[synopsis]: your beloved husband returns home from a mission early, they’re in for quite the unexpected welcoming.
[characters]: shinazugawa sanemi, tomioka giyuu, iguro obanai
giyuu pushed open the door just as the sky began to pale—barely morning, the house still draped in that soft, sleepy silence that made everything feel fragile. he’d been gone longer than planned this time, a mission that stretched days too far, and he’d been half-worried he’d find you asleep at your desk again.
you were in the courtyard, barefoot on the stone, blade in hand, training shirt damp with sweat. your movements were sharp, rhythmic—each slash clean enough to whistle through the air. you were so focused, you didn’t even notice when his quiet footsteps crossed the threshold.
he hesitated at first, watching for a moment, the faintest warmth tugging at his chest. then he stepped closer—silent as rain.
he reached out, meaning to touch your shoulder. “y/n—”
your fist connected with his face before the rest of his sentence made it out. a solid, perfect right hook that sent him staggering half a step back.
there was a beat of silence. birds somewhere nearby went dead quiet.
you blinked once, twice, lowering your stance slowly as realization hit. “…giyuu?”
he straightened, hand pressed to his jaw, blinking back the daze. “…yes.”
“oh my god—” you rushed forward, grabbing his face, scanning for damage. “why would you sneak up on me!? i almost broke your jaw!”
“i said your name,” he murmured, voice still even, like the hit hadn’t just rattled his teeth.
“you whispered it! like some kind of ghost!”
he blinked again, completely unbothered. “i didn’t want to startle you.”
you just stared at him. “you literally startled me.”
you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “you’re lucky i didn’t draw my sword and stab you!”
he tilted his head slightly. “you’re lucky you didn’t.”
“don’t give me attitude!”
he said nothing to that, but there was a flicker—just a tiny, blink-and-you-miss-it curve at the corner of his mouth.
“is that you smiling?” you accused, narrowing your eyes. “you think this is funny?”
“no,” he said immediately. pause. “a little.”
“you’re the worst,” you grumbled, though the corners of your own mouth were betraying you now. “come here, let me see.”
you reached up, gently tilting his chin, thumb brushing over the faint red mark blooming along his jaw. “…i actually hit you really hard.”
you frowned. “you’re way too calm about that.”
“don’t say it like that, giyuu,” you sighed, half laughing despite yourself.
he watched you for a moment, quiet, eyes softening. “you’re awake early.”
“couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “felt weird with you gone.”
you met his gaze, your hand still on his cheek. “you are.”
you snorted. “and i hit you.”
he nodded once, thoughtful. “you should ice your hand.”
he looked faintly amused again. “it must hurt after that punch.”
you laughed then, full and unrestrained, and leaned forward to press a kiss against the side of his jaw—the same spot you’d just nailed a minute ago. “welcome home, idiot.”
his hand came up to rest lightly on your back, voice barely above a murmur. “it’s good to be home. next time, i’ll call out sooner.”
“you better,” you teased, “or next time i’ll aim lower.”
“i’ll keep that in mind,” he said, deadpan—and you could’ve sworn you saw the faintest smile tug at his lips as he pulled you closer.
it was barely past dusk when sanemi’s boots hit the path home, the last light bleeding out behind him. he rolled his shoulders, jaw tight from a long mission, half a dozen new bruises scattered across his arms. all he wanted was to drop his sword somewhere, eat something that wasn’t dried rations, and see you.
he expected to find you asleep, but no—there you were in the yard, training like it was midday. hair pulled back messily, breathing steady, the soft glow of a lantern catching the edge of your blade.
he couldn’t help it. he slowed down, watching for a second. his lips twitched into that barely-there grin he never admitted to having.
he walked closer, quiet as a cat. you were so focused you didn’t notice him until he was right behind you. he lifted a hand—just to rest it on your shoulder—
—and that was his mistake.
you reacted instantly, pivoting on your heel and driving your fist straight into his chest.
“augh—!” the air left him in one ugly sound, and he stumbled a full step back, clutching where you’d hit him.
you froze mid-stance. “…sanemi!?”
he wheezed, half-coughing, half-laughing. “holy hell, woman—what was that!?”
“i live here!” he barked, still rubbing his sternum.
“then act like it! make some noise next time!”
he scowled between breaths. “i did!”
he gave a low growl, but the corner of his mouth was twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “you almost broke a rib.”
“you almost gave me a heart attack!”
“tch.” he straightened up finally, jaw tightening, then smirked. “i leave for a week and you start hittin’ me instead of sayin’ hello.”
“you shouldn’t have crept up on me!”
