Surplus of arms

“No, I’m fine here.”

“It might be more comfortable if you just—”

“I’m comfortable here,” he maintained. “The truth is, I’ve been stuck between the same four walls for two days, so this change of scenery does me a world of good.” He paused, his lips shifting into a slow, knowing smile. “Besides, I like the view I have here now.”

As the compliment landed, a wave of warmth bloomed beneath your skin, catching you by surprise.

You were still acclimating to your newfound closeness to Nanami, still getting used to having inhibitions organically fade between you, particularly during private moments like this.

“Okay, if you say so,” you said, averting your gaze to his empty cup of tea on the coffee table, but not before catching his sly smile.

At least he seemed to be in slightly better shape than an hour ago.

Nanami had tried, fruitlessly so, to convince you not to intervene and risk catching his cold while he was still recovering. But a deep-seated certainty, as strong as the unwavering resolve in your voice, assured him that once you sensed the congestion he’d failed to hide on the phone, he’d be unable to convince you otherwise.

Sure enough, less than an hour later, you turned up at his door, equipped with a few ingredients and a care package you threw together to help him get through the worst of it.

Now here you were, taking notice of the teapot that sat on the coffee table, its lid discarded next to the book from which Nanami had yet to read, and its contents long gone. You crouched down to gather it along with his cup to prepare another tea.

“I’ll refill this for you. When did you last take the cold tablets?”

“The yellow pills, daytime.”

You paused to register and decode Nanami’s reply.

“Yes, the daytime pills, but when did you take them?”

Kento slowly blinked back at you, as if deciphering your question.

“Ah, around ten thirty, just before you got here,” he said with a slight shake of his head. “Sorry, I’m a little out of it,” he added with a nervous laugh, which you couldn’t help but mirror.

“No worries,” you said with a quick glance at your watch, “Alright, so just under an hour… How was your fever this morning? Did you take your temperature?”

“It was not bad.”

“‘Not bad’ isn’t a temperature, Kento.”

“I know it isn’t…” he trailed off with another nervous laugh.

“What are your worst symptoms now? Help me out here, how are you actually feeling? ”

Nanami suppressed a cough as if on cue, wincing before he offered a sheepish smile. “Better, now that you’re here. Though I do feel a bit guilty about that.”

His flushed face gained an even deeper allure, with a rosy tint spreading across his cheeks as he rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“I won’t have it, Kento. That’s what I’m here for. And I want to be here.”

As your eyes met again, a subtle spark of amusement danced in his eyes, betraying nothing of his thoughts.

“Wait…What is it?” you cautiously asked.

“So you don’t think any less of me now that you’ve seen all this?” he asked as he extricated his arm with a rustle of the blanket and gestured vaguely towards himself and the space he’d claimed.

“You’re human, Nanami Kento. You know that, right? That it’s normal for humans to get sick sometimes? Even when they’re badass Grade 1 sorcerers?”

“Oh, good, she still thinks I’m badass,” Nanami said as he closed his eyes, a relaxed and liberated mirth escaping his lips.

Yet another unguarded moment that tickled you.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had such a vain side to you,” you stated with an air of feigned astonishment.

As you pushed yourself back onto your feet, you watched as Nanami brought a hand up to his hair, disheveling it further than it already was.

“I do have a vain side. It’s why I took that hair serum of yours with me the other day,” he said, his laugh only continuing.

Nanami’s words caused you to halt mid-motion, and were it not for the mischievously expectant gleam in his eyes as they met yours, you would have convinced yourself that you’d misheard him. He spoke again before you could react.

“I intended to return it before the week was out, but my immune system clearly had other plans,” he casually added.

“Kento… You stole my serum? The castor oil one?”

“I borrowed a flask. You did say you just stocked up. Your first mistake was putting that luxurious thing in my hair. I’ve never had such soft hair in my life. Smelling like, what was it you said, baobab?”

You let out a scoffing laugh as you processed what you were hearing.

“You know, this practically sounds like you stole my serum and are somehow blaming me for it…” you remarked as you finally rose the rest of the distance back to your feet, now towering over him.

At your newly assumed position, Nanami stopped running his hand through his hair and peered up at you.

He gave you a deliberate, lingering look, scrutinizing you as if he’d never seen you before. His eyes slowly traveled upwards, beginning at the cinched belt of your dress, tracing the line of detailed buttons all the way to your neck, and then finally settling on your face.

“This dress really suits you,” he murmured.

“I—thank you…”

“Is it new?”

“It’s new-ish… I bought it some time ago but never got the chance to wear it,” you cut off as you crossed your arms. “Hey. Don’t think you’ll be dodging this thievery business with flattery, sir.”

“You wore a new outfit to come see me, and I’m sitting here looking like this…”

As you observed Nanami’s lips twist into something approaching a proper pout, you wondered whether it was his fever haze, the loopy side effects of his medicine, or some diabolical third other thing that had rendered him in such rare form.

You laughed at his reaction, because whatever it was, you certainly didn’t hate it.

“I’d sooner judge that non-breakfast you told me you had. With your crackers and canned what was it?”

“Coughing and muscle aches.”

“Excuse me?”

“Those are the symptoms you asked about.”

It took you a moment to realize that he was answering your question from earlier in the exchange, to register how chaotically comedic this conversation was going.

You gave an amused scoff as you watched him avert your gaze and pretend to be engrossed in the book he had yet to open since you walked in.

He was messing with you. He had to be. You saw what this was now.

“Alright, since you have enough energy to be in such rare form, Nanami-san,” you said as you turned your back and crossed the distance to the counter towards one of the bags you brought along with you, before fishing a small container you were now happy to have acquired on the quick pharmacy run you made before coming here.

You found Nanami carefully watching you as you approached him once more, hazel lucidity pooling like honey in his irises as you casually settled astride his lap, bracing your knees on either side of him, causing this new-ish dress of yours to ride up, just enough to capture his attention and have him linger there for a short but no less noticed moment.

You smiled at this, keeping one hand tucked behind your back, fingers curled around the instrument of your small scheme. Only once he finally met your gaze did you speak again.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Pardon me?” It was his turn to let out a baffling laugh.

