The Gray Wolf threw open the doors to his chambers to be greeted by a roar and large flashing teeth.
"Heel, Kuraha!" The Lioness's massive one-eyed lion froze inches away from Yato's impassive face and sat back on his heels, licking his lips.
Yato ignored the beast and stormed into the room, headed directly to the four poster bed where Bishamon was having her wounds tended to while receiving a briefing from their chief advisor, Kazuma.
Of course, she wasn't resting. She didn't know how.
"What the hell happened?" He asked, striding to the bedside and giving Kazuma an annoyed look.
"Her Majesty was wounded in battle, a few minor scrapes and a stab that could have caused trouble if we hadn't gotten to it in time. However, she is fine and will make a full recovery."
Yato turned from Kazuma to Bishamon.
"I told you, you should have stayed in the command tent while you recovered from the injuries you sustained last week."
The Lioness leveled a steady gaze at him.
"I won't stand idly by while my people fight. Half of our army is injured and still fighting, so I will be too. The fire wraiths don't care if we need time to rest." Kazuma excused himself, looking like he wanted to be anywhere other than the middle of their domestic dispute.
"Your Majesties, I have other matters to attend to." Neither acknowledged his exit.
Yato scowled and threw off his cloak. The gray wolf fur that lined the collar was matted with blood and singed in places, it would probably have to be thrown out.
"You're only unstoppable until you're not," Yato said quietly.
The healer finished tending to Bishamon and moved to see to Yato but was waved away.
"Leave my wife and I alone, we have much to discuss." The healer bowed silently and backed out of the room.
"If you ever expected me to miss this fight than you're an idiot."
"And you're crazy," he retorted, watching wryly as she got out of bed and approached the strategy map covering their dining table, back proud and strides strong. Even after all the years he'd known her the Gray Wolf still managed to be surprised when the Lioness somehow remained upright and unfazed no matter what the injury.
"We pushed the fire wraiths back to here today," she slid a figure across the map to demonstrate as if he hadn't been present at the battle himself. As if he hadn't taken down as many enemies as she had.
"At this rate, it will take another week to push them back to the source and seal it," Yato said, pointedly pulling out a chair for Bishamon. She sat without comment and he stood at her shoulder, observing the map. "Meanwhile more and more fire wraiths are pouring out of the vent."
"We need to infiltrate, push through the line of wraiths and seal the vent, then finish off the ones that are trapped here." Yato shook his head.
"Yukine is the only one who can perform the sealing spell and I'm not dragging him through a hoard of fire wraiths."
"What if you flew him over?" Yato groaned.
"You don't mean…"
"Takemikazuchi has a dragon, you just need to ask him for it."
"But he's so annoying," Yato whined. "Besides, dragons breathe fire, what good are they against fire wraiths?"
"The dragon won't be fighting, it will be flying." Yato groaned, mostly because he knew it was a good plan that he couldn't justify declining just because he had a personal distaste for the man.
"He'll be insufferable after this. We'll probably have to grant him higher standing, won't we?" Bishamon nodded and he sighed, plopping down comically in the chair next to her so that his back lay in the seat.
"How intimidating you are, Gray Wolf," Bishamon remarked, "defeated by the idea of spending time with Takemikazuchi," Yato grumbled something about not liking the way he addressed his subordinates. Bishamon ignored him.
"Great, so you'll send a messenger for him then," Yato grumbled an agreement.
After their dinner, while the two changed into their sleep clothes Yato was unable to miss the sheer amount of bandages covering her body. Half of him was impressed and admired her steel, the rest was concerned that she may one day push herself too far. She scoffed when he removed his shirt and she saw all the wounds he was sporting.
"Hypocrite, you have just as many injuries as I do, and you turned the healer away. At least I had the decency to be treated. You're not getting in our bed covered in all that dry blood."
"Am I supposed to sleep on the floor?" He asked indignantly.
"No, come over here by the fire, I'll get you patched up enough to make it until morning at least."
"What do you know about healing?" Yato asked skeptically, though he did as he was told.
"Enough to keep you from bleeding out overnight," she reached into her bedside table and pulled out spare bandages, something only a warrior would keep by her bedside.
Bishamon wet a rag and began scrubbing off all the dried blood that was sticking to him.
"That hurts!" Yato protested.
"Well if you wanted gentle you should have asked the healer to stay, but you didn't. You dismissed him, so now you're stuck with me. Stop whining, you're not a child."
Yato did not stop whining, and neither did Bishamon take any particular care in cleaning his wounds, only making sure not to reopen them so she didn't create more work for herself.
"You really are an idiot you know," she said. "I'm able to fight so much because I allow myself to be taken care of when I need it. Your body will fall apart if you don't take better care of it."
"Alright, alright, I get it, I'll let the healers take care of me next time."
The Grey Wolf fell silent as the Lioness tended to his wounds, her fingers rough and strong against his skin as they scraped away blood and wrapped his various injuries in bandages. The familiarity of this scene soothed him. His was a marriage between two warriors, each famous in their own right for their valor and ferocity in battle. As such, the two of them wounded and tired, taking care of each other, was a common scene.
The next day as Takemikazuchi's dragon flew over the battlefield and Yato did his best to ignore his stupid smug face he gazed down at the battle.
Even from this height, it was easy to spot his wife, carving a path through the enemies like they were made of paper, long hair streaming behind her. He could see her clearly in his mind's eye, covered in blood and soot, eyes alight with ferocity and mouth open in the roar that had given her her name.
A small smile spilt his lips as he remembered the first time he had seen her. They had been two predators striking down inferior prey, and he'd looked over and seen her, battle-worn and practically shining with an otherworldly glory, he'd fallen in love.