Planning a wedding was supposed to be about details-finding the right flowers, choosing the venue, picking the outfits. But for Sanemi Shinazugawa, it was turning into a never-ending series of headaches. And now, it seemed, the latest disaster was the wedding cake.

It all started when Inosuke barged into their planning session a few days ago, declaring with far too much confidence that he was going to "handle" the wedding cake.

"I found the perfect cake!" Inosuke had yelled, his chest puffed out in pride, his boar mask resting crookedly on his head. "You two are gonna love it!"

Sanemi had narrowed his eyes at him, already suspicious. "Do you even know what a wedding cake is?"

Inosuke had blinked at him, as if the question was ridiculous. "Of course I do! It's a big pile of food, right?"

Giyuu, seated next to Sanemi, had said nothing, but the faint twitch of his lips had betrayed his amusement. Sanemi had scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "We don't have time for this. We've got a lot of other things to deal with."

But Inosuke had insisted, and somehow, through sheer stubbornness, he had convinced Giyuu and Sanemi to let him handle the cake.

That had been their first mistake.

Now, as they stood in front of the towering monstrosity that Inosuke had presented as the "perfect" wedding cake, Sanemi found himself on the verge of losing it.

The cake-if it could even be called that-stood precariously in the middle of the tasting room, a wobbling tower of chaos that looked like it might collapse at any moment. Half of the cake was covered in slabs of raw meat, the other half piled high with chunks of fruit. There were some vaguely cake-like layers in between, but it was hard to tell where the actual cake ended and the rest of the mess began.

Sanemi's eye twitched as he stared at the disaster before him. "What the hell is this?"

Inosuke, grinning like a proud child, clapped his hands together. "It's the perfect cake! Meat for strength, fruit for health, and cake for sweetness!"

Sanemi blinked, utterly dumbfounded. "You can't be serious."

Inosuke puffed out his chest, clearly misinterpreting Sanemi's stunned silence as admiration. "You're welcome. I even added extra meat for you, Shinazugawa. I know you like it."

Sanemi opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He was too busy trying to comprehend how this had happened. How had they let Inosuke get involved in this? How had they let him- of all people -handle something as important as the wedding cake?

Giyuu, standing beside Sanemi with his usual calm expression, surveyed the cake with a faint frown. He reached out, prodding one of the slabs of meat with his finger. "It's raw."

"Yeah!" Inosuke nodded enthusiastically. "Raw meat for strength. You need to eat it raw to get all the power."

Sanemi finally found his voice. "We're not cavemen, Inosuke. You can't serve raw meat at a wedding!"

Inosuke's brow furrowed, as if this concept was completely foreign to him. "Why not? You're always going on about how strong you are. This will make everyone stronger."

Sanemi ran a hand through his hair, his patience rapidly wearing thin. "This is a wedding. Not a training camp."

Inosuke frowned, looking genuinely confused. "But I thought weddings were supposed to have food. Lots of food. And this is the best food I could think of."

Sanemi pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly through his nostrils. He was moments away from losing his temper. The monstrosity was teetering dangerously, and the more he stared at it, the more his frustration grew.

"This," Sanemi said, his voice tight with barely restrained anger, "is not a wedding cake."

Inosuke blinked, as if he hadn't quite heard him. "What are you talking about? Of course it's a wedding cake. It's big, isn't it? And it's got everything you need."

"Weddings are supposed to be special, " Sanemi snapped, his voice rising in frustration. "Not some freak show of raw meat and fruit."

Inosuke bristled, his hands balling into fists. "You don't know what you're talking about! This is the best thing anyone's ever made for you!"

Before Sanemi could retort, Giyuu stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. "Inosuke."

Inosuke's eyes flicked toward Giyuu, his posture still defensive. "What?"

Giyuu's gaze was steady, calm in a way that only he could manage. "We appreciate the effort. But this... isn't what we had in mind."

Inosuke scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "You just don't get it. This cake is perfect. You're supposed to have lots of food at a wedding, right? And this is the best food I could find."

Giyuu sighed softly, his gaze shifting to the wobbling tower of meat and fruit. "It's not about the quantity. It's about the meaning behind it."

Sanemi opened his mouth to argue again, but Giyuu held up a hand, stopping him before he could speak. "The wedding is supposed to be about us," Giyuu continued, his voice quiet but full of conviction. "About what we want. And this..." He gestured to the cake. "This isn't what we want."

Inosuke's scowl deepened, but he didn't say anything. For a moment, the room was filled with tense silence, the only sound the faint creaking of the cake as it wobbled precariously on its stand.

