"You're not dead yet. That's something, I suppose," the woman said, her voice smooth yet laced with a hint of amusement.
Haruto's eyes flickered open, blurry and heavy with the weight of his injuries. His head throbbed, the world spinning around him. His vision was a haze of shapes and colors, but he could barely make her out—just a silhouette against the dim light.
Still disoriented, he blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. "Who are you?" he managed to croak, his voice weak, barely above a whisper.
The woman paused for a moment, her gaze sharp. She took one slow step toward him and, without warning, kicked him in the foot.
"How the hell do you not remember your own wife, you dumbass?" she snapped, her voice full of frustration. "I went away for two years, and now you don't even remember me?!"
Haruto blinked again, the bloodied haze in his vision blurring the details of her face. His mind raced, struggling to process her words. Wife? But… he couldn't remember anything. His head was pounding, his body broken, and everything felt like a distant memory.
Before he could even comprehend her statement, his vision went dark. He fell unconscious, his body limp as he crumpled back to the ground.
The woman stood over him for a moment, a hint of annoyance crossing her features. She tilted her head slightly, thinking for a few seconds. Then, without warning, the air shifted with an unsettling presence.
The Goblin King teleported behind her, his massive, hulking form appearing out of nowhere, roaring mid-air with a deafening sound that shook the very walls of the cavern.
But the woman didn't flinch.
"You really think a dumb-looking, big green goblin can even get close to me?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.
In an instant, she turned around, and with a snap of her fingers, a violent wave of wind shot out from her, slamming into the Goblin King with incredible force. The air around her rippled as the gust of wind tore the creature to pieces. The Goblin King's form disintegrated into countless chunks, falling to the ground with a thunderous crash.
She didn't even spare a second glance at the scattered remains. Her gaze lingered on Haruto's unconscious body, then back to the wreckage she had just caused, as if this was all just another day's work.
The scene faded.
The sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of red and orange. The sound of crackling wood filled the air, and the faint scent of something cooking wafted through the small, humble hut. The woman moved gracefully around a rustic kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove with a wooden spoon, her back to the small table where Haruto lay.
He was covered in bandages, his body bruised and battered, but still alive. The soft, rhythmic sound of the woman working filled the otherwise quiet room.
"Ugh... my head…" Haruto groaned, slowly stirring in the bed, his hand pressing to his temple as he tried to sit up.
"Stay down, you no-brain monkey!" the woman yelled in a low voice, her tone one of clear annoyance, though there was an underlying affection in her words. "You're not getting up yet."
"HUH! Where am I?" Haruto's voice was a mix of confusion and panic, his heart racing as he took in his surroundings. "What happened…?"
The woman turned around, hands on her hips as she looked at him. "You're in my home, idiot," she replied, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "You nearly died back there. So, I picked you up and bandaged you. And of course, I slapped you really hard because I got mad."
Haruto's brows furrowed. "Huh? What am I?? An object??" he asked, still too dazed to grasp the full picture. "Also, why the hell would you slap a nearly dead person?"
The woman raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. "Well, you were being a dumbass. And it helped wake you up, didn't it?"
Haruto stared at her, still trying to process everything, but his mind was too scrambled to form a coherent response. "Wait… you're my… wife?" The words felt strange, alien even, like they didn't belong to him. Wife? That felt so far off, like a memory he couldn't quite place.
The woman's expression softened slightly, her eyes filled with a strange mix of affection and annoyance. "Two years, Haruto. Two damn years. You couldn't even remember me, you idiot."
Haruto opened his mouth to say something, but then the truth hit him—his mind was still foggy. He had no recollection of those two years she mentioned. What happened to me?
She sighed, turning back to the stove. "I'm making you some food, so just rest. You're not dead, but you're not exactly in the best shape either."
After a few moments the woman walked over to Haruto's bed, a steaming bowl of stew in her hands. The rich aroma filled the room as she carefully set it down on the table beside him. "Eat up," she said, her voice a mix of sharpness and an underlying care. "You're still alive, so the least you can do is survive a meal."
