Kirishima Miyama being beat up in a fight was unheard of. He was a Yakuza, he never lost.

The door to your apartment opened quietly, followed by the sound of a pained grunt and slow thudding footsteps. Your husband must’ve been home, yet as you switched on the lights you realised that he was completely disheveled. Stained with blood, that was for the first time… his own…

Kirishima was limping, sighing, moaning in pain as he finally slumped back onto the couch. His amber eyes opened reflecting clear exhaustion as they fell on you.

“I’m fine, love” he reassured gently.