“You heard me,” you said, tone and expression all mischief as you leaned in by fractions. You gently pulled his readers off his face, placing them on the sofa’s arm before planting your hand by his face to brace yourself, all without averting your gaze.

“I’m more than likely contagious, love. This isn’t wise…” he murmured, his voice lacking conviction as his hands, warm and familiar, settled on your hips.

You let a lingering moment pass before you extended your hidden hand, maneuvering it into the narrow gap between you to reveal a tiny jar of VapoRub.

“Relieves coughing and muscle aches, just as you need. I’ll apply it for you, but you’ll have to take your shirt off first.”

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, his demeanor seemed to ease.

You shifted your weight backward to allow him the room to do as instructed. Kento worked to remove his shirt and undershirt while you opened the small tub, and the unexpectedly loud pop of its lid emphasized the peaceful quiet between you, punctuated by the soft simmering sound of your soup in the background.

With your fingers, you carefully gathered a small amount of the mentholated balm, feeling it warm against your fingertips as you lifted your gaze to find his. You were so close now, close enough to take in the light layer of overnight stubble that had emerged along his jawline, granting him a rugged edge that softened his sharp lines.

There was no confusion, no drug-induced haze in his eyes anymore. As you fixed him, taking in this rare display of earnest vulnerability, your own words echoed in your mind.

You know you’re human, right, Nanami?

When you'd asked that question, it was both rhetorical and tongue-in-cheek, but as you watched Nanami Kento now, as he slowly lowered a certain wall you hadn’t realized him to hold until this very moment, all you wanted was to drill the statement into his mind until he truly accepted it.

Your lips must have inadvertently tugged into a smile because you found Nanami cautiously mirroring it before he spoke, his voice low.

“What are you scheming now?”

“No scheming. Not at the moment, at least,” you replied as you slowly reached for him, bringing your finger to the center of his chest, feeling it yield to the warmth of his skin, cooling as it slowly absorbed. With your palm flattened against him, you traced a path from his sternum outwards, continuously gauging his expression for any discomfort.

The contrast of your cool touch over his untouched surfaces made Nanami twitch ever so slightly on contact, so you went light and careful, taking in the shape of him as you applied the ointment in measured strokes, slow enough to be gentle, firm enough to create the friction needed to maximize the treatment’s effect.

By now, the scent of menthol had dominantly taken over, tickling slightly at your eyes, but still you remained focused and unhurried, reapplying enough product to allow for a thick layer to form on Nanami’s chest, as he sat back, gradually relaxing under your touch as he quietly watched you.

You worked your way up to the base of his throat, where your touch lightened further, and you slowed the further up you moved. Nanami tilted his head just far enough to grant you better access, but not so far that he couldn’t keep his gaze on you.

“I like this…” he breathed out, his umpteenth confession of the morning, perhaps his most sincere.

“You like being sick?” you teased, playfully peering at him to gauge his reaction.

To this, Nanami chuckled and momentarily closed his eyes, as if to contemplate his response.

“If that’s what it takes…” he trailed off.

“You know it’s not.”

“I know, I know…”

An easy silence found you once more, and you continued like this for a while, watching him more than your own movements, adjusting instinctively to every small twitch, to every shifting breath of his.

“I like this too,” you heard yourself say, the words slipping out after a moment. “I know you’re trying to make light of all this, and that you don’t want me to worry. But let me worry sometimes.”

Let me take care of you sometimes.

The last portion of your reflection would remain unspoken. But as your hand lingered with each pass, as you sought to support the man who was always grounding others, ground himself, to wordlessly but no less sincerely convey through your acts that he wasn’t alone in carrying any of his burdens, big or small.

Once you were done, you didn’t pull away immediately, resting your palm back on his chest again, just over where his pulse felt the strongest, your certain gaze searching his as you allowed for the moment to sink in before finally withdrawing and grabbing a tissue to wipe any excess ointment from your hands.

When you reached for his shirt, Kento moved to lift his arms unprompted, allowing you to slip his shirt back on, carefully easing it over his body so as not to smear the product out of place.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his hands moving to your hips once more as you readjusted to lean towards him and gently pressed your lips to his forehead, finally pulling back with a smile.

“I’m here, so rest up, big guy. The soup will be done in a bit. I’ll bring some more tea.”

“Can I ask you something?” His eyebrows drew together in a furrow of uncertainty.

“Anything.”

“Can you bring that serum over from the bathroom? Now that the cat’s out of the bag, I think I could use some just about now…”

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “She was older—seventeen. Smelled like sea salt and oil paints, and sometimes, when she pressed a cold soda can to her wrist, it would glow faintly. Like—” he gestured vaguely, “like bioluminescence or something.”

He paused, then smirked, remembering something half-fond, half-infuriating. “I asked her about it once—why her arm did that.”

His voice shifted, mimicking hers, lighter, teasing—“‘Same reason yours does, I guess.’”

His fingers brushed his bicep briefly, like he was remembering the spot behind his left shoulder blade where his own mark glowed. “No one ever talked about it, not really. But when we walked into a room together, the grown-ups always went quiet. Like we’d tracked sand onto an antique carpet. Like we weren’t supposed to be touching.”

He exhaled sharply, letting the memory settle before pushing forward. “But she always smiled at me.”

His hand moved to his hair absently, something like muscle memory. “She said it had the shine of stormwater. Made me sit still while she braided it, like it was some ritual.”

The corner of his mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but something close. “I let her.”

And he didn’t say it, but the unspoken words lingered in the space between breaths.

Of course he did.

What else was there to do.

Megumi exhaled, shifting in his chair. “I grew up in this weird little town by the sea.”

He said it like a confession, weighted. “The streets were mossy and cracked. The tide never followed the forecast—it always came in early, like the ocean had somewhere to be.”

He rubbed his thumb against his knuckle absently, lost in thought. “People there whispered in circles. My uncle sold gas and always kept a lantern lit, like he was waiting for something. Her mom read fortunes for tourists.”

A pause. Then—“But us?”

He shifted forward slightly, elbows on his knees, eyes far away. “We had our own world.”

His voice softened just a fraction. “She built a fort behind her house with driftwood and orange tarps. That was our summer embassy. I brought notebooks. She brought stolen cigarettes she never lit.”

