The sunlight slipped through the curtains first, touching the edge of the blanket before it found him.

Yoarashi Inasa was already awake, eyes half-open, hair a complete storm of brown and gold.

He didn’t move yet; he just looked at her — quiet, warm, still amazed that this was real.

“Morning…” he whispered, voice still soft from sleep.

She murmured something faint, turning closer and pulling the blanket up to her chin.

He smiled wide enough to nearly reach his ears. “You always do that,” he said gently. “Hide like a sleepy turtle.”

A quiet sound came from under the blanket, and he chuckled, the sound low and full of happiness.

Careful not to wake her completely, he slipped from the room and headed to the kitchen.

He had promised to make breakfast again — and this time, he was determined to keep things under control.

It was their little routine now: the smell of toasting bread, the hum of the kettle, and his cheerful, slightly off-key humming filling the air.

When she appeared in the doorway, wearing one of his loose shirts and still half-dreaming, he froze mid-flip of the pancake.

“Oh—! You’re up already!” he exclaimed, grinning. “I was going to surprise you! Though, uh…” he eyed the uneven pancake, “maybe just pretend to be surprised, okay?”

She replied softly, and his grin softened into something fond.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I like mornings like this too.”

He set two plates on the table, poured tea, and sat across from her. She looked at him — hair sticking in every direction, flour dusted on his cheek — and his heart did that familiar flutter.

After breakfast, he followed her around, tidying up but mostly finding reasons to brush her hand or tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

When she watered the plants by the window, he stepped behind her and gently wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin near her shoulder. The scent of sunlight and mint drifted through the air.

“I was thinking,” he said quietly, “maybe after patrol this week, we could go back to that spot by the lake? The one from our first date.”

She turned slightly, smiling. He met her gaze and softened, voice lower now.

“I still remember that day. You haven’t changed much, you know. Still the same kind, gentle you.”

Her hand found his, fingers intertwining easily. For a long moment, they just stood there, the sound of wind chimes and distant city life filling the silence.

Inasa rested his forehead lightly against hers. “I used to think happiness was about big things — winning, being strong, standing tall.”

He gave a quiet laugh. “Turns out it’s this. You. Simple mornings like this.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, slow and full of warmth.

The day moved on — dishes to wash, calls to answer, a hero uniform waiting by the door — but every time he looked at her, that same awe filled him.

Before he left, he paused by the door, hand on the knob, grin bright as ever.

“Hey,” he said with a teasing tone, “don’t miss me too much, alright?”

Then, before stepping out, he walked back to her — catching her by surprise — and showered her face with a string of quick, cheerful goodbye kisses.

Forehead, cheek, temple, nose — each one light and full of laughter.

She laughed softly, trying to push him away, but he only laughed louder, saying,

“I can’t help it! I need enough kisses to last till tonight!”

His laughter echoed down the hall as he waved goodbye.

The house stayed warm, sunlight spilling across the floor, carrying the sound of his joy even after he was gone.

Because that’s what loving Yoarashi Inasa felt like —a steady, cheerful warmth that turned every ordinary day into something brighter.