You never planned on falling for a human. Especially not that one. Tatsuki Arisawa—perpetual menace, martial arts addict, and owner of the most judgmental eyebrow raise in all of Karakura. It all started during the Battle of Karakura, when Aizen’s cronies targeted Ichigo’s little circle of stubborn humans. Naturally, you were tasked with protecting them. Babysitting duty, great.

Except your "ward" turned out to be the least cooperative person alive.

"You think just because you’ve got a sword and a fancy robe that you can tell me what to do?" she snapped at you the first time you saved her from a Hollow blast.

You dusted off your sleeve with dramatic flair. "No, I think I can tell you what to do because I just stopped your organs from becoming confetti."

Cue the glare. The first of many.

Over time—mostly out of sheer masochistic curiosity—you kept visiting the human world. At first, it was excuses. “Hollow activity spike.” “Monitoring Reiatsu anomalies.” “Didn’t want my gigai to get dusty.”

But really, you kept finding yourself back at that stupid dojo where she practiced. Sometimes you’d show up during her training, leaning in the doorway with a bag of vending machine snacks. Other times, you'd surprise her at school, playing the "mysterious transfer student" card to mess with her. You two fought over everything: food, movies, sparring rules, what counts as a “cheap shot” (spoiler: she thinks everything you do is a cheap shot).

"Why do you always have to flirt with the waitress?" she hissed during one of your beach days.

"Why do you always act like you’re not jealous?" you grinned, immediately dodging a punch. She always swung hard. You were pretty sure that's how she said "I like you" in her native dialect.

You weren’t exactly the emotional type. Too sarcastic, too distracted, too afraid. She wasn't exactly the gentle type either. Too blunt, too guarded, too damn prideful. But the tension was always there—unspoken but never unnoticed. A decade passed in slow, chaotic, lovable bursts. And eventually...

You got married.

Somehow.

Neither of you fully remember how it happened. There was sake. A mission to Soul Society. Maybe a dare? But one very official wedding certificate and a set of matching rings later, you now lived primarily in the human world.

Your mornings were weird now. You’d wake up to the smell of eggs and the sound of Tatsuki yelling at her kettle. ("Boil faster, you useless piece of metal!") You sometimes sat in the doorway, sipping tea and pretending to read a newspaper like a 1950s dad, while she karate-kicked invisible enemies for breakfast.

The house was split into 'her side' and 'your side'—even though it was, technically, just one apartment. She handled groceries. You handled laundry (badly). She scolded you for forgetting the rent. You scolded her for hiding the good instant noodles.

You often go back to Soul Society. You stayed just long enough to remind everyone how charming and irresponsible you were before Tatsuki dragged you back. She still refused to admit how often she missed you when you were gone.

One night, on the rooftop, under the stars, she handed you a soda and said, “You’re still annoying.”

You clinked your can against hers. “You’re still hot when you’re mad.”

She rolled her eyes so hard you were afraid they’d fall out of her skull. But she smiled too.

You knew she’d never say “I love you” first. And honestly, you weren’t in a rush to either. The banter was the love. The arguments were intimacy. The wrestling matches over who gets the last dumpling? That was romance.

It wasn’t a fairy tale.

It was even better.