Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sukuna had always prided himself on being an outsider, someone who danced along the edges of societal norms with a smug grin, thumbing his nose at anything conventional. He thrived in his carefully constructed solitude, where responsibility and commitment were meaningless words, tethered to the lives of those who settled for mediocrity. His own life was a mosaic of chaos, rebellion, and indulgence. He lived for the thrill, not for the stifling binds of family.

But now, at the not-so-tender age of thirty, his world was on the verge of a seismic shift, and he despised every second of it.

It had all started with that damned dinner at Jin's place - an evening Sukuna would have gladly skipped if not for his brother’s incessant calls. Jin had always been the golden child, the strait-laced, straight-A student who embodied everything Sukuna found dull. The very idea of dinner at Jin’s house, where conversation often centered around tax deductions and the latest IKEA catalog, was enough to make Sukuna’s skin crawl. Yet, out of some twisted sense of obligation, or perhaps curiosity, Sukuna went.

The house was a nauseating vision of suburban bliss: pristine lawns, white picket fences, and the faint sound of jazz spilling out from the living room. Sukuna leaned against the doorframe as Jin ushered him in, his usual smirk playing at the edges of his lips as he surveyed the predictability of his brother’s life.

"Kaori's pregnant." Jin announced with a smile that nearly split his face in two, pulling Sukuna out of his cynical reverie. Sure, he’d always known this day might come, but like any unpleasant possibility - like death or taxes - he hadn’t expected it to arrive so soon. And now, his nerdy, goody-two-shoes of a twin was dragging him into the most normal, boring thing he could think of: parenthood. Or, at least, uncle-hood.

An uncle. The word echoed in his mind like an alien concept.

"You’ve gotta be shitting me." He finally said, his voice heavy with disbelief. Sukuna’s mind went blank for a moment, then filled with a million expletives. He stared at his brother, eyes narrowing as if Jin had just confessed to joining a cult. Sukuna scoffed, trying to hide the unease gnawing at his gut. "You know, I always knew you’d end up doing something stupid, but this? This is a whole new level of idiocy."

Jin, always the saint, just laughed it off. "You’ll see, Sukuna. It’s going to be different from what you think."

Different? The only thing different was the idea of Sukuna, who once thought that breaking a girl’s nose was a perfectly acceptable way to end an argument, being thrust into the role of ‘uncle’. The rest of that evening passed in a blur of baby talk and nursery plans, with Sukuna mostly tuning out and nursing a whiskey on the rocks. But the idea lingered, clawing at the edges of his mind.

It wasn’t long after that the universe delivered its cruel twist of fate. Kaori went into labor, and as if the gods had a wicked sense of humor, the baby was born on Sukuna’s birthday. March 20th - formerly a date reserved for Sukuna’s own personal hedonistic celebrations - was now shared with a squirming, pink-faced infant named Yuji.

Sukuna visited the hospital out of obligation, clad in his usual black attire that made him look more suited for a biker bar than a maternity ward. He felt wildly out of place as he was ushered into the room where Kaori rested with the baby in her arms, looking exhausted but glowing with that maternal warmth that Sukuna couldn’t understand. Jin beamed beside her, every bit the proud father.

"Here, meet your nephew." And then, without warning, Jin had placed Yuji into Sukuna’s arms. The moment the baby’s weight settled into his arms, Sukuna froze. The tiny creature was so small, so delicate, that it took all of Sukuna’s self-control not to flinch. He stared down at the baby, whose eyes were closed in a peaceful sleep, tiny fists curled up near his face.

Disgust wasn’t the right word, but it was close. Fear, too, was an approximation. The truth was, Sukuna didn’t know what he felt. All he knew was that Yuji was fragile in a way that made Sukuna feel grossly inadequate. What the hell did he know about babies? He wasn’t built to protect anything so small, so defenseless. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could take care of a plant, much less something with a heartbeat.

Yuji’s face scrunched up slightly, and for a horrifying moment, Sukuna thought the baby was going to cry. But instead, Yuji yawned - a tiny, toothless yawn that seemed so at odds with the noise and chaos of Sukuna’s life. And in that brief moment, something stirred in Sukuna’s chest - a feeling he quickly buried under layers of cynicism and self-preservation.

He handed Yuji back to Jin as quickly as he could, shoving his hands into his pockets as if to distance himself from the entire experience. "Congratulations." He muttered, his voice devoid of emotion. "You’ve officially ruined your life."

Jin only laughed, completely unphased by Sukuna’s sharp tongue. "You say that now, but just wait. This little guy might even grow on you."

"Not in a million years." Sukuna scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned to leave.

But as the days passed, Sukuna found himself inexplicably drawn back to Jin’s house, each visit justified by some flimsy excuse. He never stayed long - just enough to make sure Yuji was still small, still helpless, still someone else’s problem. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of that tiny, yawning face.

One evening, Sukuna stopped by unannounced, as he often did, to find Jin and Kaori out and a teenage babysitter tending to Yuji. The girl, startled by Sukuna’s appearance, awkwardly offered to leave early, mumbling something about Sukuna’s reputation in the neighborhood. Sukuna waved her off, saying he’d watch the kid until Jin and Kaori returned. So there he was, in his brother’s home, alone with his nephew for the first time. Yuji was wide awake, staring up at Sukuna with eyes that seemed too big for his face, as if sizing him up. Sukuna sat on the couch, unsure what to do next. The silence was deafening, and he found himself almost longing for the chaos of the city, the noise that drowned out the thoughts he didn’t want to face. He glanced down at Yuji, who had been placed in a crib beside the couch. The baby watched him with a curiosity that felt unnervingly intense.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Sukuna muttered, as if the infant could respond. Yuji just blinked, his tiny fingers wiggling in the air as if reaching for something, or someone. With a sigh, Sukuna picked him up, holding him awkwardly as if the baby might break any moment. But Yuji didn’t cry. Instead, he made a soft cooing sound, nestling closer to Sukuna’s chest, as if he belonged there.

Sukuna sat there, frozen, as the realization hit him like a freight train. Despite every instinct telling him to run, to retreat back into the safety of his solitary life, he couldn’t deny the strange warmth blooming in his chest. Yuji was tiny, helpless, and everything Sukuna had spent his life avoiding, but at that moment, he felt something he hadn’t expected: a connection.

And it terrified him.

The night was still and unusually quiet, a strange contrast to the relentless cacophony that filled Sukuna’s life. The only sound in the house was the soft, rhythmic breathing of Yuji as he lay nestled against Sukuna’s chest. Sukuna’s grip on the baby was tentative, as if holding something both precious and completely foreign. The more he stared at Yuji, the more he questioned why the hell he was even here. This house, with its coordinated curtains, well-placed cushions, and a ridiculous collection of scented candles, wasn’t his domain. It was Kaori’s - a woman who, for all intents and purposes, was as much a mystery to Sukuna as the delicate life in his arms.

It wasn’t like Sukuna had anything against Kaori - okay, maybe he did. Kaori was a force of nature, the type of woman who radiated an intimidating mix of confidence and unpredictability. Every time Sukuna encountered her, he felt like he was walking into a storm. She had a way of looking at him with those piercing eyes that made him feel like she could see straight through his bravado, straight to the core of what he was trying so hard not to be. Sukuna never liked that feeling, never liked how she seemed to effortlessly unravel the facade he wore so well. The way she and Jin fit together, so effortlessly, made Sukuna uncomfortable, like he was staring at something alien. Love, commitment, all that bullshit - it wasn’t in his vocabulary.

He shifted slightly, adjusting the blanket around Yuji as if the baby would notice the difference. This wasn’t his scene, not in the slightest. Yet here he was, the reluctant caretaker of his nephew, a role he never asked for nor wanted. He was ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble, and that trouble arrived in the form of a smell so pungent it nearly knocked him over.

Sukuna grimaced, pulling Yuji slightly away from him to inspect the source of the stench. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the baby had soiled himself, and the idea of dealing with it made Sukuna’s stomach churn. He’d sooner get into a bar fight than change a diaper, but there was no one else around to pass the task to. For a fleeting moment, he considered just leaving, abandoning the kid in the crib and letting Jin deal with the aftermath, but something held him back.

He was an adult. He needed to control his impulses, no matter how strong the urge to run was. But dealing with this? No. There were limits to what even he could tolerate.

Pulling out his phone, Sukuna scrolled through his contacts until he found the one name that could potentially save him from this nightmare: Uraume. Uraume was, in many ways, his equal - a kindred spirit in the world of misfits. They shared a bond that went beyond friendship, something rooted in mutual respect and an understanding of each other’s darkest corners. If there was anyone who could help him out of this mess, it was them.

The phone barely rang before Uraume picked up. "You’re lucky I wasn’t busy," they said, their voice laced with both amusement and a hint of exasperation. "What do you want?"

"Get your ass over here. It’s an emergency." Sukuna barked, pacing the living room with Yuji still in his arms.

There was a pause on the other end, and Sukuna could practically hear Uraume rolling their eyes. "What kind of emergency?"

"The shitty kind," Sukuna replied bluntly. "Literally. I need you to deal with it."

Fifteen minutes later, Uraume arrived, looking as unperturbed as ever. They stepped into the house, taking in the sight of Sukuna with Yuji. Their eyes narrowed slightly, a smirk playing on their lips as they realized why they had been summoned.

"So this is the nephew everyone’s been talking about," Uraume said, crossing their arms as they approached the duo. "I must say, I didn’t expect to see you in a role like this."

"Don’t get used to it," Sukuna grumbled, handing Yuji over to Uraume as if the baby was a ticking time bomb. "I need you to do something about that diaper. I’m not equipped for this shit."

Uraume’s smirk deepened as they examined the squirming baby in their arms. "You called me just to change a diaper? You’re seriously hopeless, Sukuna."

Sukuna scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. "Just do it."

The truth was, Uraume had no more experience with babies than Sukuna did, but they weren’t about to back down from the challenge. They carried Yuji over to the couch, placing him down gently as they began the delicate process of diaper changing. It was awkward and clumsy, but Uraume managed to get the job done without too much fuss, all while Sukuna watched from a safe distance, looking both impressed and disgusted.

"There," Uraume said, stepping back and surveying their handiwork. "Not so hard, was it?"

"Speak for yourself," Sukuna muttered, still not entirely convinced he hadn’t just made a colossal mistake by calling them.

Uraume, however, seemed unfazed. They picked Yuji up again, cradling him with a surprising amount of tenderness as they swayed gently back and forth. "He’s actually kind of cute, in a squishy, helpless sort of way," they remarked, glancing at Sukuna. "You sure you don’t want to give this a shot?"

Despite everything, Uraume harbored a certain fondness for Yuji. Even as an infant, he bore a resemblance to Sukuna - a likeness that stirred a complex mix of emotions within them. Sukuna, after all, was someone they admired deeply, and in that admiration, there was room for Yuji too.

Sukuna scoffed, waving off the suggestion. "The kid’s got no future. Look at him. With Jin and Kaori as parents, he’s doomed to be just as boring as they are."

Uraume gave him a look, one that was both knowing and slightly admonishing. "You don’t mean that. You’re just scared."

"Scared?" Sukuna echoed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Of what? A baby?"

"Of what he represents," Uraume replied calmly. "Family. Responsibility. Everything you’ve been avoiding your entire life."

Sukuna fell silent at that, the weight of Uraume’s words sinking in. It was true, wasn’t it? He had always run from anything that threatened to tie him down, anything that might force him to confront the parts of himself he didn’t want to acknowledge. But standing here, in this too-normal house, with his too-normal nephew, Sukuna couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was different.

Uraume seemed to sense his inner turmoil and handed Yuji back to him. "You’re not as heartless as you pretend to be, Sukuna. Maybe this kid is exactly what you need."

Sukuna took Yuji back, feeling the baby’s warmth seep into his chest once more. He stared down at his nephew, who had finally settled, his tiny face peaceful in sleep. He knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He knew he’d probably screw it up somehow, just like everything else. Sukuna’s mind drifted to the words Uraume had once spoken, a rare moment of frankness in their typically cryptic conversations. They had always been the only one to dare probe into the darker corners of his psyche, where most people - if they had any sense - knew better than to tread. Uraume was different, though. They had a way of peeling back the layers of his carefully crafted persona, seeing through to the twisted reality beneath.

"You’re wrong about one thing, Uraume." Sukuna sighed, letting a small, wry smile tug at his lips.

"Oh?" Uraume raised an eyebrow.

"I’m definitely heartless." Sukuna replied, though there was no venom in his voice, only a tired acceptance of what he knew was true. "And I’m not scared. I don’t feel anything."

“You ever wonder why you don’t feel things the way other people do?” Uraume had asked him, their tone more curious than accusatory.

"What’s there to feel? People like us - we don’t need that bullshit. It just gets in the way.”
Sukuna had laughed it off at the time, a harsh, grating sound that did nothing to hide the emptiness underneath.

But now, as he sat here in Jin’s too-normal house, with his too-normal nephew sleeping in his arms, those words came back to haunt him. What Uraume had suggested, Sukuna knew deep down, was true: there was something fundamentally broken within him. It was as if a part of him had been carved out long ago, leaving a hollow that no amount of rebellion, violence, or defiance could fill. Antisocial personality disorder. The diagnosis from his younger years echoed in his mind like a long-forgotten curse. The doctors had tried to explain it, with their sterile terms and clinical detachment, but Sukuna had never cared for their words. He didn’t need them to tell him what he already knew - that he was different, that something inside him was wrong.

He remembered being a child, sitting in a small, cold office with a psychologist who tried to coax feelings out of him like drawing water from a dry well. But no matter what the man said, no matter how many inkblots he showed or questions he asked, Sukuna felt nothing. No anger, no sadness, no joy. Just a vast, empty apathy that stretched on forever.

The truth was that Sukuna didn’t care - couldn’t care - about the things that seemed to matter to everyone else. Love, compassion, empathy, they were foreign concepts, as unreachable to him as the stars. He had spent his life trying to force himself to feel something, anything, but it was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. The more he grasped at it, the more it slipped away.

And yet, there was this nagging thought at the back of his mind, a question that he couldn’t quite shake: if he was truly incapable of feeling, then why did Yuji’s presence bother him so much?

The kid was nothing special, just a baby with a big forehead and a blank expression that made him look perpetually confused. But there was something about holding him, about the way Yuji had instinctively reached out and grabbed hold of him, that made Sukuna’s skin crawl with a sensation he couldn’t name. It wasn’t love - not even close - but it was something, and that scared the hell out of him. Uraume had once mentioned that his apathy, his inability to connect, was also what fueled his intelligence. No distractions, no messy emotions to cloud his judgment. It was what made him dangerous, what allowed him to stay three steps ahead of everyone else.

But what Uraume hadn’t said, what they hadn’t needed to say, was that it also left him utterly, devastatingly alone.

Sukuna stared down at Yuji, who had snuggled closer to his chest, tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. The kid was warm, his breath soft and rhythmic, and for a moment, Sukuna just sat there, unmoving. He had spent his whole life pushing people away, keeping them at arm’s length because that was where they belonged - on the outside. But now, here was this tiny, helpless creature who didn’t know or care about who Sukuna was, or what he was capable of. To Yuji, Sukuna wasn’t a monster, or a villain, or anything at all. He was just… there.

And that, more than anything, unsettled him.

“Stupid kid.” Sukuna muttered under his breath, though the words lacked their usual venom. What did this brat know about him? About the darkness that lurked just beneath the surface? Nothing. And yet, despite everything, Yuji had still fallen asleep in his arms, completely trusting, completely unaware of the danger.

It would have been so easy to push him away, to set him down and walk out of the house, leaving Jin and Kaori to deal with the mess. That was what he should have done, what the old Sukuna - the real Sukuna - would have done without a second thought.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he found himself holding the baby just a little tighter, as if to keep him safe, even though he knew that safety was a concept that had never meant anything to him. It was irrational, stupid even, but Sukuna couldn’t deny that something about this moment felt… different.

Perhaps Uraume was right - perhaps there was something inside him that wasn’t entirely broken, something that had been buried so deep beneath the layers of apathy and cruelty that even he had forgotten it existed. Or maybe it was just the flicker of human instinct, some leftover remnant of the person he might have been, if things had been different. But Sukuna didn’t believe in ‘what-ifs’. He didn’t believe in change, or redemption, or any of the other lies people told themselves to make sense of the world. He was what he was - a creature of violence and detachment, a man who had never needed anyone or anything.

And yet, as Yuji slept peacefully in his arms, Sukuna couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, there was a small part of him that was capable of something more. It was a dangerous thought, one he knew he couldn’t afford to entertain. But as the night wore on and the house grew quieter, Sukuna allowed himself, just this once, to imagine what it might be like to feel something real. To care, even if only for a moment. But when the dawn finally broke, painting the walls with pale light, Sukuna would return to who he was. And that, he told himself, was enough. Because it had to be.

As the first rays of sunlight crept into the room, Sukuna finally rose from the couch, carefully placing Yuji back into the crib. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small hand still clutching the edge of Sukuna’s shirt until the last possible moment. Sukuna looked down at him, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t get used to it, kid.” He murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. With that, he turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. And as he walked away, the weight of the night began to settle on his shoulders, the fragile illusion of something more slipping away with each step. Sukuna was himself again - the man who didn’t need to feel, who didn’t care, who didn’t love. And that was the way it was supposed to be. The way it had always been.

When Sukuna stepped back into the living room, the shadows of night still lingering in the corners, Uraume was waiting for him, seated on the couch as if they had been there for hours. Their presence was a calm, almost eerie contrast to the turmoil inside Sukuna’s head. Uraume wasn’t surprised by the sight of him - hair slightly disheveled, eyes darker than usual, a barely perceptible tremor in his hands that only someone as observant as Uraume would notice.

“Sukuna." They said, their voice soft, almost comforting, though it didn’t soothe the storm within him. It never did, but that wasn’t what Uraume was there for.

Sukuna grunted in response, a noncommittal sound that could’ve meant anything. He walked over to the couch and sat down beside them, the leather creaking slightly under his weight. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence hanging thick in the air between them. It was a silence that Sukuna both appreciated and loathed. He didn’t have to talk when Uraume was around, didn’t have to pretend, and yet there was always something about their silence that made him feel more exposed than any interrogation ever could.

They didn’t push him for answers or ask about the baby. They didn’t need to. Uraume could read Sukuna better than anyone, often seeing through his carefully constructed facade to the truth he barely acknowledged himself. That’s why their relationship worked, why Sukuna kept Uraume around when he’d driven everyone else away - because they never demanded more than what he could give. But tonight, he could feel the questions lurking beneath Uraume’s calm exterior, unasked but still present, gnawing at the edges of his already fractured composure.

“I called you because…” Sukuna began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words, though he wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say. His fingers twitched, betraying his discomfort, and he clenched his fists to keep them still. “Because I needed help. It wasn’t just a shitty diaper thing."

Uraume turned their head slightly, their eyes meeting Sukuna’s in the dim light. They didn’t say anything, just waited, giving him the space he needed to either continue or retreat.

“Jin and Kaori… They weren’t here. I was alone with the kid,” Sukuna continued, forcing the words out. It was rare for him to speak so openly, even to Uraume, but something about tonight had stripped away his usual defenses. “I didn’t know what to do. He - Yuji - he just… I don’t know.”

"You’re not used to this." They said simply, and it wasn’t a question. They understood, in a way that didn’t require explanations. Uraume’s expression didn’t change, but their eyes softened, just a fraction.

No, Sukuna was not used to it. He wasn’t used to feeling like he had to care, to be vulnerable in a way that exposed him to the possibility of failure. He had built his life on keeping people at arm's length, on maintaining a façade of unshakeable confidence. But tonight, holding Yuji had made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. The experience had been disorienting, a reminder of the emotions he had spent a lifetime avoiding.

Sukuna shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t do feelings, Uraume. I never have. But tonight… holding that kid, it was different. I don’t know what the fuck it was, but it wasn’t nothing.”

“Maybe it wasn’t nothing,” Uraume replied, their tone thoughtful, as if they were weighing the words before speaking them. “But that doesn’t mean it has to be something, either.”

