The door opens before you even hear his footsteps. Rain spills in from the threshold, and with it—him.

He looks different. Not drastically, but enough. His hair’s longer, tangled from travel. There’s dirt on his hands, a faint bruise across his collarbone, a cut that hasn’t quite healed. But it’s him. He’s standing there like no time has passed at all, like he didn’t leave you counting the days by the sound of the wind against the window.

You don’t move at first. You just stare, arms crossed, heart climbing up your throat. You thought about this moment a thousand times—what you’d say, how you’d react—but none of it fits now.

He grins when he sees you, that same wild, thoughtless grin that used to drive you mad.

“Told you I’d come back.”

Something inside you breaks at the sound of his voice. You hate how much relief floods through you. You hate how much you love him for keeping his promise.

“You were gone for months,” you manage, voice low. “You didn’t send a single message.”

He shrugs, stepping inside. Water drips from his hair onto the floor.

“Didn’t know how long it’d take. The mountains were—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt. “Don’t give me excuses.”

He stops mid-sentence, eyes narrowing slightly. Not in anger—confusion. He’s good at reading the world, but not people. He can sense danger miles away, but he can’t always see the hurt right in front of him.

You sigh, fingers tightening around your sleeve. “You can’t just vanish, Inosuke. You can’t make me think—” You stop yourself, swallow the rest.

For a long moment, the only sound is rain against the roof. Then he moves closer. Slow. Careful. He smells like forest and smoke and distance.