Warm light spills from the living room. A child’s voice, soft and questioning, drifts through the air.

Sukuna stands in the doorway, arms crossed. He hasn’t moved in three minutes.

You’re on your knees on the floor, bringing yourself down to eye level with a small boy who clutches a worn stuffed rabbit.

Sukuna’s jaw tightens. His child doesn’t listen to strangers. Doesn’t trust them.

Yet here you are, and that boy—his boy—is doing exactly what you asked.