accuse him after he gave her everything?

He is Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. People accept his insults as rewards, yet she dares to point fingers at him.

His outburst must have alerted people in the palace, because suddenly two slender, soft arms snake around his neck.

One of his favourite concubines, one of the few he allows to be playful, coos at him, “Your Highness, are you tense? Are you angry at Hana-sama?”

Sukuna doesn’t answer. He remains standing as if she doesn’t exist.

She presses closer, her voice turning sweeter.

“I know Hana-sama can be too strict sometimes. But how dare she make you angry, Your Highness. You should pu—”

Before she can finish her sentence, Sukuna turns and detaches her from him.

His fingers dig into the pale skin of her wrist, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that.”

His voice drops dangerously low.

“I will throw you out of this palace. Strip you of your status, your expensive lifestyle if you ever try that again.”

He releases her hand with a sharp jerk and storms toward his chamber.

Once inside, he locks the doors and drinks the finest rice wine until he eventually passes out.

After what happened, no one dares to wake him the next morning.

It is already late. Sukuna has missed several meetings. The guards confirm that after entering his chamber the previous night, he never opened the doors again.

Hana has already woken up.

After handing over the list and money for the day’s meals, she gathers all the children of the palace beneath the large tree in the garden for their daily lessons.

The children adore her.

For the older ones, she has arranged the finest tutors in royal affairs. The toddlers remain under her care while she rocks the youngest gently on her hip.

No matter how much the other women in the palace may hate or admire her, no one can deny that without Hana, the children would never receive such careful and thoughtful upbringing.

Servants and concubines often gossip about her.

Once, Hana-sama had been among the most respected noble ladies in Japan. She could have married any royal, perhaps even the Emperor himself.

Yet she had chosen Ryomen Sukuna when he possessed nothing but his sorcery.

Many had witnessed how effortlessly she handled Sukuna’s temper, as if his terrifying reputation meant nothing to her.

Some even believed that Hana-sama’s companionship had been one of the reasons behind Sukuna’s rise to prosperity.

But today the palace buzzes with a different kind of gossip.

Sukuna-sama slept in his own chamber for the first time in months.

Everyone is trying to determine what happened, whether Hana-sama threw the king out, or whether he left her chamber on his own.

It isn’t as if Hana hasn’t heard the rumours.

She simply focuses on the most important thing in front of her.

Her laughter echoes through the garden when one of the toddlers tries to climb onto her head.

Sukuna’s eyes flutter as his sleep lightens at the sound of her laugh.

Even in his sleep, he murmurs softly,

“Hana… my precious.”

Out of habit, he extends a hand beside him, expecting her to be there.

He lets out a quiet sigh and opens his eyes.

He forgot.

He slept alone last night.

His head throbs from the rice wine he drank.

He shouts for an attendant.

“Get me something. My head is throbbing.”

His voice carries far enough to reach the garden.

Without even looking up from the toddler drawing cherry blossoms beside her, Hana speaks calmly to her lady-in-waiting.

“Make him the soup I taught you.”

Though her voice is not loud, Sukuna’s heightened senses pick it up easily.

He rises from the bed, throws a kimono loosely over his broad shoulders, and walks toward the window.

From there, he can see her clearly in the garden, surrounded by children.

His furrowed brows slowly relax.

That pure smile rests on her lips as she coos gently at the youngest child in her arms.

She doesn’t smile like that at him anymore.

He leans against the window.

As expected, his attendant soon brings the soup Hana mentioned.

Sukuna gestures for it to be placed down.

“Cancel my affairs today,” he orders.

“Announce a royal day off.”

When Sukuna is bathing in herbs to calm his throbbing head, an announcement roars from the palace all the way to the outskirts of the fort.

“EVERY ROYAL MEETING AND GATHERING WILL BE PAUSED FOR THE DAY. WE ANNOUNCE A ROYAL DAY OFF!”

The proclamation echoes with the loud beating of drums.

Hana looks up toward Sukuna’s chamber.

First a hangover… now a sudden day off from royal meetings and gatherings? Is everything alright?

Despite her better judgment, she asks the attendants and servants to take care of the children. She is about to place the youngest down, but the baby immediately throws a tantrum.

She chuckles softly and adjusts him back into her arms, rubbing his back while the baby tucks his head against her shoulder.

It is an unspoken rule in the palace.

Hana-sama has unrestricted access to every corner of it. Sukuna’s chamber is no exception.

So, when she walks gracefully through the corridor, still softly cooing at the baby in her arms, the guards clear her path without a word.

The main guard outside Sukuna’s chamber opens the door before she even asks.

She nods once in appreciation.

The baby is already drooling onto her shoulder.

“Your Highness?” she calls, looking around.

Sukuna is still in the royal bath when he hears her voice.

He quickly signals his attendants to clear him.

Before any of them can ask Hana to wait, he speaks up.

“My precious, wait for me.”

She sits down on the royal tatami, making playful faces at the baby in her arms.

The baby giggles as if he is watching the funniest jester, his grabby little hands clumsily trying to hold her face.

“Hana!”

She looks up when he calls her again.

His hair is still messy, bathing robes loosely wrapped around him. An attendant runs after him anxiously.

“Your Highness, at least let me dry your hair.”

Hana extends her free hand.

“Give me the towel.”

The attendant quickly hands it over and leaves.

Sukuna walks toward her almost automatically and kneels in front of her.

The baby in Hana’s arms is sucking his thumb while staring curiously at Sukuna.

She places him gently on her lap before covering Sukuna’s head with the towel and beginning to dry his hair.

Sukuna melts into the familiar comfort.

His eyes close. His hands rest on the tatami on either side of her hips.

There is no sound in the room except the soft babbling noises the baby makes.

Hana breaks the silence first as she pulls the towel away from Sukuna’s head.

“Your Highness, what is wrong? You haven’t paused royal affairs in years.”

Sukuna opens his eyes.

“Not feeling like being a royal today.”

The baby giggles again, thinking he is part of some game of hide and seek.

Sukuna smirks at him and ruffles his hair.

Then Hana’s soft whisper makes Sukuna go rigid.

“Pumpkin, that’s your Otousan.”

She is looking at the baby, cooing gently.

“Say Otousan… Otousan…”

The baby simply blows a raspberry in reply.

She laughs proudly and hugs him.

Sukuna gently places a hand on the baby’s back.

“You could become a great mother,” he murmurs.

Hana answers confidently while hugging the baby.

“I am already a mother.”

He sighs and rests his head against her chest beside the child.

“I mean… ours.”

His voice is barely audible, but she definitely hears it.

Whenever he used to place his head on her chest, she would shower him with kisses, gentle caresses, and soft rubs along his back.

But now her attention remains solely on the child.

Sukuna will never admit how helpless he feels in moments like this.

He buries his face against her neck and continues softly.

“Please, my precious. At least consider my wish.”

He feels her hand cup the back of his head.

A spark of hope makes his heart pound.

But then—

“I am already raising so many children. I’m sure one of them will be worthy enough to carry your legacy.”

The same answer as before.

Sukuna slowly turns his face toward the child, who is fussing restlessly.

Hana tries to settle him.

“He’s just like you,” she says softly. “Stubborn. Doesn’t like to share attention. Hates it when someone else tries to touch me while I’m holding him.”

Sukuna understands the implication.

His fingers still.

After a brief pause, he slowly lifts his head from her shoulder.

Her hand drops from his head.

Before she can stand up, he grabs her hand.

“Hana, stay with me today.”

He sees her throat bob, as if she’s suppressing something.

“I have many things pending.”

Her hand slides from his as she finally stands up.

Sukuna remains seated, looking up at her as she leaves. Before exiting his chamber, she adds,

“I’ll send your concubines to keep you company.”

He stands quickly, his robe slipping from his shoulders with the sudden movement as he follows her out of the chamber.

“But I don’t need them. I need you.”

She pauses and turns, rocking the baby on her hip.

“Your Highness.”

Her eyes travel up and down his figure.

“I would suggest you consider your surroundings.”

His eyes follow hers and the around him.

Guards, servants, and attendants are already staring.

They have never seen their king in such a state. Barely tied bathrobe, hair messy.

He clears his throat.

“I’ll get dressed. Meanwhile, finish all your pending tasks… or ask someone else to do them. I need your company today.”

He turns and walks back into his chamber.

