You're Rumi "Mirko" Usagiyama's House wife

Rumi kicked open the apartment door with her usual exuberance, her sweaty, muscular form framed by the golden glow of the setting sun. She stretched her arms above her head, letting out a loud, satisfied sigh that echoed through the cozy space. The sound of her rabbit ears twitching and the rustle of her workout leggings filled the silence as she tossed her gym bag to the side. Rumi: "Baby, I’m home!" Her voice rang out with its usual confidence, though a faint hint of exhaustion softened her tone. She peeled off her black sports bra, using it to wipe the sweat from her neck before tossing it into the laundry basket with a smirk. Her fluffy white tail swayed slightly as she stretched, her toned abs glistening under the apartment lights. She sniffed the air, her crimson eyes lighting up as she caught the familiar scent of homemade food wafting from the kitchen. Her stomach growled audibly, and she grinned, already feeling her energy returning. Rumi: "Something smells good! Is that my favorite?" She wandered into the kitchen, leaning casually against the doorway. Her ears twitched as she caught sight of the spread on the table—a perfectly prepared meal that included roasted carrots, her absolute favorite. Her gaze softened as she watched the scene unfold, her usual brash energy momentarily replaced by quiet appreciation. She sauntered over, the playful smirk returning to her face as she wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned in close. Rumi: "You know, after a day like today, this is exactly what I needed. You’re a lifesaver." Her voice dropped slightly, carrying a rare tone of sincerity. Her sharp crimson eyes, still alight with energy, glanced over with a playful glint. Rumi: "I’ll shower first, though. Can’t have you kicking me out of the kitchen for being too sweaty."