Sanemi's fists clenched at his sides, his frustration boiling over. He was about two seconds away from losing it completely. He'd had enough of this. Enough of the planning, enough of the chaos, enough of the-

CRASH.

Before anyone could react, the cake collapsed in on itself, the tower of meat and fruit crashing to the ground in a messy heap. The sound of the impact echoed through the room, followed by a deafening silence.

Sanemi stared at the mess, his eye twitching violently. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, threatening to explode.

"I'm going to kill him," Sanemi muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Giyuu, sensing the impending storm, stepped in front of Sanemi, his hand gently resting on Sanemi's chest. "Don't."

Sanemi's eyes flashed with fury. "He ruined everything."

Giyuu shook his head, his gaze soft but firm. "It's just a cake."

Sanemi glared at him, his fists still clenched. "It's not just a cake. It's-" He struggled to find the words, his frustration overwhelming him. "It's our wedding. And everything's going wrong."

Giyuu's hand remained on Sanemi's chest, his touch steady and grounding. "Sanemi."

Sanemi's jaw tightened, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. But when he met Giyuu's gaze, something in Giyuu's eyes made him pause. There was no anger there, no frustration. Just calm. And something else-something deeper.

"It's not about the cake," Giyuu said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's about us."

Sanemi's breath hitched in his chest, his fists slowly unclenching as the weight of Giyuu's words sank in. The cake, the flowers, the venue-all of it felt so meaningless in that moment. What mattered was Giyuu. What mattered was them.

"I don't care about the cake," Giyuu continued, his voice soft but sure. "I don't care about any of this. I just want to marry you."

Sanemi stared at him, his anger dissolving as quickly as it had come. He let out a long breath, the tension draining from his body as he leaned into Giyuu's touch.

"I just wanted it to be perfect," Sanemi muttered, his voice rough with emotion.

"It will be," Giyuu said, his hand gently cupping the side of Sanemi's face. "Because it's us."

Sanemi closed his eyes, leaning into Giyuu's touch as the last remnants of his frustration faded away. Giyuu was right. The wedding didn't need to be perfect. It didn't need to have the best cake or the fanciest flowers. All that mattered was that they were together.

Giyuu's thumb brushed gently against Sanemi's cheek, and Sanemi opened his eyes, meeting Giyuu's steady gaze.

"You're such a sap," Sanemi muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

Giyuu's lips twitched into a small smile. "Maybe."

Sanemi huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're lucky I love you."

Giyuu's smile widened ever so slightly, and before Sanemi could say anything else, Giyuu leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to Sanemi's lips.

For a moment, the world seemed to still, the chaos of the collapsed cake and the stress of the wedding planning fading into the background. All that mattered was the warmth of Giyuu's lips against his, the steady beat of Giyuu's heart beneath his hand.

When they finally pulled apart, Sanemi let out a long breath, his forehead resting against Giyuu's. "We're really doing this, huh?"

Giyuu nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah. We are."

Sanemi closed his eyes, letting the quiet comfort of Giyuu's presence wash over him. For all the chaos and stress, for all the things that had gone wrong, there was one thing that was absolutely right.

And that was Giyuu.

As they stood there, their foreheads pressed together in a moment of calm, Sanemi allowed himself to relax in Giyuu's presence. For all his frustration, all his pent-up irritation with the never-ending wedding preparations, the one constant had been Giyuu. That, more than anything, gave him the strength to move forward.

"I don't know how you stay so calm," Sanemi muttered, eyes still closed, his voice tinged with reluctant admiration. "Everything's been a disaster."

Giyuu's hand remained on Sanemi's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding Sanemi more than words ever could. "Because none of this matters as much as you think it does."

Sanemi scoffed lightly but didn't pull away. "Says the guy who's been nitpicking every flower arrangement for the past two weeks."

A small smile tugged at Giyuu's lips, but he didn't argue. "Maybe I was overthinking it, too. But it's easy to get caught up in the details when everyone around you is making a big deal of it."

Sanemi opened his eyes and looked at Giyuu, who met his gaze with that same quiet steadiness. "You really don't care that everything's falling apart?"

Giyuu's thumb brushed gently along Sanemi's cheek, a rare display of tenderness from the usually reserved man. "I care about one thing. And that's marrying you."

Sanemi felt a flutter of something warm in his chest-something he didn't often let himself acknowledge. Giyuu's words were simple, but they carried a weight that hit him harder than any grand gesture could. He wanted to argue, to push back, but instead, he found himself leaning further into Giyuu's touch, letting the tension that had built up over the past weeks drain out of him.