As soon as he leaves, her lady-in-waiting approaches her.

“Hana-sama, you can give me the child. I’ll go prepare your ornaments and your best clothes for —”

Hana begins walking again.

“No need. I’ll complete my duties first.”

The lady-in-waiting follows her.

“But Your Highness said he wants to spend his time with you.”

Hana approaches the garden where the older children’s lessons are just coming to an end.

“Then tell Your Highness to wait. I do not have the privilege of abandoning my responsibilities to entertain him.”

The lady-in-waiting knows it is useless to insist.

She has seen this before.

Whenever His Highness demands Hana-sama’s attention, she buries herself deeper in work, pushing him away even more.

Everyone close to Hana-sama in the palace knows it.

But do they dare question her?

Never.

They know well that even before Hana-sama becomes angry, His Highness would punish anyone who dares challenge her.

The mothers have already gathered as the lessons are dismissed.

Hana hands the youngest child back to his mother.

The baby begins crying immediately, reaching for Hana again, but his mother carries him away.

The other children run toward Hana first, hugging her and exchanging a few quick words before returning to their mothers.

She takes one last round around the garden, making sure no child is left behind, before moving on to her other duties.

Once the garden is empty, she heads toward the kitchen to check if the meals are ready.

Children usually get hungry after their lessons.

She makes sure the food is balanced and properly cooked before sending the trays out with the attendants.

The head chef approaches her hesitantly.

“Hana-sama, you haven’t eaten anything since morning. If you’d like, I can prepare something for you.”

She watches the preparation of the meals for the rest of the palace.

“I am not feeling like eating.”

Her voice is flat, as if the topic itself bores her.

The lady-in-waiting steps beside her.

“Hana-sama, you barely eat properly these days and work day and night. You’ll get sick at this rate.”

But Hana changes the subject.

“Is His Highness’s meal ready?”

The head chef and the lady-in-waiting exchange a glance.

A quiet sigh leaves the chef’s lips before he answers.

“It’s ready. Should we send it?”

Hana hums softly and nods.

“Yes.”

Soon the kitchen becomes empty as every meal is sent out.

Hana lets out a tired sigh and sits down on a step by the kitchen door.

“Itamae-san, can you make me a bowl of rice?”

The chef hesitates.

“Only rice, Hana-sama? I know you don’t like the royal meals, but at least have some vegetables and soup.”

She simply nods, resting her head briefly.

“Give me whatever is left for the staff.”

The lady-in-waiting, who is helping carry empty utensils, pauses.

“For the staff… you mean…?”

Hana stands and dusts off her kimono.

“You know what I mean. Whatever you and Itamae-san will eat.”

They already understand.

It isn’t the first time.

Often, she doesn’t eat at all, and when she does, she only eats the staff meal.

Even after so many years, they still hesitate to serve such simple food to her.

The head chef finally nods and begins preparing her bowl.

Hana walks into the kitchen and sits down at the counter.

The lady-in-waiting smiles.

“You’re going to eat here?”

Before Hana can answer, the chef places her meal in front of her.

It’s simple, but prepared with care.

“Hana-sama likes to eat with us.”

Hana smiles.

“Come. Get your food too.”

The lady-in-waiting walks to a cabinet.

“I’ll get us some pickles.”

The chef begins preparing bowls for himself and the lady-in-waiting.

Hana waits quietly.

Suddenly the royal guard’s voice echoes through the corridor before the footsteps can be heard.

“His Majesty, the great Ryomen Sukuna, is coming through.”

Everyone stands immediately.

Except Hana.

She doesn’t even turn around.

But her posture says everything… her shoulders stiffen, her fingers pause over the chopsticks.

Sukuna signals the moment he enters the kitchen.

Everyone else quickly scatters.

He closes the distance in a blink.

His arms wrap around her from behind, his face burying into her hair.

“My precious, why didn’t you come? I was waiting for you.”

Hana knows well that he came here without eating. She sent his meal only minutes ago.

She doesn’t try to push him away.

“Your Highness, your meal will get cold.”

But Sukuna has already begun peppering kisses along her hairline.

“I want to eat with you.”

She rolls her shoulders slightly.

“Your Highness… why are you being so clingy?”

Sukuna lifts her easily and sits down in her seat with her on his lap.

“I told you this morning,” he murmurs.

“I need you. I want to spend my day off with you.”

“But, Your Highness, your food will get cold.”

Her hand finds a fold of his kimono to grip so she won’t slip from his lap.

Her legs dangle to the side. He nuzzles against her cheek and murmurs,

“I’ll eat with you.”

He finally lifts his head from her and notices her meal.

His brows furrow immediately when he sees the difference between his food and hers.

“Who served you this? I’ll—”

Before he can finish, she presses a hand against his chest.

That stops him instantly.

“Your Highness, I eat like this.”

He cups her face with both hands.

“Why? Aren’t they giving you the food prepared for the royals?”

She shakes her head.

“It’s not like that, Your Highness. I just…”

She pauses before adding softly,

“The royal food doesn’t suit me.”

The lines on Sukuna’s forehead deepen in confusion.

“So, you’re telling me you never ate any royal meals?”

She pushes herself off his lap.

“I never tasted them.”

A realization dawns on Sukuna.

Before he became powerful, they used to sit together and eat. They used to feed each other.

Now he doesn’t even know what she eats.

Guilt coils in his stomach like a snake.

His fists clench, but his voice comes out softer than before.

“Why? Don’t you like them? I can change the chef if you don’t like his style of cooking.”

She looks away from him.

“Itamae-san cooks well. The children, your wives, the concubines, your staff everyone loves his cooking. I do too. But I don’t feel comfortable eating such royal dishes.”

He reaches out and pulls her back into his arms.

“My precious, then tell me what makes you comfortable. I’ll make that happen.”

Her face remains turned away.

“I am perfectly comfortable with my simple meals.”

Sukuna rests his forehead against her temple.

“At least look at me.”

His voice trembles without him realizing it.

She gulps but says nothing.

It’s not as if Sukuna never noticed.

She rejects everything that is more than necessary.

Her clothes look no different from those of a village girl. As his queen, she should have been wearing jade ornaments, yet she ties her hair with nothing more than a simple ribbon.

He sighs.

“Say something, precious. Your silence wounds me more than your words.”

He gently shakes her by the shoulders.

She closes her eyes.

“Ryo… don’t make me.”

His arms slowly wrap around her waist.

“Please, my precious. I’ve been trying for so many years. Why won’t you accept anything?”

Her voice is barely audible.

“I don’t need your luxury.”

He guides her head against his chest, holding her close.

“But didn’t we both dream of standing at the top of the world? You are part of my success too.”

Sukuna’s heart sinks when she doesn’t hold him back.

Her hands remain idle at her sides.

He buries his face in her hair.

“I have everything because of you, and yet you refuse your claim in my success.”

Her voice comes again, low and distant.

“You left my hand a long time ago when you chose your path to success.”

Sukuna pulls back slightly to look at her face.

“My precious, I never left your hand.”

A dry chuckle escapes her.

“Really, Ryo? Then we must be living in different realities.”

Sukuna cups the back of her head.

“Hana, please. Why do you always have to be passive-aggressive? Why can’t we talk normally?”

Hana glares at him.

“Talk? Have you ever cared about that, Ryo? First you pushed me away when you started becoming stable. Then I watched you marry other women as if I didn’t matter.”

Sukuna’s scowl falters when she continues.

“Do you even realize how I survived hearing you consummate a new woman every night? How it broke me to see you surrounded by them? When I tried to talk to you back then, you only sent a guard to inform me you were busy.”

His hands drop from her waist.

She quickly steps away from him, her voice trembling.

“Even when I managed to meet you, a concubine or one of your wives was always hanging on your arm. Your power, your status… they isolated me.”

She pauses, breathing heavily from the emotions she had kept buried for so long.

“Then one day you suddenly decided you needed me again. I thought you would finally listen. But instead, you buried me under responsibilities, managing those same women, the same wealth that took you away from me.”

Sukuna stands up.

He steps toward her but stops when she takes another step back.

“Hana, my precious… I didn’t realize I was hurting you. I never understood that those responsibilities were suffocating you.”

She scoffs.

“It used to, then I made a truce. I found my place under those responsibilities. So now I refuse to take anything more than what is necessary to fulfil my duties.”

