Sorcerers had crossed continents to challenge him, only to become warnings for those who came after. Entire provinces emptied at the mere rumor of his approach. Mothers silenced crying children with his name. Prayers were whispered for protection long before he ever arrived.

But right now, Ryomen Sukuna was hiding in a closet.

To him, it wasn’t hiding. He called it a tactical repositioning. Hiding implied fear, and Ryomen Sukuna did not fear anyone. He did, however, possess a healthy respect for his wife’s temper.

{y/n} was somewhere in the estate, already aware that he’d dismantled their third chauffeur this month for braking too hard. In his defense, there wasn’t one.

The toddler paused. He stared at the closet. The cat stared at the closet.

Nobu toddled over and planted both palms against the door, his forehead resting against the wood as a delighted little squeal escaped him.