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Even a year after the war against the Demon King, Iguro Obanai remained a master of stealth. In his own home, he moved quietly through the halls, his footfalls barely making a sound as if he expected to find hordes of bloodthirsty demons lurking around dim corners and empty corridors. When he turned into the kitchen that morning, however, he found Mitsuri standing in front of the stove. Immediately, his body forgot every ounce of training. Senses went dormant to his surroundings as he zeroed in on his black-and-white striped haori over his wife’s full-figured frame.
Iguro Mitsuri happily hummed and swayed around the warm kitchen in a way that made Obanai want to pull up a chair. Over the savory-sweet smell of omurice and sharp tang of tea, he caught the light scents of pine and wild flower blossoms in the air that naturally clung to his wife like a second skin. His heart thumped when she bent her neck to the left, and a tired, relieved groan escaped her lips. Her sakura-pink hair hadn’t grown back much since their last battle—the tips barely brushed past her shoulders—so his remaining eye had no problem following the delicate, sloping curve. But even with limited vision, the fading reddish pink mark he’d left on her several nights ago stood out like a bonfire against the milky-white of her skin. The sight of which caused his mouth to simultaneously water and dry up, while his lips tingled in anticipation of sucking on the smooth flesh once more.
Obanai swallowed hard, feeling himself gradually losing control. But then Mitsuri stretched her left arm high over her head, causing the loose garment to shift upward until he could see her shapely thighs and the plump curve of her ass… He was certain she had nothing else underneath.
Intent on finding out for himself, Obanai managed to take one step forward, arm outstretched and ready to grab hold of her to explore every inch of her delectable body with his own—breakfast be damned—when the wails of a baby broke out from a different room in the house. He was a bit ashamed to find he actually jumped in surprise.
Mitsuri whirled around then, her ears instantly perking up at the sound of her child’s faint cries over the humming and sizzling of food.
“Oh! Good morning, darling,” she beamed in delight with a quick peck to his lips while pressing the chopsticks she’d been using to cook with into the palm of his limp, open hand. “Don’t let breakfast burn!” she called out without a backwards glance before darting out of the kitchen to continue towards their bedroom.
His sureness about Mitsuri being completely naked under his robe was now confirmed, and Obanai had to spend a few extra moments evening out his breathing and blinking several times to regain his composure before trudging over to the stove. As he mindlessly checked on the food, he found himself wondering how much longer he’d be able to last before his balls eventually shriveled up and fell off.
Ever since the arrival of the newest Iguro two short weeks ago, things had been…different. Good different, but different all the same. Mitsuri was beyond a wonderful mother and caretaker, taking to the role like she’d been doing it all her life and opting to be as hands-on as much as a person could be with only one such appendage. That didn’t mean she neglected all her other duties, however, as she always somehow found the time to clean the home they shared, look after her bees, Kaburamaru, the gardens, as well as make amazing home-cooked meals every day. Compared to her, Obanai felt wholly inadequate that he may as well not have existed at all.
Finding time alone was also a challenge, with their last romantic encounter having ended as abruptly as it had started when the baby suddenly woke up hungry in the middle of the night, leaving Mitsuri with a small mark on her neck and half-flustered. In comparison, Obanai felt like he could explode with a well-timed sigh over his loins. It was enough to leave him missing the days after they’d finally been allowed to leave the Butterfly Mansion.
Following months and months of physical therapy, bandaged like mummies, having lost a few limbs and organs and—in Mitsuri’s case—hair, they returned to a world that no longer held the terrors they were once used to. It had been difficult at first, of course. Navigating a world with limited sight or relearning to do everything again with a non-dominant hand, but at least they were alive…and in love. It was a feeling that felt like being reborn all over again. A gulp of fresh air after drowning for so long. Together, Mitsuri and Obanai slowly overcame obstacles and hardships through tender smiles and knowing glances, grateful they wouldn’t have to face the new world alone. What a relief it was…
Before long came the touches. The late-night kisses and feather-light caresses. The whispers and sighs and moans of pure release and ecstasy that followed newlywed bliss. Learning what it was like to finally be free and seeing each other in a whole different light. Back when it had been just the two of them. When a burnt meal actually meant an…eventful morning.
A smirk tilted Obanai’s lips. Remembering their past activities did nothing to quell his earlier desire nor the fire burning just beneath his skin. But as he flipped one of the rice omelets onto a plate, he heard the quiet murmurings of Mitsuri and the bubbling coos of their newborn daughter. In his mind, he could picture them lying comfortably on the futon while his wife nursed their child, Kaburamaru curled up nearby because he enjoyed being near the infant as she slept and ate.
Obanai’s smile softened as the heat in his body came to rest in his chest. Despite the ever-changing future, he vowed never to take this new life for granted.
I wouldn’t change this for the world.