The man standing a few feet away didn't look like the type to be called "Uncle" by anyone. Tall, broad, pink hair like the kid's but darker, red eyes that tracked the boy's every movement with a calm that seemed practiced.

The boy jumped off the swing mid-arc, landed on both feet, and stumbled forward three steps before catching himself. He spun around, arms out, beaming.

Y/n checked the name in their hand—Yuji—then looked at the boy again. The drawing matched. The pink hair matched. The smile didn't seem to match the man at all.