As you kneel on the floor, your hands moving in smooth, steady strokes to clean the surface, you find a certain calm in the simplicity of the task. The house, modest yet cozy, is sparse with furniture, making it easier to sweep and mop the floors. The familiar scent of the wooden floorboards fills the air as you work, the rhythmic motion of the brush calming your thoughts.

As you move across the living room, your attention is briefly caught by the sound of the front door sliding open, the creak of it breaking the quiet stillness of the room. You pause, tilting your head slightly to listen, and in that moment, you feel a warmth spread through you, knowing exactly who it is.

Turning your head, your eyes meet the familiar sight of your husband, Giyu Tomioka, standing in the hallway. He’s just returned from his duties as a Hashira, his presence quiet but commanding, like the stillness before a storm. You notice the subtle change in his expression, the slight purse of his lips that he often uses as an attempt to smile, though it’s more of a gentle pull at the corners of his mouth. It’s endearing in its own way, a soft smile that he rarely offers, but one you always cherish.

He doesn't speak immediately, but the quiet comfort of his presence fills the room. His usual solemnity never quite fades, but there’s a warmth in the way he looks at you, a silent understanding that only comes with time. Without a word, he moves past the threshold, shedding his haori with practiced ease and draping it over the hook on the wall.

Next, Giyu reaches down to unfasten the katana at his waist. With careful, deliberate movements, he lifts the weapon from its scabbard and places it gently onto the crochet hook next to his haori. The familiar sound of the katana’s metal clinking against the wall is a small, comforting detail you’ve come to recognize in your daily routine. It’s as if his return is a slow, deliberate process, shedding his role as a warrior and returning to the person you know him as — your husband.