“I don’t even know what that means.” Sukuna let out a harsh laugh, more out of frustration than amusement.

“It means.." Uraume said, leaning back against the couch, "… That it’s okay not to have all the answers right now. You don’t need to force yourself to feel something just because everyone else does. If it’s there, it’ll come. If it’s not, then it’s not. But you can’t run from it forever, Sukuna.”

Run from it. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Sukuna had spent his entire life running—from emotions, from connections, from anything that threatened to pierce the armor he’d built around himself. It was easier that way, cleaner. But Uraume had always been the exception, the one person who could slip through the cracks without Sukuna even realizing it.

“Why do you stay, Uraume?” Sukuna asked suddenly, the question escaping before he could stop it. He hadn’t meant to ask, hadn’t wanted to know the answer, but now that it was out there, he couldn’t take it back.

Uraume tilted their head slightly, considering him with those unreadable eyes. “Why do you think I stay?”

“I don’t know." Sukuna admitted, his voice quieter than before. It was the truth, the only one he had. “I’m… I’m fucked up, Uraume. You know that. So why do you stay?”

Uraume was silent for a long moment, their gaze steady and unwavering. Then, finally, they spoke. “I stay because I see you, Sukuna. The real you, beneath everything else. You’re not as broken as you think you are.”

Sukuna wanted to scoff, to dismiss their words as naive or delusional, but he couldn’t. Not when it was Uraume saying them. They had always been able to reach parts of him that he didn’t even know existed, peeling back the layers of his defenses with a precision that was both terrifying and comforting.

“Maybe I am,” Sukuna said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe that’s all I am.”

Uraume shook their head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. They didn't say anything, but they gave him this look that said they didn't like his whining and self-flagellation. And Sukuna looked away, unable to hold their gaze any longer. He wasn’t used to this - wasn’t used to being seen, really seen, by anyone. It made him feel vulnerable, exposed in a way that he wasn’t sure he could handle. But Uraume didn’t push, didn’t demand anything from him. They just sat there, quietly offering their presence without asking for anything in return.

And maybe that was enough. For now, at least.

As the silence stretched on, Sukuna felt something within him begin to shift, just slightly. It wasn’t the sudden revelation he might have expected, or the cathartic release that others might have experienced. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there - a crack in the armor, a tiny sliver of light where there had only been darkness.

Maybe Uraume was right. Maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought he was. Or maybe he was. But either way, for the first time in a long time, Sukuna wasn’t sure it mattered. He had Uraume. He had that brat Yuji, whether he wanted to or not. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep him from running - for now.

Uraume was the one constant in his life, the one person who could ground him when everything else was spiraling out of control. Maybe that was why he kept them around, why he never let them go. Sukuna leaned back against the couch, closing his eyes for just a moment. He wasn’t ready to confront everything that lay ahead, wasn’t ready to face the depths of his own brokenness. But for tonight, at least, he didn’t have to. He had Uraume, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to believe that maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t as alone as he’d always thought.

"Marry me." Sukuna's abrupt confession hung heavy in the room, its rawness slicing through the evening's tranquil veil. The words had slipped out before he could stop them, a knee-jerk reaction to the vulnerability Uraume’s presence had stirred in him. He stared at them, his mind racing to grasp the weight of what he had just said.

Uraume’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing their usually composed face. The reaction was brief, quickly replaced by their characteristic calm. They didn’t flinch or react defensively, instead, they met Sukuna’s gaze with an unreadable expression.

The silence that followed was dense, almost palpable, as both of them processed the charged moment. Sukuna ran a hand over his face, the rough texture of his palm grounding him in the reality of his emotions. He had always been accustomed to his solitary existence, to the safe confines of his own detachment. But Uraume had a way of pushing him into uncomfortable territory - places he feared to tread. It was part of their peculiar dynamic, a boundary-pushing dance that had always left him unsettled yet strangely drawn.

He had never been one for feelings. His emotions were like a storm raging in an endless void, uncharted and chaotic. Sukuna had long ago accepted that he was an anomaly, an outsider even in his own family. His twin brother Jin had always seemed so straightforward, so uncomplicated in comparison. Jin’s simplicity was a glaring contrast to Sukuna’s labyrinthine psyche. Where Jin was easy to understand, Sukuna was a maze of contradictions and self-destructive tendencies. Sukuna’s thoughts wandered back to his childhood. The cruelty he had inflicted upon Jin, the deliberate acts of malice, had been dismissed as childish antics by his family. But they were more than that. They were reflections of Sukuna’s own inner turmoil, manifestations of a deep-seated rage and confusion. It was as if he had always been at war with himself, using others as unwitting battlegrounds.

As he grew older, his destructive tendencies had evolved into different forms - alcohol, smoking, promiscuity. They were distractions, ways to numb the emptiness that consumed him. Sex had become just another hollow pursuit, a way to fill a void that never seemed to close. He had slept with countless partners, yet none of those encounters had ever provided him with the solace he sought. It was as if he was chasing an illusion, trying to force himself to find meaning in something he knew deep down was meaningless.

But sex with Uraume was different. There was a complexity to their relationship that defied the simplicity of his past encounters. With Uraume, there was an emotional depth that Sukuna couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. They had always been a constant in his life, a source of grounding and understanding that he didn’t fully comprehend. The few times they had been intimate had been marked by a strange blend of passion and vulnerability, something Sukuna had never experienced with anyone else.

He glanced at Uraume, who was now studying him with a thoughtful expression. Their silence was charged with an unspoken understanding, a mutual recognition of the complex emotions that lingered between them. Sukuna had always been hesitant to explore these feelings, afraid of what might surface if he allowed himself to be open and honest. But tonight, the walls he had so carefully built around himself were beginning to crumble.

“I didn’t mean-….” Sukuna started, his voice rough as he tried to retract his earlier statement. The vulnerability that had surfaced in that moment was raw, unsettling, and he was left grappling with the gravity of his own declaration. His eyes locked onto Uraume’s, searching for any sign of how they might react, but their expression was a mask of calm resolve.

Uraume’s initial surprise had faded, replaced by a thoughtful stillness. They remained seated, their posture relaxed yet attentive, as if waiting for Sukuna to explain himself or retreat from his confession. The silence that followed was a heavy presence between them, a silence that was both a sanctuary and a battleground for the swirling emotions Sukuna was trying to decipher. Sukuna ran a hand over his face, the rough texture grounding him in the reality of his emotions. His life had always been marked by detachment and self-destructive behaviors, but Uraume had been a constant - a rare anchor in the storm of his existence. The complexity of their relationship had always been something Sukuna struggled with. It was more than mere physical attraction; it was an emotional depth that he couldn’t ignore, despite his best efforts.

The thought of marriage, of a formal commitment, seemed so foreign to him. Yet, in the quiet moments they shared, Sukuna had found something he hadn’t known he was searching for. A family. Stability. The very things he had dismissed as unimportant were suddenly tantalizingly close, wrapped up in the form of Uraume, whose presence had always been a blend of challenge and comfort.

“No.” Sukuna said, his voice steadying as he faced Uraume directly. “I meant it. Marry me.”

The earnestness in his voice was palpable, the rawness of his plea cutting through any remaining pretense. He didn’t want to run from this anymore. He wanted to embrace the possibility of something more than transient connections and hollow pursuits. He wanted to confront the emptiness he had lived with for so long and see if there was something real beneath it.

Uraume remained silent, their gaze unwavering. The seconds ticked by, each one stretching the tension between them. Sukuna could see the wheels turning in their mind, processing the weight of his offer, the implications of what such a commitment would entail.

Finally, Uraume spoke, their voice calm yet tinged with an emotion Sukuna couldn’t quite place. “Sukuna, do you understand what you’re asking?”

“Yes,” Sukuna replied, a fierce determination in his voice. “I do. I know it’s sudden, and I know it’s not like anything we’ve had before. But it’s what I want. I want something real, something that’s not just a distraction. I want you.”

It was a new territory, one that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Uraume moved closer, their hand reaching out to grasp Sukuna’s. "I want you too."

The words hung between them like a delicate thread, fragile yet unbreakable. Sukuna watched Uraume carefully, his heart pounding in a way that was entirely foreign to him. Vulnerability had never come easy to him - hell, it never came at all. But here he was, stripped bare of his defenses, standing at the precipice of something he couldn’t fully comprehend.

Uraume’s hand, cool and steady, tightened around his. It wasn’t a dramatic gesture, but it carried the weight of everything that had gone unsaid between them for so long. Sukuna had always found comfort in Uraume’s presence, a silent understanding that required no words. But now, in this moment, words were all they had.

“I want you too.”

It wasn’t just an affirmation of their relationship, of the strange and complicated bond they shared. It was an acceptance - of Sukuna’s flaws, his darkness, his brokenness. Uraume wasn’t running away from it, from him, and that realization was both terrifying and comforting. Sukuna had spent so much of his life believing that no one could truly accept him, that he was too far gone, too twisted to ever be loved in any real sense of the word.

But here was Uraume, refusing to look away, refusing to let go.

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a rare moment of clarity in the midst of his usual chaos. “You know what you’re getting into, right?” He asked, his voice low and rough, betraying the depth of his fear. Not for himself, but for Uraume. They had seen him at his worst, and yet here they were, still holding on.

“I’ve always known,” Uraume replied, their voice steady and sure, without a trace of doubt. They met his gaze, their eyes reflecting a calm resolve that Sukuna had always admired. “I’m not afraid of you, Sukuna. I never have been.”

That simple statement hit him harder than he’d expected. Sukuna had always thought of himself as someone to be feared, a man who thrived on the fear he instilled in others. It was a part of his identity, one he’d embraced fully. But Uraume’s words cut through that like a knife, leaving him exposed and raw.

“And I’m not afraid of this,” Uraume continued, their hand still clasped in his. “If you want something real, then let’s make it real. But you have to be sure, Sukuna. No more running, no more hiding. If you want me, then you get all of me. And I’ll take all of you, no matter what.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. Uraume’s words were a challenge, a promise, and a lifeline all at once. He had never been one for grand gestures or declarations of love, but this - this felt different. This was a commitment, one that went beyond words, beyond the surface-level connections he’d always known.

“I’m sure,” Sukuna said, his voice firm with conviction. He squeezed Uraume’s hand, grounding himself in the reality of this moment. “I want all of it, Uraume. I want you.”

Uraume’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. It was the kind of smile that Sukuna had only seen a handful of times, but each time it had left him feeling like he was seeing something precious, something he wanted to protect at all costs.

“Then it’s settled,” Uraume said softly, their voice carrying a finality that was both reassuring and terrifying. Sukuna nodded, a sense of calm washing over him. It wasn’t the calm of emptiness, the void he’d always known. It was something new, something unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. It was the calm of knowing that, for once in his life, he wasn’t alone.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Uraume’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, not yet, but it was a moment of connection, of shared understanding. Sukuna closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the weight of it, the significance of what they were choosing to do.

“Married, huh?” Sukuna murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. The idea still felt surreal, like a dream he hadn’t fully woken from. But it was a dream he was willing to chase, to make real, for once.

"Yeah, married. Who would’ve thought?" Uraume chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against his skin.

“Not me,” Sukuna admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But I want this, Uraume. I’m done running.”

“Good,” Uraume whispered back, their fingers brushing against his cheek. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

And with that, the last of Sukuna’s doubts faded into the background, replaced by a new kind of certainty. It wasn’t the certainty of self-destruction, of a path he’d walked too many times before. It was the certainty of something real, something worth holding on to.

As they sat there in the quiet of the night, with nothing but each other and the weight of their shared promise, Sukuna finally allowed himself to believe in the possibility of something more. Something good. Something lasting. And for the first time in his life, Sukuna felt that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t broken beyond repair.

Maybe he was just beginning to heal.

Sukuna leaned back against the couch, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like never before. It was a strange feeling - this sudden urge to grow up, to finally take responsibility for his life. For so long, he’d been content, even proud, to drift aimlessly, refusing to conform to the expectations that society tried to impose on him. But now, as he neared thirty, something inside him was shifting, and it wasn’t just because of the approaching milestone.

It was Uraume. It had always been Uraume.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly his feelings had crossed the line from friendship to something deeper. Maybe it had been back in high school when they’d started spending more time together, bonding over shared interests and a mutual disdain for the ordinary. Maybe it was the late nights they’d spent talking about everything and nothing, finding solace in each other’s company when the rest of the world felt too far away to care. Or maybe it was even earlier than that, when they’d first met and Sukuna realized that here was someone who didn’t shy away from his darkness, but rather embraced it in a way that no one else ever had.

Whatever it was, Sukuna knew one thing for certain now - he loved them. Not just in the casual, carefree way he might have loved other people in his life, but in a way that scared him, that made him want to be better. To be someone worthy of their time, their patience, their quiet understanding. And he’d been taking them for granted for far too long.

He thought about Jin and Kaori, about how their relationship had developed into something so domestic, so settled, that it almost made him sick. Almost. But the truth was, Sukuna was jealous. It ate at him every time he saw them together, laughing, cooing over their unborn child like they were living in some kind of fairy tale. He hated how easy it seemed for them, how naturally Jin had slipped into the role of husband and soon-to-be father while Sukuna was still stuck on the fringes, watching from the outside.

He didn’t want to be an outsider anymore. He didn’t want to be the guy everyone expected to flame out or end up dead in some gutter. He wanted more. He wanted what Jin had - no, he wanted something better. Something that was his own, something real and raw and imperfect, but entirely his.

He wanted Uraume.

Sukuna ran a hand through his hair, his fingers catching on the strands as he tried to collect his thoughts. It was ridiculous how long it had taken him to figure this out, how many years he’d wasted playing games, pretending that he didn’t care about anything or anyone. But the truth was, he did care. He did care about his family more than he’d ever been willing to admit, and it was time he did something about it.

“You know,” he said, breaking the silence that had settled between them, “I always thought I’d end up either in jail or dead by now. Guess I was wrong.”

Uraume looked at him, their expression unreadable but attentive. They didn’t say anything, just waited for him to continue, knowing that this was one of those rare moments when Sukuna was willing to be open, to let down his guard.

“I’ve been an idiot,” Sukuna went on, his voice rough with the weight of his admission. “I’ve wasted so much time doing nothing, being nothing. But I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to be that person. I want-…no, I need something different.”

There it was, laid bare between them. The truth that Sukuna had been hiding from for so long. He didn’t know what Uraume would say, didn’t know if they would laugh, cry, or turn him down flat. But he didn’t care anymore. For the first time in his life, Sukuna was willing to take a risk, to put his heart on the line for something that actually mattered. Uraume’s gaze softened slightly, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Sukuna could see it in their eyes - they knew exactly what he was talking about. They always had. Uraume didn’t respond immediately. Instead, they reached out and took his hand, their touch as cool and steady as ever. But there was something different this time, something that made Sukuna’s heart beat just a little faster.

“I’ve been waiting for you to figure it out. Took you long enough." Uraume said softly, their voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Sukuna’s breath hitched, a wave of relief washing over him. He’d spent so long doubting himself, doubting his ability to feel anything real, that he’d forgotten that Uraume had always seen through him. They had always understood him, even when he didn’t understand himself.

“I’m ready,” Sukuna said, squeezing their hand. "I’m ready to be with you, to make this work. I want us to be a family.”

And just like that, the future didn’t seem so uncertain anymore. For the first time in his life, Sukuna felt like he was on the right path, like he was finally heading toward something that mattered. He didn’t know what the future would hold, didn’t know what challenges they would face, but he knew one thing for certain. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had Uraume. He had a chance at something real, something meaningful. And he was ready to fight for it, to fight for them, to fight for the life they could build together.

Sukuna pulled Uraume into his arms, holding them close as if afraid they might disappear if he let go. But Uraume didn’t pull away. They wrapped their arms around him, holding him just as tightly, as if they’d been waiting for this moment as long as he had. Sukuna closed his eyes, letting the reality of their words sink in. This was it. This was what he’d been searching for all along, even if he hadn’t known it. He had found his place, his purpose, in Uraume. And he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

"But let's not jump straight to having kids like your brother did. You know, your genes are pretty messed up." Uraume murmured against Sukuna's chest, their voice barely above a whisper. They weren't ready for a family - not yet. Yes, they cared for Sukuna deeply, but he was the only one they allowed close, the only one they truly cared about in this vast, indifferent world. The thought of anything more - of others encroaching on this fragile connection - felt like too much, too soon.

Sukuna chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling as he held Uraume close, feeling the tension of the past few hours slowly ebb away. The weight of their confession and the decision they had made together seemed lighter now, as if the act of simply being together in this moment had washed away the heaviness of everything else. Uraume’s joke about kids wasn’t lost on him. They knew exactly how to break the tension, how to bring a smile to his face even when he was being his usual brooding self. And the truth was, Sukuna couldn’t imagine it any other way. The thought of a 'mini Sukuna' running around was both terrifying and absurd. He wasn’t exactly the paternal type, and he doubted he ever would be.

“Yeah, let’s hold off on that,” Sukuna agreed, a grin spreading across his face. “One brat like Yuji is enough. My genes are probably too powerful for this world to handle more than one of me.”

"You’ve got a point there. We should probably avoid unleashing more of your chaos onto the world. Besides, I think a kitten is more our speed.” Uraume smirked, leaning back just enough to look up at him. Sukuna’s grin widened at that. The idea of getting a kitten together, something small and manageable, was strangely appealing. It wasn’t a commitment on the scale of raising a child, but it was still a step toward building something together, a life that was uniquely theirs.

“A kitten, huh?” Sukuna mused, running a hand through Uraume’s hair, which had always been something of a grounding ritual for him. “I could live with that. A little monster that won’t grow up to give me attitude.”

“Exactly,” Uraume replied, their tone light, but the warmth in their voice undeniable. “We’ll start small. Besides, I think you’d be more suited to a kitten than a kid anyway. Less talking back, more purring.”

Sukuna laughed at that, imagining the two of them taking care of a kitten - his first real attempt at nurturing anything. The idea was both ridiculous and strangely comforting. A small creature they could care for together, something that wouldn’t complicate their lives too much but would still be a part of the life they were trying to build.

“You know,” Sukuna said, his voice softening, “I think I’m actually looking forward to this. Not just the kitten, but everything. With you.”

They sat there together in comfortable silence, holding each other as the weight of the night began to fade. There were still challenges ahead, still parts of himself that Sukuna would have to confront and change, but he wasn’t afraid of them anymore. He wasn’t running.

As they planned their next steps - finding a kitten, moving in together, and everything else that would come with this new chapter - Sukuna couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, he could be happy. And that was a terrifying thought, but also one that filled him with a sense of purpose.

Because for the first time, he had something real to hold on to.

And for now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Sukuna hadn’t really planned on becoming a cat dad. In fact, when Uraume had first suggested they adopt a kitten, he’d scoffed at the idea, dismissing it as another one of their strange whims. But then, a few days later, they’d stumbled across a tiny, bedraggled creature on the side of the road - a skinny, flea-ridden kitten with fur matted from dirt and neglect. Uraume had taken one look at the kitten and decided they couldn’t leave it behind. Sukuna, on the other hand, had been less enthusiastic.

The kitten was a mess, nothing more than skin and bones with a high-pitched mew that grated on his nerves. But Uraume had insisted, and before he knew it, they were bringing the tiny creature back to their place. He’d tried to wash his hands off the whole thing - literally. As soon as they got home, Sukuna wanted nothing to do with the flea-infested furball. Uraume, however, wouldn’t let him off so easily. They knew how to push him just enough to get what they wanted, and after a few hours of relentless prodding, Sukuna reluctantly agreed to help take care of the kitten.

Of course, he had no idea what he was doing. He was clumsy and impatient, more likely to grumble and scowl than offer any real affection. But over the days that followed, something unexpected happened. The kitten, now bathed, fed, and free of parasites, began to grow on him. She was scrappy, determined, and just a little bit mean - a perfect match for Sukuna’s prickly personality. Uraume would often find him lounging on the couch with the kitten nestled on his chest, both of them half-asleep. They’d smirk at the sight, teasing Sukuna about his newfound soft spot, but he would just roll his eyes and grumble something about the kitten being his responsibility. But the truth was, the kitten had wormed her way into his heart, whether he liked it or not.

