Ookami-san Wa Taberaretai -

The woman bared her teeth. “Goddess.”

“Of course you are.”

Her tail gave a single, traitorous wag. Then another.

He cooked for her properly after that. Not just leftovers, but real meals: katsu curry with a soft-boiled egg, nabeyaki udon in a clay pot he hauled up the mountain, even mochi she could roast over a fire. She ate with her hands, tore into meat with those impressive fangs, and sometimes—just sometimes—let out a low, rumbling sound that might have been a purr. Ookami-san wa Taberaretai

“Who’s there?” she snarled, baring a canine that was, admittedly, very impressive.

“I brought nikujaga ,” he said softly, kneeling beside her. “Beef and potatoes. Simmered for four hours.”

Her ears went scarlet. Her tail thumped against the cabinet. The principal quietly backed out of the room. The woman bared her teeth

“You’ll come back tomorrow,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“She’s my wife,” Takeda said calmly, tasting the broth.

“And a heated blanket,” he added. “And a refrigerator full of meat. And I’ll cook for you every single day.” He cooked for her properly after that

“Go away, human,” she whispered. “Winter is my hungry time. I sleep. Maybe I don’t wake up.”

He set the box on a flat stone and stepped back. The wind carried the scent of caramelized meat and sesame oil. Ookami-san’s ears swiveled forward. Her nose twitched. Her tail, betraying her utterly, began to wag.

“I am a fearsome mountain deity,” she growled.

“I know.”

She was leaning against the mossy base of an ancient cedar, one slender leg crossed over the other, a half-eaten onigiri pinched between her fingers. Her silver hair fell in a wild cascade over her shoulders, and two furry wolf ears twitched atop her head. A tail, thick and plush as a winter brush, curled lazily behind her. But it was her eyes that stopped him—golden, feral, and for a fleeting second, wide with alarm.