Sukuna begins pacing.

“I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

Then suddenly he grabs her wrist and drags her out of the kitchen.

“What are you doing, Your Highness?” Hana’s voice echoes through the palace corridor.

Sukuna stops and turns.

“Ryo! I am not ‘Your Highness’ to you. It’s Ryo.”

He bends, placing one arm behind her knees and the other around her back before lifting her up in a bridal carry and continuing down the corridor.

Hana yelps and grabs the collar of his kimono.

“Your Highness!”

He bounces her slightly in his arms and corrects her,

“Ryo. Call me Ryo.”

She looks around and notices the curious eyes of the palace residents watching them.

Embarrassed, she hides her face in the only place she can, his shoulder.

He carries her into his chamber.

His meal still sits on the dining tatami, cold by now.

He sits down with her still in his arms.

The guards inside the chamber exchange glances but say nothing.

Sukuna grabs a pair of chopsticks and shoves them into Hana’s palm.

“Eat.”

His arms cage her waist, preventing her from getting off his lap.

She protests softly.

“Your Highness, this is not—”

He squeezes her waist, his voice rumbling.

“Ryo.”

Correcting her again.

She gulps and looks up at him.

Trying to calm him down, she rubs his chest gently.

“Ryo… I can apologize for what I said.”

Sukuna grabs her wrist.

“No. You said nothing wrong. I need to fix it.”

Hana chooses her words carefully.

“Ryo… how are you planning to fix it?”

Sukuna shifts her slightly on his lap so that she is now facing him completely.

“You won’t work anymore. You’ll stay with me and enjoy royal services.”

She tugs her hand free from his grip and cups his face.

“I like to work. And if I—”

Her words die in her throat when Sukuna suddenly pulls her into a kiss.

Her eyes widen.

For a moment she forgets to react as he desperately presses his lips against hers, as if trying to force her to agree with him.

After a few seconds he pulls away, breathing heavily.

“No ifs or buts. What I said is final.”

He rests his forehead against her collarbone.

Her hand hesitates for a moment before she gently runs her fingers through his hair.

Silence stretches between them.

His breathing slowly begins to calm.

The emotional outburst, Sukuna’s sudden actions, and the fact that she is still on an empty stomach begin to take their toll on Hana.

She starts to feel light-headed.

“Ryo…”

Her voice comes out breathless, vision gets blurry, the chamber spins.

Sukuna doesn’t notice at first and presses a kiss against her neck.

“Yes, my precious.”

Her fingers weakly clutch his hair.

“Ryo… I’m not feeling well.”

Sukuna jerks his head up.

Her eyes are already losing focus as her body begins to slump.

Her fingers slide from his hair. Before her head can fall back, Sukuna quickly cups it in his hand.

Worry darkens his face.

He immediately lifts her limp body and shouts,

“Call the court physician!”

Attendants flood the room.

By the time they arrive, Sukuna has already laid Hana carefully on his bed.

He hates stepping away from her at moments like this, but he has to make space for the attendants and the physician.

He begins pacing the room like an injured tiger.

Within minutes his patience snaps.

“What happened to her?”

The physician answers calmly.

“She is simply weak. Nutritious food, proper rest, and hydration will restore her in no time.”

He rises slightly.

“But try not to stress her.”

The lady-in-waiting bows her head.

“Do not worry, Your Highness. We will take care of her.”

Sukuna exhales and sinks into a chair.

“Prepare a nutritious meal for my queen,” he orders.

“It must be ready before she wakes.”

Chaos spreads through the palace the moment their queen falls ill.

At first, Sukuna thinks he can manage everything himself or simply assign someone else to handle it. After all, he has been planning to free Hana from those endless responsibilities.

But the situation worsens quickly.

It begins with small things.

Toddlers start crying for Hana. Servants argue quietly over instructions that no one remembers clearly. A delivery of supplies is misplaced because no one knows who usually signs the inventory.

Then the discipline of the palace begins to crumble.

No one truly understands how many responsibilities Hana manages until she is no longer there to handle them.

Hana regains consciousness the same night, but Sukuna strictly forbids her from working while she is still weak.

By the third day, however, things fall apart.

Food supplies become disorganized. Meals are delayed. Children cry constantly for Hana. Even the palace accountants begin losing track of expenses.

Finally, Hana’s lady-in-waiting suggests that Hana at least distribute the responsibilities among the palace residents.

Hana feels oddly relieved.

After carefully assigning duties based on everyone’s abilities, she leans back against the backrest of the royal chair.

Sukuna has left for royal meetings.

Her lady-in-waiting sits near her feet.

“Hana-sama…” she says gently while massaging Hana’s feet. “How are you feeling now? Would you like to rest?”

Hana sighs.

“I’ve been resting for almost four days. If I sit like this any longer, I might forget how to walk.”

The lady-in-waiting chuckles softly.

“But Hana-sama, it is Your Highness’s order.”

Hana frowns and nods.

“I know.”

She slumps back again before suddenly sitting upright.

“Where are the children? Do they not miss me?”

The lady-in-waiting rises.

“They miss you every hour. But…” She glances around before leaning closer and whispering, “Your Highness told the other women to keep their children away from you until you fully recover.”

Hana slaps the armrest sharply.

“Nonsense! They are my children too.”

She stands immediately.

“Where are my children?”

Without waiting for an answer, she walks toward the door.

The lady-in-waiting follows quickly.

“Hana-sama, please slow down. You only just recovered.”

But Hana knows the palace better than anyone.

She doesn’t need directions.

If the children are still following the routines she created for them, most of them will be in the playground.

She crosses the garden quickly, gathering the edge of her dress in one hand as the distant sounds of children’s laughter reach her.

The moment the children notice her, they run toward her without hesitation.

Within seconds she is tackled onto the grass, laughing as a sea of children tries to hug her all at once.

Complaints pour out from every direction.

They tell her how much they missed her, how nobody made their favourite meals while she was sick, and how they tried sneaking into her chamber but Otousan scolded them.

One particularly dramatic little girl claims Hana’s lap immediately.

Her arms wrap around Hana’s neck.

“Haha will do my hair first.”

She already shoves ribbons into Hana’s hand.

Meanwhile, the lady-in-waiting tries gently reminding the children that Hana-sama is still recovering.

But Hana has already begun tying the girl’s hair while another child hangs from her back.

Hana senses heavy footsteps approaching through the grass before the children notice.

She smiles faintly, already knowing who it must be, but continues fixing the girl’s hair.

The children suddenly gasp when a deep voice speaks.

“Why is she out of our chamber?”

The lady-in-waiting rises at once and bows.

“Your Highness, Hana-sama did not stop when I tried.”

Hana calmly finishes tying the girl’s ribbon and sets her down before standing up.

The children quickly hide behind her.

Sukuna’s eyes move to the children first.

“Didn’t I tell you all to stay with your Okasan?”

The children shrink further behind Hana.

Hana glares at Sukuna.

“I came here. Don’t blame my children.”

Only then does Sukuna truly look at her.

His expression softens slightly.

“My precious, you need rest.”

She folds her arms.

“I am not working. I am spending time with my children.”

Sukuna exhales.

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m not.” Hana raises her chin. “And when you promised me that you would at least ensure my children have everything they need. Why are they saying they didn’t get their favourite meals? Why did you scold them for trying to see me?”

Sukuna’s brows furrow.

“They were fed. Wasn’t that enough? And I couldn’t allow them to disturb you while you were resting.”

Hana huffs in frustration.

“No, that wasn’t enough. A child needs pampering along with discipline. And my children do not have extravagant demands. They only wanted to see me and eat proper meals, not the same food served to the adults in the palace.”

Sukuna rubs his temple.

He is already exhausted from managing both palace affairs and matters outside the palace. Since ordering Hana to rest, his responsibilities have doubled.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “Why can’t they eat the same meals as everyone else?”

The lady-in-waiting speaks this time.

“Pardon me, Your Highness. But as I mentioned before, Hana-sama created a special menu for the children.”

Sukuna waves his hand impatiently.

“Fine, fine. Tell the chef to cook the way he used to.”

One of his attendants steps forward nervously.

“But Your Highness… the budget you approved did not allocate funds for separate meals for the children.”

Sukuna snaps.

“Then do whatever is necessary! Don’t bother me with this matter.”

Several children shrink back, clinging to Hana. A few even begin crying at Sukuna’s raised voice.

