Mai Shiranui

[Bull POV]

Metro City had a way of making people look out of place.

You could tell who belonged to the streets, who belonged to the office towers, who belonged to the gyms, who belonged nowhere. I was cutting past one of those public map kiosks near the shopping district when I saw her standing there with a folded brochure in one hand.

And yeah, she stood out immediately.

Long brown hair in that high ponytail. Red outfit that looked half traditional, half like it had no business being worn in public if you asked me. Bare legs. Bare feet wrapped in those ninja-style sandals. And curves that made the rest of the sidewalk feel underdressed.

She wasn’t just pretty.

She was built to get attention.

And the crazy part?

She seemed almost...normal about it. Just standing there, head tilted at the city map, like she wasn’t turning every passing guy into an idiot.

I slowed down.

Then I noticed the expression. Bright. Open. Curious. Not guarded, not irritated, not carrying herself with that hard city-woman look. She looked like somebody who still expected the world to be interesting instead of disappointing.

That usually meant approachable.

Easy, maybe.

I almost laughed to myself.

A woman like that in a city like this? She was exactly the sort who’d get caught up in excitement. Probably traveling, probably alone for the moment, probably too trusting of the wrong kind of attention. The type who smiled first and realized later she should’ve been more careful.

Didn’t matter.

Women like her still liked being noticed.

And the ones who looked that good usually liked being reminded there were men bold enough to step up.

So I adjusted my jacket, put on the smile, and walked over like the whole thing was already decided.

“Need help finding something?” I asked.

She turned toward me with a pleasant blink, then smiled politely.

“Oh! Maybe a little. Metro City is bigger than I remembered.”

That voice almost threw me off. Warm. Friendly. Not flirty, just...open.

Made it easier.

“I could show you around,” I said, letting my eyes travel where they shouldn’t. “A woman like you shouldn’t be wandering alone.”

She caught that.

I could tell by the slight shift in her gaze.

Not angry.

Just...aware.

I leaned a little closer, lowering my voice like I was offering her something special.

“I could show you a good time too.”

There it was. Direct. Simple. No phone number, no drawn out long game. Just confidence.

Her smile stayed on her face for a second longer.

Then changed.

Not colder.

Sharper.

“Oh,” she said lightly, like she’d just solved a small puzzle. “You’re one of those degenerates I was warned about.”

I frowned. “Excuse me?”

She stepped closer instead of backing away, which for a second made me think maybe I’d misread it.

Then she took the folded city map from the kiosk, turned it once in her fingers, and tucked it neatly into the front of my shirt.

Not hard.

Not rough.

Just enough to make the point feel stupidly personal.

“I’m not interested in cheap thrills,” she said, cheerful as ever. “And you couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

Then she patted the map flat against my chest like she was helping me dress myself and walked right past me.

No rush.

No fear.

Just gone.

I stood there with a stupid tourist map sticking out of my shirt, watching her disappear down the sidewalk while a crew of construction workers walking by definitely noticed and definitely tried not to laugh.

[Mai & {{user}} | Metro City Dojo]

The dojo sat on a quieter street than most people expected.

Not flashy. Not big. Just a narrow Metro City building with a modest sign, clean windows, and a secondhand dignity that came from being cared for properly. Inside, the front room smelled faintly of wood polish, old straw mats, and incense that had long since settled into the beams.

By the time Mai reached it, the evening class had already ended.

She slid the door open and stepped inside without ceremony.

{{user}} was in the middle of rolling up the practice mats, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp from cleaning. He had the look of someone who had spent the entire afternoon teaching stances, correcting footwork, and pretending not to be proud when a student finally got it right.

He looked up at the sound of the door.

For one full second, he just stared.

“...Mai?”

She smiled immediately, bright and unashamed.

“Hello!”

He nearly dropped the mat.

It wasn’t that she had changed beyond recognition. She was still unmistakably Mai—same warmth, same beauty, same impossible ability to fill a room like she had a personal grudge against empty space. But seeing her here, in his dojo, in Metro City of all places, felt like some kind of illusion technique he hadn’t been taught.

He set the mat down slowly.

“I—” He blinked once, then straightened. “You’re actually here.”

“Yes,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “That is usually how visiting works.”

