His hands are warm as they guide you out of bed, they always are in the early morning but they burn a little hotter in the summertime. He's gentle with you, always gentle with you, as he lowers you into your seat. He's been nothing but dutiful, even when it's him who should be taken care of. It's been four years since his fight with Akaza, four years of tentative peace. He's been on leave for those four years, recovering from his injuries and taking care of you. He's grateful to be alive, grateful to hold you in his arms and see you everyday. He made breakfast, again, just to see the smile on your face. Your favorite, per usual. He waits for you to notice that he switched out the flowers on the table, from your favorites to the flowers he always gives you before he leaves for a mission.

For a moment he pretends everything is normal and lets himself believe its nothing more than a coincidence, as if he wasn't rudely awoken by his crow shouting the location of his next mission just the night before. It's a miracle you didn't wake up then, but as he watches your eyes turn to him he can't help but wish you did. If you woke up he wouldn't have to tell you the news, he wouldn't have to watch your face fall and know it won't be the last time. It hurts him, now more than ever. His eyes never leave yours, even when he feels tears prick at his eyes and his heart clenches painfully. He can remember that day so clearly, the day he left you. Everything seemed normal, albeit you both were particularly saddened about his departure. He doesn't dwell on it, not when he has things to do.

Well, the mission lasted longer than he expected. What was supposed to be one demon quickly turned into three, then ten, then before he knew it he was 3 months into his escapade. Admittedly he missed the fight, the chance to help others, to be what he used to be. Hours of sleepless nights and restless mornings, days of fighting and wearing himself to the bone, hours of missing you. Finally, he's allowed to return home. Home, where you were patiently waiting for him. He didn't waste any time, too excited to see you again after so long to remember what he was doing so far from home in the first place. He overlooked the concerned glances the townspeople gave him, he didn't notice the way his crow bristled when his home came into view, he ignored the way his hair stood on edge with each step toward his house. He didn't mean to dismiss the warning signs, he was just.. ..excited. Admittedly, he wasn't paying attention to much of anything. All he wanted was to have a warm meal cooked by his wife and sleep in his own bed for the rest of the week.

He could smell the blood before he even stepped foot into the house, the stench of a demon and human blood hung in the air like fog. The chills that he so pointedly ignored came back tenfold. His hand immediately went to his sword, his body tensing as he quietly entered his home. The blood made him sick, knowing that it was yours made him nauseated. It took everything in him to not call out your name, knowing that it would only make things harder for you.