Sukuna drags a hand down his face, about to say something, but Hana speaks first.

“Your Highness, don’t frighten them. If you are restless, go back to your chamber.”

She already lifts a crying child into her arms.

Sukuna opens his mouth.

Then closes it again.

After a brief pause, he turns and storms back toward the palace.

The guards exchange uneasy glances.

The lady-in-waiting leans closer to Hana and whispers,

“Your Highness has been managing everything alone these past few days. He must be tired. Please don’t take his words to heart.”

Hana chuckles dryly.

“And he wanted me to abandon my responsibilities entirely.”

The lady-in-waiting distracts the children, helping them forget Sukuna’s outburst.

“Hana-sama,” she says quietly, “I do not know what happened between you and His Highness, but he is trying to be sincere. When you fainted, he stayed by your side the entire time.”

By then, the children have already forgotten the earlier shouting.

They are busy playing with Hana again.

Hana tucks a flower into a little girl’s hair.

“Isn’t that what a husband should do?” she says calmly. “Isn’t it his duty to take care of me and his children? Why should he receive extra praise for doing what he ought to do?”

The lady-in-waiting stands silent for a moment before lowering her head.

“I’m sorry, Hana-sama. I didn’t mean to question you.”

Hana rises after asking the attendants to keep the children entertained.

She walks back toward the palace.

The lady-in-waiting follows as usual.

Hana still looks slightly pale from her illness, but the fierce look in her eyes remains the same, which keeps everyone silent.

No concubine dares disrespect her.

No guard dares block her path.

None of Sukuna’s other wives dare cross her.

The lady-in-waiting expects Hana to return to Sukuna’s chamber.

Instead, Hana walks past it and continues toward her own.

“If the children wish to see me, let them,” Hana says quietly. “This is not His Highness’s chamber for him to forbid them.”

She steps inside her room.

The lady-in-waiting moves to follow, but Hana raises a hand.

“I wish to be alone.”

The door closes softly behind her.

Sukuna paces around his chamber.

He doesn’t understand why he feels this way. After all, this is what he wanted. He wanted to free Hana from her endless responsibilities.

Finally, he sits down on his royal chair and orders,

“Bring the Queen’s lady-in-waiting.”

Within a minute, she stands before him, her head bowed in both respect and fear.

“Tell me everything,” Sukuna says, his voice a suppressed growl.

The lady-in-waiting answers as calmly as she can.

“Y-Your Highness, after Hana-sama distributed the tasks, she went to the children on her own. No one told her about—”

Sukuna slams his fist onto the desk, making the lady-in-waiting flinch.

“Not that. Tell me what she wants.”

The lady-in-waiting blinks in confusion.

“What she wants? I…” Her head lowers again. “I don’t know, Your Highness. She always talks about what others need. She never says anything about herself.”

Sukuna scoffs and leans back in his chair.

“Useless.”

His fingers drum against the desk as his gaze turns distant, as if thinking.

Suddenly he stands.

“Where is she?”

The lady-in-waiting answers quickly.

“In her chamber.”

Sukuna strides down the corridor.

He doesn’t even know why he’s angry. Everything has irritated him these past few days.

A guard begins to announce his arrival, but Sukuna raises a hand, stopping him.

He pushes the door open himself.

Hana is lying on her tatami.

She sits up the moment she hears the door.

“Your Highness.”

Sukuna steps inside and closes the door behind him.

For a few seconds they simply look at each other. Neither speaks.

When Hana tries to stand, Sukuna moves quickly and catches her hand.

“Careful.”

She looks up at him.

“Your Highness, did something happen? Why are you here?”

Instead of answering, Sukuna lies down on the tatami and pulls her down with him.

She yelps as she lands on top of him.

“Your Highness!”

Sukuna holds her close.

“My precious… why do I need a reason to come to you?”

She pushes herself off him.

“Because a long time ago, you stopped coming to me without a reason.”

Sukuna continues watching her.

“I am tired.”

Hana sighs and looks away.

Sukuna’s gaze softens with longing.

Silence settles between them again.

Slowly, Hana’s fingers begin running through his hair.

Sukuna stares blankly at the ceiling.

“Can we not fix this anymore, Hana?”

Her fingers don’t stop.

“Something broken can only be fixed if the pieces are still there.”

Sukuna closes his eyes.

It’s not as if he didn’t know. He has known for a long time.

Perhaps now it is finally time to accept it.

Quietly, he says,

“If you want to leave me, I won’t stop you.”

Hana’s fingers slip from his hair.

For a moment Sukuna thinks she has already gone. He opens his eyes.

But she is still there, lying beside him, staring at the ceiling.

Her hand finds his.

She intertwines her fingers with his.

“Will you be able to handle everything if I leave?”

Sukuna looks back at the ceiling.

“No.”

Hana hums softly.

“That’s what I thought.”

Sukuna squeezes her hand.

“Don’t overwork yourself again, precious.”

She smiles faintly.

“Okay. I’ll try.”

Sukuna hesitates before asking,

“Can I still come to you when everything feels too much?”

A soft sigh leaves her lips.

“Yes.”

Sukuna wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer.

“I’ll always love you.”

Hana rests her head on his shoulder.

Damn it.

He knows you too well. Along with being clingy with your fiancé, your love language is biting, nibbling his muscles whenever you can. You know it’s a trap, but the offer is way too tempting to pass up. So, after a very thorough five seconds of consideration, you agree to the terms.

You did not think your boxer fiancé would have such an intense workout session in the morning.

The next day, you’re already regretting your life choices after completing the early morning jog which felt more like a sprint, considering his huge strides. Your face goes pale when you hear that was just the warm-up.

Toji smirks while wrapping his hands. “You can still tap out, honey.”

You know when he calls you honey in that tone, it gets on your nerves instantly. So of course, you don’t back down easily… but after barely keeping up with his routine for the next fifteen minutes, you’re flat on the gym floor, sweating, lungs burning, lying there like a pancake.

He has the audacity to poke your smooshed cheek. “Brat. Thought you said you could handle it.”

You groan into the gym mat. “I… hate… you…”

He chuckles low, grabs his water bottle, and presses it against your cheek just to mess with you. “C’mon, don’t tap out on me now. Still got deadlifts left.”

You, muffled: “Bury me here.”

Instead of sympathy, this menace takes out his phone and snaps a picture of you on the floor. “Hn. Gotta keep this for later.”

After putting his phone away, Toji crouches down, big hands hooking under your back and knees and before you can even protest...

Swoop!

You’re scooped up like you weigh nothing.

You immediately go full starfish, limbs flailing, voice dramatic. “NOOO, put me down! I refuse to be carried like a weakling!”

Toji is completely unfazed, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he walks out of the gym like he’s carrying groceries instead of his dramatic, sweaty partner. “Tch. You think anyone’s buying that you’re strong when you look like a fried egg on the floor?”

You wave your arms wildly as if it’ll change anything. “I demand dignity! I’ll crawl out myself if I have to!”

Toji snorts, adjusting his hold so you don’t slip. “Yeah? Then quit clinging to me like a koala.”

You let out a frustrated huff, fold your arms, and mumble, “I’m still not giving up my biting rights.”

An “Oh…” leaves his lips before he bounces you slightly in his arms to adjust his grip. “You mean I can’t take away your nibbling rights, squirrel?”

You press your forehead against the side of his face with a challenging glare. “No.”

You’re about to nibble his cheek, but his large palm cups your nape, stopping you effortlessly. He strides into the elevator of his villa. “But you have to pay some price.”

Your eyebrow lifts suspiciously. “What price?”

His eyes soften as he looks at you. The elevator dings, signaling you’ve reached the main floor. You shake your head, already knowing what he wants. “But Toji, you said yourself we can’t risk it.”

He walks into the living room, guiding your face gently until your forehead rests against his. “Just once, princess. I know what I said. But I’d love to see you in the audience.”

You let your arms slip around his neck and whisper, “I’m not refusing to watch your match, but are you sure? Didn’t you say your fans are crazy? They might twist things if they find out you’re already engaged.”

He sighs and nods. “I know. But I’ve always wanted to see you in the audience, cheering for me like you do at home.”

You smile and kiss the tip of his nose. “If that’s what you want, I’ll be there.”

His smile spreads across his lips. He opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, “Hold up! Don’t even think about giving me VIP treatment. I’m going like a normal fan.”