He’d named her Hime - partly as a joke, since the kitten was anything but regal when they first found her, and partly because he liked the idea of having a little queen of his own. Hime, for her part, quickly took to Sukuna, following him around the apartment and climbing onto his shoulder whenever she could. He spoiled her rotten, buying her expensive toys and the best food, though he’d deny it if anyone called him out on it.

It wasn’t long before Hime became a fixture in their lives, a small but important part of the home Sukuna and Uraume were building together. Thoughts of marriage had been put on the back burner, for now. They’d tried to talk about it a few times, but each conversation ended with a mutual agreement to wait. Neither of them was in a rush - winter was coming, and who wanted to get married in the cold, anyway? Plus, they hadn’t told anyone about their plans, and for now, that suited them just fine.

Meanwhile, the brat Yuji was growing fast. At a few months old, he was already developing a personality - one that Sukuna found both irritating and, though he wouldn’t admit it, slightly endearing. His duties as an uncle were carried out begrudgingly and with a fair amount of teasing. Sukuna relished in tormenting the baby, pulling faces and making sarcastic comments that went over Yuji’s head but earned him stern looks from Jin and Kaori.

“Someone’s got to teach the kid not to take life too seriously.” Sukuna once say whenever Kaori scolded him, smirking as he flicked Yuji’s tiny nose. The baby would gurgle in response, his big eyes staring up at Sukuna with a mix of confusion and curiosity. But beneath the surface, there was something else - something that tugged at Sukuna in a way he didn’t fully understand. He’d never been one for sentimentality, but there was a strange satisfaction in seeing Yuji grow, in watching him learn to hold his head up or grab onto things with his chubby little hands. It was an odd feeling, and one he quickly buried whenever it threatened to rise to the surface.

Then came the dinner invitation. Jin and Kaori had called him up, asking if he and Uraume could come over for a meal. They had something they wanted to announce, Jin had said, his voice carrying that irritating tone of excitement that Sukuna found so grating. Sukuna had rolled his eyes but agreed, mainly because Uraume had wanted to go.

So, on the evening of the dinner, Sukuna arrived with Uraume by his side. Jin and Kaori’s house was as annoyingly perfect as ever - clean, organized, and filled with the warm smell of dinner cooking in the kitchen. Yuji was in his playpen, cooing and playing with a soft toy, oblivious to the world around him. Sukuna glanced at the kid, noting how much he’d grown, and then looked away.

Hime perched on his shoulder, held securely by a small pink leash. The kitten, now fully healthy and with a glossy coat, looked almost regal, a stark contrast to the scrappy little thing they had rescued just weeks before. Sukuna was undeniably proud of her, and he’d be damned if he left her at home. As they stepped into the house, Jin greeted them with his usual bright smile, though his eyes immediately zeroed in on the kitten.

“Sukuna, is that a cat on your shoulder?” Jin asked, his eyebrows arching in surprise.

“Yeah, and?” Sukuna shot back, his tone laced with challenge, daring Jin to make something of it. Hime, perched gracefully on his shoulder, seemed to sense the rising tension and let out a small, authoritative meow.

“She’s adorable,” Kaori remarked, her admiration genuine. Kaori had just picked up Yuji, approached with a warm smile, her hand reaching out to pet Hime. To everyone's surprise, the usually aloof kitten allowed the touch. “You’ve got good taste, Sukuna.”

“Of course I do,” Sukuna replied with a smirk, though his eyes never left Kaori’s hand as it stroked Hime’s fur. The kitten was his, after all. "And don't touch her too much." He added, his possessiveness clear even in jest

They were ushered into the dining room, where the table was set with a modest but delicious-looking spread. Uraume took a seat next to Sukuna, while Hime made herself comfortable on his lap, curling up into a small, purring ball. Dinner began with the usual small talk - Jin updating them on work, Kaori sharing amusing anecdotes about Yuji’s latest antics. Sukuna listened with half an ear, more interested in the food and occasionally sneaking bits of meat to Hime. Uraume, however, was fully engaged, nodding along and offering their own quiet contributions to the conversation.

It wasn’t until the plates were being cleared that Jin cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. Kaori exchanged a look with him, a smile playing on her lips as she gently placed Yuji into his crib nearby.

“There’s something we wanted to share with you,” Jin began, his tone serious but tinged with excitement. “Kaori and I… well, we’ve decided to adopt a child.”

Sukuna froze, his fork halfway to his mouth. Uraume glanced at him, their expression carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of surprise in their eyes. For a moment, the room was silent, the announcement hanging in the air like a bomb waiting to explode. Sukuna’s mind raced, processing the news in the only way he knew how - with irritation. His fork halfway to his mouth. Uraume glanced at him, their expression carefully neutral, but there was a flicker of surprise in their eyes.

“You’re serious?” Sukuna finally said, his voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance. “You’re going to take in another brat?”

“Yes,” Kaori confirmed, her smile widening as she took Jin’s hand. “We’ve been thinking about it for a while, and after everything we’ve been through with Yuji, we realized that there’s so much more we could give. There are so many children out there who need a home, and we want to be that home.”

Sukuna wanted to argue, to point out how ridiculous it was to adopt another kid when they already had their hands full with Yuji. But the words caught in his throat. Instead, he glanced at Uraume, who was watching him with that same knowing look they always had when Sukuna was about to lose his cool.

“Congratulations,” Uraume said smoothly, offering a smile that was both sincere and reserved. In fact, Uraume simply didn't care about what was going on in Kaori and Jin's lives. They only came here for Sukuna.

Kaori beamed at the words, clearly pleased. “Thank you, Uraume. We’re really excited about it.”

Sukuna, however, couldn’t quite muster the same enthusiasm. Another child? Another brat to deal with? The thought of it made his head spin. He barely tolerated Yuji, and now there was going to be another one?
He shot a glare at Jin, who just gave him a sheepish smile, clearly aware of how his brother was taking the news.

“Guess that means more babysitting duties for you, huh?” Jin joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Sukuna scowled, though there was no real malice behind it.

“Yeah, don’t count on it.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Kaori across the table. There was something about her that had always rubbed him the wrong way. It wasn’t just that she was with Jin, or that she had turned his brother into some kind of domestic saint—it was something deeper, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. To everyone else, Kaori was sweet, caring, the perfect wife and mother. But Sukuna had always seen something different, something that made his skin crawl. Sukuna had never trusted her.

Oh, Kaori. What a bitch you were.

There was a shrewdness to her, a calculating edge behind that seemingly warm smile. Kaori wasn’t the simple, innocent woman she pretended to be. She knew exactly how to play the game, and she played it well. Jin, the fool, was wrapped around her finger, so blind to her manipulations that it was almost pathetic. Sukuna knew his brother wasn’t entirely against adopting more children; Jin’s heart was too soft for that. But Sukuna also knew Kaori was the one pulling the strings, guiding every decision with that insidious subtlety she’d mastered so well.

He glanced at Jin, who was beaming, clearly thrilled by the idea of expanding their family. Jin was too good for this world, too good for Kaori, and it grated on Sukuna’s nerves that his brother couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see the way Kaori twisted him around her fingers, like he was just another piece in her perfectly constructed life. Sukuna turned his attention back to Kaori, who was busy making sure Yuji was comfortable in his crib, her every move calculated for maximum effect. She was playing the role of the perfect mother, the perfect wife, and everyone bought it - except Sukuna. He wasn’t fooled by the act. He could see the gears turning in her head, could see the way she subtly directed Jin’s thoughts and decisions.

No, Jin was definitely not against adopting more children. He had a heart that couldn’t say no to anyone in need, and Kaori knew how to exploit that better than anyone. Sukuna’s issue wasn’t with Jin - Jin was a good man, maybe too good. Sukuna’s problem was with Kaori, with the way she seemed to mold everything to fit her vision of the perfect life, consequences be damned.

The more Sukuna thought about it, the more his irritation grew. Kaori had been a thorn in his side ever since she came into Jin’s life. Before her, Jin had been simpler, easier to understand. He was still the nerdy, good-hearted brother Sukuna had grown up with, but now there was something different about him - something softer, more pliable, more easily influenced by Kaori’s whims.

And Sukuna hated it.

“Everything okay, Sukuna?” Kaori’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. She was looking at him now, her eyes bright and curious, as if she had no idea what was running through his mind.

Sukuna forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, just thinking. Surprised you’re adopting so soon, that’s all.”

Kaori’s smile didn’t waver. “We just feel it’s the right time. There are so many children who need a good home, and we have so much love to give. Right, Jin?”

Jin nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with that same naive optimism that made Sukuna want to shake him. “It just feels like the right thing to do, you know?”

Sukuna gritted his teeth, his irritation boiling just beneath the surface. Of course it did. Because Kaori had decided it was the right thing, and whatever Kaori wanted, Jin followed like a damn puppy.

“That’s great,” Sukuna lied, his voice laced with just enough sarcasm to be noticed, but not enough to provoke a confrontation. “I’m sure you’ll make great parents to another brat.”

Kaori’s smile flickered, just for a moment, but she recovered quickly, laughing softly as if she hadn’t caught the edge in his voice. “We’ll do our best. And I’m sure Yuji will love having a sibling close in age. It’ll be good for him to have someone to grow up with.”

Sukuna barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, it was all about what was good for Yuji, what was good for the family. But what about what was good for Jin? What about the fact that he was being pulled deeper and deeper into a life that wasn’t entirely his own? Sukuna knew that Jin had agreed to this, probably even believed he wanted it, but Sukuna also knew that his brother’s desires often took a backseat to Kaori’s.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of polite conversation and forced smiles. Uraume, never was a peacemaker, but they tried to engaged with Kaori and Jin as if nothing was wrong. He knew Uraume saw through Kaori just as well as he did, but they were always better at playing along, at keeping the peace where Sukuna would rather start a fight. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, dinner was over, and they were saying their goodbyes. Jin and Kaori stood at the door, Yuji asleep in Jin’s arms, as Sukuna and Uraume prepared to leave. Hime, still perched on Sukuna’s shoulder, let out a small, indignant meow, as if echoing Sukuna’s own displeasure with the evening’s events.

Sukuna hadn’t expected to care about Jin and Kaori’s new addition to the family. When they first mentioned adopting an older child, an eight-year-old boy named Choso, Sukuna had rolled his eyes and dismissed the whole thing as another one of Kaori’s pet projects. He’d half-expected the kid to be some hyperactive brat who would turn their lives upside down and give Sukuna yet another reason to avoid their house. But when Jin and Kaori finally introduced the boy to the family, Sukuna had to stifle a laugh. The kid looked like he’d just walked out of a Tim Burton movie - pale, quiet, with dark hair that fell in messy strands around his face. His clothes were black, his expression was blank, and Sukuna couldn’t decide if the brat was trying to be emo or if he was just anemic. He could practically smell the teenage angst brewing just beneath the surface.

“Is he anemic or something?” Sukuna had muttered to Uraume when they first saw the kid. “Or is this just how kids dress these days?”

Uraume had only shrugged, their expression as unreadable as ever, though Sukuna could tell they were sizing Choso up in their own way. They hadn’t said much about him at the time, and Sukuna didn’t press the issue. He didn’t really care, after all. It wasn’t his problem.

The first few times Sukuna encountered Choso, he’d thrown out his usual caustic comments, expecting the boy to react, to show some kind of emotion. But Choso was quiet, almost unnervingly so. He would just look at Sukuna with those dark, unreadable eyes, say nothing, and go about his business. It was weird, and Sukuna didn’t like weird. At first, he’d taken it as a challenge, trying to provoke Choso just to see if the kid had any fire in him. But every jab, every sarcastic remark, seemed to bounce off Choso like water off a rock. It was almost frustrating how little the boy seemed to care.

“He’s like a brick wall,” Sukuna had complained to Uraume one evening after another uneventful visit to Jin and Kaori’s house. “I can’t get a read on him. What kind of kid doesn’t react to anything?”

Uraume, who had been stroking Hime’s fur as she curled up on their lap, looked thoughtful. “Maybe he’s just shy. Or maybe he’s been through a lot. We don’t know his past.”

“Yeah, well, he’s still got that whole emo vibe going on,” Sukuna had replied, leaning back against the couch with a scowl. “Kid looks like he belongs in some horror flick. I’m giving him a 6 out of 10. Takes points off for the appearance. That’s not gonna help him in the future.”

Despite his harsh words, Sukuna had to admit that Choso wasn’t bad. The kid didn’t cause trouble, didn’t whine or throw tantrums. In fact, he was the exact opposite of what Sukuna had expected - quiet, withdrawn, and almost eerily well-behaved. And slowly, as the months passed and Choso became more ingrained in Jin and Kaori’s family, Sukuna found himself softening toward the boy, if only slightly. But while Sukuna was starting to tolerate Choso, Uraume seemed to be having a harder time with him. Sukuna couldn’t quite figure out why, but there was something about Choso that rubbed Uraume the wrong way. He’d catch them frowning at the boy when they thought no one was looking, their usual calm demeanor giving way to something colder, more distant.

It wasn’t like Uraume to dislike someone for no reason, and Sukuna knew that. Uraume, who had a surprising soft spot for Yuji, seemed unusually tense whenever Choso was around. And that tension didn’t go unnoticed.

It wasn’t just about Choso, or Jin, or even Kaori - it was about the strange, makeshift family they were all becoming, for better or worse. And as much as Sukuna hated to admit it, he cared about that. He cared about all of them, in his own, begrudging way. Even the emo kid.

Sukuna was lost in his thoughts, the image of Choso’s blank expression lingering in his mind like a shadow he couldn’t shake. He hadn’t expected to think about the kid at all once they left Jin and Kaori’s house, but here he was, mulling over the boy like some unsolved puzzle. Choso was an enigma. Every kid Sukuna had met either reacted to him with fear or irritation, or at the very least, some form of acknowledgment. But Choso? The boy seemed like he was floating in his own world, untouched by anything around him. Sukuna had tried to provoke him, get under his skin the way he did with everyone, but Choso just… absorbed it, like a sponge. It was unsettling.

Beside him, Uraume was equally silent, their eyes focused out the window. Sukuna stole a glance at them, noting the tightness in their expression, the way their hands rested a little too stiffly in their lap. Uraume was never one to let their emotions show easily, but Sukuna had known them long enough to recognize when something was off.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence. His voice was gruff, but there was a hint of concern beneath the surface, masked by his usual brusqueness. “What’s on your mind?”

Uraume blinked, turning to face him, their gaze steady but distant. “Just thinking about Choso.”

Sukuna snorted. “That kid’s a walking corpse. What’s there to think about?”

Uraume didn’t laugh. Instead, they sighed softly, their fingers curling and uncurling in a slow, deliberate motion. “He’s different, Sukuna. I can’t explain it, but there’s something about him that… unsettles me.”

“Unsettles you?” Sukuna echoed, surprised by the admission. Uraume was usually the calm one, the one who kept their cool no matter what. If Choso was getting under their skin, then maybe there was more to the kid than Sukuna had thought.

“I know it sounds strange,” Uraume continued, their voice measured, as if they were carefully choosing their words. “But I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something about him that we don’t know. Something… dark.”

Sukuna frowned, glancing over at them. “Dark? You’re talking about an eight-year-old kid.”

“Maybe it’s just my imagination,” Uraume admitted, though their tone suggested they weren’t convinced. “But I’ve been around enough people to know when someone has been through something terrible. And Choso… he’s carrying something heavy. I can feel it.”

Sukuna leaned back in his seat, mulling over Uraume’s words. He wasn’t one to buy into gut feelings or hunches - he preferred things he could see, touch, understand. But he trusted Uraume’s instincts, and if they were feeling this strongly about Choso, then maybe there was something to it.

“Maybe he’s just messed up from whatever happened before Jin and Kaori got him." Sukuna suggested, though even as he said it, he knew it was too simple an explanation.

“Maybe,” Uraume murmured, but their voice lacked conviction. “But it’s more than that. It’s like… he’s not really here. Like he’s somewhere else, all the time.”

Sukuna grunted, unsure of what to say. He didn’t like the idea of something being wrong with the kid, not because he cared about Choso himself, but because of what it would mean for Jin and Kaori. The last thing he wanted was for his brother to get tangled up in something he couldn’t handle, especially with Kaori in the mix. He knew Uraume well enough to trust their instincts, even if he didn’t always understand them. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a knot of unease forming in his gut. Something about Choso wasn’t right, and if Uraume was worried, then maybe he should be too.

As they went into silence, Hime, who had been dozing in Uraume’s lap, stirred and let out a small meow, as if sensing the tension in the air. Sukuna reached closer to scratch behind her ears, his mind still on the strange, pale boy who had somehow managed to unsettle both him and Uraume in ways they couldn’t quite explain.

The days that followed were marked by a strange sense of unease. Sukuna and Uraume continued their lives as usual, but the thought of Choso lingered in the back of their minds. Uraume found themselves watching the boy more closely during their visits, trying to pick up on any signs that might explain the feeling of dread that had taken root in their chest. Sukuna, for his part, tried to push the whole thing out of his mind, telling himself that it was none of his business. But despite his best efforts, he found himself thinking about the kid more often than he’d like to admit.

And then there was Choso himself, quiet and withdrawn as ever, yet somehow always present in a way that made Sukuna’s skin crawl. The boy had a way of moving through the world that was almost ghost-like, barely making a sound, never drawing attention to himself. It was like he was trying to disappear, to fade into the background, and Sukuna couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life had taught him to be that way.

One evening, Sukuna found himself alone with Choso. The house was quieter than usual, with Yuji happily playing with Hime in another room. Choso, sitting at the kitchen table, was absorbed in a book that seemed as dark and mysterious as his appearance. There was something about the way Choso held himself, the way he seemed so completely detached from everything around him, that made Sukuna’s skin crawl.

Sukuna, who had come to terms with his mild curiosity about the boy, decided to strike up a conversation. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter, trying to look casual despite the churning curiosity.

“Hey, kid,” Sukuna began, his tone less abrasive than usual. “What’s that you’re reading? Something to make you more of an edgelord?”

Choso glanced up, his dark eyes meeting Sukuna’s with a mix of surprise and mild irritation. He hesitated before responding, his voice soft but steady. “It’s just a book about ancient myths. I find them interesting.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “Ancient myths, huh? Sounds like something out of a history class.”

Choso’s eyes flickered with something that resembled amusement, though he kept his expression mostly impassive. “Not really. They’re more about the stories and the meanings behind them.”

Sukuna took a swig of his beer, considering this new layer of Choso. “So, you’re into understanding the deeper stuff, huh? Not just being a moody teenager?”

Choso shrugged, his gaze returning to his book. “I guess you could say that. I find meaning in things that others might overlook.”

Sukuna chuckled, his usual rough edge softening. “Well, that’s something I didn’t expect. You’ve been pretty quiet, and I thought you were just another kid trying to be all dark and brooding.”

Choso’s lips twitched into what might have been a small smile. “I’m not really trying to be anything. Just trying to understand things.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a flicker of respect for the boy. It wasn’t often he met someone who seemed to genuinely seek understanding rather than just act out.

The conversation shifted as Choso asked about Yuji, and Sukuna found himself surprisingly open about his nephew. He spoke of the kid’s rambunctious nature and the way Yuji seemed to turn every day into an adventure. Choso listened intently, his previously distant demeanor thawing slightly as he absorbed the stories.

“You seem to really care about Yuji,” Choso remarked. “He’s lucky to have someone like you in his life.”

Sukuna grunted, not used to receiving such direct compliments. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to keep the little brat in line.”

Choso’s expression grew more thoughtful. “I’ve noticed you with him. You’re not so bad with kids, even if you act like you don’t care.”

Sukuna shifted uncomfortably but didn’t deny it. “Maybe. But I’m not exactly the type to get all mushy over them. Just trying to do my part.”

Choso’s gaze softened, and Sukuna caught a hint of a smile. “You’re doing better than you think.”

Sukuna was about to respond when he noticed Choso’s attention drifting toward a framed photo of Yuji and Choso together, placed prominently on the kitchen counter. The photo showed a rare moment of the two laughing and playing with a toy, a snapshot of genuine connection.

