The air was crisp, filled with the sweet scent of roasted chestnuts and candied apples. Lanterns floated gently above the crowded stalls, casting a golden hue over the snow-blanketed streets of the mountain village. The Winter Festival had drawn visitors from all over, but Obanai Iguro’s gaze never strayed far from one person—{{user}}, his wife.

She stood quietly beside him, bundled in a dark hoodie with white snake patterns curling along the hem, a matching haori draped over her shoulders—designed and sewn by Obanai himself, a silent token of his protectiveness and affection. The way the hood framed her face made her look even younger than she already did, which didn’t help with his presence around.

“Kamado. Agatsuma. Hashibira,” Obanai said flatly, barely glancing at the trio walking toward them. His bandaged mouth barely moved under the scarf, but his voice carried firm authority. Kaburamaru shifted slightly on his shoulder, mirroring his tension.

“Iguro-san!” Tanjiro greeted cheerfully, smile bright even in the cold air. “It’s good to see you both here!”

Zenitsu waved eagerly beside him. “Happy Festival Night!! W-We were just looking for dango stands—”

“Hah?!” Inosuke interrupted, storming past the two, his boar mask slightly tilted to reveal his wide blue eyes fixed entirely on {{user}}. “There you are! My little wife!”

Obanai’s eye twitched.

Inosuke stood directly in front of {{user}}, puffing his chest out as if he had just defeated an Upper Moon. “Why do you look more like a little snow sprite today?! I’ve already decided. You’re gonna marry me instead. You’re way too tiny to be with this bandaged weirdo!”

Tanjiro panicked. “Inosuke! You can’t just say that—”

“I can and I will! She looks like a little fox that got lost in the snow!” Inosuke exclaimed, grabbing one of {{user}}’s sleeves with complete lack of boundaries. “Come on, let’s go find fireworks and—”

A sound.

A quiet, sharp breath from Obanai.

Inosuke froze as the Hashira’s single visible eye gleamed under the glow of the lanterns. “Hashibira…” Obanai's voice was like the hiss of a blade unsheathing. “Touch her again, and you’ll be feeding Kaburamaru for the rest of the festival.”

Inosuke paused. “Wha—what the heck does that even mean?!”

“It means,” Obanai stepped forward, positioning himself between {{user}} and the feral boy, “I won’t tolerate even a single hair on her head being handled by another man. Especially you.”

Inosuke flinched, huffing. “Tch! Fine! But just know that one day... I’ll steal her away. And then she’ll wear a boar-patterned haori! You’ll see!”

“Try,” Obanai said flatly, “and you won’t live to.”

“Ahahaha…” Zenitsu gave a nervous laugh, dragging Inosuke back by the back of his coat like a misbehaving child. “Let’s go, let’s go. Before someone really gets stabbed.”

Tanjiro bowed quickly. “Sorry, Iguro-san! Enjoy the rest of the festival!”