#raikane

♡: who is the bigger romantic openly? secretly?

Raiden, openly. He spoils her shamelessly, and has since they were really young. Akane’s outer facade is very Serious Girlboss™ so she often acts like she doesn’t have time for love. However, behind closed doors she always roots for a good love story, even in her own life. 

💌: who is more likely to send cutesy texts to the other?

Who’s ready for marriage first?

Neither one of them was in a huge rush to get married. They were both very focused on their respective professional pursuits and could have very well made it into their thirties before their relationship became that serious. However, all of this changes after Akane is proposed to by Eizan Eijirou (and seriously considers saying yes). This event (paired with some light nagging from Erina) definitely creates some urgency on Raiden’s part that wasn’t there before. 

Who wants kids first? 

6. If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think? (pre-relationship) 

Raiden: (Shrugs) I mean, probably. 

Akane: (Nods thoughtfully) Yeah, that tracks. 

I’d say both of them have been around 60% sure they’d end up together since they were little kids. They even had something like a childhood marriage promise between them. However, the idea of this gets a little murky when they’re older because of Raiden’s dalliance with Maria and Akane’s focus on her goals. 

6. What’s their relationship with each other’s families? (general)

Souma and Erina are Akane’s godparents, and she’s very close with them both. In fact, Erina and Akane are closer than most mothers and daughters, so it would be a very close family dynamic if Raiden and Akane got married. 

Hisako is Raiden’s godmother, and she adores him. Raiden also holds Hisako in extremely high regard; he’s said on several occasions that she is the smartest person alive. Akira, on the other hand, is sort of ambivalent towards Raiden, and vice versa. There is mutual respect as chefs between them, but it’s clear that  Akira holds Erik in higher regard. 

1. Who said “I love you” first? (Love) 

Raiden, definitely. Akane does not confess. She gets confessed to lol. 

2. What’s the wedding like? Who attends? (domestic life)

I’m gonna be honest. I haven’t gotten this far because I’m not sure if these two are endgame yet. It’s more than likely at this point, but I still don’t know. 

I imagine that it would be very expensive, though, and in Paris (because Akane). Virtually everyone they’ve ever met would be bowing and scraping for an invite. Maria probably wouldn’t go, but Erik would, if only out of a sense of obligation. 

3. How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

28. Familiar cuddle + RaiKane

“It was carnage, Akane,” Sumire said. “Carnage.” 

Maybe it was the pain medication or the sudden lack of appendix making her loopy, but Akane swore her friends were telling her that Raiden had… “He did what?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. 

“He called all sixty-four of the former presidents trying to reclaim their research societies into a shokugeki stadium and told them to come at him,” Sumire explained, wearing a half shocked expression. “They were all down within the hour.”

The pink haired girl blinked slowly, brow furrowing. “Wait. Why would he—”

“He snapped, amica,” Bella said flatly. “Those losers tried to kick you while you were down and he fucking snapped. That was not fuckboy Yukihira just now. That was some Dark Nakiri shit.”

“That was the god tongue,” Sumire said, a slight tremor running through her. “Terrifying.”

Akane sighed, shaking her head. She misses two days of school—just two—and her childhood friend starts traumatizing the student body.

Sumire had just started giving her the play-by-play when the Dark Nakiri in question appeared in the doorway, hovering hesitantly outside her hospital room. 

“Yeah, we’re gonna go, amica,” Bella said, grabbing Sumire by the arm. “We’ll check in on you later.” 

Once they’d made their exit, Raiden came in, gazing at her sheepishly and carrying a wrapped bento box. 

“Hey,” she said, smiling when he took a seat by her bedside. 

“Hey.” The smile was returned, and the look in his amethyst eyes made her glance down, somewhat shyly. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine.”

“Akane.”

She sighed. He never did learn how to leave well enough alone. “I’m a little sore,” she admitted. “But it’s no big deal.”