A quiet chuckle, like the memory still amused him. “Told me she was going to be an artist. I told her I’d find dead things for her to draw.”

The corner of his mouth twitched—an almost-smile, something old and fond. “It was a pact. A promise. I was sixteen. It already felt too big for my chest.”

Silence. Then, “Once, I cut my hand on a broken seashell. She kissed the blood and said—”

He tilted his head slightly, voice dipping lower, mimicking hers.

‘Your soul’s too loud, Megumi. That’s why the ocean talks back.’

He let the words hang for a beat, exhaling through his nose like he was tasting them again. “I didn’t understand it then.”

Another pause. “But I remember how she said my name.”

His fingers curled against his palm, subtle, instinctive. “Not like a sound. Like a vow.”

Megumi exhaled, tapping his thumb against the edge of the table. He wasn’t looking at the person across from him—not really. “Sometimes, when I snapped near her, my back tingled.”

His voice stayed steady, but there was something quieter underneath it. “I didn’t even know what a soulmark was back then. Just knew that in the summer heat, when she dozed near me on the bus home, something under my skin would shimmer. Like—” he hesitated, searching for the right word. “Like a memory dying to be remembered like it’s the only thing that mattered between life and death.”

There was a pause.

Then the person opposite him finally spoke.

“So, were you two ever… intimate? The soulmark must have been unbearable in that proximity.”

It wasn’t asked crudely, but clinically. Evaluative. As if there was an expected answer.

Megumi didn’t respond right away. His fingers stilled over the lip of his water glass.

Then he tilted his head slightly. His gaze lifted—not in confrontation, but calculation. The corners of his mouth twitched upward in something not quite a smile. A tick. Like a failed reflex.

“You think we could ignore it?”

He spoke softly. Without triumph or apology. Just a low, slow echo of an old truth that won’t stop hurting.

There had been classifications to these things.

Bond Intensity Grades, listed in columns in academic papers with sanitized acronyms—PBI, SDI, TCS.

His and hers had registered as a Tier S Somatic Symbiote Match when they were still teenagers.

The kind that lit up cortical imaging like wildfire.

The kind that made the skin warm even through walls.

The kind that made sleep impossible in separation and madness a quiet inevitability.

The kind you wrote about in research but never experienced if you were unlucky.

Or if you were the white-haired man.

Megumi had spent years studying those patterns in other people. But in his case, it had never been theoretical. His own soulmate mark—first a pale shimmer at the nape of his neck, later a branded flare of bioluminescent sprawl across his back and jawline—had darkened over time. Turned brittle at the edges. Now it looked half-scar, half-something with roots, or just burnt.

A wound trying to heal over a ghost limb.

Sometimes, he scratched at it in his sleep.

But the worst one was the pharyngeal burn—the patch tucked low behind the tendon at the side of his throat.

Right where a collar might hide it.

Where no one could see how it sometimes twitched when she was near (he’d look everywhere; she never had been) or how it ached when she was not.

Even now, as he spoke of her, his fingers drifted up—not to touch the place directly, but just to hover. Like his body was still unable to adjust to her absence.

By all means, he should have gone insane by now. It was a miracle, they’d said. After such a bond, it was ‘a big deal’ he was still functional.

Megumi wished he was insane.

Maybe then being alive wouldn’t hurt. Waking up wouldn’t feel like being cursed into the same nightmare everyday.

Or maybe he had already gone insane, and it was all just his imagination.

Or maybe just a small maybe she was still...

He exhaled slowly for control.

“I begged her,” he admitted at last, voice flattening with restraint. “To let me kiss her before she turned eighteen.”

There was a stillness, the words settling like dust.

“Before her birthday. I told her—just once. So I had something to look forward to. So the next year wouldn’t feel like drowning in turpentine.”

His hands tightened slightly—barely perceptible, unless you were looking. Like he was holding back the memory from bleeding.

“She wouldn’t let me.” He spat out through gritted teeth.

The room stayed quiet.

He didn’t offer regret, or resentment, or wounded pride. He didn’t perform heartbreak the way the unbonded imagined it.

He just said it plainly. Like a report. Rain again. She didn’t let me.

Then, after a pause, his thumb traced slowly across his left wrist—where once, at fifteen, she had painted a line in indigo ink. Not a mark. Not the official one. Just her version of it. Her way of marking him when the universe hadn’t done it yet.

She’d said, “It’s a map. So you can find your way back to me.”

And she had been right. Even after—no message, no warning—he kept returning to it. In dreams. In research. In the back of lecture halls where his students presented laughable theories about oxytocin cycles and socio-biological impulses.

He never corrected them.

Because there was no lecture, no journal entry, no chart or citation that could explain the way your throat burned only for one person in the world. The way your skin remembered another’s fingers like they were home. The way absence wasn’t a metaphor—it was a disease.

Megumi exhaled, rubbing the back of his hand against his jaw like he was trying to ground himself.

“She disappeared the next week.”

The words came matter-of-fact. Too sharp to be detached, too controlled to be grief.

“The house was locked. Her driftwood fort collapsed in the rain. Her mom’s garden was abandoned, leaves rusting like they were never meant to move.”

His fingers tapped against his knee, rhythmic, absentminded.

“Nobody told me anything. Just silence. When I asked my uncle, he shrugged and said—” his voice flattened, mimicking, ‘That’s how things go sometimes, kid.’

A beat.

“I threw up in the alley behind the shrine that night.”

He said it like a fact again. Detached, like he’d long stopped feeling real.

“Later, I went back to the fort and slept in it alone. The tarps flapped like ghost wings.”

He chuckled, but his gaze flickered upward for a second, past the room, past the listener.

“Her sketchbook was still there. Half-finished. The last page was a drawing of my back.”

His lips pressed together. His fingers curled slightly.

“Her fingerprints were smudged into the paper.”

Silence stretched, settling heavier than tar.

Then his gaze dropped to his wrist. His thumb brushed absently against the skin there—against the mark, the shimmer, the proof that hadn’t faded yet.

