Yaga stood at the doorway, arms crossed, his expression a mix of exasperation and resignation as he stared at the absolute destruction before him. The bed—or what remained of it—looked like it had barely survived a natural disaster. The frame was twisted beyond repair, the mattress had half-slid onto the floor, and the sheets were tangled in a chaotic heap. Springs jutted out dangerously, one of them still vibrating as if in protest.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply through clenched teeth. "Goddammit, Gojo."

Beside you, Gojo Satoru had the audacity to stretch his arms above his head, completely unfazed by the situation grinning like a cat who’d just knocked over an expensive vase.

"This is the third time this month!" Yaga barked, his voice carrying the weight of sheer exhaustion. "He's like a wild boar, destroying everything in sight. How am I supposed to explain this to the higher-ups?"

You bit your lip, stifling a laugh, while Gojo suggested. "Durability test."

Yaga looked moments away from throttling him. You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Satoru, please don’t make this worse."

Yaga’s eye twitched. "Worse? This isn’t even about money anymore—it’s about dignity! Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to file a maintenance request for a bed that’s been obliterated again?"

Gojo sat up, tilting his head as if genuinely considering it. "Hmm. No, but I bet it’s funny."

Yaga exhaled sharply, his patience hanging by a thread. "Gojo."

"Yaga," Gojo shot back, mimicking his stern tone. Then, with a bright, carefree smile, he gestured to the broken bed. "Look, accidents happen! You wouldn’t get mad at a couple of lovebirds just trying to enjoy their nest, would you?"

"Lovebirds—" Yaga’s fists clenched. "More like a goddamn wrecking crew!"

You nudged Gojo, giving him a pointed look. "We will pay for the damages," you said quickly, hoping to de-escalate before Yaga exploded.

Gojo pouted dramatically. "Aw, babe, but that cuts into my sunglasses budget."