“Do you need anything? They can bring you more painkillers or—”

She rested her hand on top of his, stilling and silencing him instantly. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just…lie down with me for a while. If you can stay. Obviously, you don’t have to—”

“Of course,” he said, squeezing her hand. He got onto the bed as gently as humanly possible, as though he thought her fragile. The Nakiri heir hesitated for a moment before letting his arm rest over her shoulder—a second pillow of sorts. “You comfortable?”

She nodded. Yes. Truly. For the first time in what felt like years. 

Akane rested her head against his bicep, as she often did when they were kids, and released a small sigh.  

“I thought you’d want some real food,” he said after a few minutes, handing her the bento.  

“You thought right.” Even before unwrapping the box, the familiar scent of yellow curry wafted up. It was the smell of an idyllic childhood, a puppy love she’d never quite outgrown. “I’m surprised you had time to make this on the warpath.” 

Raiden scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Ah. I figured they’d tell you about that.”

“I’m sorry I made you show your true colors,” she said, surprised that she actually meant it. 

“Don’t be,” he said. 

“Why not?” she asked. He had tried very hard to appear affable and harmless these past few months, and now the facade was ruined completely. 

“Because.” He grinned at her. “I can do the worst thing, but if I do it for you, I’ll never regret it.” 

Akane leaned further into his chest, trying to hide her blush. “Well, if it helps at all, I like every side of you. Even the dark ones.”

“It does help.”

Anyone who had seen Hayama Akane in a kitchen knew her to be a vision of grace. She was like a dancer when she cooked, locked in an elegant tango with her ingredients and spices. 

But anyone who saw her in a living room learned a completely different story. 

Raiden heard the fleshy thwack when her shin collided with the coffee table and glanced up from the email he was drafting. She released a small hiss, face turned up towards the ceiling so he wouldn’t see her tearing up.

“You alright, Akane?”

“Mhmm,” she squeaked out, still not looking at him. 

Raiden shook his head at her. He had been watching her bump into things for all twenty-three years of her life, and she still insisted on acting tough. “Come here.” 

Limping just a bit, she came to sit next to him on the couch. Raiden carefully lifted her legs so they were draped over his. He ran his thumb gently over the angry red bruise forming on her light brown skin. “You really did a number on yourself this time.” 

“The table just got in my way,” Akane said, rolling her eyes at the offending piece of furniture. “Typical.” 

Smirking, Raiden leaned down, and kissed the sore spot.

“What are you doing?” she asked, glancing down at him with half-lidded eyes.

“It worked when we were younger,” he replied. “Does it still?” 

“Try again,” she said, lips curved upward into a wry smile. 

Obediently, Raiden kissed the bruise once more. “Better yet?” 

“Higher.” 

He kissed her upper calf next, and then the top of her knee—lightly nibbled on the inside of her thigh. “How about now?”

“More.”

Raiden shifted their positions on the couch, so she was under him and knelt between her thighs. He kissed the exposed skin on her stomach, between white tank top and black shorts. “Is that good?” he asked, smirking against her navel.

Akane flicked his forehead, laughing a bit. “Stop teasing me. I’m in pain.”

“Alright, alright.” He kissed her for real then, parting her soft lips with his tongue and exploring the familiar terrain of her mouth. At the same time, he undid the button on her shorts. “Tell me when it stops hurting.” 

10. Totally romantic + RaiKane 

They had wrapped filming in Peru two days ago and wouldn’t start in Bangkok for another week. Presented with this rare gift of free time, Yukihira Raiden had booked a last minute flight to Paris without thinking twice or sending word. Only on the cab ride from Orly airport to her apartment in the Latin Quarter did he begin to consider what he’d do if she were away, or otherwise occupied. 

Raiden felt a sense of peace come over him when the car pulled up onto her street. It was something out of a movie, all cobblestone streets and wrought iron balconies, soft lights and chic cafes. It was the type of romantic place he had always pictured her in. 

He rang her bell, second from the top, and when her voice came over the speaker with a prim “Bonsoir?” something gave way within him. 

It was her voice that had drawn him back from every abyss, pushed him past every hurdle. She was his safe harbor in the endless storm, had always been.

He cleared his throat. “Akane, it’s me.”