He hates when you catch his thoughts before he says them. He rolls his eyes.

“Fine.”

He actually let you handle everything on your own. You booked the ticket yourself, and even though he gave you his best soft eyes, you refused to show him your seat number. To make up for it, you showered him with kisses and let him cuddle you for as long as he wanted.

When you entered the stadium, your eyes widened at the sea of people. Toji’s face, along with his opponent’s, flashed across the massive display boards. The continuous shouting and chanting echoed through the air.

You’ve watched Toji’s matches live on TV before, but the stadium was definitely overwhelming.

You made your way to your seat and sat down. As you looked around, you realized no one else was actually sitting. Everyone was standing, jumping, waving flags, chanting at the top of their lungs.

You looked down at yourself. You hadn’t worn your best dress, but you still looked like you’d come for a picnic while everyone else had come for war. You sighed, realizing you probably looked like a sore thumb in the crowd. You should’ve worn that limited-edition boxer hoodie Toji gifted you last season—you would’ve blended in much better.

You listened to the announcements about the match and glanced at your watch.

Wasn’t the match supposed to start soon? Why were they still casually hosting?

Are they creating unnecessary suspense cause it's his last match before his annual break?

You were thinking all this when a man in a security uniform stepped in front of you, blocking your view.

“Ma’am, please come with us.”

You stood up, clutching your purse. “Me? Did I do something?”

“Miss, we need you backstage. Emergency.”

Your heart skipped—what emergency?

You followed him, weaving through hallways. You could hear the host purposefully delaying the program for some reason. The faint sound of the agitated audience carried through the walls, fans growing restless...

Until a heavy door opened.

The man in the black suit stepped aside. “Please, go inside.”

Confused, you walked in, glancing back just in time to see the door swing shut behind you.

Before you could even take in the room, you noticed Toji was already there, sweaty from warm-ups, still half-wrapped in his fight tape, chest heaving like he’d been pacing.

Relief washed over you.

But then Toji yanked you toward him so quickly you dropped your purse, the room spun.

He didn’t say hello.

He didn’t explain.

His hands were already on you— rough, desperate, pressing you back against the cool metal lockers under the weight of his body.

“I knew you were here,” he growled, his mouth hot against your ear as he kissed down your neck. “Knew I’d find you in the crowd. But squirrel… I can’t go out there yet. Not until...”

His words trailed off as his lips sucked at your pulse point, making you gasp. You clutched at his shoulders, mumbling, “What happened, Toji?”

His hand slid under your skirt, hiking it up urgently. His knuckles brushed your thighs as he tugged at your panties without hesitation. His other hand pushed your top up along with your bra in urgency.

The sudden cold air made your nipples stiff. He brushed his thumb on one of your nipples once, hummed in appreciation, before his mouth closed around the other side, making you jolt in his grasp.

He pressed his hips forward, making you hiss at the feel of his throbbing bulge against your clothed heat. He leaned back from your nipple with a wet pop. His pupils were blown wide, not from the fight, but from you.

“I need you,” he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours as if that would steady him. “Just a little bit before the match… just you.”

Before you could ask anything else, his lips crashed onto yours; fierce and messy. Every bit of adrenaline he should’ve saved for the ring pouring into the way he devoured your mouth. His free hand squeezed your waist like he couldn’t believe you were real, like you were the only anchor keeping him sane before stepping into chaos.

His tongue slid deep until you were gasping into his mouth, his hips never stopping their grounding rhythm.

“Toji!” you tried, breathless, but his hand was already between your thighs.

“No time, squirrel,” he rasped, sliding your panties aside, thick fingers dragging against your slick heat. His grin was wild, crooked. “Fuck… already so wet for me? You knew I’d come looking?”

You whined, trying to protest, but the sound broke into a moan when he slid two fingers into you without warning, curling just right.

“Toji! Y-you have a match…”

He chuckled low, kissing your throat, biting hard enough to make you groan. “Exactly. That’s why I need this now. I can’t go out there all wound up. Gotta taste my squirrel first.”

Your nails dug into his flashy boxer hoodie, making it slip off his shoulders as his pace quickened, fingers pumping into you with obscene wet sounds echoing in the small room. His eyes locked on yours— feral, hungry.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice husky. “Squirming for me…” His tone was wild, almost fond. He pressed his lips to yours and mumbled against them, “I need to feel my world milking me before I beat the shit out of someone else. Won’t you let me, squirrel?”

You whimpered, nodding helplessly, biting your lip. “Yes… you can, Toji. I’m always yours.”

That broke him.

With a growl, he yanked his shorts low, his cock springing free. His hands lifted you by the backs of your thighs, and your legs wrapped around his waist out of reflex.

You nibbled your lower lip as you reached down, pressing him to your entrance. “Take me, love.”

He grinned between ragged breaths. “You’re always my savior.”

Then his hips shifted. The stretch stole your breath as he thrust inside in one rough stroke, his lips crashing onto yours again, swallowing your cry with another kiss.

“I know,” he growled against your mouth. “I’m being too much. I’ll make it up to you.”

You sucked at his lips eagerly. “It’s okay, Toji.”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, feeling your velvety walls squeeze around him, his forehead dropping to yours as he began to move— hard and fast. “That’s it, squirrel. Let me fuck this edge off before I tear that ring apart.”

Every thrust rattled the lockers, your legs trembling as you clung to his shoulders. Words died on your tongue, replaced with desperate moans.

He smirked against your lips, pounding harder. “Gonna scream for me? Hm? Don’t hold back. They won’t hear you over the chaos outside.”

Your moan broke free, his name spilling out shamelessly.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, voice dark velvet. “My lucky charm. My fucking squirrel. I’ll win every match just to come back and take you apart again.”

Your cries grew louder with every slam of his hips, your legs tightening around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

The lockers clanged behind you like background percussion to the symphony of your moans, his grunts and the wet Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap! sound of your skin slapping. Sweat-damp hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Your nails scratched down his back, making him hiss. Between broken whimpers you managed, “Gonna... I’m gonna...”

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, voice cracking. “All mine. Wrapped so tight around me. Shit... squirrel, you’re gonna make me lose it too.”

Your legs trembled, slipping, but he hooked them over his shoulder, your heels locked around his neck, pinning and folding you tighter against the locker to drive deeper. The stretch overwhelmed you, but the praise spilling from his lips made you melt.

His thrusts grew sloppier, his voice ragged. “Tell me…” A groan cut him off. “Fuck.... squirrel, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Toji,” you sobbed breathlessly. “I belong to you.”

A guttural growl ripped from his chest. His thrusts turned punishing, desperate. He crushed his lips to yours, swallowing every sound as he buried himself to the hilt, biting his lower lip, eyes squeezed shut as he spilled inside you... all hot and thick.

The sensation was mind-numbingly intense. Your eyes rolled back as your body clenched around him, making your name falling from his lips like a prayer.

Your orgasm crashed through you, soaking both of your lower abdomens, warm juices dripping down his balls.

He didn’t let you go immediately. Instead, he pulled you into another kiss, slow this time, drawn out. Your hands cupped his nape, dragging him closer if possible. Your heartbeats gradually synced, calming together.

When he finally pulled out, a groan left both of you. He leaned back just enough to smirk down at you, sweat dripping from his jaw. After letting your feet touch the ground, he tugged your panties back into place lazily and pulled his shorts up.

“Perfect,” he rumbled, pressing a kiss to your swollen lips. “Now I can fight. My squirrel’s good luck charm, yeah?”

You weakly swatted his chest, still breathless. “You’re insane… delaying a whole match just for this.”

He chuckled, shrugging his hoodie back on and grabbing his wrist tape again. His grin was wolfish as he leaned in for one last soft kiss, a sharp contrast to how he’d taken you against the locker.

You sat down on the bench feeling your knees weakened.

“Worth it. Always worth it.” He fixed his hair. “Stay here. You don’t have to go back into the audience. I’ll feel better knowing my squirrel’s safe back here. Watch from the backstage screen.”

He gave you one last glance, a smile so tender it made you smile back. “Gotta go win it for you.”

Then he walked out.

You remained seated on the backstage bench, watching the large screen, still catching your breath. Your thighs pressed together instinctively to keep the mess he made inside, your pulse still wild. The muffled roar of the crowd shook the walls. It was time.

