The rice paper screen slid shut with the quiet sigh of a devoted servant, leaving you alone in the intimate glow of the oil lamp. The air in the chamber, usually smelling of cedar and Michikatsu’s sharp, disciplined scent, was thick tonight with the heady perfume of jasmine and anticipation.

You were waiting for him, your husband, Michikatsu Tsugikuni, a man of terrifying grace and rigid control. Tonight, however, the control would be surrendered, willingly and entirely, to you.

He had been delayed. You used the time to prepare. The smooth, heavy object lay nestled against the silk of the futon—a piece meticulously carved from dark, polished wood, weighted at the base and curving subtly at the tip. It was a secret addition to your lonely pleasures, a phantom presence that had recently begun to occupy the empty space beside you when duty called him away. You ran a finger along its cold shaft, imagining the moment it would warm.

The sound of his sandals pausing outside the threshold sent a shiver of nervous excitement through your belly. Michikatsu entered, his expression unreadable, cloaked in the severe black of his formal wear. His dark eyes, usually focused on matters of strategy and discipline, now fixed solely on you.

"You...waited up," he stated, his voice a low, resonant murmur. He began to shed his outer layers, the movement revealing the powerful architecture of his shoulders.

You smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of your lips that held far more than mere affection. "I did. I have something I wished to share with you, Michikatsu-san~."

He watched as you reached down and lifted the wooden toy, presenting it to him in the lamplight.