You always know when Satoru’s home before he even opens the door.
Sweet cream drifting through the hallway outside your apartment. Chocolate, strawberries and powdered sugar sneaking beneath the crack of the door before he’s even unlocked it properly.
Keys jingling. A bag rustling. Satoru cursing quietly because he’s trying to unlock the door while holding too many things at once.
Too loud. Always too loud.
You grin before you even look up from the couch.
“In the future,” you call back, “you should come in like a normal person.”
Satoru stands there with sunglasses slipping down his nose, hair messy from the wind, and at least four convenience store bags hanging from his arms.
“No,” he says seriously. “This is part of the experience.”
“And yet,” he says while kicking the door shut behind him, “you’re smiling.”
You hate when he’s right.
The apartment immediately smells sweeter when he walks in. Tonight it’s warm custard and caramel popcorn. Last week it was strawberry mochi. Before that, cinnamon pastries from a bakery two stations away because Satoru heard someone mention them during a mission and decided you needed to try them immediately.
“You know,” you laughed, taking the bag from his hands, “normal people bring flowers.”
Satoru dropped dramatically onto the couch, long legs hanging over the armrest. “Flowers die. Snacks are forever.”
“They literally get eaten.”
“Shhh snacks are just better and you know it.”
You rolled your eyes, but you were already rummaging through the bag.
He watched you like he always did when you tried something for the first time, chin resting in his palm, blue eyes bright behind those ridiculous sunglasses he rarely took off.
His grin turns unbearably smug. “See? I know you.”
“Your plan is to fatten me up so I can't leave you.”
He goes completely silent.
You glance up just in time to catch the exact moment his brain short circuits.
Then a loud, offended gasp.
“Woah first of all,” he says, grasping his chest dramatically,"I would never. Second of all, are you trying to say I need to bribe you to stay with me.”
“You literally bought me ice cream so I could go to that work event with you last week.”
Satoru beams instantly, completely unashamed. Then he leans casually against the counter, sunglasses slipping down his nose while he watches you steal a bite straight from one of the boxes.
“You’re never leaving me,” he says confidently.
“I don’t like how cocky you just sounded”
“Its only because,” Satoru says while stealing the pastry directly out of your hand, “I’m the strongest.”
“You’re the annoyingest.”
“And yet,” he says around a mouthful of stolen dessert, “you loooove me.”
And maybe that was the thing you loved most.
No matter how late the mission. No matter how exhausted he looked walking through the door. No matter how much blood stained the collar of his uniform.
He always came back to you.
And he always brought you something sweet.
“Okay,” you say seriously one night, spreading wrappers across the coffee table. “We need rankings.”
Satoru looks up from where he’s half upside down on the couch. “Rankings?”
“Yes. Your mission snacks.”
His expression lights up instantly.
For the next twenty minutes, the strongest sorcerer alive argues passionately about dessert placement.
“The strawberry daifuku deserves top three.”
Satoru tilts his head just enough to look up at you over the edge of his sunglasses.
There’s something soft in his expression suddenly.
The kind of look he only gets when the apartment is dark and peaceful and it’s just the two of you existing together.
Which means it’s definitely something.
But before you can push, he reaches into another bag dramatically.
“I also brought cupcakes.”
Your entire train of thought disappears instantly.
“From the bakery we met at?”
You lean down and kiss him immediately.
Satoru grins against your mouth like he planned this.
“You’re unbelievably easy to please.”
“You weaponized dessert.”
“You say that like it’s unethical.”
Sometimes he comes home exhausted.
Those are your favorite nights.
Not because you like seeing him tired, but because those are the only times Satoru stops performing.
No dramatics. No exaggerated whining. No endless talking.
One rainy evening he walks through the door absolutely soaked, uniform damp, hair dripping water onto the floor.
He lifts a paper bag triumphantly.
“You got caught in a storm and your first concern was pastries?”
“The croissants almost died.”
He opens the bag carefully.
Perfectly intact dubai chocolate croissants.
He could see the excitement on your face.
Satoru watches you with that same soft expression again. Like this alone was worth it.
Later that night, after showers and dry clothes and shared dessert at the kitchen counter, you find him half asleep against your shoulder.
“You know,” you murmur, “you don’t actually have to bring me something every mission.”
Satoru doesn’t even open his eyes.
“Because I like coming home to you.”
Your chest aches in the warmest way possible.
So you kiss the top of his head and pretend not to notice how pink his ears turn.
Over time, the routine becomes automatic.
You know what kind of sweets he’ll bring based on where he was assigned.
You know expensive bakery boxes mean the mission went smoothly.
Convenience store candy means he remembered at the last second.
Crushed packaging means he got into a fight midway through carrying it.
And maybe that’s why you never let yourself worry too much when he leaves for missions.
Because no matter what happens, no matter how dangerous things get he always comes back.
So when he leaves for Shibuya, you force yourself to believe this time won’t be any different.
He lingers by the door before leaving, one hand in his pocket.
“You’re staring again,” he says.
“You’re acting weird again.”
“I thought I always act weird.”
A small smile tugs at his mouth.
Then he pulls a bag from behind his back and tosses it toward you.
You catch it instinctively.
banana bread from your favorite café.
“You bought goodbye bread?” you ask flatly.
“It’s not goodbye bread.”
“It feels like goodbye bread.”
Satoru walks over before you can say anything else and presses a quick kiss against your forehead.
“I’ll be home later. They just need alot of us down there right now i dont know how long it'll be till you get your next treat” he says softly.
If you weren't worried before you definitely are now
“Promise me you'll be safe” you say with tears already starting to form
Your apartment feels wrong without him in it.
No loud complaints from the kitchen. No half-opened bags of candy left on the counter. No long limbs taking up too much space on the couch. You keep checking your phone anyway.
Because eventually the mission will end. Eventually the lock will click. Eventually the apartment will smell like sugar again.
So when you finally hear keys at the door late one evening, relief floods your chest so fast it almost hurts.
You stand immediately. Already smiling.
Already waiting for the familiar rush of sweetness that always arrives before him.
But the scent that reaches you first isn’t sugar.
Something heavy beneath it that you can’t name.
The door opens slowly. And for one horrible second, you still expect it to be him.
Paper bags swinging from one hand.
Instead, it’s Yuji. His uniform is wrinkled. His eyes are red like he hasn’t slept properly in days. In his hands is a brown paper bag.
Your stomach drops instantly.
Because Yuji looks at you the same way people look at broken things.
And that’s when you know.
Not from his expression. Not from the silence. Not even from the fact that Satoru isn’t standing behind him.
You know because the apartment doesn’t smell sweet enough. It doesn’t smell like him.
Yuji steps inside carefully, like he isn’t sure he belongs there without him.
“I, uh…” His voice catches. “Gojo bought these before…”
He lifts the bag slightly.
Inside are coffee cakes from your favorite bakery.
The exact ones Satoru always brings home after long missions.
Something in your chest caves.
“No,” you whisper immediately.
“He told us about it,” he says softly. “How you always waited for him. How he always brings you new sweets”
Your vision blurs instantly.
The bag rustles quietly in Yuji’s shaking hands.
Satoru had bought them before he got sealed
Your knees nearly give out.
Because he really meant to come back. Even then knowing what he was walking into. He still stopped to bring you something sweet.