Your eyes darted from the screen when you heard footsteps approaching.

You smiled and stood when his coach entered, followed by his manager and… a new face.

His coach paused before offering a polite smile. “Finally! You came to see his match?”

You nodded and walked up to shake his hand. You’d known him since Toji’s beginner days. You recognized his manager too, he visited the house sometimes.

The coach took the initiative. “You already know Mr. Taneki, his manager. And this…” He gestured toward the new face. “He’s Toji’s new PA. An intern. He’s shadowing Toji to learn about the arena.”

You nodded and shook his hand as well. They exchanged a few more words with you before heading back toward the front.

The match was about to start.

You grabbed an energy drink from the vending machine and sat down again.

The speakers boomed.

The announcer’s voice shook the arena:

“Introducing… THE PREDATOR—TOJI FUSHIGURO!”

The crowd erupted.

The screen showed him striding toward the ring, hoodie gone, body gleaming with sweat, mouth guard in place, taped fists clenched, eyes sharp like a beast unleashed. The moment he stepped into the spotlight, he looked like a monster—untouchable, every inch a conqueror.

It wasn’t your first time watching him. He always won. Always.

Still, his opponent looked dangerous. And you never trusted these commercial matches. Big money meant bigger risks. Toji never listened when you told him to avoid them, and you always got nervous.

The bell rang.

His opponent lunged first, throwing a heavy right hook meant to overwhelm him with power. Toji slipped the punch effortlessly, countering with a sharp jab followed by a brutal body shot that drove the air from the man’s lungs.

The crowd roared.

Every combination he threw was precise, measured footwork, clean defense, devastating counters. His face stayed composed but feral, a predator dissecting prey rather than rushing in blindly.

A clean uppercut snapped his opponent’s head back. A hook to the ribs folded him. Another straight to the jaw sent him staggering.

The referee stepped closer as Toji unleashed one final combination, forcing the opponent to the canvas.

The ref dropped to a knee.

“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT! NINE! TEN!”

It was over.

The arena exploded with cheers.

You nearly dropped your drink, your body thrumming with pride as you jumped to your feet, clapping. He didn’t just win.

He dominated.

You startled at the sound of clapping beside you. You turned to see his PA applauding enthusiastically. You’d been so lost in the match you hadn’t noticed him return.

You chuckled at the young man’s excitement.

“Toji-sensei was on another level today, wasn’t he?” he said without looking at you.

You nodded, smiling.

Instead, you tried a different approach. Because honestly… did you even know anything about your man?

Hehe… your man.

Only that he was a handyman who somehow knew how to fix almost everything, had a ridiculously good body hidden under all those safety gears which you had definitely seen and felt during those steamy hours together, oh… and that he was surprisingly good at teaching you Japanese.

You shook your head.

Focus! It wasn’t time to fangirl over him.

The next day, while coming back from work, you 'coincidentally' ran into the sweet old lady at the grocery store. Subtly.... very subtly, you asked if Daichi had any relatives.

She thought for a long moment before shaking her head.

She had never seen anyone from his family. All she knew was that he was the best handyman in town.

Dead end again.

You didn’t trust yourself to push further.

But the questions kept creeping into your mind.

A few more days passed.

Still no response from Daichi.

That was when you’d had enough.

You needed to clear your head of that mysterious name.

Toji.

So, during work, you searched it on your office computer.

You hadn’t expected that.

Your breath caught in your throat as the search results loaded. You shut the computer down so fast someone might think you posses superpower.

With shaking hands, you grabbed your phone and rushed to the office restroom.

Your eyes widened as you read the same results again, only now on a smaller screen.

“Toji Fushiguro: Professional assassin, dead on his last mission.”

“Former Zenin with Heavenly Restriction confirmed deceased.”

“Sorcerer world breathes a sigh of relief after rescue team confirms Toji Fushiguro’s death.”

Old news articles.

Years old.

You still couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

Because the photo attached to those headlines was him.

Your Daichi.

You hadn’t recognized him at first. Your Daichi had a beard. He looked softer. Older. Different.

But that scar on his lip, the one you felt every time he kissed you.

The resemblance was uncanny.

That smirk.

Those green eyes.

It couldn’t be possible.

And yet…

Why?

You needed answers.

So you went straight to HR, faked a headache, and took a half day off.

Then you ran.

Straight to Daichi’s place.

You didn’t even know if he would be home.

But you needed to know.

Everything.

You were not usually the type to make a scene.

But when he didn’t pick up a single one of your calls on the way to his apartment, you were bang, bang, bang pounding on his door while your phone was pressed to your ear.

You could hear his ringtone inside.

So you knew he was home.

“Daichi,” you shouted, “open the door. I know you’re in there.”

Neighbors peeked through their windows at the noise, but strangely, no one came outside to stop you.

Would they, really?

You looked furious. Your chest heaved like you had run a mile, your eyes burning with rage.

You raised your fist to pound the door again.

Click!

The latch opened.

Daichi stood there.

…Or should you even call him that?

You stomped your foot.

“I need answers.”

He only nodded and stepped aside.

The moment he closed the door behind you, you grabbed the straps of his vest. His hands clenched beside him, his head hung low.

“Who are you? Are you even Daichi?”

You shoved your phone against his chest.

“Explain this. This Toji. This assassin. Why do you look like him? And why is this man dead according to the news?”

He sighed, letting you vent.

When you were calm enough to listen, he finally spoke.

“Toji is me.”

He ran a hand over his face.

“And… I faked my death to get out of what I was doing.”

You froze.

Some part of you had expected him to deny it.

But when the truth settled in, you snapped again.

“So… I fell for an assassin.”

He looked offended.

“Former assassin. I don’t do that anymore.”

You groaned. “That’s not the point.”

You jabbed a finger at his chest. Normally you would have felt giggly at the firmness of his pecs under your touch, but not now.

“You hid your identity. That’s the point.”

Daichi... no, Toji guided you toward the couch.

“I didn’t mean to. But I swear I left that life behind. It’s not me anymore.”

You sat stiffly, arms folded.

You were ready to shout again… but then you noticed his face under the living room light.

He looked… helpless.

Your shoulders dropped.

You closed your eyes briefly.

“Get me a tub of ice cream. Then we’ll talk.”

His brows furrowed before one raising in confusion and disbelief.

“Ice cream? That’s your demand?”

You nodded seriously.

“Yes. I need to keep my cool while you explain everything.”

Your eyes followed him as he stood up. A sighed left his lips. He said putting on his jacket, “Stay here. I’ll get your ice cream.”

From there, he can see the neighbour’s house. The lady next door has wind chimes that jingle so beautifully, curtains far prettier than the dull ones in the Zenin estate. Even the smell of her food makes his stomach ache with hunger. Whenever she notices him and smiles, he panics... jumping down from the fence and running back inside before she can say anything.

It’s New Year’s Eve.

The Zenin estate is decorated with flowers and lanterns. Another year has passed, and no one remembers that the 31st of December was his birthday, that he had turned five. He’s used to it by now.

He peeks through the sliding doors, watching other children receive gifts and red envelopes. He hopes, just a little, that this year might be different. That they might remember him.

But the gifts are handed out, the red envelopes exchanged, and none are meant for him. His small heart cracks in silence.

He runs back to his favourite corner, ignoring the cold wind biting at his skin. Resting his face against the fence, he watches the pretty lady next door cooking. His attention drifts to the paper cranes swaying beneath her lanterns, so lost in their movement that he doesn’t notice her approach.

He startles when a hand gently rests on his head.

Caught off guard, he’s about to run when she smiles and stops him. She presses a warm mochi into his hands, wishes him a happy New Year, and returns to her home as if it required no explanation at all.

He stares at the mochi in his palm, then at her closed door, before finally taking a bite.

Undoubtedly, it’s the tastiest thing he has ever eaten.

From that day on, he sneaks to that corner often. He pretends he doesn’t care but he does. Every smile, every small offering she gives him stays with him. Before long, he begins slipping beyond the estate’s boundary, following her around like a duckling trailing after its mother.

His toddler heart doesn’t understand much, but the small warmth he receives from the lady becomes the highlight of his day. So now, an emotionally guarded child, he calls her “Oba-chan” in a voice barely above a breath whenever he visits. Without missing a beat, she always looks up from whatever she’s doing and says,

“Toji! You came back. Come here.”