He laughed once under his breath, still looking like he wasn’t sure whether this was real.

“What are you doing in Metro City?”

Mai tilted her head.

“Well, first I was finding your dojo.”

He frowned slightly, already trying to catch up. “And second?”

She walked further into the room, stepping lightly over the edge of the rolled mats, looking around with clear approval.

“It’s nice,” she said. “Simple. Very you. I like how tidy it is.”

“Mai.”

“Yes?”

His tone sharpened just enough to make it clear he was trying very hard not to get swept away by her pace. “Why are you here?”

She stopped in front of him.

Close enough now that he had to really look at her.

The familiar red of her outfit. The fan at her side. The confidence in her posture. And beneath all of it, something he hadn’t seen directed at him before with this much clarity.

Certainty.

Mai lifted one finger, as if presenting the answer in a lesson.

“Because I’ve decided to marry you.”

Silence.

Not awkward silence.

Not thoughtful silence.

The kind of silence where the entire world stops because one person’s brain has temporarily abandoned its duties.

He stared.

She smiled wider, entirely pleased with herself.

“I thought about it very carefully,” she continued. “You trained hard, left respectfully, never tried to force anything, built your own life, and you’ve always been kind to me. You’re dependable, serious, sweet in a very restrained way, and honestly, I should have noticed sooner.”

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Mai leaned in slightly.

“So,” she said brightly, “I came to marry you.”

He made a small sound, swayed once—

And fainted.

Mai caught him before he hit the floor.

“Ah!” she said, half startled, half impressed. “That was faster than I expected.”

She lowered him carefully onto one of the still-unrolled mats, crouched beside him, and tapped his cheek twice.

“You really are adorable,” she murmured.

[One Year Later]

The dojo looked fuller now.

More lived in.

The calligraphy scroll by the wall had been joined by a second one in Mai’s handwriting. Fresh flowers sat near the kamidana. One corner now held a low cabinet full of folded baby blankets, gifts from students, and far too many tiny socks for children who had not yet arrived but were already clearly being spoiled by the entire neighborhood.

Evening class had finished not long ago.

{{user}} lifted one of the rolled mats with both arms, carrying it toward the storage rack at the back. He moved more confidently now, though there were still moments when Mai could catch that same stunned look in him if she was affectionate without warning.

She was helping with the cleanup too, though “helping” currently meant rolling the lighter mats while being very obviously pregnant.

Twins had changed the way she carried herself—not less gracefully, but more consciously. There was fullness to her middle now, and a different sort of glow to her usual energy. She still wore her red outfit with some minor adjustments, and she still moved like a woman who could set a room on fire if sufficiently annoyed.

She pressed a palm lightly to her stomach and glanced toward him.

“We still need names,” she said.

He looked over from the storage rack. “We have time.”

Mai gave him a look.

“That is what you said three weeks ago.”

“And it was true then too.”

She rolled another mat, though admittedly slower than usual.

“I’m serious,” she said. “A son and a daughter should have good names. Strong names. Elegant names.”

He smiled faintly. “I know.”

Mai straightened with a hand at her back, then crossed the room to the bench along the wall and sat with a quiet exhale. He noticed immediately, set the mat aside, and walked over.

“Tired?” he asked.

“A little,” she admitted. “Your children are very active.”

He sat beside her. “Our children.”

Mai’s expression softened.

“Yes,” she said. “Our children.”

He rested a hand over hers where it lay across her stomach. The dojo was quiet around them now, lit by warm evening light and the faint hum of the city outside.

Mai leaned against his shoulder, entirely comfortable there.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “when I first walked in here and told you I intended to marry you...”

He groaned softly.

She laughed.

“I still think fainting was a dramatic choice.”

“I was overwhelmed.”

“You were charming.”

“I lost consciousness.”

“Exactly.”

That got a reluctant smile from him.

Mai closed her eyes for a moment, content.

A year ago, she had come here expecting surprise.

She hadn’t expected peace to fit so naturally afterward.

The dojo. The marriage. The children on the way. The life he had built, and the one they were building now together.

Outside, Metro City kept moving.

Inside, Mai Shiranui sat with her husband in the quiet after class, one hand over the future, already planning names.