“you shouldn’t have a damn right hook that strong!”
you sighed, walking over to press a hand to his chest. “does it hurt?”
he smirked. “nah. kinda liked it.”
you groaned. “don’t say that like it’s supposed to be romantic.”
“what, it ain’t?” he teased, eyes glinting under the lantern light. “means my girl’s got a killer instinct.”
you tried not to smile, but failed. “i should’ve hit you harder.”
“you can try,” he said, grin widening.
you gave him a look, voice dry. “you really want another punch?”
he chuckled, stepping closer. “nah, i’ll take somethin’ else instead.”
“this,” he muttered, leaning in and kissing you—quick, rough-edged, still tasting faintly of laughter and exhaustion.
you blinked when he pulled away, expression softening despite yourself. “you’re lucky i love you, you idiot.”
“yeah,” he said, voice low, almost fond. “i know.”
he brushed his thumb under your chin, the smirk back but smaller now. “next time i’ll yell before i touch ya.”
“good,” you said, poking his chest again. “save us both a bruise.”
he laughed, the sound sharp but genuine. “no promises.”
“what? you keep me on my toes.”
kind of late where even the cicadas had stopped. the sky was dark, heavy with stars, the air faintly cool against his skin. he’d finished patrol early for once, bandages pulled loose and the faint smell of blood still clinging to him.
he thought you’d be asleep. you should’ve been asleep. but he caught the flicker of lantern light from the courtyard and heard the faint, rhythmic swish of a blade cutting through air.
he lingered at the edge of the veranda for a second, watching. you were fluid — precise — each movement sharper than the last. he never interrupted you when you were like this; there was a kind of quiet devotion in how you practiced, something he could watch forever.
still, he wanted you to know he was home.
he stepped forward silently, approaching from behind, and reached out to tap your shoulder.
before he could speak, your elbow snapped back hard and caught him across the jaw.
he stumbled half a step, one hand flying to his face, the other steadying him on the railing.
you froze, eyes wide. “—obanai!?”
he blinked, the world tilting just slightly as he straightened. “…yes.”
“oh my god!” you dropped your sword immediately and rushed to him. “i thought you were— i don’t know— something else! why didn’t you say anything!?”
his voice came out muffled through the bandages as he rubbed his jaw. “i… was going to.”
“you were going to!? when!?”
“…after I touched your shoulder.”
you groaned, hands flying up to your face. “you can’t just sneak up on people like that!”
he blinked, quiet for a beat. “you never hear me any other time.”
“yeah, and look where that got you!” you said, prying his hand away to check the damage. “ugh, that’s definitely bruising—”
“i’ve had worse,” he said evenly, though his tone had the faintest twinge of amusement.
you frowned. “don’t start being smug about it.”
he tilted his head slightly. “it’s… impressive. you reacted quickly.”
“you’re complimenting me right now?”
“i’m acknowledging your reflexes.”
you gave him a look. “you got punched. by your wife.”
he hummed, gaze softening under his fringe. “a strong wife.”
you gawked. “you are so weird.”
he smiled faintly — small, crooked, but unmistakable. “you’re the one who hit me.”
you sighed, pressing your fingers gently along his jaw. “does it hurt?”
“…a little,” he admitted, quiet as always.
you softened. “you need ice.”
“i need you to stop worrying.”
his hand came up, resting over yours lightly. “i’ll be fine. besides,” he murmured, voice lowering, “you hit softer than you think.”
“oh, really?” you said, arching a brow. “you want to test that theory again?”
“not particularly,” he said quickly, though his tone was betraying him — calm, but faintly amused.
you shook your head, smiling despite yourself. “you’re lucky i love you.”
you leaned in a little, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “next time, maybe say something before you sneak up on me?”
“i don’t know—‘it’s me’? ‘don’t punch me’? something!”
he considered it for a second. “…‘don’t punch me’ might ruin the moment.”
he chuckled softly, under his breath — quiet, but genuine. “fair point.”
“welcome home, by the way,” you murmured.
he glanced down at you, that small smile still in his eyes. “thank you. even if my homecoming was… violent.”
“…then i’ll keep doing it.”
he laughed softly again, a low sound against the quiet night. “i’m teasing.”
“and you’re dangerous,” he said, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “we make an interesting pair.”
you smiled. “yeah. somehow it works.”
“somehow,” he echoed, eyes softening as he leaned close enough that his voice dropped to a whisper. “i missed you.”
you nudged his shoulder gently. “you could’ve just said that first thing.”
“i was going to,” he murmured again, with the faintest smirk. “before you hit me.”
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