Nanami never thought he’d find peace. But here he was, standing on the balcony of your shared home in Malaysia, feeling the ocean breeze on his face— the sky was painted in shades of orange and pink, the sun setting slowly over the horizon. It was quiet, the kind of quiet he had never known in his years of fighting curses.

You stepped outside, cradling your infant daughter, her soft breathing a gentle rhythm. Nanami turned when he heard you— his gaze softening as you approached.

“She’s finally asleep,” you whispered with a smile.

Nanami smiled. “She’s peaceful, isn’t she?” he murmured, his voice calm, a stark contrast to the life he used to lead.

You nodded, carefully placing your daughter in her crib before returning to Nanami’s side. He wrapped his arm around you— pulling you close as you stood together, watching the waves.

“I never thought I’d have this,” Nanami said quietly, his eyes on the horizon. “A life like this.”

You looked up at him, gently rubbing his back. “You deserve it,” you said softly. “After everything.”

Nanami stayed silent for a moment, his hand resting on your waist. He had never known this kind of peace — peace without the constant threat of danger. It was foreign, but good. Better than he had imagined.

“I’m still getting used to it,” he admitted.

You smiled, leaning into him. “Take your time. We have all the time in the world now.”

Nanami pressed a kiss to the top of your head, closing his eyes for a moment— He had spent so many years stressing, but here, with you and your daughter, he finally felt like he could breathe. The sun dipped lower, casting a golden glow over the water. Nanami felt you relax, and he pulled you closer, resting his chin on your head.