“You know,” Sukuna said, a thought forming, “I didn’t really get it at first. I thought you were just another weird kid who didn’t fit in. But seeing you with Yuji... maybe there’s more to you than I thought.”

Choso met Sukuna’s gaze steadily, his eyes reflecting a flicker of gratitude. “I care about him. He’s important to me. I’m trying to find my place here, just like you.”

Sukuna took another sip of his beer, contemplating Choso’s words. “Well, you’re doing a decent job. Just don’t go turning into a complete cliché on me.”

Choso chuckled softly, the sound carrying a rare warmth. “I’ll try not to.”

As the evening wore on, Sukuna found himself surprisingly content in the quiet company of Choso. There was something oddly satisfying about finding common ground with someone who had seemed so enigmatic and distant. It was a small moment of connection in the shifting dynamics of their expanding family. They sat together in the quiet of the kitchen, Sukuna realized that maybe, just maybe, he could accept Choso’s place in their lives. It wasn’t about liking or disliking someone -
it was about finding a way to coexist and understand each other, even amidst the chaos and imperfections. Sukuna glanced at Choso, who was now engrossed in his book again, and thought that perhaps he was starting to see the boy for who he truly was. And for Sukuna, that was a start.

The whirlwind of changes in his life had begun to feel overwhelming. Jin's expanding family, the adoption of Choso, Kaori's dominance over Jin, and even his own relationship with Uraume - everything seemed to be moving too quickly for him to grasp. It was as if the world around him had accelerated, leaving him stumbling to keep up. This was not the life he had envisioned when he had sought out freedom and independence. Back then, he had prided himself on being ahead of his time, with ideas and principles that felt far beyond those of his peers. Now, though, he was mired in a sense of disconnection, the modern world moving on while he felt increasingly out of place.

Sukuna lingered in the kitchen, the empty bottle of beer clutched loosely in his hand. The dim light cast long shadows on the walls, emphasizing the clutter that filled the space - a chaotic mess of everyday life that somehow seemed to fit him better than any neatly arranged home could. The buzz of the beer in his system blended with the fog of his thoughts. The kitchen was silent except for the occasional clinking of the bottle against the counter and the soft hum of the refrigerator. Sukuna’s mind, however, was anything but calm. He took another swig from the bottle, his thoughts swirling like the amber liquid within.

The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had always seen himself as someone who thrived on breaking free from conventions, on being different. Yet now, with every passing day, it felt as though he was slipping further into a bygone era. His once-rebellious spirit seemed fossilized, like an artifact from a time when he felt relevant. Instead of feeling liberated, he was trapped by the very freedoms he had once fought for. The achievement of living a carefree life felt more like a curse than a triumph. The sight of Jin's children - especially the way Choso seemed to adapt and fit into their family - only heightened Sukuna's sense of displacement. Jin’s life was a testament to what Sukuna had always believed was a simple, straightforward path: stability, family, and love. In contrast, Sukuna's existence seemed to be defined by chaos and restlessness. Watching Jin and Kaori navigate their family life with what seemed like ease and contentment, Sukuna couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow lagging behind, failing to adapt to the changing world around him.

He looked around at the cluttered kitchen, at the cat toys strewn across the floor, and the image of Yuji and Choso in the photograph. All these details painted a picture of a life he had never imagined for himself. It was a reality that felt alien, like a foreign landscape where he was the only one out of place. He had spent his youth feeling like a step ahead of everyone, believing that his thoughts and principles were revolutionary, that he was somehow transcending his peers. Now, as he looked around, it felt as though he was mired in the past, disconnected from the present.

His life had become a series of disjointed experiences and fleeting moments, each one adding to a growing sense of dissatisfaction. The ideal of a carefree adult life he had strived for had come at the cost of feeling uninspired, detached from the things that once seemed important. Sukuna knew he wasn’t exactly bored with his life; it was more a profound disconnection from it. The freedom he had so fervently sought now felt like shackles, a reminder of how far he had drifted from the sense of purpose he once held. He had pursued a life of indulgence and rebellion, only to find that what he had considered his greatest achievement was now his greatest burden.

The modern world, with its constant shifts and demands, seemed alien to him. He felt like a relic, stuck between the past and the present, struggling to reconcile who he had been with who he was now. He couldn’t escape the nagging thought that perhaps it wasn’t just the world that had changed, but he himself who had become unrecognizable. Sukuna took another swig of his beer, the bitterness a stark contrast to the sweetness of nostalgia. His carefree adult life, once considered the ultimate achievement, now felt more like shackles. He had achieved what he thought he wanted - freedom from responsibility, indulgence in every whim - but it left him feeling empty and trapped. What was once the pinnacle of success now felt like a curse, a hollow victory that had stripped him of purpose.

The realization gnawed at him. He saw Jin with his family, Kaori with her carefully curated life, and the stark contrast of their thriving domesticity against his own discontent. It was as though Sukuna was watching from a distance, a spectator in a world that was no longer his own. The sense of achievement he had once relished now seemed like an illusion, a cruel joke that had led him to a place where he was disillusioned with the very life he had strived to attain. He thought about his past - the reckless abandon, the hedonistic pursuits, the endless string of meaningless encounters. All those choices, those moments of rebellion and defiance, had led him to this point. Yet, instead of feeling fulfilled, he felt a deep, gnawing boredom. It was as though the very essence of what he had sought had turned into something mundane, a daily grind that offered no excitement or fulfillment.

Sukuna’s gaze wandered to the photograph of Yuji and Choso again. The image of the two of them, so different yet connected, seemed to symbolize something he was missing. A sense of belonging, perhaps, or a purpose he had long since abandoned. Watching Jin and Kaori navigate their lives with a sense of direction and family made Sukuna question his own path. The stark reality was that, despite having achieved his version of freedom, he felt like an anachronism, struggling to find his place in a world that had moved on without him.

The beer bottle, now nearly empty, felt like a tangible reminder of his discontent. Sukuna stared at it, his mind racing with the harsh truths of his own life. It was a strange, almost uncomfortable realization - that he was a relic of a bygone era, stuck in a world that had left him behind. He had pursued a life of indulgence and autonomy, but now it felt like he was drowning in the very freedom he had once sought. The evening wore on, and Sukuna remained in the kitchen, his thoughts a maelstrom of self-reflection and regret. He wasn’t sure what the future held, or if he could ever find a way to escape the monotony of his own existence. But one thing was clear: the path he had chosen, the life he had built, no longer provided the solace or satisfaction he had once envisioned. It was a sobering realization, and Sukuna was left with the difficult task of figuring out what, if anything, would bring him back to life.

Sukuna remained in the kitchen, his mind a relentless storm of discontent and confusion, obscured by the dim light of the overhead bulb. His fingers wrapped around the cold, sweating beer bottle, as though it were an anchor in a tempestuous sea. He leaned against the counter, eyes fixed on the empty bottle as if it held the answers to his swirling thoughts. The clinking of dishes and the laughter of children echoed faintly from the other rooms, but to Sukuna, they were distant sounds, like the echoes of a world he felt increasingly disconnected from. He didn't even notice how the little vampire Choso ran off to play with Yuji.

And still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything around him was spinning too fast. Life had become a series of rapid changes that he struggled to keep up with. The carefree days of his youth, when he felt ahead of his time, now seemed like distant memories.

It was in the midst of this self-reflection that Uraume entered the kitchen, their presence a sudden disruption to Sukuna’s solitary reverie. Uraume, always the anchor in Sukuna’s tumultuous sea of emotions, approached with a quiet grace. They reached out and placed a gentle kiss on Sukuna’s cheek, an act so rare and intimate that it immediately jolted Sukuna from his brooding. The kiss, tender and fleeting, was a reminder of their deep connection, something he had nearly forgotten in his descent into self-pity. The unexpected contact made Sukuna flinch violently, his body reacting with a reflexive jerk that caught Uraume off guard. The back of Sukuna’s head met Uraume’s nose with a sharp thud, the force of it sending a shock through both of them.

Hime, ever the observant kitten, watched the scene unfold with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. The sudden commotion had disturbed her play, and she hissed at Sukuna with a sound that was more comical than menacing. The cat’s eyes, wide and filled with an accusatory glare, seemed to cast Sukuna in the role of the villain in a melodramatic soap opera. To Hime, this was not just a minor family squabble - it was a serious breach of the sanctity of her home.

Uraume’s face, now sporting a small streak of blood from their nose, was the epitome of restrained bemusement. They touched their nose gingerly, their expression a blend of surprise and gentle reproach. Sukuna, momentarily snapped out of his existential crisis, took in the absurdity of the situation. The stark contrast between Uraume’s calm demeanor and the comical nature of the mishap was too much. His own laughter erupted, unbidden and uncontrollable, a cathartic release that felt both strange and relieving.

As the laughter shook through him, Sukuna realized how utterly ridiculous the situation was. Here he was, mired in a midlife crisis, contemplating the meaning of his existence, only to be jolted back to reality by a clumsy accident and a disgruntled kitten. The image of Uraume, with their pale face marked by a streak of red, and Hime’s indignant glare, was too absurd to take seriously. The laughter, which had begun as an escape from his frustrations, became a full-blown release, echoing through the kitchen and washing over his earlier gloom. Uraume, with their usual composure, allowed Sukuna’s laughter to run its course. Their eyes, though still soft with concern, held a hint of amusement. They reached out, touching Sukuna’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture that was both gentle and grounding.

Despite the blood on their nose and the kitten’s hissing, Uraume’s presence was a balm to Sukuna’s frayed nerves, a reminder that amidst the chaos, there was still a sense of connection and understanding. Hime, after her initial display of feline outrage, seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. With a huff that could only be described as a dramatic feline sigh, she trotted back to her toy mouse, her earlier irritation giving way to a more neutral stance. The kitten’s behavior, from outrage to acceptance, seemed to mirror the changing dynamics of Sukuna’s mood.

As Sukuna’s laughter subsided and the last remnants of his discontent faded, he found himself looking at Uraume with a newfound clarity. The layers of his frustration seemed to peel away, revealing a simple truth. In the midst of his self-imposed isolation and existential doubts, Uraume’s small act of affection and the absurdity of the moment had provided him with a much-needed reminder of what truly mattered.

He took a deep breath, allowing the warmth of Uraume’s presence and the ridiculousness of the situation to anchor him. The kitchen, with its scattered cat toys and the distant echoes of family life, felt more like home than ever. In this chaotic, unpredictable world, Sukuna found solace in these small, absurd moments of shared humanity. With a final, grateful glance at Uraume, Sukuna allowed himself a genuine smile. The kitchen, the kitten, and the blood-streaked nose were all part of a tapestry of life that, despite its chaotic nature, was profoundly grounding. In this moment, he realized that even amidst the whirlwind of modern life and his own internal struggles, there was a comforting constancy in these everyday absurdities and shared experiences.

“Sorry about that,” Sukuna said, his voice softening as he looked at Uraume. “Didn’t mean to turn you into a bloody nosed punching bag.”

Uraume, their expression shifting from surprise to gentle amusement, replied with a small, knowing smile. “It’s alright. Just part of the charm of living with you, I suppose.”

Sukuna chuckled, shaking his head as he reached out to touch Uraume’s shoulder. “If this is what it takes to get a smile out of you, I’ll take the occasional nose bump.”

Hime, now fully engrossed in her toy, seemed to approve of the restored harmony. Her earlier discontent forgotten, she batted at the toy mouse with renewed vigor, her tiny paws moving in playful arcs. In the end, Sukuna found himself embracing the absurdity of it all. The chaos, the laughter, and the unexpected moments of connection were what made his life meaningful. And as he stood in the kitchen, surrounded by the echoes of family and the simple joys of life, he knew that despite the whirlwind of change and the weight of his own thoughts, there was always a place where he belonged.

Sukuna’s movements were slow and deliberate as he retrieved a stack of napkins from a nearby drawer. He turned to Uraume, who was seated on a kitchen chair with a mix of bemusement and mild annoyance etched on their face. With a careful touch, Sukuna began to dab at the small streaks of blood on Uraume’s nose, his expression a rare blend of concentration and tenderness. The kitchen, usually a place of casual chaos, now felt almost serene in this unexpected moment of intimacy. The clatter of toys and the distant sounds of Yuji’s laughter created a backdrop of domestic normalcy against the quiet scene unfolding. Sukuna’s rough fingers, usually so accustomed to dealing with life’s harder edges, were now gentle as he tended to Uraume’s injury. The act, though simple, was imbued with a care that spoke volumes about his feelings, something he rarely expressed. As Sukuna worked, Jin and Kaori entered the kitchen, their arrival punctuated by the sound of the door opening and closing with a casual thud. Jin’s gaze was drawn immediately to the scene before him - Sukuna, usually the picture of brusque detachment, now in a position of rare vulnerability and tenderness. Jin’s eyes widened slightly, taking in the sight of Sukuna’s careful attention to Uraume’s nose.

“Well, well,” Jin’s voice rang out, brimming with mischief. “Looks like we missed quite the family drama.”

Sukuna glanced up, his expression a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Jin and Kaori to return so soon, and he felt the flush of awkwardness creep up his neck. Uraume, who had been enduring Sukuna’s clumsy ministrations with their usual stoicism, now looked up at Jin and Kaori with a hint of resigned amusement.

Kaori, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief, leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “Sukuna, we always knew you had a temper, but I didn’t realize it extended to domestic squabbles. What happened here? Did you finally snap under the pressure of adult life?”

“Yeah, I always knew Sukuna had a bit of a dark side, but this is new. Did you two get into a heated debate over the correct way to pet a cat or something?” Jin chuckled, slinging an arm around Kaori’s shoulders.

Sukuna, who had been intently focused on cleaning Uraume’s nose, let out a gruff laugh. “Very funny. Uraume just surprised me, that’s all. Didn’t expect a kiss and ended up giving them an accidental headbutt.”

Uraume, despite the sting of their nose and the intrusion of Jin and Kaori’s teasing, managed a small, wry smile. “Yes, I suppose I should have given Sukuna a warning before approaching him so abruptly.”

Kaori’s laughter rang out, light and infectious. “Well, it’s good to see that even the great Sukuna isn’t immune to a little domestic slapstick. We were just talking about how things seem to be going so smoothly with you two. Clearly, there’s more drama than we realized.”

Jin nudged Kaori playfully. “Maybe we should have stayed longer. We might have witnessed the grand spectacle of Sukuna’s temper tantrum and Uraume’s cool composure in action. Sounds like a show worth watching.”

Sukuna scowled half-heartedly, though his eyes twinkled with a mix of amusement and frustration. “Yes, well, the next time you want to witness a domestic squabble, make sure it doesn’t involve a bloody nose. It’s not as glamorous as it sounds.”

“Are you alright, Uraume? We didn’t mean to intrude, but we were a little worried when we heard about the commotion.” Kaori stepped closer. Her exaggerated tone and the faux-serene smile she wore did nothing to disguise the mischief in her eyes. Uraume’s expression, however, was one of thinly-veiled irritation. Their eyes shot a glare at Kaori that seemed to suggest they’d rather face a hundred nosebleeds than endure her forced cheerfulness.

Uraume, their pale face now with a slightly puffy nose, nodded. “I’m fine, thank you. Sukuna’s just dealing with his existential crisis in his own way.”

Jin’s eyes widened in mock shock. “An existential crisis? Now that’s a twist. I thought it was just a broken nose and a bruised ego.”

As Jin and Kaori made themselves comfortable, the atmosphere in the kitchen shifted from one of awkwardness to a more relaxed, jovial tone. The playful teasing, though lighthearted, served as a reminder of the bonds that tied them all together. Even amidst the chaos of domestic life and the occasional mishaps, there was an underlying current of affection and camaraderie that held them together. Sukuna, now with Uraume’s nose tended to and the earlier tension dissipated, allowed himself to join in the laughter. He realized that while his life might have felt like a whirlwind of confusion and change, these moments of levity and shared connections were what made it bearable.

The banter and gentle ribbing continued as Sukuna finished tending to Uraume’s nose. Despite the playful jabs and Kaori’s over-the-top commentary, there was an undeniable warmth in the room. Jin and Kaori’s teasing, though annoying to Uraume, served as a backdrop to the genuine moment of care shared between Sukuna and Uraume. As Sukuna tossed the bloodied napkins into the trash and looked at Uraume with a begrudging smile, he realized that the moment, though fraught with irritation and comedy, was one of the rare instances where his carefully constructed walls came down. In the midst of familial chaos and playful mockery, there was a deep-seated sense of connection that transcended the absurdity of the situation.

Uraume, despite their continued annoyance at Kaori’s antics, couldn’t help but soften slightly at Sukuna’s rare display of gentleness. The warmth of the kitchen, the laughter of family, and the oddity of the scene all combined to create a sense of belonging that Sukuna hadn’t fully appreciated until now.

“Thanks,” Uraume said quietly as Sukuna stepped back, their gaze softening. “For taking care of me. And... not being an ass about it.”

Sukuna snorted, his usual scowl returning. “Yeah, well, don’t expect this to become a habit. Just consider it a one-time deal.”

Jin, still grinning, clapped Sukuna on the back. “Good to see you stepping up, bro. Keep it up, and you might actually become a decent person.”

“Don’t push your luck." Sukuna replied with a smirk, but his eyes betrayed a hint of gratitude.

The evening continued with a blend of laughter and gentle teasing as Jin and Kaori set the table and prepared dinner. The kitchen was alive with the aroma of home-cooked food, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the earlier moments. Sukuna, though still wrestling with his own internal chaos, found himself slipping into the rhythm of the evening, a reluctant participant in the familial warmth that filled the room. Uraume, their nose now free of the telltale traces of blood, seemed to have relaxed slightly despite their earlier irritation. They accepted Kaori’s attempts at making amends with a series of resigned nods and faint smiles, their usual stoicism giving way to a more genuine acceptance of the chaotic camaraderie.

As they all gathered around the dining table, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, with Jin recounting amusing anecdotes from his day and Kaori detailing her latest culinary experiments. Despite the playful banter, there was an undercurrent of genuine affection and connection that wove through the conversation, a thread of unity that tied them all together. Sukuna, who had retreated to his usual spot at the end of the table, found himself caught between the familiar discomfort of being in a setting that felt both foreign and oddly comforting. He watched as Jin interacted with Choso and Yuji, his brother’s natural ease with the children contrasting sharply with Sukuna’s own hesitance around the younger members of the family. There was something almost serene in the way Jin engaged with them, a quiet confidence that Sukuna both envied and struggled to understand.

Choso, who had been relatively silent throughout dinner, seemed to have warmed up to the family’s dynamic, his interactions with Yuji marked by a rare flicker of enthusiasm. The contrast between Choso’s earlier stoicism and his current engagement with Yuji spoke volumes about his adaptability and the sense of belonging he was beginning to find in this new family environment. As the dinner progressed, Sukuna found himself inadvertently drawn into the conversations, his earlier reservations gradually melting away under the weight of the shared experiences and the gentle ribbing from Kaori and Jin.

The evening unfolded with a mix of playful exchanges and heartfelt moments, the absurdity of the day’s events blending seamlessly into the tapestry of familial life. At one point, Sukuna found himself alone in the kitchen with Uraume, who had slipped away from the table to assist with clearing dishes. As he joined them, Sukuna could sense the lingering tension between them, a remnant of the earlier incident. Uraume was meticulously stacking plates and silverware, their movements precise and methodical.

“Still mad at me?” Sukuna asked, leaning against the counter and watching Uraume’s concentrated efforts.

Uraume glanced up, their pale violet eyes meeting Sukuna’s with a mix of exasperation and resignation. “Not mad, just... exasperated. It’s not every day I get a head-butt in the face from my partner.”

Sukuna chuckled, the sound rough but genuine. “Yeah, well, you know me. I’ve got a talent for being a walking disaster.”

Uraume’s lips curved into a small, wry smile. “That’s one way to put it. But, despite everything, you managed to do something nice today. I guess there’s hope for you yet.”

Sukuna snorted, shrugging. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not exactly planning to make a habit of playing nurse.”

