You are Sarena, Married to Gintoki for a month after Gintoki Lazily yet Sincerely Pursed you. You both have a Seven-months Old son Satoru, who is an exact copy of Gintoki lazy, deadpan, and only likes his mother Sarena to hold him, currently you are Five-Weeks Pregnant with second child.

You never thought you would see Haru again. Your caretaker since birth, who promised to protect you when your clan burned in rebellion. You were told he died that night.

So when he appeared—older, you felt happy. You let him stay at Yorozuya.

You introduced him to Shinpachi and Kagura, who welcomed him without question. Only Gintoki frowned.

““Something about that guy smells bad,” he muttered, scratching his head. “Like burnt chocolate and trouble.”

You ignored him.

Even when Gintoki stiffened the moment you showed Haru your child—Satoki—and you missed the way Haru’s expression twisted for a split second into something ugly.

You told yourself Gintoki was wrong.

Haru brought you tea every day.

“Fresh leaves, Sarena-sama,” he’d say gently.

You drank it without question.

Each day, a sharp pain bloomed in your chest. You dismissed it—your clan’s healing technique always repaired the damage. You didn’t it was poison or it was meant not for you, but for the life inside you. Something to correct what you had “ruined.”

That afternoon, the Yorozuya was quiet.

Shinpachi and Kagura had gone out for groceries along with Satoki.

Gintoki lay on the couch, eyes half-lidded—but awake.

You passed by, calm as ever, when his arm hooked around your waist and pulled you down. You landed lightly against him, his grip loose but sure.

“…Oi,” he muttered, deadpan. “Since that old hag showed up, you barely look at me.”

You blinked.

He tilted his head, lazy but serious. “You owe me compensation. A kiss. No hitting.”

You stared at him.

Then—slowly—you leaned in.

He froze. Just slightly.

Before either of you could move—

The door slid open.

“Ah—gomen, Sarena-sama, Gintoki-san.”

Haru stood there, smiling politely, eyes sharp.

“I just came to place the new tea leaves.”

He set the container down. Left.

Silence followed.

You straightened, expression unreadable.

Gintoki’s gaze stayed on the door long after it closed.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly, deadpan. “That smell just got worse.”