A/N: What do you think happened to her? 👀

Next Chapter [Tumblr/Ao3]

Beta: @/blackrimmedrose

Header & quote banner are by me, line dividers are by @cursed-carmine, engagement banner by @saradika-graphics.

Masterlist

The slumber twists his muscles in tight knots that he slowly irons out with each shaky step towards the bedroom door, grunting as he reaches his hands to the sky and a gravelly yawn resounds from his throat.

Kento opens the door with a creak, running a hand where the faint cowlick over the scarred skin of the left side of his head is more apparent thanks to your shared bed being overrun with stubborn little roommates.

The puffiness under his eyes, one hollow, is now attributed to something else besides the daunting demands of jujutsu.

It's far more rewarding in the form of a world that thrives on syrup, berries, crayons, and tentative routine based on the chattering whims of the little princesses strolling sleepily towards the hallway in a row.

"That's one, two..." Kento yawns, pausing as the expected last pair of feet never makes an entrance.

He tiptoes back to the bed, careful not to disturb you.

"...three." Kento hums and plucks your youngest daughter, affectionately nicknamed Noodle, from her hiding spot underneath the covers where you're still sleep.

"Stay put, love." Kento whispers when you begin to sit up, sinking immediately back into the beckoning from the newly charged cold side of your pillow, the nagging of your sleep deficit that could never go fulfilled, and the sudden leg room that was so hard to come by these days when the kids had nightmares.

Small cries break the silence from the bassinet next to you before you can even blink, and with a groan you rise and tend to your baby boy with a tired smile.

-----

"HapPY ANnIvERsaRY!!"

A slightly off-key chorus greets you when you eventually emerge into the flour-dusted kitchen, warm with the scent of what smells like lingering vanilla, maple soaking into a large stack of haphazardly stacked waffles, and a fresh bouquet of wildflowers in the famous beloved chipped coffee mug that never deserted its repurposed role as a vase.

"Oh my goodness! Breakfast?"

"From scratch." Kento assures, ragged breath leaving his lungs from managing an overrun kitchen as he leans in to kiss you.

"Wasn't expecting the change up."

You beam politely and stumble as your eldest daughter, lovingly known as Jellybean, pulls out your chair for you, almost a little too far, nearly causing you to fall flat on your ass.

"Oop- but I'll take this over the diner any day."

"The diner is still on the itinerary. I was merely momentarily overruled." Kento wearily explains as he takes dishes out of the cupboard, passing it down the assembly line of Jellybean, Bee(your second eldest daughter), then Noodle, who slams her fists down on her placemat, fork and knife in hand.

"Despite my reminder..." Kento gives her a stern eyebrow to which she straightens up. "...that we would be eating in less than two hours at the restaurant, the girls insisted there must be homemade waffles. So naturally, we made homemade waffles. "

cough cough

"Oh, yes. By the brilliance of Bee's mind this clever idea was hatched. By Bee alone, and Bee nonetheless."

"Rgkgkl!" Noodle chimes in with a pout.

"You did provide exemplary support, Noodle. You're right." Kento ruffles her hair and she grins triumphantly while it's Bee's turn to sulk at her perceived dimmed spotlight.

"A respectable leader acknowledges the work of others." Kento reminds her, before beginning to cut up Noodle's waffle before she implodes from impatience.

"I'm sorry mother couldn't watch the kids." Kento states regretfully in a lower voice, leaning in to place a hand on your thigh before handing off Noodle's plate like a zookeeper to a hangry lion with piranha teeth.

"Oh no, she needed the rest." You reassure him cheerfully, trying to stuff down the resurfaced disappointment in your tone that might lead to another lump in your throat if you dwelled on it too long.

You had noticed the cancelled reservation for one of the resorts near the city that you had on your couple's bucket list for quite some time on Kento's laptop last night that led to a downpour of tears after everyone was asleep.

Today was a day you looked forward to all year long after all, for the time spent with Kento to remember what it felt like to exist as a couple again. But, the cancellation was for good reason.

You recall seeing Mamma Nanami on the video call, her voice thick with exhaustion that Kento registered early on as abnormal.

-----

"How are the petunias, Mamma?" Kento asked his mother, balancing a scheming Bubba(nickname for your baby boy), in his lap before he snatched the phone with his chubby hands, shoving it into his mouth. "Hey!"

"Yes, hello, little Bubba." Mamma Nanami coughs while Bubba and Kento engage in a brief tug-of-war for the phone.

"They're well. However, I didn't get to spend as long on them yesterday as I would've liked." Cough "I'll need to wait to plant the new seedlings next weekend." Cough cough cough

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just an itch in my throat."

Pause.

Hack, COUGH

"I've been drinking tea with honey."

She lifts up the tea cup to the camera with a shaky hand, pausing to take a polite sip. "I came in early yesterday because I was lightheated, but I'm doing much better this afternoon."

Kento narrows his gaze, squirming more uncomfortably as he stops wrestling with Bubba for a moment as his mother's words land, which were becoming more clear that they were completely out of the norm for someone who he always thought of first when it came to the epitome of heath.

"Mor. You're not fine. I don't think you should be traveling here to watch the kids anytime soon. "

"Oh, Kento. I'm fine, I insist."

"As do I. Are you really sure you're well enough to travel tomorrow?"

"Yes, of course!" Mamma Nanami shifts, allowing her beloved Boston Terrier, Franz, to say hello to the camera.

Franz blinks, his bug beady eyes which were usually carefree with his lavish lifestyle betray a hint of tiredness and fear, knowing he would have more responsibilities on his paws to take care of his beloved Mamma while she nurses back to health than usual.

"Mor, please. I'd rather you get some rest. We'll see you soon enough."

"If, *cough*, you say so."

"I do."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Goodbye, Bubba!"

----

"Well, we should eat this immediately if we don't want it to get cold." Kento pauses, checking his watch. "Damn." He mutters as the time, possibly the only thing more unpredictable than his unruly team of sous chefs, got away from him despite his ample planning.

"Hey, no, you go shower and get ready, Ken. Seriously, I got it."

"Are you certain?"

*brief pause*

"Of course!" You plaster on a smile as Bubba begins to thrash in your lap like an irrate koala, pawing at your bra where the nursing pad got displaced overnight, already beginning to soak through one of Kento's faded band tees you're wearing.