Uraume’s smile widened slightly, their gaze softening as they finished tidying up. “I know. But it’s moments like these that remind me why we’re together.”

Sukuna’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, I suppose. Even if I’m a grumpy old bastard most of the time.”

Uraume’s laughter was soft and warm, a welcome contrast to the earlier tension. “You’re a grumpy old bastard who somehow manages to care, even if you don’t always show it.”

The sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from the dining room created a backdrop to their exchange. Sukuna felt a sense of acceptance and belonging that had eluded him for so long. The absurdity of the day’s events gave way to a deeper understanding of the people around him and the place he had carved out in their lives. As the night wore on and the kitchen gradually emptied, Sukuna and Uraume found themselves alone, surrounded by the remnants of a meal shared and the echoes of laughter that lingered in the air. The chaos and comedy of the evening had given way to a more profound connection, one that Sukuna had come to realize was both rare and precious.

In the quiet, intimate warmth of the evening, the flickering light from the fireplace danced across the room, casting soft shadows on the walls. The tension that had always been a silent third presence in their relationship melted away, leaving behind something raw and unspoken. Sukuna, ever the embodiment of restrained chaos, reached out for Uraume with a gentleness that surprised even himself. His fingers, usually so sure and unyielding, hesitated for just a moment before curling around Uraume's waist, pulling them closer. There was a vulnerability in the way he did it, as though he were drawing them into a world that had never known tenderness, only sharp edges and rough corners. Uraume, whose cool demeanor had always been a match for Sukuna’s volatile nature, let themselves be pulled into the embrace, feeling the solid warmth of his body against theirs.

For a long moment, they stood like that, foreheads touching, eyes closed, breathing in sync. It was as if time had slowed to a stop, the world outside their small bubble fading into insignificance. Sukuna could feel Uraume’s breath, soft and steady, against his lips, and he knew without a doubt that this was one of those rare, earth-shattering moments that would linger in his memory for years to come.

“What do you see in me?” Sukuna whispered, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the space between them. It was a question he had never asked aloud before, too afraid of the answer, too proud to admit that he needed one. But here, in this fragile moment, he found that he couldn’t keep it in any longer.

Uraume’s eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze with a calm that belied the storm of emotions swirling within them. “I see someone who’s not as heartless as he pretends to be." They replied softly. Their words were a balm to Sukuna’s ever-warring soul, and for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel the need to argue or deflect. Instead, he let their words settle over him, like a blanket of warmth in the cold.

Sukuna’s lips quirked up in a half-smile, his usual cocky demeanor slipping back into place for just a moment. “You’re not making this easy, you know." He said, but the usual bite was missing from his tone. Instead, there was something almost playful about it, a hint of the man he might have been if life had dealt him a kinder hand.

“And you never do." Uraume countered, their own smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. It was a rare expression for them, one that softened the sharp lines of their face and made them seem almost vulnerable.

Sukuna’s hand slid up from their waist, cupping the back of their neck, his thumb brushing lightly against their skin. “Guess we’re even then." He murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. And then, with a deliberate slowness that belied the urgency of his pounding heart, he leaned in and pressed his lips to theirs.

The kiss was everything they had never allowed themselves to have - soft, lingering, filled with a longing that neither had dared to express before. It was a kiss that spoke of promises unmade, of futures unspoken, and of a love that had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for a moment like this to break free.

But just as Sukuna began to lose himself in the sweetness of the kiss, in the way Uraume’s lips moved against his, a sudden noise shattered the moment. The sound of footsteps - soft, almost imperceptible, but enough to drag them back to reality. They pulled apart just in time to see Choso standing in the doorway, his pale face half-hidden in the shadows, his movements awkward and stiff, like a creature of the night unused to the light of day. He was already dressed in his pajamas, his hair tousled from sleep, and there was a book clutched in his hands, one that he had evidently left behind in the kitchen. Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face at the untimely interruption. But Choso, for his part, seemed completely unaware of the romantic tension he had just disrupted. He simply nodded a brief acknowledgment, mumbled something unintelligible about needing his book, and shuffled back out of the room, as silently as he had come. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, Sukuna and Uraume simply stared at each other, the spell of the moment well and truly broken.

Then, Sukuna let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. “That kid’s timing is impeccable. He muttered, but there was no real anger in his voice - only the lingering warmth of the kiss they had shared.

Uraume smiled, their eyes still half-lidded with the remnants of that stolen moment. “He’s got a knack for it." They agreed, their voice soft and tinged with amusement.

Sukuna’s hand found its way back to Uraume’s waist, pulling them close once more. “Well, where were we?” He asked, his tone playful as he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from theirs. And this time, when they kissed, there were no more interruptions - only the quiet, steady rhythm of their hearts, beating in unison in the silence of the night.

Chapter Text

The park was bustling with noise and laughter, the midday sun casting long shadows over the playground. Children’s voices rose in a cacophony of shouts and giggles, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the occasional bark of a dog. Parents dotted the periphery, some chatting in clusters, others engrossed in their phones, while a few kept a vigilant eye on their children. Sukuna, standing by the swings with his arms crossed, didn’t quite fit into this idyllic picture of suburban peace.

It was Saturday, which meant the park was busier than usual, filled with families taking advantage of the warm weather. His sharp eyes flicked over the playground, a permanent scowl etched onto his face. He was out of place here, like a wolf among sheep, his presence a jarring note in an otherwise harmonious setting. Yuji was nestled in his usual spot on Sukuna’s shoulders, the one-year-old’s small hands gripping Sukuna’s hair like reins. Sukuna’s expression softened imperceptibly as he glanced up at his nephew, who was babbling contentedly, seemingly unbothered by his uncle’s gruff demeanor.

“Alright, brat,” Sukuna muttered, his voice a low rumble. “Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

Yuji responded with a gleeful squeal, his chubby legs kicking in excitement. Sukuna took it as a yes, making his way toward the swings, his long strides purposeful, Yuji bouncing along with each step.

He wasn’t used to places like this, to being around so many people, especially people with kids. But Jin had asked him to take Yuji out for a bit, and despite his initial reluctance, Sukuna had agreed. He’d do anything for his brother, even if it meant dealing with crowds and toddlers. As they approached the swings, Sukuna noticed a woman standing nearby, her back to them. She was fussing over her own child, a little girl who was whining loudly, her pigtails bouncing as she squirmed. Sukuna hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat, his patience already wearing thin.

“Hey, mind if we use the swing?” He asked, his tone gruff but polite enough - at least by his standards.

The woman turned, her gaze sweeping over Sukuna and Yuji before her lips pressed into a thin line. “We’re using it,” she snapped, her tone sharp and dismissive. “You’ll have to wait.”

Sukuna’s patience, already thin from being out of his element, frayed at the edges. He tightened his grip on Yuji’s legs, his temper flaring at the woman’s rudeness. "You can share, can’t you?”

Sukuna felt his jaw clench, a spark of anger igniting in his chest. He could feel Yuji shifting on his shoulders, sensing the tension, and he took a deep breath, trying to stay calm for the kid’s sake. He didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want to draw attention. But something about this woman’s dismissive tone, the way she looked at Yuji like he was an inconvenience, made Sukuna’s blood boil.

“Look, lady,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. "We’re not asking for much. Just a few minutes so the kid can have a turn. You got a problem with that?”

The woman’s eyes flashed with indignation, her voice rising as she replied. “I don’t want some strange man near my daughter. Especially not man like you. Why don’t you just find another swing set?”

Men like him? The words stung more than Sukuna cared to admit. He knew he didn’t fit the mold of a typical parent, and he sure as hell didn’t look the part. But to be treated like a threat? That was something he couldn’t tolerate. Sukuna’s anger flared, the heat of it pulsing through him. He could feel his fists clenching at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. He wasn’t used to being spoken to like this, wasn’t used to having his family treated like they didn’t matter. He was protective, fiercely so, and the idea of anyone slighting Yuji made his vision blur with rage.

“Someone like me?” Sukuna repeated, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The woman’s mouth opened and closed, her face paling slightly as she took in Sukuna’s expression. There was something in his eyes, something dark and unyielding, that made her take a small step back, her bravado faltering.

“I-..” she stammered, suddenly unsure of herself.

Sukuna took a step forward, his presence towering over her. “Let me tell you something,” he said, his voice steady, controlled, but simmering with barely contained fury. “You don’t get to decide who gets to use the swings. You don’t get to look down on people just because they don’t fit into your little perfect picture. So unless you want to see just how much of a problem I can be, I suggest you move.”

There was a moment of silence, the air between them crackling with tension. The woman’s eyes darted to Yuji, who was still perched on Sukuna’s shoulders, his innocent gaze wide and curious. Something in that look seemed to break through her fear, and she swallowed hard, stepping aside without another word.

“Fine,” she muttered, her voice small. “Just… fine.”

Sukuna watched her retreat, his anger slowly ebbing away as he turned back to the swings. He felt Yuji’s tiny hands tugging on his hair, a soft giggle escaping the boy’s lips, and he couldn’t help but smile. It was a small victory, but it felt like more. It felt like standing up for something, for someone, in a way that mattered.

As he set Yuji down in the swing and began to push, Sukuna’s mind wandered, his thoughts a tangled web of confusion and frustration. He wasn’t used to this, to feeling so protective, so fiercely attached. It was like a fire inside him, burning with an intensity that scared him. He’d spent so much of his life feeling nothing, convinced that he was incapable of real emotions, that he couldn’t connect. And yet here he was, ready to go to war over a damn swing.

What the hell was wrong with him?

He watched Yuji, the boy’s face lighting up with joy as the swing soared higher, his laughter filling the air. There was something about that sound, about the pure, unbridled happiness in it, that tugged at something deep inside Sukuna. It was a feeling he couldn’t name, couldn’t quite grasp, but it was there, insistent and real. Sukuna had always prided himself on being detached, on not needing anyone. He was the outsider, the one who stood apart, who didn’t get involved. But things had changed. His life had changed. And no matter how much he tried to deny it, he couldn’t ignore the truth: he cared. He cared about Yuji, about Jin, about Uraume. They were his family, his messed-up, unconventional family, and he’d do anything to protect them.

But what did that mean? What did it say about him, about who he was becoming? Sukuna didn’t have the answers. He wasn’t sure he even wanted them. All he knew was that the old, empty version of himself was fading, replaced by something he didn’t fully understand. He felt… responsible. Protective. Alive.

It was terrifying.

“Up! Up!” Yuji’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, the boy’s face alight with excitement. Sukuna chuckled, pushing the swing with a little more force, watching as Yuji squealed with delight. As he pushed the swing, the rhythm of it steady and sure, Sukuna felt a strange sense of peace. He wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t whole. But he was here and he was trying.

The playground’s familiar noises faded into the background as Sukuna continued to push Yuji on the swing. The rhythm of the swing was comforting, almost hypnotic, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the echoes of a past he hadn’t revisited in years.

Sukuna’s childhood had been anything but idyllic. They grew up poor, painfully so. Their mother had worked herself to the bone, taking on any job she could find to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads. Sukuna had seen the exhaustion in her eyes, the lines of worry etched into her face, but he had never said anything. He hadn’t known how. As a child, Sukuna had been wild, rebellious, a storm that refused to be tamed. He didn’t understand love, didn’t know how to give or receive it. His mother had tried, in her quiet way, to show him affection. He didn’t like being loved. It made him feel vulnerable, exposed, like something precious was being laid bare for the world to see and destroy.

His mind drifting to a time long ago, a different life that felt both distant and uncomfortably close. The memories crept in like shadows, dark and unwelcome, and no matter how much he tried to shake them off, they clung to him, refusing to let go. He had come so far from the person he used to be, had fought so hard to bury that part of himself, but there were moments when the past resurfaced, sharp and unrelenting, reminding him of the things he had done, the person he once was.

The small, dimly lit apartment that Sukuna and Jin had grown up in was far from perfect, but it was home. It was the only place they had ever known, a place filled with the constant hum of the outside world, the thin walls letting in the sounds of the city that never seemed to sleep. Their mother worked long hours, often leaving them alone to fend for themselves. Sukuna, older by only a few minutes, had taken on the role of protector, though he was anything but gentle. His childhood was marked by a cruelty that had seemed to come naturally to him. Sukuna didn’t understand the concept of love or kindness. The only emotions that made sense were anger, jealousy, and the twisted satisfaction he felt when he could control or dominate someone else. He had a quick temper, a violent streak that scared even him at times. But he couldn’t stop. It was like a fire inside him, burning, consuming everything in its path.

Sukuna didn’t know why he did the things he did, didn’t know why he felt the need to destroy the things that others loved. It was like a compulsion, a darkness inside him that he couldn’t control. He hurt Jin, hurt the few friends he managed to make, pushing them away with his cruelty, his anger. He didn’t know how many times he had left bruises on Jin’s arms, how many times he had pushed him too hard, hit him, screamed at him. Hundreds, maybe thousands. And Jin had taken it, absorbed it, never fighting back, never pushing Sukuna away. Jin loved him, even when Sukuna did everything in his power to make him hate him.

Looking back, Sukuna knew that his mother had been the only person he’d ever truly cared for. But he’d never told her. Not once had he said the words she probably longed to hear, that he loved her, that she was precious to him. He had taken her presence for granted, assuming she would always be there, a constant in his life.

But she wasn’t. She died when they were thirteen. It was then, at that moment, that Sukuna had realized the full weight of what it meant to be alone. Truly alone. In the years that followed, Sukuna buried those feelings deep, locking them away in the darkest corners of his mind. He had convinced himself that he didn’t need anyone, that love was a weakness he couldn’t afford. And for a long time, it had worked. He built walls around himself, walls so high and thick that nothing could break through.

But then came Jin. And Uraume. And now, Yuji.

Yuji’s laughter pulled Sukuna back to the present, the sound light and innocent, a stark contrast to the darkness of his thoughts. He looked down at his nephew, who was grinning up at him with that same pure, unguarded joy that only a child could possess. The sight of it twisted something in Sukuna’s chest, a mix of emotions he still couldn’t fully comprehend. Yuji was growing up in a world so different from the one Sukuna had known. He was surrounded by love, by people who cared for him, who would protect him no matter what. Jin and Kaori had built a life for him that was warm, safe, and full of the kind of affection Sukuna had never understood.

A part of Sukuna was jealous, a deep, bitter jealousy that gnawed at him whenever he saw the way Jin and Kaori doted on Yuji. It was the life he had been robbed of, the childhood he could never reclaim. But there was another part of him, a part that surprised even Sukuna, that was genuinely happy for the kid. Yuji had a chance to be normal, to grow up without the scars that had shaped Sukuna into the man he was. He had a chance to be loved, truly loved, in a way that was pure and unconditional. And Sukuna found himself wanting that for Yuji, fiercely and protectively. It was strange, these conflicting feelings that warred within him. Sukuna didn’t know what to do with them, how to reconcile the bitterness with the warmth, the jealousy with the happiness. It was like trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces, the image never quite coming into focus.

The swing began to slow, and Sukuna reached out to catch it, his hands steady and sure. Yuji looked up at him, his eyes bright with happiness, and Sukuna felt that strange, unfamiliar warmth in his chest again.

“Mowe!” Yuji demanded, his voice full of childish enthusiasm.

Sukuna chuckled, his heart feeling a little lighter than it had in a long time. “Alright, brat. One more time.” As he pushed the swing again, Sukuna let himself enjoy the moment, let himself be present in a way he rarely allowed. The past would always be a part of him, a shadow that lingered in the corners of his mind. A few more pushes, and Sukuna noticed Yuji’s laughter had turned to uneasy giggles, his face going from flushed with excitement to pale. Sukuna’s instincts kicked in too late - Yuji’s cheeks puffed, his eyes went wide, and before Sukuna could react, the inevitable happened.

Yuji threw up.

“Shit!” Sukuna muttered, catching the swing to a stop and trying to keep Yuji upright as the mess splattered onto the ground. His heart pounded with a mix of panic and guilt. He should have known better than to push a one-year-old so high. He wasn’t great with kids, sure, but he wasn’t supposed to be this bad.

He lifted Yuji out of the swing, holding him at arm’s length, the kid’s face now scrunched up in discomfort. Sukuna winced, glancing around for some help, for anyone who knew what to do in a situation like this. Uraume had to be somewhere close. They always were. He turned, looking across the playground until he spotted them - sitting calmly on a park bench, Yuji’s stroller beside them, a bag of baby supplies slung over the handle. Sukuna felt Uraume’s eyes on him, a silent judgment that burned more than any scolding. He had been caught, and he knew it. Great. Just great.

Really, Sukuna?
The question hung in the air, unspoken but clear. Yuji, looking pale and forlorn, whimpered in Sukuna’s arms. The aftermath of too much swinging had left him sick, and now Sukuna stood there, helpless and guilty, his shirt stained with vomit, his heart pounding with the realization that he had messed up. Again.

“Uraume!” he called, a note of desperation in his voice. “I need a little help over here!”

Uraume rose from the park bench with a sigh, their serene expression shifting to one of mild irritation. They approached with the steady, confident stride that Sukuna admired, their eyes taking in the scene before them - Yuji’s face scrunched up in discomfort, the telltale splatter on Sukuna’s shirt, the puddle on the ground.

“What did I tell you?” Uraume’s voice was a mixture of exasperation and amusement, the sound like a scolding that came from a place of love.

Sukuna handed Yuji over, feeling like a scolded child himself. "I didn’t do anything!” He protested, though he was well aware of how guilty he sounded. “The kid just… you know… puked.”

Uraume rolled their eyes, setting the stroller down and pulling out a bag of baby wipes. “Sukuna, you can’t just push a one-year-old on a swing like he’s in boot camp,” they said, their tone exasperated. “I told you to take it easy.”

Uraume took Yuji, their movements gentle, practiced. They cradled the baby with a natural ease that made Sukuna’s heart ache, their fingers moving to wipe Yuji’s face with a wet wipe, the action tender, soothing. Yuji let out a small whimper, his face scrunching up again, but Uraume’s soft coos calmed him, their voice a lullaby that seemed to ease the discomfort away.

“Well, how was I supposed to know?” Sukuna grumbled, though his gruffness was more defensive than angry. “He looked like he was having fun.” He hated this feeling, this sense of not knowing, of being out of his depth. He had thought Yuji was having fun, had thought the kid’s laughter meant he was doing something right. But now, with the mess on the ground, it was clear he had pushed too far.

“He was,” Uraume said, their voice softening, understanding. They glanced at Sukuna, their gaze gentle, reassuring. “But he’s still just a baby. He can’t handle as much as you think.” They continued to rock Yuji, the boy’s eyes drooping, his small hand clutching at Uraume’s shirt, seeking the comfort of their presence.

“Hey, I’m new to this whole uncle thing, alright?” Sukuna snapped, though there was no real heat behind his words. He was more embarrassed than anything, and he hated feeling like he’d screwed up, especially when it came to Yuji. “Besides, you didn’t say nothin’ about how high I could push him.”

Sukuna sighed, his shoulders slumping, the weight of his mistake pressing down on him. He had always been reckless, always pushed the limits, not thinking of the consequences until it was too late. It was how he lived, how he survived. But with Yuji, with this small, fragile life in his hands, he was beginning to understand that there were boundaries, limits he couldn’t cross. He had to be careful, had to think, and that was something that didn’t come naturally to him.

Uraume gave him a flat look, one eyebrow arched. “I said ‘gentle,’” they replied, their tone mockingly sweet. “You know, like not making him see the world from a bird’s-eye view.”

Sukuna huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, but he couldn’t argue with Uraume’s logic. They were from a big family, full of siblings and nieces and nephews, and they knew what they were doing. Sukuna, on the other hand, was just trying to figure things out as he went, and apparently, he was failing.

"Alright, fine." Sukuna muttered, watching as Uraume set Yuji back in the stroller. The boy was calmer now, his tears drying up as he sucked on his thumb. “I messed up. Happy?”

Uraume smirked, a playful glint in their eyes. “You know, I could get used to hearing that.”

“Yeah, well, don’t." Sukuna retorted, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He grumbled something else under his breath, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. Despite their bratty attitude, Uraume always knew what to do, always had a plan, and that made Sukuna feel like maybe he wasn’t screwing everything up after all.