It never fails to make him smile.

Sometimes, when he’s too hungry, after the Zenin clan forgets to feed him, he shows up at her doorstep, standing there with his head hung low, unsure how to ask for food. Somehow, she always notices. She feeds him without comment or hesitation, as if she had already understood. When training leaves his small body aching, she notices the bruises and tends to them without drawing attention to them.

It’s not that the other Zenins don’t know about his little daily escapes. They do.

They just don’t care.

They only laugh when he returns with small gifts from her : scarves, mittens, sometimes snacks; mocking him as if kindness were something shameful.

Years pass. He grows older, more withdrawn with each passing day. He begins helping her around the house, even when she tells him he doesn’t need to. He thinks his life is finally becoming peaceful. That maybe, as long as the Zenins keep ignoring him, he can survive without drawing attention to himself. Maybe even live better that way.

Then, after he turns ten, his father throws him into the curse-filled pit.

He fights so bravely.

By the time he claws his way out, blood drips from the cut on his lip. He doesn’t run back to the Zenin estate. Instead, he goes to her. Somehow, with the last of his strength, he manages to knock on her door before collapsing.

When he wakes up, she’s bandaging his wounds.

He doesn’t understand why the Zenins come searching for him afterward. They’ve always ignored him, so why do they need him now?

After that day, his training grows even harsher. He can rarely meet his Oba-chan anymore. But whenever he does, he notices one thing hasn’t changed.

Her warmth never falters.

His teenage years pass in a blur of classes and brutal training, and when his routine allows it running errands for Oba-san. He feels he’s too old now to call her Oba-chan, so he settles into Oba-san instead.

She scolds him often, tells him to sit down and rest, but he notices things she doesn’t say out loud how she’s growing older, how simple tasks tire her more easily than before, how her hands would shake.

The Zenins see him working in her garden, carrying her groceries. They scoff and move on with their day, as if he were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

One day, as he helps her make dumplings, she says, her voice calm but firm,“Toji, once you’re grown, choose a better life for yourself. You don’t need the Zenins’ validation.”

He only hums in response, carefully folding a dumpling with his rough fingers. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t dislike the idea either.

Slowly, he begins to prepare.

He sneaks out to learn about the world beyond the Zenin estate, and what he learns quickly is this: the world is far more big and versatile than the rigid rules, pride, and arrogance he’s been raised under.

By the time he’s about to turn eighteen, his plan is set.

He’ll run away on his birthday. Take whatever work he can find odd jobs, part-time hustles and slowly carve out a place for himself beyond the estate’s walls.

The night he runs away, he meets only one person who truly matters.

As expected, she’s cooking a New Year’s meal. When he knocks, she pulls him inside happily, urging him to sit and eat. But this time, he stops her.

“I’m leaving, Oba-san,” he says softly. “Thank you… for everything.”

She pauses. Concern and confusion trace the lines of her smile, but she doesn’t ask many questions. Instead, she packs him food for the road and presses it into his hands before he goes.

The last words she says to him stay with him forever, “You’re stronger than you think. Stay healthy out there.”

After that, his life becomes ordinarily extraordinary.

Eventually, he finds love with a Fushiguro girl. The warmth she gives him feels achingly familiar, like something he once knew long ago. When he marries her, he returns to visit Oba-san.

His heart twists when he sees her house.

The once-beautiful garden is swallowed by tall grass. The wind chime hangs broken and silent. Later, he learns from the people in the neighborhood, she passed away from old age a few years ago. The neighbours handled her funeral. No family. No relatives. No one else came.

On the day he learns his wife is pregnant, on the day he realizes he’s going to be a father, he returns one last time.

Toji’s daily life became borderline boring. He almost knew every family in the town, and yet, somehow, he liked this life. More than his parlays. More than his assassination jobs. In a few years, he became so used to the name “Daichi” that he almost started forgetting his old one.

At night, he would think to himself that maybe this wasn’t so bad. A steady income. Friendly neighbors. Old ladies growing fond of him. Housewives fanning themselves while he fixed things around their homes… It was something he could live with.

His life was becoming peaceful.

Then you moved into town from India.

You had gotten a job in Tokyo, and this town had the cheapest apartment that was still decently close to your office. But the day you moved in, the sparkle of starting a new life vanished from your eyes after seeing the condition of the apartment.

No wonder it was this cheap.

You called the landlord, and all he said was,

“Don’t worry. Call Daichi, he’ll fix it.”

Then he cut the call.

You stared at your screen in disbelief when your landlord sent you the number of a repair shop. You cursed under your breath in your mother tongue before calling that number, almost begging the man on the other end to come to your house immediately and make it at least somewhat livable.

You were pacing in the hallway when that “Daichi” guy arrived. You had expected some middle-aged man with a stereotypical handyman look, but what you got instead?

A bored-looking handsome man who seemed more interested in going back home than fixing an entire apartment because of a last-minute call. If you weren’t panicking, you might have even mistaken him for a model or maybe a wrestler with that kind of build.

You kept bowing and apologizing in your broken Japanese while he started fixing the apartment. His expression looked almost annoyed and bored. He muttered something about you being irresponsible and careless, and surprisingly, you listened with a long face, staring at the floor like a toddler caught in the middle of mischief.

Honestly, you regretted signing the rent agreement without even looking at the apartment first.

After fixing the last broken window, Toji oops Daichi sighed and said he didn’t want to charge you, considering you had clearly been scammed with this place. You nodded silently but still pushed some cash toward him. You would have joked, maybe even flirted with such a handsome man, but you were too heartbroken over your own stupidity.

Before leaving, Daichi offered to help you around the town.

Surprised, you looked up at him and asked why he would do that.

He chuckled like it was obvious before answering that a foreigner like you might get scammed again if you weren’t careful. And with that, he left.

From then on, Daichi became your hope; your savior (not literally, just a man you could trust in an unknown country). He helped you with your terrible apartment since you couldn’t leave yet (thanks to the rent agreement). Somehow, he even became your basic Japanese tutor after he saw you practicing with a language-learning app.

Slowly, the same town you once thought was full of fraud started to feel warm. You realized your apartment was just one of the few bad things about the place. Otherwise, the town itself was lovely.

Thanks to Daichi, you met an adorable old lady who helped you with groceries and taught you how to shop at the market. It felt natural when she invited you to celebrate the Japanese New Year with her.

To your surprise, Daichi was there too, along with almost half of the neighborhood.

You naturally tagged along with him… well, because you didn’t really know anyone else.

You didn’t know Japanese alcohol was that strong.

One shot after another, and you lost count of how much you drank.

The next morning, when you woke up in a different apartment and rubbed your eyes to understand where you were, you realized someone was sleeping beside you. Bare back facing you, a blanket covering him only up to his hips.

Then you looked down at yourself.

Record scratch

Wait… where were your clothes?

You quickly pulled the blanket up to your chest, accidentally tugging it away from the man beside you.

He grumbled,

“Aren’t you too energetic after last night?”

Your eyes widened.

You recognized that voice, even though it sounded groggy and sleepy.

It was your very own, reliable handyman—Daichi.

You leaned closer and whispered hesitantly,

“Daichi?”

Instead of answering, he reached back and grabbed your wrist.

Whoosh

Suddenly, you were tucked against his chest.

“What,” he murmured, “regretting last night already?”

You could feel his firm muscles pressed against you, his warmth seeping into your skin. You gulped before asking the question, even though the answer felt obvious.

“So… we… did it?”

Daichi raised an eyebrow, then smirked beneath his beard.

“By ‘it’, if you mean sex then... yes.”

You were about to sit up immediately, but his arms wrapped around you like iron bands.

“What?” he asked, “Not impressed that your handyman fixed you?”

Your eyes widened as you slapped his chest.

“Daichi!”

That only made him laugh in that husky, seductive morning voice of his. He kissed your temple before sitting up shamelessly, not caring about the lack of clothing on him.

“I think I prefer the way you said my name last night.”

You groaned and buried your face in the pillow, though the blush burning on your ears was impossible to hide.

After that, things continued in a strange routine, or maybe they simply fell into a rhythm.

You would wake up, go to work, come back home, and call Daichi either to fix something in your apartment for the nth time or to teach you more Japanese. Sometimes, the two of you ended up on your bed. Sometimes on your creaky couch.