Haruto eyed the bowl cautiously. His stomach growled, but confusion still clouded his thoughts. He didn't know what to make of this situation, but hunger overpowered his reservations. Slowly, he picked up the spoon and took a few hesitant bites. The stew tasted good, warm and satisfying, but his mind was still spinning.
After a few moments, he put the spoon down and finally asked, "Hey, uh... what's your name?"
The woman stopped, and for a brief moment, she stared at him as though he had just asked the most ridiculous question. Her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing as she put the bowl of stew down with a sigh.
Then, without warning, she slapped him—hard. The impact was sharp, and the sting shot across his face.
"OUCH! What the hell was that for?" Haruto yelped, his hand flying to his face, trying to ease the pain.
She stood over him, arms crossed, looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. "Ugh. I don't even know why the hell I showed you any pity or love," she muttered, her voice laced with frustration. She paused for a moment, clearly trying to collect her thoughts. Finally, with a deep breath, she exhaled and spoke again.
"Mai Takeda," she said, her voice firm and laced with irritation. "That's your wife's name, you dumbass."
Haruto blinked, the name sounding foreign yet strangely familiar. His mind was too clouded to process it immediately. Mai Takeda? He couldn't wrap his head around it. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Mai didn't give him a chance to respond. She crossed her arms and shot him a hard look. "Now, burn that in your brain, or else you die by my hands one day. And if you don't..." Her voice grew colder. "Well, it'll be soon."
Haruto shot up from the bed, his head throbbing as the pain from her slap still burned on his cheek. "WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU HIT ME THAT HARD RIGHT AFTER SAVING ME?!" he yelled, his voice filled with frustration.
Mai still standing across from him, didn't flinch. Instead, she turned to him, her eyes flashing with a mix of disbelief and anger. "I DON'T KNOW? MAYBE BECAUSE MY HUSBAND DOESN'T EVEN REMEMBER MY NAME OR FACE!" she snapped, her voice sharp and raw.
Haruto's words faltered. For a moment, he just stared at her, his mind struggling to piece everything together. He was about to say something, but the words got stuck in his throat.
Mai let out a long, exasperated sigh and dropped her shoulders, clearly worn out from the exchange. She walked over to a nearby chair and sat down, picking up her bowl of stew. "It's going to go cold. So, eat it," she said, her voice softer now, almost tired. "I made it with all my heart."
Haruto sank back into the bed, still feeling a bit dizzy, but the smell of the stew was enough to pull him out of his daze. He grabbed the bowl, bringing it to his lips with a little more urgency than he meant to. The first bite hit him like a wave of comfort, the warmth spreading through him.
"This is really good," he mumbled through a mouthful, barely managing to swallow before diving in for another bite, not caring about the fact that he was stuffing his face.
The woman, sitting across from him, immediately shot him a sharp glare. "HEY! DON'T TALK WHILE EATING!!! AND STOP STUFFING YOUR FACE. NO ONE'S GOING TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM YOU!" she barked, her voice a mixture of irritation and disbelief.
Haruto froze, a piece of stew halfway to his mouth. He'd been so hungry, the food tasted too good to stop. Before he could respond, he suddenly felt the stew catch in his throat, a bit of food lodging itself awkwardly.
He coughed hard, eyes watering as he gasped for air, but his body didn't seem to cooperate. The woman immediately stood up, her hands on her hips. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath, before giving him a pointed stare. "You should've known better."
Finally, Haruto managed to clear his throat, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm fine, alright?" he said, breathing heavily. "Just wasn't expecting the taste to hit me like that."
Mai's expression softened, but only just. "If you don't want to choke, maybe slow down," she said, sitting back down. "And remember—chew your food, genius."
Haruto couldn't help but let out a weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, yeah… thanks for the rescue, I guess," he muttered, finally taking a more careful bite.
Haruto set the spoon down, the stew now feeling like the least of his worries. "So, you're really my wife, huh?" he muttered, his voice quieter now, almost like he was asking himself more than her.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, she just stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. "Guess so," she said, her voice cool, but there was something behind it—something softer that didn't quite match the frustration she'd shown earlier.
To be continued...