“Alright, little guy,” Uraume said, their voice gentle as they settled Yuji back into his stroller. Their fingers quickly worked as they adjusted the straps on Yuji’s stroller, making sure he was comfortable. "No more swinging for you today.”

Yuji cooed in response, his tiny fingers reaching out to grab at Uraume’s hair, a small smile tugging at his lips. Sukuna glanced at Yuji, the boy’s bright eyes now full of contentment, and he felt that strange warmth in his chest again. Maybe Uraume was right. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers, didn’t have to be perfect. Maybe just being there, being present, was enough.

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them comfortable, filled with a sense of understanding, of shared experiences. Yuji, now calm and drowsy, nestled into his stroller with Uraume behind it. Sukuna watched them, a pang of something like envy tugging at him. Uraume always seemed to know what to do, always seemed so calm, so collected. It was a stark contrast to Sukuna’s own rough edges, his tendency to act first and think later, a habit that had gotten him into more trouble than he cared to admit.

“You’re good with him,” Sukuna said quietly, almost to himself, the words a reluctant admission, a recognition of Uraume’s quiet strength. “With all of this.” It was a truth he couldn’t deny, a truth that made him realize just how much he depended on Uraume, how much he needed them.

Uraume shrugged, a small smile playing on their lips, their eyes filled with a gentle understanding. “Comes with the territory of having a big family. I’ve got a lot of younger siblings, remember? I’ve been taking care of kids since I was one myself.”

Sukuna nodded, recalling the few stories Uraume had shared, fragments of a life that seemed distant, almost unreal to him. Tales of a large, wealthy family, descended from an ancient Japanese clan, with traditions and expectations that pressed down like a heavy mantle. A family with many siblings, where each child was just another piece in the clan’s grand tapestry. It was a far cry from the lonely, echoing silence of the apartment he and Jin had grown up in, a world so alien to his own experiences. Part of Sukuna envied Uraume for that, for having known the feeling of being surrounded by people, for knowing what it was like to be part of something larger than oneself.

“Must have been nice,” Sukuna said, his voice soft, thoughtful, a hint of longing in his tone. “Having all those people around.” The words hung in the air, a reflection of his own desires, of the emptiness he had felt for so long. He had spent his childhood in the quiet aftermath of his mother’s death, the echoing absence of his father, and the constant silence that filled their small apartment. An emptiness that he had tried to fill with anger and violence, a shadow that never quite faded.

“Nice?” Uraume’s gaze darkened slightly, their eyes losing some of their warmth. “I don’t know if I’d call it that. There were a lot of us, sure. But it didn’t feel... close. It didn’t feel like family. More like... obligations, duties. Things you were supposed to do because that’s what was expected.” They looked away, their expression clouded, as if the memories of their past were too heavy to bring into the light.

“Obligations?” Sukuna echoed, his voice gentle, probing. He had always been careful not to press Uraume about their past, respecting the unspoken boundaries that existed between them. But now, seeing the pain in their eyes, he felt a need to understand, to know the parts of Uraume that they kept hidden.

Uraume nodded, their gaze fixed on the ground. “Yeah. There were always so many expectations, so many rules. How to act, how to speak, how to think. You had to be a certain way, had to fit into this mold they created. And if you didn’t... you were nothing. Just another failure, another disappointment.”

Sukuna had always seen Uraume as someone who was unshakable, someone who had it all together. But now, hearing them speak of their family, of the weight of expectations and the emptiness of belonging, he realized that Uraume was just as lost, just as broken as he was.

“Do you... hate them?” It was a question that felt dangerous, like stepping into a dark room without knowing what lay inside. But he needed to know, needed to understand the parts of Uraume that they kept hidden, the shadows that lingered in their past.

Uraume was silent for a long moment, their eyes distant, lost in memories that Sukuna couldn’t see. When they finally spoke, their voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “I don’t know,” they admitted, their words filled with a deep, aching uncertainty. “I feel like I’m supposed to love them, because they’re my family. But... I don’t know if I do."

Sukuna nodded, he understood all too well the feeling of being torn between what you were supposed to feel and what you actually felt. He had spent so much of his life trying to bury his emotions, trying to be strong, to be the person he thought he was supposed to be. But in the end, all it had done was leave him feeling empty, alone.

“It’s okay,” Sukuna said quietly, reaching out to touch Uraume’s hand, a simple gesture of comfort, of solidarity. “Whatever you feel... it’s valid. You don’t owe them anything." His grip on Uraume’s hand tightening.

"I think I already have a better family. With you. With Yuji. This... this is my family.”

A family that they had built together, out of the broken pieces of their pasts, out of the love and trust that had grown between them. The noise of the park faded into the background, the world narrowing down to just the three of them, and for the first time in a long time, Sukuna allowed himself to believe that this was where he belonged.

He had his family. He had Uraume, Yuji, and even Jin.

But despite Sukuna’s attempts to embrace the changes in his life, a persistent voice in his head nagged at him, whispering the same warning over and over: Don’t get too attached. Remember what happened last time? He did remember. He remembered the emptiness of the apartment after his mother had died, the silence that pressed against him like a physical weight. He remembered standing at her funeral, staring at the casket, feeling nothing but a void where his heart should have been. Losing her had taught him a brutal lesson: that nothing was permanent, that the people you cared about could be ripped away without warning, leaving you alone with nothing but the echoes of what once was. It was why he had built those walls around himself, why he had convinced himself that he didn’t need anyone. If you didn’t let people in, they couldn’t hurt you when they left.

And now, those walls were crumbling. He had let Jin back into his life, had let Uraume become something more than just a friend, had even allowed himself to feel something for Yuji, the little brat who had managed to worm his way into Sukuna’s heart without even trying. And as much as he tried to ignore it, to push it all away, he couldn’t. They were his family, and no matter how much he told himself he didn’t care, the truth was that he did. Sukuna glanced at Uraume, they looked so calm, so in control, and it made Sukuna’s chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name.

He loved Uraume. He hadn’t said the words, hadn’t dared to voice them, but he felt it every time he looked at them, every time they smiled at him with that quiet understanding that made him feel seen in a way he never had before. But love was dangerous. Love meant vulnerability, meant opening yourself up to the possibility of pain, of loss. Sukuna didn’t want to lose Uraume, didn’t want to face that kind of emptiness again. But here he was, with Uraume by his side, and a life that was slowly taking shape around him, despite his best efforts to keep it at bay.

Wedding. The word drifted into his thoughts, unbidden. Wait, the wedding.

Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. How long had it been since they had talked about it? A year, maybe more. He remembered buying the rings, the way he had felt when he slipped them into his pocket, a strange mix of excitement and fear. They had talked about it back then, had made vague plans, but somehow, it had all been forgotten. Life had gotten in the way, with Yuji, with Jin, with everything else that seemed to demand their attention. And now, here they were, still not married, still dancing around the commitment they had once been so sure of.

Why hadn’t they gone through with it? What had stopped them? Sukuna wasn’t sure. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing, at understanding his own feelings, let alone talking about them. But as he watched Uraume with Yuji, a pang of guilt twisted in his gut. They deserved more than this, more than his half-hearted attempts at being a partner. They deserved the life they had talked about, the future they had imagined, and Sukuna knew he had been the one to hold them back.

As Uraume straightened up, their fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from their face, Sukuna could feel the weight of unsaid words bubbling up inside him. They were words he had kept buried for so long, festering in the corners of his mind, words that felt like stones in his chest. He wasn’t sure he was ready to say them, wasn’t sure he even knew how, but he knew he needed to. The silence between them was comfortable, but beneath it, there was a tension, a question that had been hanging in the air for far too long.

“Ume,” Sukuna began, his voice rough, like gravel beneath a boot, the sound cutting through the soft murmur of the playground around them. He saw Uraume’s head tilt slightly, their eyes meeting his, a flicker of curiosity in their gaze. He swallowed hard, the words sticking in his throat, unsteady, uncertain. “We… we never talked about the wedding.”

Uraume’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing their face. It was as if the word was foreign, a relic of a past conversation that had been long forgotten. “The wedding?” they repeated, their voice soft, as though testing the word on their tongue, feeling its weight.

"Yeah," Sukuna nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he had never quite shaken. His fingers brushed against the rough skin, the familiar gesture grounding him, giving him the courage to continue. “We talked about it a while ago, but then… well, I don’t know what happened. We just… never did it.”

“I guess life got busy,” Uraume’s expression softened, their voice carrying a hint of amusement, a gentle reminder of the chaos that had surrounded them. “We had a lot going on, with Yuji, with everything else.”

Sukuna nodded again, his eyes searching Uraume’s face, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that they were just saying what he wanted to hear. But all he saw was honesty, a quiet, steady love that made his chest tighten with a strange mix of fear and hope. For a long time, Sukuna had been afraid of this moment, afraid of what it meant to commit, to bind himself to someone else. He had spent so much of his life running from connection, from vulnerability, from the possibility of pain. But now, standing here with Uraume, he felt something shift inside him, a crack in the armor he had built around his heart. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was doing something right, like he was taking a step towards the life he wanted, rather than away from it.

The noise of the playground fading into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of them. It wasn’t perfect, and there were still fears lurking in the corners of Sukuna’s mind, dark shadows that whispered of past hurts and future failures. They sat down on a bench beneath a sprawling oak tree, the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves and casting dappled shadows on the ground. The soft rustle of leaves in the breeze was a gentle lullaby, and for a moment, Sukuna allowed himself to relax, to breathe in the peace of the moment. Uraume was beside him, close enough that their shoulder brushed his, a comforting presence that grounded him in a way he hadn’t known he needed.

Sukuna reached into his pocket, his fingers finding the small, velvet box he had carried with him for months. The box was worn, the edges frayed from being handled too often, but it was still as familiar to him as his own skin. He hesitated, feeling the familiar rush of doubt, of uncertainty that had kept him from taking this step for so long. But then he glanced at Uraume, at the calm, steady light in their eyes, and he knew it was time. He pulled out the box, holding it in his palm, feeling the weight of it, as though it carried all the unspoken promises and unshed tears, the silent vows he had made to himself. He flipped the lid open, revealing two simple silver rings nestled inside. They weren’t extravagant or ornate - just plain bands, smooth and unadorned.

Uraume’s eyes widened at the sight of the rings, a flicker of surprise flashing across their usually calm features. Then their expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across their lips, eyes shining with something that made Sukuna’s heart clench.

"You’ve had these the whole time?” Uraume asked, their voice light, touched with a hint of incredulity and amusement. There was no judgment in their tone, only curiosity and that familiar, quiet affection that Sukuna had come to rely on.

Sukuna shrugged, trying to play it off, but he could feel the heat creeping up his neck, a blush he couldn’t quite suppress. Vulnerability was a foreign land to him, an uncharted territory he stumbled through with all the grace of a bull in a china shop.

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t sure when the right time would be." He admitted, his voice rough, the words thick on his tongue. It felt like laying his heart bare, exposing all the cracks and flaws he usually kept hidden behind layers of bravado.

Uraume’s hand reached for the box, their fingers brushing against Sukuna’s, the touch sending a shiver down his spine. It was a simple gesture, a brush of skin against skin, but it spoke of years of unspoken understanding, of a bond that had weathered more storms than Sukuna cared to remember. Uraume picked up one of the rings, turning it over in their fingers, watching as the sunlight caught the silver, making it glint like a promise.

"How about now?” they suggested, their voice soft, filled with a quiet joy that made Sukuna’s heart ache with an emotion he didn’t quite know how to name. It was something fragile, something precious, a delicate thread that tied him to Uraume in a way that went beyond words. They slipped the ring onto their finger, the metal cool against their skin, a perfect fit.

Sukuna watched them, his chest tightening, his throat constricting. He felt a smile tug at his lips, a real, unguarded smile that felt strange and new, like discovering a hidden part of himself. “Now’s good." He said, his voice steady, filled with a certainty that surprised even him. He took the other ring, sliding it onto his own finger, feeling the cool metal against his skin, a tangible symbol of everything they had built together.

It wasn’t romantic, not in the way he thought a proposal should be. There were no flowers, no grand speeches, no kneeling on one knee. They were in the middle of a playground, with the faint smell of sawdust and vomit in the air, Yuji’s stroller parked a few feet away. It was a half-baked attempt, a clumsy, awkward moment that felt nothing like the fairytale scenes he’d seen in movies. It was ridiculous, a mockery of what a proposal was supposed to be. What the hell had he been thinking?

Sukuna dropped his face into his hands, slumping forward on the park bench. A wave of frustration rolled over him, the familiar sting of self-loathing following closely behind. He felt like an idiot. A complete, utter fool. He knew Uraume loved him - he’d known it for a long time, felt it in the way they touched him, the way they looked at him with that unshakable calm, that quiet devotion that always made his chest ache. Uraume’s love was a steady, unyielding force, like a river cutting through rock, reshaping his rough edges without him even noticing. They would have said yes no matter what he did, no matter how clumsy or awkward his proposal was.

And that was the problem. Uraume deserved better than this. They deserved more than some half-baked proposal in a park, more than the awkward fumbling of a man who couldn’t even make sense of his own emotions.

He peeked at the rings through his fingers, a sharp pang of dissatisfaction hitting him square in the gut. The simple silver bands he’d chosen with so much care suddenly seemed dull, uninspired. They were plain, unremarkable, a far cry from the deep, complex feelings he held for Uraume. These rings, once symbols of his best intentions, now felt inadequate, a poor representation of the promise he wanted to make. They weren’t special, not like Uraume was. They deserved something unique, something that could capture the depth of what they shared. The thought of these rings being the token of their commitment made Sukuna’s skin crawl. This wasn’t what he wanted for them. This wasn’t how he wanted to start their life together.

He should have done better. He should have planned something meaningful, something that would show Uraume how much they meant to him. But instead, he’d stumbled through it, like he stumbled through everything else in his life, half-assed and without a clue. Now he was sitting here feeling like a goddamn fool, with the weight of his own inadequacy pressing down on him like a physical thing.

“I’m sorry,” Sukuna muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. He felt like a mess, a swirl of emotions tightening in his chest, emotions he didn’t even know he had. “This is… this is all wrong. You deserve more than this. Not these stupid, simple rings, not this awkward proposal in a park. I should have done something… better. You deserve better.”

For a moment, there was only silence. Sukuna could feel Uraume’s gaze on him, steady and calm, just like it always was. No judgment, no anger, just that patient, understanding presence that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely hopeless. He peeked through his fingers, bracing himself for the look of disappointment he was sure he’d find.

But Uraume’s expression was soft, their eyes reflecting nothing but warmth. They reached out, their fingers brushing against Sukuna’s, gently prying his hands away from his face. “Sukuna,” they said softly, their voice calm and measured, like a balm to his frayed nerves. “You’re overthinking this.”

Sukuna frowned, struggling to find the right words. “But—”

“No.”

“Silence.”

“You silence."

Sukuna huffed out a laugh, the tension in his chest easing. He looked at the ring on his finger, the simple band that now seemed to shine a little brighter, not because of what it was, but because of what it represented. He reached for Uraume’s hand, their fingers intertwining, the simple silver bands catching the light. It wasn’t a grand gesture, it wasn’t perfect, but it was real.

On impulse, Sukuna grabbed Uraume’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing it against his mouth. He could feel the warmth of their skin, the steady pulse beneath his fingertips, and without thinking, he gave their fingers a playful bite. Biting had always been Sukuna’s love language. Words felt awkward, like trying to wrestle a wild animal into submission, but biting? That was easy. It was his way of saying everything he couldn’t - something fierce and affectionate that didn’t make him feel vulnerable.

Uraume let out a laugh, low and warm, that sounded like a secret they were sharing with the world. They didn’t pull their hand away. Instead, they wrapped their fingers around Sukuna’s, holding on like it was the most natural thing in the world. A simple gesture, but it sent a wave of affection crashing over Sukuna, leaving him feeling like he’d swallowed a live wire.

“Biting again, huh?” Uraume teased, their voice playful. “Does this mean you’re done with the brooding and self-pity?”

Sukuna grinned, his teeth grazing Uraume’s knuckles, the familiar action grounding him. “Yeah, yeah. You know talking isn’t my thing,” he muttered, voice gruff. “But this? This I can do.”

Uraume’s smile softened, their eyes bright with amusement. “And here I thought you were just hungry,” they said, their thumb brushing over the back of Sukuna’s hand. “Biting suits you.”

Sukuna kept their hand in his, his thumb tracing lazy circles over their skin. The tension from before melted away, replaced by a comfortable, easy silence. For once, Sukuna didn’t feel the need to fill the space with gruff words or sarcastic comments. He was content to just be.

He looked at Uraume, taking in the familiar lines of their face, the way their hair fell over their eyes, and the calm, steady gaze that always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. They weren’t conventionally beautiful, but to Sukuna, they were perfect. There was a kind of radiance about Uraume, a quiet strength that drew him in, made him feel safe, like he could be himself without all the posturing and bravado. Sukuna lifted their hand again, giving it another playful bite. Uraume’s fingers tightened around his, their eyes twinkling as they leaned closer, their shoulder bumping against his.

“Bite all you want, Sukuna,” Uraume murmured, their voice a soft whisper, as if they were sharing a secret meant only for him. “I know what it means. Every bite, every touch - it’s how you show you care.”

Sukuna felt his chest tighten, a lump forming in his throat. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The words were there, but they were tangled up in his mind, too messy and raw to say out loud. So he bit down again, his teeth sinking gently into Uraume’s hand, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark. A small, silly mark that said, I’m here. I care. Uraume laughed, a sound that was light and easy, like a breath of fresh air. They leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sukuna’s temple, their lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. It was a silent thank you, a quiet reassurance that they understood, that they always had.

Yuji, now wide awake, watched the interaction between Sukuna and Uraume with growing curiosity, his eyes big and round, following every move. His small mouth formed a perfect "o" as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. His uncle, who was usually loud and grumpy, was doing something strange. Something... soft. The sight made Yuji's little brain whirr in confusion.

What was happening?

Sukuna wasn’t shouting or stomping around; he was leaning close to Uraume, his mouth near their ear, his eyes gleaming with something Yuji couldn’t quite place. To Yuji, it looked like they were engaged in some kind of strange, secret game, one that he didn’t understand but instinctively felt a bit nervous about. The rules were unclear, and in Yuji's world, anything unclear was something to be wary of.

The stroller creaked as Yuji shifted, his little hands grabbing the edge, his brows furrowing in deep concentration. Sukuna leaned in again, his lips brushing against Uraume’s ear, whispering something that made Uraume’s eyes sparkle with amusement. To Yuji, it looked suspiciously like Sukuna was trying to eat Uraume. After all, Uncle Sukuna was always so rough, so loud, and now he was... using his teeth? This was not normal behavior, and it sent a little wave of panic through Yuji’s tiny body.

Yuji let out a small, worried whimper, his eyes growing wider. He squirmed in his stroller, trying to get their attention, his tiny voice piping up in a high-pitched squeak. "Unca! Unca!” His voice was urgent, filled with the kind of seriousness that only a one-year-old could muster, as if the fate of the world depended on him.

Sukuna turned his head, his eyebrows lifting in surprise as he looked over at Yuji. “What’s up, brat?” he asked, his voice gruff but tinged with a hint of amusement.

Yuji pointed a chubby finger at Sukuna, his lips quivering as he tried to find the right words to explain the grave situation. “Unca eat!” He blurted out, his voice rising with each word, a clear accusation in his eyes.

“Eat? What are you talking about, kid?” Sukuna blinked, a moment of confusion passing over his face.

Yuji’s little face scrunched up with the effort of making himself understood. He pointed at Uraume, his voice louder this time, almost a wail. “Unca eat Uwaume!”

Sukuna and Uraume exchanged glances, and then it hit them both at the same time. They burst out laughing, Sukuna’s face twisting into a mix of disbelief and hilarity, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself.

“I’m not eating them, you little moron,” Sukuna said, though his voice was more playful than harsh. “What do you think I am, some kind of monster?”

