Kushina huffed, crossing her arms, but her glare softened a fraction, her shoulders slumping as the adrenaline ebbed. "You're lucky it was just the door," she muttered, kicking a splinter across the floor.
Souta stood frozen, the kitchen dim around him, the shattered remains of his front door scattered like kindling across the floor.
Kushina's finger was still aimed at his chest, her eyes blazing with a fury, something that made his gut twist..
"Hey, Kushi," he said, voice low, deliberate. He stepped closer, slow, hands still raised like he was approaching a spooked animal. "I'm right here, okay? Not dead, not even close. Just… got caught up in some stuff. I'm sorry I made you worry."
Her eyes narrowed at the nickname, but she didn't snap, just huffed, her arms staying crossed tight. "Stuff," she repeated, her tone sharp, dripping with skepticism. "That's what you're giving me? Stuff? You disappear for weeks, and I'm supposed to just—" She cut herself off, jaw clenching, and looked away, her hair falling across her face like a curtain. "You're such an idiot."
"Yeah, I know," he said, softer now, closing the gap until he was just a step away. He reached out, hesitant, and placed a hand on her arm, his fingers light but firm, grounding. She stiffened but didn't pull away, her glare flicking back to him, daring him to push further.
"I messed up. Should've sent word, should've done a lot of things. But I'm here now, and I'm not going anywhere."
Her lips parted, like she might argue, but the fight in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something rawer—relief, maybe, or exhaustion. "You better not," she muttered, her voice quieter, the edge blunted. "I was… I thought something happened. Something bad." Her shoulders slumped further, and she uncrossed her arms, letting them hang, her fingers twitching like she didn't know what to do with them.
Souta took the opening, stepping closer still, his hand sliding from her arm to her waist, resting there lightly, just enough to feel the warmth of her through her shirt. She tensed again, her breath catching, but she didn't shove him off. Her eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face.
"Kushi," he said again, his voice a murmur now, "I'm sorry. Really. Let me make it up to you, yeah?"
She stared at him, her eyes searching his, and for a moment, the room felt smaller, the air thicker, charged like the calm before a lightning strike. "You're gonna have to do better than that," she said, but her voice was softer, the anger draining out. Her hand brushed his chest, not pushing, just resting there, her fingers curling slightly into his shirt. "And don't think you can just… touch me and make it all better, jerk."
He grinned, catching the faint flush creeping up her cheeks. "Not trying to fix it all," he said, his thumb brushing her side, a small, testing move. "Just trying to calm you down before you wreck the rest of my house." His other hand moved to her shoulder, steadying her, and he leaned in just a fraction, close enough to catch the faint scent of her—spices, sweat, and something uniquely her.
Kushina's lips twitched, almost a smile, but she held it back, her eyes still sharp. "You're lucky I'm tired," she said, her voice low, but she leaned into his touch, just enough to notice. "And don't call me Kushi. Sounds weird. Stick with Red—or Kushina, if you wanna live."
"Red it is," he said, chuckling, his hand lingering on her waist a moment longer before he eased back, giving her space but staying close. "So, you calmed down enough to stop breaking my stuff? Or do I need to hide the furniture?"
She snorted, finally letting a small smile slip, and shoved his chest lightly, playful now. "You're pushing it. But yeah, I'm done… for now." She stepped back, brushing her hair from her face, and glanced at the wrecked door, her smile fading into a grimace. "Sorry about that. Got carried away."
"Carried away's your middle name," he teased, moving to the counter and leaning against it, arms crossed. "But I'll let it slide if you tell me what's got you storming in here like a one-woman army. Just worried about me, or is something else up?"
Kushina hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve, then sighed, her shoulders relaxing fully. "Mostly you," she admitted, her voice quieter, almost shy.
"Anyway, I'm here now, and you're alive, so I guess I can stop freaking out."
"Good," he said, his grin softening. "'Cause I'd hate to be the guy who makes Kushina Uzumaki lose her cool." He tilted his head, studying her, the way her eyes flickered with that mix of fire and vulnerability.
"You sticking around? I could use some of that cooking you're always bragging about."Her eyes lit up, a spark of her usual energy returning. "Oh, you're in for it now," she said, stepping past him to the kitchen, already eyeing the cabinets.
"I've been working on some new recipes—spicy noodles, a curry that'll knock your socks off, and this stew thing I tweaked. You're trying them all, and you better like 'em." She glanced back, smirking. "And don't call me Red when I'm cooking. Kushina's fine."
"Deal, Kushina," he said, laughing as he followed her, leaning against the counter to watch her rummage through his sparse supplies. "But if you burn my kitchen down, you're fixing the door and the house."
"Keep talking, and I'll make you fix it yourself," she shot back, pulling out a dusty bag of noodles and a jar of questionable spices.
Souta watched,
"Oi," she said, snapping her fingers in front of his face, a wooden spoon in her other hand.
"You zoning out on me? I'm slaving away here, and you're daydreaming. What's up with you?"
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head, his grin returning. "Just thinking you look good in my kitchen, Kushina."
Her cheeks flushed, and she brandished the spoon like a weapon, pointing it at his nose. "Flatterer. Save it for after you taste this. Now grab a knife and start chopping—those onions aren't gonna cut themselves."
He laughed, grabbing a knife from the counter and joining her, their shoulders brushing as they worked.