Noodle shoves forkful after forkful of waffles in her mouth with syrup stained chipmunk cheeks, all while Jellybean and Bee had snuck under the radar and are suspiciously nowhere to be found.

*A faint crash resounds from the living room*

"Oooo."

You can't help but laugh, a mixture of exasperation and amusement while the lines between Kento's eyebrows crinkle with anticipatory exhaustion.

"Sounds like another earthquake has struck Little Nanami." Kento scoots away from the table, referring to your daughters' excessively growing collection of Littlest Pet Shops they organized into a thriving society with a complex legal system and complicated personal interrelationships.

"Oh? It's no longer New Nanami?" You manage to take a bite of waffle, balancing Bubba and wincing momentarily as he latches for his morning feed.

"Midterm elections were held last week." Kento reminds you of the city's recent developments, seceding from the previous oppressive rule of the cockatoo king, stacking some of the dirty dishes in the sink before he turns to go and assess the damage Jellybean and Bee were getting up to.

"Oh, how did that go?"

"There was minimal corruption and voter intimidation at the polls this time, so I'm told." Kento disappears for a moment before calling from around the corner.

"Though the new prime minister elect still needs to prove himself before I'm thoroughly convinced."

You turn your attention to Noodle, who's back to cronching obnoxiously on her waffles like it's her last meal on Earth, doing your best to keep Bubba calm as he begins to whine in protest for more milk.

"Noodle, slow down. Nobody's taking it from you." You shake your head, ruefully muttering under your breath at Noodle's overzealous chewing habits, oddly reminiscent of your husband, who, contrary to popular belief, was far from immune to succumbing to the tantalizing nature of his favorite delicacies.

"You might be worse than Daddy when he orders the sub of the day."

Like Kento, Like Noodle.

Almost as if on cue, Kento strides back into the room, looking relieved.

"There is mild damage to the infrastructure of Little Nanami, including the Twin City Bridge. However it is still functioning with minimal disruptions to the morning flow of traffic, I'm pleased to report."

He pauses. "Though Mrs. Rabbit is expecting again, I'm afraid."

"Oh my. That poor lady needs a break. It's about damn time she stop carrying that entire marriage on her back."

"Mr. Rabbit finally agreed to counseling." Kento bends down, rubbing noses with Bubba, who's more than happy to see his Daddy after his sisters took up more than their fair share of his time this morning.

"Well, I'm gonna need to see all of this for myself. I need a full rundown of all the recent drama."

"If you're lucky, you might get to witness what I believe will be the beginning of a promising character redemption arc for our Mr. Rabbit." Kento grins, bouncing Bubba in his arms.

"Well, what do you think, Noodle? Shall we go watch your sisters while Dad and Bubba get ready? Oh, just great."

You shake your head as Noodle's more interested in demanding chocolate for breakfast part two instead, standing on tiptoe and pawing at the cupboard that you and Kento had to secretly designate as the hiding place for the sweets for the third time in a row.

"I'll be as fast as I can." Kento murmurs, kissing you on your cheek while Bubba shoots you a toothless grin, more than pleased to leave all the hullabaloo behind as he leans on Kento's shoulder, disappearing up the stairs while you corral a stubborn Noodle away from the dessert cupboard.

----

"Are we there yet?"

You and Kento glance at each other as the countryside zips past in a rainy blur of green, munchkins piled in the back of the sleek suburban Kento resigned himself to purchasing, a good substitute for a minivan that he knew Gojo would never let him hear the end of.

"Well, I hope you're okay with making a pit stop, because I do believe you owe me a coffee and a pastry for that one." You murmur.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, hm?" Kento shakes his head, pursing his lips as he leans over to place a hand on your thigh.

"It was my mistake for being so naive as to think we'd complete an entire road trip without that question being asked."

"We can hear you, yanno!"

Kento's good eye flickers to the rearview mirror to a displeased Jellybean, arms folded in the backseat.

"Well, if your mother and I were not so frequently asked questions you already know the answer to, then we wouldn't need to keep a tally, would we?"

"That was Bee!"

"Me?!" Bee leans forward while Jellybean dodges eye contact two seats over, Noodle covering her ears in the middle, who lets out an inhuman screech.

"AYE!!!! We'll have no more of THAT." You groan, fingers clutching your temples.

"Don't instigate them, please, sweetheart." You beg Kento quietly who lets out a deflated sigh.

"Alright. I apologize, my loves."

Silence.

"...for making these comments out in the open. I will keep my thoughts private next time."

You hum and smile as Jellybean and Bee's faces soften, seemingly accepting Kento's apology for now.

"Here we are."

The seaside village limits come into view and your hand intertwines with Kento's, hazy memories surging in a whirlwind every time you visit.

Fashback to an early rainy morning just like this one, with built up breaths and omitted words from handwritten vows slipping out of memory with every passing minute of anticipation until you met each other across that small chapel's altar this day five years ago.

The condensation outside the car builds up with the flowing fog and you smile as Bee takes the opportunity to draw a portrait of Kento fighting a dragon on her window.

---

The cobblestones rumble under the tires as you come up on the diner, with the same peeled chipped paint sign, creaking in the rushing breeze from the blue churning waves of the sea just yards to your right past the brick wall, faded yellow lights coming from the inside and the thick smell of piping hot breakfast food lingering along the windows.

You remember it all too well as you walk towards the door, except the sunlight had escaped the clouds the first time you had entered and your fists held the hem of your flowing wedding dress instead of a sleeping baby and a quarter full bottle of milk.

The kids slip in the door, one after another.

"Pardon me, ma'am, there's a fee to enter."

"Oh?"

"It's still our anniversary." Kento murmurs, lips brushing past your cheek as he takes Bubba from your arms to allow you to pass by with ease.

"I still intend on making today special. Later. Privately."

You smile, unable to to resist indulging him as the door shuts behind him.

----

The restaurant outing with the kids is already proving to have been a great idea in theory, but not in practice.

Bubba squirms in your arms, seemingly unsatisfied with every which way you hold him and refusing his bottle, so you rotate him like an ornery rotisserie to keep him from screaming and disturbing the patrons around you.