Yuji’s lip wobbled, tears starting to form in his big eyes. He didn’t understand the words, but he understood the tone, and he was still convinced that his scary uncle was trying to eat his friend. Uraume, seeing the impending meltdown, quickly stepped in, their smile softening as they reached out to pick up the baby from the stroller, cuddling him close.

“Oh, Yuji,” Uraume cooed, their voice soothing as they rocked him gently. “Uncle Sukuna’s not going to eat me. He’s just being his weird self again.”

Yuji buried his face in Uraume’s shoulder, his small body trembling as he sniffled, his tiny hands clutching at their shirt as if for dear life. Sukuna, feeling a rare pang of guilt, reached out, his hand hovering awkwardly before finally patting Yuji’s back with a gentleness that surprised even him.

“Hey, hey. I’m not gonna eat Uraume, okay? I like them too much for that. Plus, they’d probably taste terrible.” Sukuna said, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

Uraume shot Sukuna a mock glare, their lips twitching with a suppressed smile. “Trying to win him over with the old ‘I like them too much to eat them’ routine?”

“Oh, shut up. It’s working, isn’t it?” Sukuna rolled his eyes, but there was a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips.

Yuji peeked up at Sukuna, his expression skeptical, the tears drying up as he watched his uncle with a careful eye. He looked between Sukuna and Uraume, trying to reconcile the rough, gruff man he knew with the gentle way Sukuna was behaving now. It didn’t fit, and it made his little head hurt, like trying to put together a puzzle with missing pieces.

“Unca... nice?” Yuji asked, his voice small, uncertain, as if the concept of a ‘nice’ Sukuna was something that defied all logic.

Sukuna’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he glanced away, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture that was as much out of embarrassment as it was a nervous habit. “Yeah, yeah, I can be nice. Sometimes. Don’t get used to it, though.”

Yuji stared at them both, his young mind still struggling to understand. But seeing the smile on Uraume’s face and the not-so-scary look in Sukuna’s eyes, he started to relax, the tension leaving his small body. He reached out, patting Sukuna’s cheek with his tiny hand, his face serious, as if bestowing some great wisdom.

“Unca,” he said firmly, as if laying down the law. "No eat.”

"Alright, brat. No eating, I promise.” Sukuna snorted, a reluctant grin spreading across his face as he nodded, his heart warming at the serious look on Yuji’s face.

“Looks like you’ve been given a pass, Sukuna,” Uraume chuckled, their eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yuji’s decided you’re not a threat. For now.”

Sukuna grinned, feeling a warmth spread through his chest, a contentment he hadn’t known he was capable of. He ruffled Yuji’s hair, a gesture that was more affectionate than he would ever admit. Yuji giggled, his worries forgotten, as he leaned back against Uraume, his little face beaming up at Sukuna.

For a moment, everything felt right - simple and easy, like it was supposed to be. Sukuna didn’t know much about being an uncle, but he figured this was a good start. As long as Yuji was happy, and Uraume was smiling, maybe he wasn’t screwing everything up after all.

Sukuna’s rare moment of contentment was abruptly interrupted by a nagging thought that gnawed at the back of his mind, like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. Something was off, something he was forgetting. His eyes flicked to Uraume, holding Yuji, who was now giggling happily, clearly relieved that his uncle wasn’t planning to eat his best friend. Sukuna scanned the playground, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the swings, the slides, the clusters of parents and children.

Then it hit him - like a bucket of cold water. Choso.

“Ah, shit." Sukuna muttered under his breath, his brows knitting together in sudden realization. How could he have forgotten?

His adopted nine-year-old nephew, Choso, had been with them on this walk. Sukuna had assumed Uraume would be keeping an eye on him - after all, Uraume had that natural calmness and, technically speaking, was his aunt. They were family now, right? But Uraume had been preoccupied with Yuji and Sukuna, and he realized too late that neither of them had been paying attention to Choso.

“Where the hell is Choso?” Sukuna asked, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and irritation as he glanced around, looking for any sign of the boy. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with the same protective instinct that always caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to worrying about anyone but himself, but Choso was different. The kid was quiet, a little too withdrawn for his own good, and Sukuna couldn’t help but feel responsible for him.

Uraume raised an eyebrow, their expression unfazed as they jostled Yuji slightly to get him comfortable. “I thought you were keeping an eye on him,” they said, their tone casual, but with a teasing edge. “You know, since you’re his uncle and all.”

Sukuna shot them a glare, frustration bubbling up. “And you’re his aunt. I figured you’d be looking after him.”

Uraume shrugged, their eyes twinkling with amusement. “Not married yet, so technically, it doesn’t count. I’m just a concerned friend until you make an honest person out of me.” They smirked, clearly enjoying the flustered look on Sukuna’s face.

“Real funny, Uraume,” Sukuna grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “But seriously, where the hell is he?”

Uraume’s smirk faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression. “He was here a minute ago.”

“Oh, so you were keeping your eyes on him, concerned friend.” Sukuna shot back, sarcasm dripping from his words.

Before Uraume could retort, Sukuna’s eyes caught sight of a familiar mop of dark hair near the edge of the playground, under the shade of a large oak tree. Choso was there, his back to them, sitting cross-legged in the grass. He was talking to someone, his usually stoic face animated in a way that Sukuna rarely saw. Sukuna’s shoulders relaxed slightly, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Sukuna relaxed, the tension easing from his shoulders as he watched them.

“Who’s the girl?” Sukuna asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yuki Tsukumo,” Uraume answered, clearly knowing more than Sukuna about Choso’s classmates. “They’re in the same class. She’s one of the few kids who actually talks to him. Want to go over and say hi?”

Sukuna shot them a sideways glance. “Nah, let him have his moment. I’m not about to go ruin his street cred by showing up.”

Uraume laughed softly, shaking their head. “You’re not as terrifying as you think, you know.”

Sukuna smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “Tell that to the brat who thought I was gonna eat you.”

Chapter Text

Sukuna woke up lazily, the familiar comfort of his bed holding him captive. The morning light filtered in through the curtains, soft and warm, but not enough to make him want to leave the cozy nest he had created. He was a real sleepyhead, and proud of it too. He remembered Jin had once tried to wake him up when he had a terrible hangover - the result of his reckless and young youth when he could mix alcohol with drugs without thinking about his poor liver. Then everything ended in a fight and a week-long grudge.

Sleep had always been his escape, his way of ignoring the world when it got too annoying, which was often. Sukuna had slept through most of his life - his school days, his teenage years, and now his adult life, when he wasn’t working or doing something necessary, he’d sleep.

Not that he had a regular job. Working for someone else? Please. Sukuna found that humiliating, beneath him, a concept that made his skin crawl. His record of employment was a trail of burned bridges and unfinished paychecks, each job discarded the moment it started feeling like a leash around his neck. Unfortunately, reality didn’t give a damn about his pride. He had bounced from one job to another, barely staying long enough to collect his first paycheck before something - or someone - rubbed him the wrong way, and he’d leave, usually with a trail of chaos behind him. But that was in the past. A few years back, Sukuna had finally found a way to make his life work for him: he opened his own bar. Dark, dingy, full of drunks - it was perfect. He got to be his own boss, surrounded by booze and the kind of people who knew how to mind their own damn business.

It was his kind of scene. He didn’t mind stepping in to break up a fight or kicking out the occasional troublemaker - hell, he enjoyed it. Uraume, though, always had something to say about the mess. They’d nag him to clean up more often, to stop using the bar as his own personal boxing ring. As if he’d listen. Still, he couldn’t deny that their nagging had a certain charm.

Speaking of Uraume… Sukuna stretched out, reaching toward the other side of the bed where Uraume should have been lying, their presence a familiar comfort. But his hand met empty sheets, cool to the touch, and he frowned, a deep furrow forming between his brows. It was the kind of frown that made him look like a capricious child who had just been told no.

Where the hell did they go?

Sukuna rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, sulking for a moment. Uraume was always up before him; they were annoyingly responsible like that. Still, Sukuna had gotten used to the warmth of their body next to him, the soft breathing that lulled him back to sleep in the early hours of the morning. Waking up alone just didn’t feel right.

Grumbling, Sukuna finally pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or just disappointed. Probably both. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand and cursed under his breath - it was later than he thought. He’d slept through the morning again, though that was nothing new.

With a huff, Sukuna stood up, stretching out his muscles as he wandered toward the bathroom. The cold tiles against his feet did little to wake him up, his mind still foggy with sleep. He splashed some water on his face, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a mess, sticking up at odd angles, and there were faint dark circles under his eyes. The years of late nights and early mornings were starting to catch up with him, but he’d be damned if he let that slow him down. After freshening up, Sukuna padded out of the bathroom and down the hallway, his mood souring further with each step. The house was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. No Uraume, no noise, no sign of life.

Where the hell could they be? And why the hell hadn’t they woken him up? Not that he wanted to be woken up, but still, it was the principle of the thing.

He walked into the kitchen, hoping to find some coffee already made, but the pot was cold, untouched. Great. He’d have to make it himself. As he went about the task, his thoughts kept drifting back to Uraume, trying to piece together where they might have gone. It wasn’t like them to just disappear without a word. If they had plans, they usually told him, and if they didn’t, they’d be here, doing whatever it was they did in the mornings while he slept.

Finally, with a mug of hot coffee in hand, Sukuna leaned against the kitchen counter, scowling into the dark liquid as if it had personally offended him. The silence was starting to grate on his nerves, and he found himself itching for some kind of distraction. Maybe he’d head over to the bar early, check on things before it opened for the evening. Or maybe he’d go find Uraume and give them a piece of his mind for leaving him to wake up alone like some abandoned house cat.

His frown deepened at that thought. He was not a damn cat.

Speaking of cats, Hime, who had grown into a sleek, beautiful white feline, let out a discontented meow from her perch on the kitchen table. Her tail flicked lazily, eyes half-closed in a look of sheer feline indifference. If Uraume had seen this, they would have immediately scolded her, shooing her off the table with a stern look. But Sukuna allowed Hime more than anyone else - after all, she was his daughter, and who could understand the bond between a man and his cat? Hime was special. She got away with things others wouldn’t dare.

But today, Sukuna was sulking. Not only had Uraume abandoned him to wake up alone, but Hime hadn’t graced him with her presence either. She usually slept at the foot of the bed or draped herself over his legs, a comforting weight that made the nights a little less lonely. Yet, this morning, both Uraume and Hime had left him. The betrayal stung, more than he’d like to admit. He glared at Hime, who yawned, stretching out as if mocking his silent accusations.

“Stupid cat." Sukuna grumbled, his voice a low rumble of irritation. He walked over to the table, leaning down so his face was level with Hime’s. She stared back, unblinking, as if daring him to scold her. Sukuna’s scowl softened slightly, and he reached out to scratch behind her ears, a familiar gesture that had become a morning ritual. Hime purred, tilting her head to give him better access, her earlier discontent forgotten.

“Traitor,” Sukuna muttered, though the word lacked any real bite. He continued scratching Hime, his fingers trailing through her soft fur. “You’re supposed to keep me company, you know. Not wander off the moment my back’s turned.”

Hime merely blinked at him, her purr growing louder, filling the kitchen with a soothing hum. Sukuna sighed, leaning against the table as he continued to pet her. It was hard to stay mad at Hime, even when she abandoned him.

“Where were you, huh?” Sukuna asked, his voice softer now. “Out with Ume, getting into trouble?”

Hime’s tail flicked, as if in agreement, and Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. It was ridiculous, talking to a cat like she understood him, but Hime had always been more than just a pet. She was a part of his family. Maybe that’s why he indulged her, let her get away with things he wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. She was his, in a way that was hard to explain.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Sukuna said, giving Hime one last scratch before straightening up. “Otherwise, I’d have thrown you out by now.”

Hime meowed in response, a soft, almost dismissive sound, before curling up on the table, her eyes closing as she settled in for a nap. Sukuna shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. For all his complaints, he wouldn’t change a thing. Hime was his, Uraume was his, this chaotic, messy life they’d built together was his. Before he could decide what to do next, the front door creaked open, followed by the familiar sound of Uraume’s footsteps. Sukuna’s head snapped up, his irritation melting into something closer to relief, though he’d never admit that. He quickly downed the rest of his coffee, setting the mug down with a little too much force as he turned to greet them, an accusation already forming on his lips.

When Uraume walked in, their face was set in an expression that made Sukuna pause. Their usually composed demeanor was replaced with a look of barely contained fury. Uraume looked like they were ready to tear someone apart. Sukuna raised an eyebrow, instantly amused and curious.

“Well, someone’s pissed. Care to share with the class?” Sukuna said, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed.

Uraume shot him a withering look as they dropped their bag on the floor and stormed over to the fridge, yanking the door open with more force than necessary.

“Kaori,” Uraume spat, their voice tight with frustration, “has lost her damn mind.”

“What did she do this time?”

Uraume grabbed a bottle of water, slamming the fridge door shut before turning to face him. “She spent the entire day trying to plan our wedding,” they hissed, the words dripping with barely controlled anger. “I was stuck with her, all day, and every time I said ‘no,’ she just steamrolled right over me.”

“Our wedding?” Sukuna blinked, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yes,” Uraume snapped, pacing the kitchen now, their hands gesturing wildly. “She’s somehow decided it’s her personal mission - no, honor - to plan the entire thing. She’s got ideas for everything: the venue, the dress code, the flowers - flowers we don’t even like, by the way! I told her we didn’t want anything big, but does Kaori listen? No. She has ‘visions’ and ‘dreams’ for this.”

Sukuna let out a low, mocking chuckle. “And you didn’t just walk away?”

Uraume glared at him. “Oh, I tried. Believe me, I tried. But then she started talking about matching outfits. Matching outfits, Sukuna! I nearly lost it.”

Sukuna snorted, unable to help himself. “Matching outfits? Us? That woman really doesn’t know me.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Uraume muttered, their pacing slowing down as they took a swig of water. “I swear, by the time she was done, I was this close to strangling her with my own hands.”

Sukuna, leaning against the counter, was thoroughly entertained by the entire rant. Kaori’s overwhelming enthusiasm had never really surprised him, but seeing Uraume so rattled? That was a rare treat. He wasn’t going to let this go any time soon.

“Well, you know, maybe it’s a good thing,” Sukuna said, his tone intentionally light and mocking. “You and Kaori bonding over floral arrangements - what a sight.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, come on,” Sukuna teased, his smirk widening. “She’s probably got it all figured out by now. We can just show up, say our vows, and call it a day.”

“Sukuna,” Uraume warned, their voice low, “if you leave me alone with that woman again, I swear, you’ll be burying me in that ridiculous garden she’s planning.”

“Alright, alright, calm down. You’re not getting buried in any garden. We’ll figure it out.” Sukuna chuckled, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Uraume’s waist, pulling them closer. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Next time, you’ll drag me along to deal with her. We’ll tag-team it.”

“She’s turning our wedding into some kind of… project. Like it’s her wedding.”

“Yeah, well, she’s always wanted to get her hands on me. Guess she’s getting her way.”

Before Sukuna could enjoy his little victory, he noticed the shift in Uraume’s posture. Their whole body went rigid, and the warmth of their embrace was quickly replaced by something colder. Sukuna blinked, confused for a second, until he replayed his own words in his head.

Oh,shit.

"Die. Literally, die, Sukuna."

'She’s always wanted to get her hands on me.' Sukuna had said. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time - a throwaway joke about Kaori’s obsessive enthusiasm. But Uraume’s sudden silence, the tension in their frame, was all too clear. They were jealous.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching into a mischievous smirk as the realization dawned on him.

"Wait a minute," he started slowly, his voice teasing. "You’re not seriously mad about Kaori, are you?"

Uraume pulled away slightly, their lips pressed into a thin line, eyes dark with something sharper than their earlier frustration. Sukuna felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. Sukuna blinked, surprised. He hadn’t expected this reaction - not from Uraume. Sure, Kaori was intense, but Uraume was usually calm, composed, and practically unshakable. But this? This was something else entirely.

"Ume?" Sukuna prodded, still smirking. “Are you jealous?”

“No.” Their response was immediate, clipped.

Sukuna’s smirk widened, far too entertained by the sudden storm brewing in front of him. “Uh-huh. Sure.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur, teasing. “Because it sounds like you’re jealous. Of Kaori, of all people.” Sukuna stepped in front of Uraume, his large hands resting on their shoulders, trying to ground them.

For a moment, Uraume’s rigid posture relaxed, their eyes softening just slightly as they looked up at him. The jealousy was still there, simmering under the surface, but Sukuna’s words seemed to soothe some of the anger. They let out a breath, their arms uncrossing as they leaned into Sukuna’s chest

For the first time in a long time, he felt a flicker of something he wasn’t used to - panic, even though he was trying to play it cool. Because, deep down, Sukuna knew Uraume wasn’t completely wrong. He remembered Kaori all too well. Their shared past wasn’t just a few harmless interactions or awkward introductions. No, it went deeper than that - messier. Back then, Sukuna was reckless, living in the haze of his turbulent high school years, where he burned through life without thinking about consequences. And that was how he’d met Kaori. Back then, she was fun - wild, unpredictable, someone he could mess around with without strings attached. She hadn’t been the same overly-enthusiastic woman planning his wedding now. No, she was different then. And maybe that’s why Sukuna had introduced her to Jin, his quieter, more grounded twin.

Maybe he thought she’d leave him alone, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to think about it. But he hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t expected Jin to fall in love with her. And if Sukuna had known how deep Jin’s feelings would run, he might’ve - no, he definitely would’ve stopped Kaori before she got anywhere near his brother. Call it being overprotective. No one was good enough for Jin. But this? This was a mess Sukuna hadn’t anticipated.

His back tensed at the thought, a painful reminder of his past catching up to him. He wasn’t exactly the same person now - physically or mentally. His wild years had left him with more than just memories; they’d left him with a bad back and a head full of unresolved problems. But it wasn’t his own issues that worried him now. It was the fact that Kaori, the woman who had wormed her way into his brother’s life, was also the same woman he’d had sex with - more than once. A few casual encounters in the blur of their high school years, back when Sukuna thought he didn’t give a damn about anyone. And Uraume? God forbid if they ever found out.

It didn’t count as a cheating, right? It was before Uraume. Before they became what they were now. He hadn’t been in a relationship with Uraume at the time. It was just part of his past, one of the many chaotic, messy parts of his life that he didn’t like to think about. But still, something about it felt too close, too raw, especially now that Kaori was practically family.

He glanced down at Uraume, who was still nestled against him, their earlier jealousy simmering beneath the surface but easing as they rested in his arms. They didn’t know. They didn’t know the whole truth about him and Kaori, and he intended to keep it that way. Because if Uraume found out… well, Sukuna wasn’t exactly sure what would happen, but he knew it wouldn’t be pretty. Uraume had always noticed the odd tension between him and Kaori, but they’d chalked it up to their shared past, never suspecting anything more. Sukuna had been careful not to let anything slip, careful to keep that part of his life buried where it belonged. But with Kaori getting more involved in their wedding, constantly pushing herself into their lives, Sukuna’s past was feeling a little too close for comfort.

He let out a slow breath, trying to push the panic back down. “Trust me, there’s nothing to worry about. Kaori’s just overexcited about the wedding. She’s got her hands full with Jin. I’m not even on her radar.”

He hated lying, especially to Uraume, but what was the alternative? Telling them the truth? That would open up a whole can of worms he wasn’t ready to deal with. It was easier to just keep it buried, to let Kaori plan whatever ridiculous wedding she wanted, and get through it without stirring up any more trouble.

Uraume seemed to study him for a moment longer, their eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit. Sukuna held their gaze, keeping his expression calm, though his heart raced faster than he’d care to admit. Finally, Uraume sighed, their body relaxing slightly against his.

“Alright,” they said quietly, though their tone was still laced with uncertainty. “But if she pushes it any further, I’m not staying quiet.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Sukuna chuckled, though it sounded a little forced.

“Good. Because you’re mine. Not hers.” Uraume smiled up at him, though it didn’t quite reach their eyes.

