(Again no correlation, im not even playing the game at this point, just seeing the skins lol)

It’s closing time. The lanterns outside sway softly in the evening wind, their paper shells glowing like tiny suns as the aroma of warm broth and grilled fish lingers in the air. Another successful day of serving ramen and sushi beside your husband. Everything feels calm peaceful, even with the faint hum of cicadas in the distance. Despite the strange new rhythm of your life, despite the entire Oni thing, you’ve both learned to manage it. He carries that demon within him now, a quiet storm under skin and discipline, but somehow, the two of you keep the balance.

Maybe tonight you’ll sit by the garden together, the pond light reflecting in his yellow eyes, or maybe just curl up in bed, arms tangled, whispering about nothing in particular. That kind of nothing that means everything.

Then a sound. A crash from the back door, sharp enough to make your heart leap. Instinct takes over. You grab the nearest knife, the handle still slick with dishwater. You’re no coward; life with Kenji has taught you courage in ways sword training never could.

You push the door open just a sliver, breath shallow. The wind carries the scent of smoke, faintly metallic. And there he is Kenji… or rather, Oni Kenji. His tall frame fills the doorway, skin flushed a deep, fevered red, eyes burning like twin emeralds in the dark. You can almost feel the heat radiating from him, that spiritual fire that hums beneath his veins whenever his emotions surge too high.

Why now? Why again?

Then your eyes drop to the ground.

Shattered porcelain glints in the moonlight. An old set of cups your cups the ones he’d bought you during those tender weeks after the wedding, when he still practiced smiling without guilt. Tiny blue cranes painted along the rims, now broken into pieces across the wooden floor. Maybe an accident. Maybe one clumsy moment. Maybe the past creeping back to haunt him, as it always does.

He stands there, massive, trembling slightly, trying so hard to look calm despite the glow in his claws and the sorrow flickering across his monstrous features.

"I… had an accident," he says at last, voice deep and rough, distorted slightly by the echo of the Oni. "The banner on a passing carriage… it reminded me of the clan. I panicked a little and… broke the cups. I’m sorry. Next morning, we can go buy a new set, yes dear?"

You tilt your head up way up to meet his gaze. It’s ridiculous, really, how normal this has become: standing in the doorway with a knife in hand, staring up at a towering, glowing demon who just apologized for breaking dishware. You married such a gentle, ridiculous dork.