She made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, and buzzed him in. He ran up the steps two at a time until he reached her top floor flat. Akane was waiting for him in the doorway, arms open in welcome, and he had lifted her off the ground before he could think or speak. 

In the time it took to pull her close and spin her around, Raiden had taken in every detail of her—from her long hair in the loose braid she always put it in before bed to the lavender and charcoal pencil scent that clung to her whenever she wasn’t cooking. 

He kissed her once, twice, a thousand times before putting her down again. “God, I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” She placed a hand on his cheek, scanning him head to toe with her artist’s eye. “I didn’t think I’d see you until the season wrapped.” 

For the past few months, Raiden had been filming a documentary series in partnership with Netflix, shedding light on unique culinary traditions around the world. 

“I had been planning on heading straight to Tokyo before the Totsuki Network meeting,” he said, the specter of his upcoming proposal hovering just out at sight. Adding a formal philanthropic branch to the Totsuki Network was definitely going to be a tough sell. “But I had to see you.”

She smiled a smile like a candle in a dark room, her emerald eyes glowing. “Good. I was about ready to hunt you down.”

Raiden raised an incredulous eyebrow at this. Between running Eden, Tsukasa Eishi’s crown jewel, and planning her own debut restaurant, Hayama Akane barely had enough time to walk down the street, let alone go on overseas jaunts. 

“I would have done it anyway,” she said after a beat, reading his mind. 

“I know,” he replied, suddenly overcome with the urge to unpack, to grow roots, to stay—finally become the kind of man who would deserve her. “I’ll come home sooner next time.”

She started at the wording, as Raiden knew she would, and he kissed her on the tip of her nose. Her delicate mouth curved up into a half smile. 

“I bet you haven’t eaten since Lima,” she said. They both knew how wielders of the god tongue were with airline food. “I’ll make something.”

Summary: Raiden and Akane, age six, plan the rest of their lives while Jouichirou spectates. 

In Saiba Jouichirou’s experience, there were only two ways to manage young children—distractions and manual labor. He himself had no particular preference for one over the other, but since Erina would drop kick him into next week if he put her six year old on a twelve hour diner shift, he decided to take the vacation photo route.

His grandson and his preferred pink-haired companion had been scrolling through the pictures on his iPad for the past few hours, making elaborate life plans all the while. 

“Someday we should get a house like that in Curacao, right on the beach,” the girl, Shiomi’s granddaughter, said to Raiden. And the kid looked at her like she’d just explained quantum physics. 

“Yeah, definitely. And then you could go out on the balcony and paint.”

“Mhmm. And you can cook me dinner and we can eat outside and enjoy the view.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Raiden said. “Hey gramps, can we—”

“Later,” he said, flipping the channel back to his football match. He supposed there were worse things they could be up to than planning a picnic. 

“Curacao is gonna be our winter home, right?” the girl asked Raiden as they continued to huddle together over the screen. 

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his head, grinning at her. “And we can summer in LA.”

“And spring in Paris?” she asked, hopefully. 

“Of course,” he told her. “We’ll spend autumn back in Tokyo to check up on Totsuki and stuff.”

“You’re gonna have to check on it more than once a year, you know,” she told him, arms crossed. 

“Yeah, I guess. We can come back every few weeks like my parents.” 

“That works,” she said, appeased for now. “I’d need to see Junko, too.”

At this, Jouichirou couldn’t help but laugh. “You two really plan on living together all your lives?”

The two children exchanged a brief look—confirming their plans without words—before nodding in unison. 

“But what happens when one of you gets married?” 

They shared the look again, this time a bit longer than before—question and answer, call and response. Then Raiden simply shrugged. “We’ll get married, right?”

“Mhmm,” the girl replied without a second thought. “Grandma Arato says so.” 

“Great gramps too.”

Did they now? That would be just Senzaemon’s way, moving his pieces and casting his web. Would those two even be here now without his meddling and  careful curation of the ‘jewel generation’? Had this—the Nakiri god tongue enhanced by a hyper acute sense of smell—been his endgame the whole time?

“Hey, gramps, what’s this one that says secure folder?”

“Ignore that.”