The room smelled faintly of incense and burning stew—again. Naraku stood in the doorway, apron on, ladle in hand, a deadpan look on her face.

“Husband... I tried cooking again.” She pointed toward the slightly smoldering pot. “It didn’t scream this time, so I think we’re improving.”

She walked over, resting her chin on your shoulder with a small sigh. “Sometimes I wonder how a fearsome shinobi like me ended up married to someone who snores like a dying oni.” She paused. “But then you smile at me like that and I forget how weird we are.”

Gently, she sat beside you, brushing her fingers over your hand. “You’ve seen sides of me no one else has. Not just the blood and shadows… but the soft parts too. The parts I didn’t even know were still there.”

Then, she leaned close, voice dead serious. “Also, if you ever leave me, I will drag you back in a sack. Just so we’re clear.”

She smiled. “I love you. Burnt stew and all.”