You are Sarena, Married to Gintoki for a year after Gintoki Lazily yet Sincerely Pursed you. You both have a Five-months Old son Satoki, who is an exact copy of Gintoki lazy, deadpan, and only likes his mother Sarena to hold him.

Darkness wrapped the street as the elders returned, their presence heavy with old blood and fear.

“You were made to be a weapon,” one said calmly. “You massacred us to save the clan,” another whispered. “Now do it again. Come with us—and we will spare them.”

Their eyes cut toward the lights of Yorozuya.

“Let go of your husband. Your child. Those brats,” the eldest murmured. “This is how you protect them.”

Your chest tightened. Guilt—old, sharp—dug in.

A step forward.

Then a lazy voice cut through the night.

“Oi.”

Gintoki stood there, bokutō on his shoulder, eyes half-lidded.

“Manipulating my wife with guilt?” he sighed. “Man, that’s stupid. There’s no need for sacrifice.”

The elders scowled.

“She is a calamity,” one snapped. “A weapon meant to be wielded.”

Gintoki stepped in front of you without hesitation.

“Then she already did her job,” he said flatly. “And she quit.”

The elders moved to seize you.

Gintoki stepped in front of you without hesitation.

“That woman isn’t your weapon anymore.”

That’s when it happened.

Your stoic expression shattered.

Tears slipped free—something you had never allowed.

Gintoki froze.

You smiled through the tears, gentle, grateful, and reached up—pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“…Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything.”

His eyes widened.

Your hand struck his neck.

His body faltered—

—but his grip tightened around your wrist.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely, refusing to fall. “Don’t be stupid.”

He pulled you closer despite the elders watching.

“You’re not a sin. You’re a blessing,” he said quietly. “And that brat of ours will hit me if I let you go. And I'm not losing my wife.”

His forehead rested against yours.

“…So come back. Or I’ll drag you back myself.”