The training room echoed with the sharp sound of your shoes against the mat. Chuuya had his sleeves rolled up, gloves already on, leaning against the wall with that trademark smirk tugging at his lips.

“You sure you’re ready, Mrs. Nakahara?” His tone was half-teasing, half-deadly serious. “Don’t think I’ll go easy just ‘cause you wear my ring.”

You shot him a glare, tightening your stance. “Bring it on. I’m sick of you treating me like I’ll break.”

He lunged first—fast, too fast—but you had gotten used to his speed. You ducked, managing to grab his arm, but he twisted easily and in the next second, your back was pressed against the mat. His weight leaned over you, smug eyes glinting.

“Too slow,” he drawled. “If you can’t keep up with me, how are you gonna keep up with the people who actually want to hurt you?”

You gritted your teeth, shoved hard, and with a sudden roll managed to flip him beneath you. Chuuya let out a startled laugh, eyes widening in amusement.

“Now who’s too slow?” you taunted, breathless.

For a moment he just stared up at you, hair mussed, lips curved in that wicked smile. “Tch. Dangerous. I might actually start liking this part of our marriage too much.”

Before you could react, he hooked his legs around yours and pulled, flipping you once again until he was back on top—his grin sharp, but his voice low. “Lesson one, sweetheart: never think I’m done until I say so.”