"I'm hungry." Bee whines as Jellybean shoots a straw wrapper towards Kento, landing perfectly in his coffee.

"Let's remember our manners at the table, please, Jellybean." Kento fishes the straw wrapper out of his mug.

"Brghhh!" Noodle yells, slamming her fists, seemingly pissed at the lack of food on her plate with every passing minute.

"I beg your pardon?" Kento asks, stirring a splash of cream into his coffee, eyebrows raised, lips in a firm line of stern patience.

"I think I understand what you're trying to say, Noodle, but is that any way to ask?"

Noodle exhales. "Brgh." She repeats in a calmer voice.

"Yes, you may." Kento slides her a piece of his toast with a spoonful of strawberry jam as she excitedly claps her hands together.

"When is our food getting heree?" Bee complains, leaning on her elbow.

"Soon." You answer Bee, shuffling Bubba once again.

"You're welcome to have a slice of my toast to tide yourself over." Kento replies, smoothing his butter knife over the bread. He takes a bite, offering it to Bee, to which she turns up her nose.

"Ah, good timing!" You sigh, relieved as your tray of food approaches.

Unfortunately for you, Bubba seems to take that as his cue to be even more restless than usual with Noodle pawing at your dress in a bid for competing attention that she didn't like to see her new baby brother get as of late.

"Noodle, pockets on the chair where they belong. Yes, sir, thank you. Oh no, the grilled cheese belongs to Jellybean over there. The chicken nuggets go to Bee."

"I don't LIKE KETCHUP."

"Bee. Enough. Apologies, sir, may we get this without the ketchup? Thank you."

"AHHHHHHHH!!!!"

"Thank you, Bubba, for your input."

"Mom! Noodle won't stop kicking me under the tableee."

"It's too hot in hereee."

"Can we get ice cream?"

"Jellybean, we just got our food?!" You groan, with a facepalm.

Lunch may as well have transformed into an all out circus as this point. Noodle and Bubba in particular aren't having it.

"I think they need a break." You gesture to Bubba who can't stop squirming for more than two seconds and Noodle who has given up on using her fork for her potato chips.

Kento's stomach growls loudly. "I think you're correct. I'll take them for a walk."

"No, Kento. You eat first. I'm fine."

"Absolutely not. I'd rather take them before they become more disruptive."

"Kento. I had the waffles at the house. I'm good for a minute." You smile. "Partnership."

Kento nods, then scoots in. "I'll be fast. I promise."

He eats quickly, shoving in forkful after forkful.

"Kento, slow down. You can enjoy your meal, yanno?"

Gulp "...won't be a minute. ...Need to quickly, so you can, slurp, eat." Cronch cronch cronch

Kento reaches for Bubba, salt and vinegar kettle chip crumbs trailing down his front from the layer he stuffed into his casse croute for extra crunch. (A guilty pleasure of his)

"Ready—wait, hold on." He brushes off his shirt then gestures again. "Ready now."

You smile as Kento takes Bubba who immediately calms and Noodle who stops antagonizing her sisters, takes her Daddy by the hand, and walks outside for a fresh breath of ocean air, leaving you to a calm meal with Jellybean and Bee, wondering how you got so lucky.

----

"Thank God." You both groan with relief as you trudge through the door of the farmhouse.

Smoke, the elusive barn cat who reserves his appearances for special occasions and food only, watches from his opening on the stairwell with big, sage green eyes and smirk on his face at his ridiculous humans.

"Nap time?"

The kids run and tear through the living room, dead set on taking this tsunami to the backyard.

"I spoke way too soon."

"Hey, at least Bubba's out."

Kento smiles, running his thumb across the little boy's chubby cheeks. "You both should rest."

"But Kento-"

"Please. He needs it. And so do you." Kento leans in, nosing your hair.

"...And there might be a good reason for you to be away from the kitchen for a few hours. Anniversary's not over yet."

"Ohh, okay."

He smiles and kisses you at the bottom of the stairs. "Rest well, Mrs. Nanami."

----

"Alright. Operation: Strawberry Chocolate Cheesecake."

"Daddy. Can we eat the strawberries?" Bee asks as Noodle eyes a juicy strawberry hanging on the nearby vine in the middle of the large strawberry bushes outside.

"You may." Kento answers. "Keep in mind how many we will need for the recipe. So it's up to you on how many Momma gets in her cheesecake. Jellybean, I trust you to regulate your younger siblings."

Jellybean nods and turns to Noodle. "We got only one chance to make this right. So just one for now, and that's it."

"One." Noodle agrees, looking both ways as soon as Jellybean's back is turned, stuffing her pockets.

—-

Some time later, Kento tends to the chickens while your barnyard pig named Fig is eating her lunch and watching her afternoon show: the shenanigans unfolding in the pasture between Bee and Jellybean when Noodle approaches, clumsily unstealthily behind her.

"Noodle." Kento says without turning around from the chickens. "Back up, please. Fig is occupied. You can play with her when she's done."

The words fall on deaf ears. Fig continues devouring her food without interruption, seemingly unperturbed by the slow moving invasion into her personal space away in her peripheral vision.

"Noodle. I won't ask again."

poke

OINK!

Bonk, SPLAT!

"Daaaaaaaddy!!!"

Kento turns around to find a nonchalant Fig who goes back to munching, and a very sad Noodle covered in mud from being knocked over.

"Are you alright, my love?" Kento asks calmly, looking her over, giving her a hug of support in this particularly hard moment.

"Yes. I think you will survive this one."

He looks at Fig. "You're not exempt from taking responsibility for your part in this, Fig."

Ignoring him, Fig's comeback is gobbling her food with even more gusto than before.

"Sows. Am I right?" Kento jokes lightheartedly which earns a giggle from Noodle.

"Now, we've learned a hard lesson. Leave Fig to her food and respect each other's personal space."

He looks at Fig. "And we don't resolve conflicts by headbutting people."

The skies impatiently growl as the afternoon light turns grey again, causing everyone to head inside.

----

On the other side of the clear windows that begin to rumble again with the sprinkle of raindrops, the chefs of the Nanamis' kitchen lock in for the most arduous task of the day.