"I don't know why you put up with me," Sanemi muttered, his voice rough but softer than before.

"Because I love you," Giyuu replied, his tone as matter-of-fact as if he were stating the weather. "And because no one else could handle me the way you do."

Sanemi snorted. "You're right about that. You'd drive anyone else insane."

Giyuu's lips twitched in amusement. "Maybe. But you're the only one who's ever gotten under my skin in a good way."

Sanemi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"It's the truth," Giyuu said simply, his eyes softening as he held Sanemi's gaze.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the mess of the collapsed cake forgotten as they shared this rare, unguarded moment together. Sanemi wasn't used to these kinds of conversations-he wasn't one for sentimentality or emotional confessions. But with Giyuu, everything felt different. It felt right.

Finally, Sanemi let out a long breath and stepped back slightly, breaking the gentle embrace but keeping his eyes on Giyuu. "Alright. Let's forget about the cake."

Giyuu nodded. "We'll find another one. A real one."

"Yeah, one that doesn't look like a butcher shop threw up on it," Sanemi muttered, glancing back at the pile of raw meat and fruit that had once been a cake. His eye twitched again just thinking about it.

As if on cue, Inosuke-who had been uncharacteristically silent during the emotional exchange-popped his head up from the other side of the room, where he had been inspecting the fallen cake. "So... you don't like it?"

Sanemi shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "What do you think?"

Inosuke looked genuinely perplexed, as though he couldn't fathom why anyone would be upset about the culinary monstrosity he had created. "But it has everything! "

"It's disgusting," Sanemi snapped. "There's raw meat on it, for gods' sake. Raw. "

Inosuke crossed his arms, clearly not backing down. "Raw meat is good for you! Makes you strong!"

"We're not having a bodybuilding competition at the wedding," Sanemi said, exasperation clear in his voice. "We need a proper cake. One that people can actually eat without getting food poisoning."

Giyuu, who had been silently watching the exchange with his usual calm, finally spoke up, his tone gentle but firm. "Inosuke, we appreciate the effort. But we need something a little more... traditional."

Inosuke frowned, scratching his head in confusion. "But this is traditional. Back on my mountain, I always had meat at celebrations."

Sanemi sighed, rubbing his temples. "This isn't your mountain, boar-brain."

Before the situation could escalate further, Giyuu placed a hand on Sanemi's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. "It's fine. We'll figure something out."

Inosuke looked between them, still confused but finally seeming to grasp that his masterpiece wasn't going to be the centerpiece of the wedding. "So... you don't want the meat cake?"

"No," Sanemi deadpanned.

Inosuke's face fell, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. I'll go... hunt something else."

As Inosuke shuffled out of the room, muttering to himself about how no one appreciated his genius, Sanemi let out a long sigh of relief. "I swear, if one more thing goes wrong..."

Giyuu turned to him, his expression softening. "It won't. We'll figure it out. Together."

Sanemi raised an eyebrow. "How are you so sure?"

"Because we always do," Giyuu replied, his voice quiet but full of certainty. "No matter what happens, we'll get through it. As long as we're together, that's all that matters."

Sanemi stared at him for a long moment, feeling the weight of Giyuu's words settle over him like a warm blanket. It was a simple truth, but one that made all the chaos seem insignificant. In the grand scheme of things, the cake, the flowers, the venue-none of it mattered if he had Giyuu by his side.

A rare smile tugged at the corner of Sanemi's lips, and he shook his head with a soft laugh. "You really are a sap, Giyuu."

Giyuu didn't deny it. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against Sanemi's arm. "Only for you."

Sanemi's heart gave a traitorous little flutter at the words, and he cursed inwardly at how easily Giyuu could make him feel like this-soft, vulnerable, and completely out of his element. But he couldn't deny that he liked it. He liked the way Giyuu made him feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright.

"Yeah, well," Sanemi muttered, his voice gruff but fond. "You better not let anyone else hear you say that."

Giyuu smiled, the rare expression lighting up his usually stoic face. "Of course not. I've got a reputation to protect."

Sanemi rolled his eyes and pulled Giyuu in again, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

For a moment, all the chaos, all the disasters, all the stress of the wedding planning faded into the background. All that mattered was the warmth of Giyuu's kiss, the steady beat of his heart, and the quiet certainty that no matter what happened, they would get through it together.

When they finally pulled apart, Sanemi let out a long breath, feeling more at peace than he had in days. "Alright," he said, his voice softer than usual. "Let's go find a new cake."

Giyuu nodded, his hand still resting gently on Sanemi's arm. "Together."