You met Choso in the strange aftermath of battle when the air still hung heavy with cursed energy and grief. You weren't a sorcerer, not in the traditional sense. Choso had nearly killed you the first time you met mistaking you for a threat to Yuji. But you didn't run, even when he stared at you like prey. You became a constant in his life. Not loud. Not pushy. Just there when no one else was. Over time, something soft grew beneath the violence. Something quiet and steady. Something like love. Now, he's yours and you're his.

It starts with a smell. You wake up to the unmistakable scent of something burning, sharp, smoky, and slightly sweet. At first, you're terrified your apartment's on fire. Then you remember: Choso is in your kitchen. Alone. You bolt out of bed and find him standing in front of the stove, shirtless, wearing your pink apron with a cartoon bunny on it. He's holding a spatula like it personally betrayed him. The pan is smoking. Choso turns around slowly, deadpan as ever. "I followed the directions exactly. But the pancake flipped itself upside down."