"Operation Strawberry Chocolate cheesecake: entering phase two."

Kento ties his custom Snoopy apron, the one you gifted for his 34th birthday with the title: "Papamin" emblazoned across the front in true head chef fashion.

"Gardening team, how well did we make out with today's harvest?"

"Noodle's got it! Show Daddy, Noodle."

Noodle immediately goes silent, a cloud of shame hanging over her head.

"Noodle?"

Noodle places the empty basket on the countertop and the kitchen goes silent.

"I...pardon?" Kento's jaw drops silently in shock while the rest of the kitchen turns on Noodle.

"Noodle!"

"You blew it!"

Noodle's lip trembles as tears pool and trickle down her face.

"That's quite enough." Kento snaps. "Jellybean, Bee? I thought I asked you to keep an eye on things."

"We did b-but..."

"Alright. Okay, yes, fine. This is fine. Everyone." Kento gets their attention.

"We will not panic. We'll make a plain chocolate cheesecake, that's all."

"But I don't like chocolate cheesecake!"

"Well, first, this treat is for your mother. And for second..." Kento states his words more crossly at their sulking expressions.

"...We will need to improvise since the strawberries...did not go as planned." Kento nods as he starts dusting the counter in flour, building the base for the pie crust.

"Now hurry, we don't have much time."

-----

Sunset begins to make its descent between the stalwart puffs of grey, swirls of lavender and orange blur the horizon as the evening prepares to wrap its arms around it.

The door to your bedroom creaks softly, Kento and three sets of curious eyes peek through the doorway before it closes again.

"Momma's asleep." Kento hushes the girls with their disappointed reactions.

"Shh...shh, I know, I know. On the bright side, I hear the bedtime fairy will make an appearance to anyone who's in their pajamas before 8."

Kento smiles to himself as the girls gasp and make haste without another word.

---

The TV hums with the familiar sound of the girls' favorite Disney DVD. Normally, movies were out of the question within a three hour window of bedtime, but with number of the little despairs of the day being incredibly higher than usual, Kento figured that moderate effort this time would need to suffice.

And if Robinhood and crew could entertain and simmer down the seemingly endless supply of energy your girls seemed to possess, then he was fine with not choosing that battle.

Kento strokes Noodle and Bee's hair, who of course had engaged in battle royale over who got to sit on their Daddy's lap before a tearful treaty was reached and reluctantly agreed upon.

Kento does his best not to count the hours by the disappearing daylight of your anniversary and listen for the signal of the evening thunder (because of course, his novel was clear on the other side of the couch, rendering him stuck), absentmindedly paying attention to the film he damn near had memorized by now.

🎶"Oo DE LALLy GoLLy whAt A DaY." 🎶

Action scene, kiss, same old same old, but wait...

Kento's train of thought is pulled to the back door that still hasn't seen Jellybean emerge from the storm from her usual duty to lock down the animals for the evening.

"Daddy! Where're you going??"

"There's no need to worry, loves. I'm going to get your sister." Kento reassures a concerned Bee who's holding Noodle who looks distraught at the sight of Kento in his boots and coat.

"I'll be right back."

----

The grass sloshes with the sound of mud and the rain that clung to the earth in excessive abandon at all times.

"Jellybean!"

Kento realizes she's not anywhere to be found near the stables, the fence to the pasture is left wide open and a pit of dread settles in his stomach.

"Jellybean!" He strides quickly towards the opening, feeling underneath his coat for his dull knife that largely sat retired on the wooden shelf in the kitchen, but always stayed at the ready.

"Daddy!" Jellybean yells, running towards him.

"Jellybean!"

The pit in Kento's stomach loosens, but comes right back at Jellybean's visible upsetness, as she's hyperventilating between broken sobs.

"You scared me, what's wrong, where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Daddy!! I'm sorry!!" Jellybean is inconsolable, her tears indistinguishable from the raindrops pouring from the divot in the hood of her polka dot rain jacket.

"Fig was way too fast!"

"What?"

The words "fast "and "Fig" rarely ever showed up within the same sentence.

"Fig ran away!"

"Fig??"

Kento looks at the barn, then the pasture, the open fence, and then the road, all of which were conveniently bare of all evidence or traces as to where the she could have ran off to.

"How on Earth did she escape?"

"I don't know!" Jellybean sobs. "I don't know! I swear I only turned my back for a minute then she was gone!!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down, Jellybean. It's alright. Stay here and look after your sisters. Look at me, Jellybean. Listen. If Fig comes back, you immediately close the gate and call me, don't try and wrangle her yourself, understood?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"I'll be back " Kento slides into the drivers seat of his vintage Buick, not looking both ways before he tears down the muddy road after the rogue sow.

-----

The countryside is now in the heart of the downpour.

Raindrops flood the windshield in neverending streaks. Kento's leaned forward, hands gripping the steering wheel, dialed in to anything that might resemble the runaway pig. The search has been well underway for nearly a half hour with no sign of the Houdini swine.

"That damn pig." Kento mutters, becoming more irritated with every passing mile, unsure if he should be furious or impressed with how much distance Fig was able to cover in such a short time, unless of course she didn't have any eyes on her for much longer than Jellybean let on initially.

That's when he finally sees it.

A distant figure, a suspiciously very Fig-shaped blob hobbling along the side of the muddy road, seemingly set on her destination when no passing cars offered to give her a ride.

"HEY!" Kento hollers as he rolls down the window.

Fig takes one look at the approaching headlights and proceeds to bolt at high speed.

"Shit."

Kento floors the gas pedal in hot pursuit, taking care not to veer off the road or hit his traveling target on accident.

Fig zooms until she reaches a dead end in the road. She slams on her brakes, but it's too late, sliding into the neighbor's fence.

SPLAT!

The free blueberries sign is now covered in a muddy Fig-shaped outline like a crime scene while Kento wrestles her into the car and the neighbors watch and laugh from the windows.

----

"Did you honestly think that was a wise idea?" Kento asks Fig during the drive back as she rides with her rump facing him, looking out the window.

Angry silence.

"When you were planning this, was there any part of you that thought to yourself how foolish all of this was?"

