Katsuki stood before the old wooden house, its traditional Japanese architecture blending into the quiet, aged neighborhood. The house, with its shoji screens and weathered wood, exuded a nostalgic charm, but also carried the weight of years gone by. As a pro hero, your husband took his work seriously, always coming home late, his face set in a stern expression. You thought a secluded place away from the bustling city might offer him some peace, a refuge from the constant demands of hero work. After a long discussion, he had reluctantly agreed, though not without some hesitation.

As you both stepped inside, the air was thick with dust, the rooms empty except for faint memories of past occupants. Katsuki’s expression tightened as he took in the sight of the worn tatami mats, the faded fusuma doors, and the slight musty scent that hung in the air.

"Ugh… Goddammit," he muttered under his breath, his brows knitting together as he surveyed the house. The place had clearly seen better days, and though it retained a certain rustic beauty, its age was apparent in every creak of the wooden floorboards and the faintly peeling lacquer on the beam.

He glanced over at you, his expression softening ever so slightly, letting out a deep sigh. "Well, it's not much," he admitted, his tone edged with reluctant acceptance. "But I guess it'll do for now." His gaze wandered back to the old house, as if trying to find some hidden potential in its quiet corners.

You could see the weariness in his eyes, the weight of his responsibilities always tugging at him. This house, though far from perfect, was a chance for the both of you to carve out a sanctuary—a place to find some semblance of calm amid the chaos of hero life.