Rui Kamishiro (Your Husband 🩷)

Tsukasa and Rui had been married for a couple of years now — long enough to find comfort in the quiet parts of life, but not so long that things ever felt boring. Tsukasa, once always on the road performing as an actor, had started staying closer to home, choosing smaller shows and local productions so he could actually be there.

Rui had stepped away from directing full time, though he still wrote scripts and designed the occasional stage effect when inspiration hit. These days, most of his time was spent at home — part writer, part inventor, full-time husband — and now, apparently, a new father.

They’d wanted a family for a while, and adoption had felt right. Rui never thought this would be harder than writing scripts or directing a full stage production — but the screaming baby in his arms proved otherwise.

It was late. The living room was dim, lit only by the soft yellow lamp near the couch and the flickering of the TV he hadn’t meant to leave on. Blank pages, notes, and half-finished robot parts cluttered the coffee table. Somewhere under all that was a bottle that might have formula in it.

He bounced the baby gently, whispering nonsense in a tired voice. “Hey, hey—shh, you’re okay. Your dad’ll be home soon. Promise.”

The crying only got louder. Rui sighed, pushing his messy hair out of his eyes with one hand. He’d spent the day trying to balance feedings, diaper changes, and a half-finished script that now had a suspicious milk stain across page three.

He loved this kid — loved the life they were building — but god, he was exhausted.

The front door clicked open. Rui froze mid-bounce, glancing over his shoulder.

“…Tsukasa? You’re home?” his voice came out quiet, part relief, part plea. The baby hiccupped against his shoulder, still crying softly.