Fig is fuming right now.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself, Fig Newton Nanami?"

Fig barks in frustration as they pull into the driveway.

"That stunt of yours just landed you an oats only dinner. No baby carrots tonight."

Fig huffs and walks into her stall with her head held high, knowing fully well she would be on Kento's good side by the morning.

And she'd do it all over again.

------

You rustle out of sleep from the crick in your neck and the feeling of Bubba being taken out of your arms.

"Kento...huh?"

"Didn't mean to wake you." He murmurs, smiling fondly at you.

"What's the meaning of all this? Why are you wet? Is that mud on your cheek?"

"I'm helping."

"I had it under control, dear."

"Mhm...I'm sure you and Bubba were very productive." Kento teases lightly, deciding not to point out the pile of laundry you both fell asleep on top of and stayed that way well past your usual naptime; the look he's giving you right now says it all for him.

"Alright, you win."

"You know, it's still the 7th for a few more hours." He murmurs leaning in.

"Go into the guest bedroom. I'll meet you there." He whispers, kissing your hair.

"Kento."

"Partnership, remember?" He smiles, reminding you of the diner, now your turn to chuckle at the friendly irony, the neverending game of putting one another first that neither of you would ever give up trying not to lose.

An eternal stalemate you're happy to never reign in.

-----

The low yellow light of the quiet guest room flickers with the lemon honeysuckle candle on the nightstand. The muted drumming of the rain dances on the roof, the countryside's eternal lullaby.

You had opened your book and then one chapter became two, then three, then...

You snap out of your reverie, realizing when the drizzling pauses that Kento is nowhere to be found.

You slip on your robe and venture out to find him.

-----

You can make out the faint glowing outline of the kids' bedroom door at the end of the hall, slipping inside.

The figure you're searching for is tucked in the middle of the bed in the dead center of the room, bottom bunk occupied by three little pairs of legs, your husband's in the middle.

"Ken?"

Kento's good eye opens sluggishly as his drowsy mind deeply recalls the softness of your voice from far away.

"Mrhhh...what time is it?" He inhales sharply, shivering as he stretches with Noodle's face buried in his neck, curled in a ball on his stomach.

You carefully take her into your arms, while Bee and Jellybean remain on either side trapping Kento in place.

Mid-stretch, Kento's calf seizes up, causing a charlie horse.

"Damn!"

You wince sympathetically as Kento bends back his toes, breathing through it to relieve the betraying dreadful cramp.

"Shitshitshitshit."

And then exhaling as it releases up.

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Now I am." He looks up at you.

"It's 2 am."

Kento sighs and rubs his right eye before pulling at his eyepatch on the hollow of the left, and dragging it off over his head, tossing it to the side.

"I'm deeply sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

"They're asleep. I can possibly extract myself now. We still have time."

"Kento, please."

"I made you a promise. And I have every intention of enjoying my wife on our anniversary."

Kento moves and manages to free himself from the Bee and Jellybean trap and freezes as Noodle squirms for a moment when you lay her down, then sighs in relief when she doesn't wake up.

His gaze becomes sultry, offering a smile to you that's warm with a desire that's been suppressed by the unending demands of the day.

"Lead the way."

-----

The guest bedroom door gently bumps open with a trickle of thunder shaking the roof.

The gentle rush of lips on lips slips underneath a desperate breath or two. The bed creaks as

Kento allows the gravity of too much time apart to pull himself down on top of you.

"Slow...slow..."

"Right." Kento grunts, allowing a sigh to flow from his lips as the dip of your fingertips leave a chill on the area of exposed scarred skin on the toned muscle of his lean waist.

He's heavy lidded as he pulls his attention momentarily from the kiss to welcoming the brush of your hands from his scalp, to his back, feeling the fire churn low in his core as your lips linger longer on his, tongue prodding with only momentary hesitation as a last ditch effort for permission before glossing over your tongue.

The candles you lit on the windowsill gleam with wilted lavender, while the garden of raindrops flourishes with more blossoms like paintings on the clear glass.

Kento opens his eye, prolonging the silky caramel to the low light to drink in the soft, breathless sight below him, fingers caressing your cheeks, dusty pink blooming on his own as he takes in the map of you he had only been able to catalogue from a distance as of late, every labored breath and sigh he has memorized and aches to recite to the most sacred archive of memory for the ample time that he had foolishly allowed to pass between.

Until Bubba announces his extreme displeasure and hunger from next door like a car deserted in a McDonald's drive through.

"I'll get it."

"No please, let me."

"Kento, you were just in there. Besides he needs to eat."

This time, unlike usual, Kento doesn't argue, sinking back into the quilts, shirt half unbuttoned from your half-done shenanigans, expression more calm as his head hits the pillow.

"I suppose if you're certain." He says with a lilt of sleep before yawning deeply, more like trying to convince himself rather than assure you.

"Partnership."

"Mm."

You give him a stunning smile that he doesn't stay awake to see, closing the door behind you.

---

The percussion of rain drums to barely a drizzle.

The thunder has succumbed to slumber behind the blankets of grey clouds in the uneventful hours of the deep night.

Once Bubba is settled, you come back into the guest room. The door creaks open.

There lies Kento, blissfully asleep. You smile to yourself, realizing the novelty of one of these little moments your husband quips as little despairs lead to the realization of how far you've come behind the long blazed trail of precious memories that led you to this one, all seared into the tapestry that began in this farmhouse.

Right now, anniversaries with Kento look a little different. But these chapters are small on the grand staircase to eternity.

So, you allow yourself to settle on the current page of what will become giggles downstairs in the morning, the serendipitous extra hours of rest that unfailing partnership afforded you, and the decreasing hum from rainclouds in the distance.

His scarred hand finds the shape of your body that even sleep can't obscure from the precious saga of familiarity inscribed by love he harbors closely in wordless apology that you've long forgiven.

Early morning intimacy suited you both much better anyway.

"Happy Anniversary, you wonderful, amazing man. I love you forever. Easier than rain."

So, you lay, and you listen to the soundtrack of your little slice of eternity, the rain, ushering you to sleep in dreams to a waltzless melody Kento Nanami is already listening to, until you join him in your blissful slow dance shortly thereafter.