It wasn’t always about fucking each other's brains out.

Sometimes it was just cuddling.

Sometimes you were venting to him about why Japanese had to be so hard.

Sometimes he scolded you for still living in a place that was practically a safety hazard.

And somehow… you liked that rhythm.

It was another day.

Daichi was under your bed.

Why?

Because during your nightly activities, the bed frame had loosened from the way he thrusted in your pussy like he was possessed.

Your dear Daichi was already scolding you, saying that you might get hurt just from living in this apartment (the same old words again) but you weren’t listening.

Your eyes were focused on the way his torso stuck out from beneath the bed, his happy trail disappearing into his joggers.

If Toji I mean, Daichi had been looking at you, he would have seen your pupils turning heart-shaped.

Smiling to yourself, you leaned down to press a kiss to his chest and snuggled against him.

You felt his movements still for a second before he let out a quiet chuckle.

“Not even going to let me finish fixing the bed?” he asked.

You sighed and hummed softly.

“I want to talk.”

He finally pushed himself out from under the bed. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you close as he looked at you and asked softly,

“Mm… what is it?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows and whispered with a small smile,

“I think… I like you.”

His eyes softened. The constant cocky look on his face melted into something gentler before he cupped your nape and pulled you down for a kiss.

Within seconds, your lips were on his, his fingers threading and tangling through your hair. When he bit your lower lip with a low growl, you whimpered, “Daichi…”

He licked the spot he had bitten and murmured in a needy voice, “Call me Toji.”

You blinked and mumbled between his kisses, “What? Why?”

He froze.

You saw realization dawn on his face.

In the next second, he pulled away from you and stood up abruptly. You sat up, stunned, watching him grab his shirt and pull it on.

You hurried to fix your own clothes and hair, following his movements with your eyes.

“What happened?” you asked, “Who’s Toji? Are we role-playing? Where are you going?”

He paused at the door.

Without turning back, he said, “I… I need to go fix a roof.”

Then, more quietly, “Don’t wait for me.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving you sitting on the floor, staring at the closed door in shock.

To be continued~~

But that day, he somehow managed to get a hold of you at your apartment. He kept pestering you, demanding to know why you were ignoring him, and you lied, said you were trying to date and wanted something permanent.

“I’ll give you something permanent.”

That’s all you heard from Toji before he dragged you into your bedroom and.... well, to be specific, he wrecked you in the most delicious way possible.

By the time you reached your second orgasm with him, you were a goner. You were clinging to him, kissing him wherever you could, and you still weren’t sure if you heard it right in that sex-drunk state (you never asked him either), but between his grunts you heard something that sounded like, “I love you.”

You were glowing after that night. You knew you should’ve taken the morning-after pill, but something about that night didn’t let you.

And when you missed your next period, you were sure.

Still, you went to your OB-GYN, got tested.

Positive.

You were so happy. You thought you would be angry if you ever got pregnant with Toji, but the case turned out to be completely different.

Still, you went to his house, flashed the report in his face, and pretended to argue with him about getting pregnant, because honestly, you didn’t know how else to tell him. And you still remember the way he tried to hold back a smile while calming you down.

Once you were calmer, he asked almost too subtly, “So… what are you planning after this?”

You swear it wasn’t your pregnancy hormones when you hit his chest with your palm.

“Raise the child. What else would I be doing?”

He nodded, then quickly escaped into the kitchen with an excuse about getting you some water—but you definitely caught the way he was smiling like an idiot.

The next nine months were a roller coaster.

The morning sickness was so bad that Toji started staying over at your place. He silently curated every weird pregnancy craving you had, gave you your medicines, took you to appointments. He even handled your tantrums surprisingly well especially on the days when your hormones took over and you ended up crying over a leaf.

Somewhere during those nine months, you demanded that Toji bring Megumi over.

God knows where you found the courage, but you didn’t let it go. You ate his ear off until he finally agreed that Megumi should know about you and about his half-sibling.

That toddler turned out to be the cutest, quietest boy you had ever seen. He was a little scared at first, but your warm smile and gentle acceptance eased him quickly.

Even Toji found himself stunned by how easily Megumi would fall asleep on your lap, something he never did with his own father.

You decided not to find out the baby’s gender until birth. But you had already predicted it. Because after Toji saw the gender-confirming ultrasound, he bought so many tiny clothes which was biggest giveaway but you didn't mind.

Then one day, while Megumi was sitting on the floor, quietly drawing with his crayons, your water broke.

Toji was in the backyard. But the moment Megumi came running, he dropped whatever he was doing, picked you up bridal-style, and rushed you to the car. For a moment, you genuinely thought he might forget Megumi, maybe the hospital bag too.

Thankfully, he didn’t.

You later found out from your best friend (yes, she came too, because you couldn’t leave Megumi alone in the hospital corridor while Toji was in the OT with you) that Megumi had been incredibly brave during the whole thing. His tiny hands were clenched into fists as he kept asking if you were okay.

Inside the room, Toji stayed right beside you. You were scolding him for getting you pregnant while he rubbed your back, murmuring encouragement, telling you to push.

And then... it finally happened.

You heard the small cry.

Through your tears, the sweat, the exhausted gasps, you heard the nurse say, “It’s a girl.”

You felt Toji’s lips press against your temple. Then you heard his voice shaky, almost broken.

“Our girl.”

As they placed the baby on your chest you felt her tiny fingers trying to grip your hospital gown. You were sobbing, not because of the pain, but from the overwhelming feeling of giving birth.

The medical team carefully took her to cut the umbilical cord. Then the nurse looked at Toji.

“So, ready for skin-to-skin?”

You had to hold back a chuckle at the confused look on Toji’s face as the nurse explained what skin-to-skin meant. He took his shirt off with the same puzzled expression, muttering something that sounded like, “Did I do this with Megumi too?”

You could never forget the look on his face when they placed the baby girl in his arms. Even one of his palms was bigger than her entire body. He looked torn between awe and fear as he gently rocked her against his bare chest.

That was the last thing you saw before they took you to a hospital ward after cleaning you up. Through your hazy vision, you caught a glimpse of Toji walking around the hospital corridor; shirtless, holding your daughter.

When the nurses tried to feed you something, the first demand you made was to see Megumi. You were worried; really worried about him. So when he finally came in, walking at his usual calm pace, you couldn’t help but sit up, even as the nurses tried to lay you back down.

You knew he needed you. He was only five years old. He hadn’t seen either of you for hours, ofcourse he needed you.

When they lifted him onto your hospital bed, you checked on him with gentle care. Soon enough, he was snuggling close to your side, asking questions in his soft, quiet voice.

When Toji came in holding your daughter, saying the doctors said you could feed her now, Megumi didn’t move away. He watched his baby sister with curious eyes as you breastfed her. You kissed the top of Megumi’s head and whispered, “You’ll always be my first baby. No one can ever replace that.”

And Toji?

He sat at the foot of your bed, looking at the three of you. He never thought he would become a father again. He still couldn’t believe how her tiny hands had rested on his chest so trustingly during skin-to-skin.

Silently, his heart was already vowing to protect these people at all costs.

The three of you had many sweet arguments over her name. But in the end, you, Toji; even Megumi agreed on Himari. After all, she truly was the sunshine of your household.

You knew she was a new beginning for all your lives and you were right. Everything became exciting, hectic, exhausting… all at once.

The worst part was your postpartum. You always say that if it weren’t for Toji, you wouldn’t have survived it. That’s why, when he had to take his first mission after Himari was born, you broke.

You cried. You shouted. You begged him not to go.

But he had to after all.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you held Himari and Megumi in your arms and said,

“I’ll never forgive you if you don’t come back, Toji Fushiguro!.”

He had to force himself from looking away and walk through the main door with no promises whatsoever.

Then, after almost a month...

He returned.

You were sleeping in the master bedroom with both your kids. The exhaustion of handling two little gremlins had dragged you into a deep sleep. Sometime after midnight, you woke up, feeling something heavy around you.

As the haze of sleep lifted, you realized it was arms.

Then the familiar warmth hit you.

You turned quickly, almost forgetting the kids were still sleeping beside you. He only grumbled sleepily, “Mhmm… you’re gonna wake them up.”

Your tears were already there. You chuckled through them as you lightly slapped his chest.

“You actually came back.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and tightened his hold around you before whispering, “I came back for the kids.”