The day before....
In the modest but pristine Akimatsu manor, the kitchen looked like a kawaii war zone.
Flower-patterned aprons. Bloodied chopsticks. A suspicious sack squirming slightly in the corner. And in the center of it all, stood the ever-ethereal Nene Akimatsu, humming a tune that had absolutely no business sounding so cute while she diced Reaper Scorpion Chili with delicate, manicured fingers.
"Oh my!" Nene blinked, holding a chili close to her porcelain face. "This little guy looks like he's crying. How precious!"
Behind her stood her twin sons, Jin and Jikan, both wearing matching 'Kiss the Cook (and Die)' aprons. They watched their mother like hawks, like adoring, overprotective, deeply homicidal hawks.
"Mother," Jikan said, voice as flat as hospital beeps. "That man outside the window was ogling you."
"Oh? Maybe he liked my apron!" Nene smiled sweetly. "It has dancing pigs on it! See?"
Jin grinned like a deranged bunny. "He's blind now."
"Oh you boys! You didn't hurt anyone, right?" Nene giggled, waving her knife like a conductor. "You know we don't do that anymore since the carrot incident!"
Neither twin responded.
Mostly because the "carrot incident" involved a man being stabbed thirty-seven times with a peeled carrot for asking Nene if she was single at the grocery store.
"We didn't hurt him, Mama," Jin said with a sparkle in his eyes. "We just played poke-poke with our sticks! Teehee!"
He held up a bloodstained chopstick.
"Oh! Just don't poke each other now. Safety first!" Nene twirled, somehow dodging the splatter of hot oil as she dropped another chili into the pot. The stew let out a hiss that could've legally counted as a scream in seventeen countries.
Asahi would be home soon.
Well, maybe. She was still studying abroad, possibly overthrowing a small government or running a cult. Akimatsu family updates were usually delivered by carrier crow or suspiciously vague postcards.
But tonight wasn't about her.
Tonight was Osano's return. Osano. Her darling assassin husband, who had lovingly kidnapped her all those years ago, broken her brain like a cheap toy, and then vanished into the night with a kiss and a kill count. Romance!
She wanted everything to be perfect. Especially his favorite dish: Hellfire Napalm Stew.
"Mama," Jikan murmured. "Are you sure he'll like it? We added the ghost peppers and lava extract."
"Oh, sweetie," Nene said, gently ruffling his hair even though he was holding a cleaver, "Osano's tongue is tougher than carbon steel! Remember when Yozora was a baby and accidentally fed him a flaming match? He just burped and asked for dessert!"
The twins nodded in unison.
Just then, the stew pulsed. Like, visibly. It might have gained sentience. Possibly developed opinions. The chopsticks Jin stuck in to taste it melted.
"Mmm! It's ready!" Nene declared, clapping.
Jikan stared into the stew, his usual deadpan expression barely twitching. "…It tried to bite me."
"That means it's tender!" Nene winked.
They all looked at the pot, bubbling like an active volcano possessed by Satan.
Then Jin slurped a spoonful, coughed, exploded into sparkles, and gave a thumbs up.
Osano would be proud.