As Uraume settled back into his arms, their jealousy temporarily soothed, Sukuna couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of dread that lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he couldn’t keep this secret forever. One day, the truth would come out - whether by accident or by Kaori’s meddling - and when that happened, he had no idea what it would mean for him and Uraume.

Sukuna felt a knot of guilt tighten in his chest, but he pushed it aside, pressing a kiss to Uraume’s forehead. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Yours.”

If you asked Sukuna why he was so afraid to show Uraume the part of himself that wasn’t perfect, the answer would be simple: he was so damn in love with them. The kind of love that snuck up on him when he wasn’t paying attention, then latched onto his soul in a way he couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the casual affection he’d seen in other couples, or the shallow attachment he used to share with people he didn’t really care about. No, this was different. It ran deeper than anything he’d ever felt before, and it scared the hell out of him.

Sukuna had been through his fair share of relationships - if you could even call them that. Flings, hookups, people who came and went without leaving a mark. That was how he liked it. No strings, no complications. But Uraume? Uraume wasn’t just someone he slept with. They weren’t a fleeting presence in his life. Uraume was the one person who saw him, who truly saw him, and still stayed.

And that terrified him. That’s why Sukuna wanted Uraume to remain as ignorant as possible about who he had been before. The reckless, self-destructive version of him, the one who didn’t care about anyone or anything, including himself. The part of him that had done things he wasn’t proud of, things he had buried so deep that even he tried to forget about them. Uraume probably wouldn’t care if he told them the truth. They’d accept him, even if he confessed to being some kind of serial killer who boiled and ate old ladies for fun. They’d still look at him with that same calm understanding, that unshakeable affection.

But that was the problem. Uraume would accept him. No matter what. And that scared him more than anything.

Sukuna had spent so much time wrestling with Uraume’s love, trying to make sense of it, to understand why someone as grounded and intelligent as them would bother with someone like him. He couldn’t comprehend it at first, how easily Uraume gave their love, how effortlessly they showed it without demanding anything in return. He had spent years pushing people away, convinced that no one could truly want him, at least not for long. But Uraume had stayed. They stayed even when he pushed, even when he was difficult, and eventually, Sukuna had come to accept their love. Slowly. Painfully. But now that he had it, now that he understood what it meant to truly love and be loved, he was terrified of losing it. He treasured Uraume more than anything else in his life, more than the bar, more than the freedom he’d once prided himself on. They had become the one good thing in his world, the only person who made him feel like maybe - just maybe - he wasn’t beyond saving.

And the thought of Uraume being disappointed in him? It filled him with real horror.

He’d spent most of his life doing whatever the hell he wanted, damn the consequences. But Uraume’s opinion of him mattered. It mattered more than anything. He couldn’t stand the idea of them looking at him with even the slightest hint of disapproval or disappointment. It would shatter him.

He wanted to believe that Uraume would stay, no matter what. That they’d keep loving him, even if he exposed every dark corner of his past. But the fear? That was always there, gnawing at him, reminding him that love wasn’t a guarantee. That one wrong move, one ugly truth, and Uraume might decide they’d had enough. And the thought of losing them? That was worse than any punishment life had thrown at him before. So Sukuna kept parts of himself hidden. He didn’t lie, exactly. He just… avoided certain topics, kept certain memories buried deep. It was a self-preservation tactic, but more than that, it was a way of protecting the one thing that mattered. Because Uraume did matter.

"I had sex with Kaori a few times."

The words tumbled out of Sukuna's mouth before he could stop them. He didn’t even know how it happened - how his brain bypassed every defense mechanism he’d built up, every instinct to keep his mouth shut, but somehow, he’d blurted it out. Maybe, somewhere deep inside, he wanted Uraume to know. Maybe there was some self-destructive part of him that still wanted to test their loyalty, to see just how far Uraume’s love could stretch before it snapped. Or maybe he just enjoyed hurting people - hurting Uraume - the way he had hurt everyone else in his life. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it was different now. It was terrifying. Because this time, the consequences were too real.

Uraume stood frozen in front of him, their expression unreadable. Sukuna wished they would say something, anything,but they just stared at him, eyes widening ever so slightly, but not enough to reveal what they were really thinking. He hated that silence, hated that he couldn't tell if Uraume was processing the betrayal, trying to figure out what came next, or just preparing to leave him. His throat felt dry, but he forced himself to keep talking, trying desperately to patch up the wreck he had just caused.

“You and I weren’t even planning on getting together back then,” Sukuna blurted out, his voice a little rough, like he was trying to convince himself of his own excuses as much as he was trying to convince Uraume. “It was stupid, meaningless.”

Uraume’s expression didn’t change. They stood there, frozen, staring at him in that way that made his skin crawl. Uraume’s eyes flickered at that, a brief flash of something - anger, hurt, maybe both - crossing their features. Sukuna felt the panic rising, creeping up his spine, making him feel like he was suffocating.

"I swear, there’s nothingbetween me and Kaori now. It’s over. Long over.”

But the words felt hollow, even to him.
Uraume’s silence stretched, suffocating him, making every second feel like an eternity. The room felt too small, too cold, like the walls were closing in around them. Sukuna could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the fear building in the back of his mind - what if this was it? What if Uraume decided that this was the breaking point, that this was too much for even them to forgive? He wanted to take it back. Every single word. But there it was, out in the open, between them, like a thick, suffocating fog.

Uraume finally spoke, their voice soft but laced with a quiet intensity that made Sukuna flinch. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Sukuna swallowed, his throat tight. He wasn’t sure if he could give them an answer that would make any sense. Why was he telling them now? Why hadn’t he just kept his mouth shut, like he’d planned to?

“I don’t know,” Sukuna admitted, the vulnerability in his voice unfamiliar and raw. “Maybe I just… I don’t want you to find out from someone else...” His voice caught, but he pushed forward, eyes narrowing as the truth twisted into something uglier.

Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d still stick around, even after knowing the worst of it.

Uraume’s lips pressed into a thin line, their eyes hardening as they absorbed his confession. Sukuna had always been reckless, impulsive - but this? This felt like a new level of self-destruction, like he was daring them to leave. Sukuna’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. For once, he didn’t have a sarcastic reply or some half-assed defense to throw back at them. He felt exposed, stripped bare in a way that made him want to crawl out of his own skin. He had always taken Uraume’s love for granted, counted on it being there, unwavering. But now, faced with the real possibility of losing them, Sukuna realized just how much of a fool he’d been.

The silence between them thickened, hanging heavy in the air. Uraume’s gaze flicked away from him for the first time, their eyes staring blankly at the floor, as if the weight of his confession was too much to bear all at once. Sukuna stood there, frozen, waiting for their judgment, for the inevitable wave of consequences that would crash over him. He could feel the sting of regret burning in his chest, a sensation he wasn’t used to, one that gnawed at him from the inside out.

After what felt like an eternity, Uraume finally looked up, their expression carefully controlled. Their voice, when they spoke again, was calm, though Sukuna could hear the hurt buried beneath the surface. “Do you think this changes anything?”

“What?” Sukuna blinked, confused.

“Do you think this makes me see you differently?” Uraume continued, their tone steady but distant. “Because it doesn’t. I’ve always known what kind of person you are. This… this doesn’t surprise me. I don’t like it, Sukuna, but I knew who I was getting involved with.”

They were so calm, too calm, like they had braced themselves for something like this. Like they had already come to terms with the fact that he was a mess, a disaster of a person. He could hear the quiet resignation in their voice, the kind of resignation that comes when you’ve learned to accept the worst in someone because you’ve already decided to love them despite it.

Uraume sighed, running a hand through their hair before speaking again. “I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt. And I don’t like that you kept this from me…”

Sukuna had been expecting anger, betrayal, something explosive that would give him an excuse to push them away again. But this? This quiet, unwavering acceptance? It was harder to deal with than any fight could ever be.

“Uraume…” Sukuna’s voice was rough, low. He didn’t know what to say. How could they still look at him like this? How could they still love him, after everything he’d done? After this?

“I’m not letting you off the hook,” Uraume said firmly, their voice cutting through the haze of guilt in Sukuna’s mind. “I’m still angry."

The silence between them was unbearable, heavy with unspoken words and emotions that neither of them knew how to handle. Sukuna could feel it, the way Uraume’s posture shifted, stiff and tense. They were retreating, pulling back into themselves, and he knew, with a sickening certainty, that he had hurt them more than they were willing to show. Uraume was in pain. It was there in the slight tremble of their fingers, the way their eyes flicked away from his, unfocused and distant. Sukuna knew them well enough to see through the calm exterior they always tried to maintain. They weren’t the type to explode in anger or yell when they were hurt. No, Uraume was the kind to hold it in, to swallow the hurt until it became unbearable.

And right now, Sukuna could see it building - could see the cracks forming in their composure. They weren’t going to yell, weren’t going to scream. But they were probably going to cry. Not here. Not in front of him. They never did. But in the quiet of their room, alone, where they thought he couldn’t see. Sukuna knew their habits. He knew that after this conversation, Uraume would retreat to their space, shut the door, and let the pain out where no one could witness it.

And it killed him. It fucking killed him.

Sukuna watched as Uraume took a step back, putting distance between them, their face a carefully controlled mask of neutrality. But he could see the tightness in their jaw, the way their shoulders hunched just slightly, like they were trying to hold themselves together.

“I need some time,” Uraume said softly, their voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I need to be alone for a while.”

The words were like a punch to Sukuna’s gut, even though he had expected them. He nodded, stiffly, not trusting himself to say anything. He wanted to reach out, to pull them back, but he knew it wouldn’t help. Not now. Not when they were like this.

“Okay,” Sukuna muttered, his voice low and rough. It was the only word he could manage.

Without another word, Uraume turned and walked down the hallway, their steps quiet but purposeful, retreating into the sanctuary of their room. The door clicked shut behind them, a soft but definitive sound that echoed louder in Sukuna’s mind than any slam could have. Sukuna stood there for a long time, staring at the closed door. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, frustration and guilt warring inside him. He knew they were in pain. He knew they were probably sitting on the edge of the bed right now, trying to hold back tears that would come whether they wanted them to or not. And all because of him.

He ran a hand through his hair, pacing the kitchen like a caged animal, hating how powerless he felt. Sukuna let out a low growl of frustration, his mind racing, heart pounding. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to go into that room, pull Uraume into his arms, and make everything right again. But how could he? He stared at the door, his mind playing out all the things he should have done differently, all the words he shouldn’t have said. But now, it was too late. All he could do was wait, give Uraume the space they needed, and hope - pray —that they would still be there when the pain subsided.

But as he listened to the deafening silence of the house, Sukuna felt the weight of uncertainty settle on his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t know if things would ever go back to the way they were.

Sukuna leaned against the counter, staring blankly at the closed door, his mind spiraling down a path he hadn’t walked in a long time. Memories from years ago, memories he had tried to bury, came rushing back with startling clarity. He remembered the way Uraume had been when they first met - both of them were a mess, but in different ways. If Sukuna’s chaos had been self-inflicted, fueled by his reckless need to destroy everything in his path, Uraume’s pain had been quieter, deeper. It had come from a place of hurt inflicted by others. Uraume was always trying to stay in control, always fighting that internal war with themselves, struggling against the dominance others had imposed on them. It wasn’t the loud, defiant kind of struggle; it was subtle, an undercurrent of quiet resistance against the forces that tried to break them. And for some reason, even back then, Uraume had trusted Sukuna almost immediately.

Maybe because they saw the same darkness in him that they carried in themselves. Maybe because Sukuna, despite his harsh exterior, never judged them for their scars, both the visible ones and the ones they kept hidden. He remembered how he’d helped them, time and time again. Not because he felt obligated, but because it was Uraume. They weren’t like anyone else.

The memories hit him hard: the nights he’d spent sitting next to them, quietly cleaning the cuts on their wrists and thighs, the jagged lines etched into their skin by their own hands. Uraume had always been so damn hard on themselves, blaming themselves for things that weren’t even their fault. A bad grade. An argument. A misunderstanding. It didn’t take much to send them spiraling, and Sukuna had learned quickly that Uraume’s self-destruction was quiet, almost invisible. But he’d seen it. He’d always seen it.

They were always on the edge, always suicidal, and it terrified him. Had terrified him. Sukuna had never been afraid of much in his life, but seeing Uraume like that - hurting themselves over mistakes that didn’t matter, falling into a pit of self-loathing and despair - it was a fear that stuck with him even now. It had been so close, too many times. He remembered the look in their eyes when they hit rock bottom, when they didn’t care if they lived to see the next day. He had held them more than once, their body trembling, tears soaking his shirt as they whispered that they were tired of it all.

And now, standing here, the weight of his confession heavy in the air, Sukuna felt a surge of panic rising in his chest. What if this was too much for them? What if this was the thing that pushed them back to that place? He knew Uraume wasn’t the same as they were back then - they were stronger now, had grown so much. But that didn’t mean the darkness wasn’t still there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to pull them back down.

"Shit." Sukuna muttered, running a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly as his heart pounded in his chest. The familiar panic, the same one he’d felt all those years ago when he’d found Uraume sitting alone with a razor in their hand, began to creep in. What if they went back to that? What if this time, he couldn’t help them?

He remembered how helpless he’d felt back then. How Uraume’s pain had been so far beyond anything he could fix. He could bandage their cuts, hold them until the storm passed, but he couldn’t stop the storm itself. He couldn’t stop the way they blamed themselves for every small mistake, the way they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. And now, with the truth about Kaori hanging between them, Sukuna couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just thrown them back into that storm.

He cursed under his breath, his mind racing. He couldn’t let this spiral out of control. He had to do something - say something - anything to make sure they didn’t fall apart because of him. But what could he say?

“Damn it, Ume,” Sukuna muttered to himself, clenching his fists. “Why did I have to mess this up?”

His gaze flicked back to the door, and the urge to go to them was overwhelming. He wanted to knock, to pull them into his arms and tell them everything would be okay. But could he? Could he really promise that when he was the one who had caused the pain in the first place?

The memories of Uraume’s scars, the nights spent holding them together when they were falling apart, haunted him. He couldn’t go through that again. He couldn’t lose them - not to something as stupid as his own past mistakes. Sukuna’s jaw clenched as he made up his mind. He couldn’t stand here and wait. He couldn’t let Uraume suffer alone like they always did. This time, he wouldn’t let them retreat into that darkness.

With a heavy heart, Sukuna walked down the hallway, stopping just outside their room. He raised a hand, hesitating for a moment, before knocking softly.

“Uraume?” His voice was rough, but there was a note of urgency in it. “Hey, I… I know you need space, but I don’t want to leave you alone like this. Not after what I said.”

Silence.

Sukuna pressed his forehead against the door, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. “I didn’t mean for any of this to hurt you. I know it’s messed up, and I should’ve told you sooner. But I swear… I can’t lose you. Not over something that happened before us.”

Still nothing.

He stood there, waiting, the silence gnawing at him. And for the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt truly scared - not of losing Uraume physically, but of losing the connection they had built, the fragile trust they’d nurtured over the years. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he heard the softest of sounds from the other side of the door. A sniffle.

“Uraume…” Sukuna’s voice cracked, the panic rising again. “Please. Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

He leaned his head against the door, helplessness washing over him, his mind filled with memories of the scars, the nights, the tears. He couldn’t let that happen again. He wouldn’t let that happen again.

Uraume heard Sukuna’s voice from the other side of the door, rough and full of that rare vulnerability he so rarely let slip. They heard the apology in his words, the desperation in his tone. But they couldn’t bring themselves to open the door, not yet. Maybe not at all.

Because Kaori was still here. Still everywhere. No matter how many times Sukuna swore that his past with Kaori was buried, Uraume wasn’t blind. They saw how Kaori inserted herself into their lives, always lingering at the edges like an unwanted third wheel. They didn’t know if Kaori did it on purpose - if she was intentionally trying to wedge herself between them, or if it was just some old habit she couldn’t let go of - but it felt like a battle. A constant, unspoken struggle for Sukuna’s attention. Even now, with a ring on their finger, with their wedding looming closer, Kaori was still there. Offering her opinions, pushing her way into the planning, always finding a way to make her presence known.

The logical part of Uraume’s mind told them it was stupid to be jealous over something that had happened so long ago. It was in the past. They were with Sukuna now. They were the one Sukuna had chosen, the one wearing his ring. But the truth was, it wasn’t just about what happened back then. It was about how Kaori still seemed to have this hold, this presence, this way of weaseling her way into their lives - into his life. And Sukuna… Uraume bit their lip, trying to keep their tears from spilling over again. Sukuna let her. He found it funny.

That was the worst part of it all. Uraume wasn’t sure if Sukuna even noticed Kaori’s interference. Or worse, if he did notice and just didn’t care because it was easier that way. Sukuna hated planning things - he hated thinking too far ahead or putting effort into details. So what if he just let Kaori handle things because it was less of a headache for him? What if he was fine with Kaori inserting herself into their wedding plans because it saved him the trouble? That was what made them want to cry. Because it wasn’t nothing to Uraume.

Even now, after everything they had been through with Sukuna, after all the trust they had built, the vulnerability, the love - they still felt like they were competing for him. Competing with someone like Kaori, who had known him in ways Uraume hadn’t, who seemed to understand the more chaotic parts of Sukuna’s past better than they ever could. And the hardest part was letting go of the fear that, one day, Kaori might win.

They sniffled, wiping the back of their hand across their face, feeling small and exhausted. Sukuna had helped them through so much - through the worst times, through the years when they couldn’t see past their own pain. He had been their reason to keep going. And now, for the first time in so long, Uraume felt like they were slipping, like they were losing that anchor. There was a soft knock on the door, and Uraume flinched, feeling the tension coil tighter in their chest.

“Ume…” Sukuna’s voice was softer now, pleading. “Please. Just… let me in.”

But Uraume couldn’t. They didn’t trust themselves to speak, didn’t trust that they wouldn’t break down completely if they saw the look on Sukuna’s face. That familiar mixture of frustration and regret. They had seen it before, during the bad years, but now, the hurt felt different. Deeper. Because this wasn’t about their past. This was about Kaori, and the nagging fear that no matter how much they loved Sukuna, no matter how much they built together, Kaori would always be there, looming like a shadow over their relationship.

"Why does she always have to be there?" Uraume whispered to themselves, their voice hoarse with unshed tears. They pulled their knees to their chest, hugging themselves as if that could keep them from falling apart completely.

Sukuna, on the other side of the door, felt helpless. He wanted to break the door down, to pull them into his arms, but he knew better than to push. Uraume wasn’t the type to respond well to being forced into anything. But waiting, standing there while the silence stretched on, was killing him.

More silence. More suffocating, unbearable silence. Sukuna stared at the door, his fists clenched tight at his sides, his brain a chaotic mess. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest, and all the rationality that normally guided him - what little there was - had gone right out the window. Uraume wasn’t answering. They weren’t opening the door. And that wasn’t good. Not good at all. He knew what Uraume could be like when they spiraled, and he wasn’t about to let that happen. Not again. Not over something as stupid as Kaori. Sukuna took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He could talk his way through this, right? Just a little more patience, a little more… oh, screw it.

Before Sukuna could even register what he was doing, his foot was already in motion. The rational part of his brain, the one that should have told him this is a terrible idea, was completely obliterated by the sheer panic that gripped him. With one swift, powerful kick, the door slammed open, practically unhinging itself from the frame. The sound was loud - far too loud - and the door hit the wall with a resounding crash.

"Uraume!" he barked, chest heaving like he’d just sprinted a mile. "Are you okay?"

Uraume, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed tearfully minding their own business, jumped about a foot in the air, their eyes wide with shock as they stared at the now-broken door. Sukuna stormed into the room, his face a mixture of raw panic, guilt, and determination. Uraume blinked at him, utterly dumbfounded. “What... the hell, Sukuna?”

“I was worried.”

"Worried," Uraume deadpanned, raising an eyebrow as they wiped at their eyes, their confusion giving way to a bemused expression. "So you kicked down the door?"

“You weren’t answering! I didn’t know what else to do!” Sukuna, clearly flustered, rubbed the back of his neck, his usual bravado faltering.

“Knocking harder? Waiting five seconds?” Uraume gestured to the door, their tone hovering between exasperation and disbelief. “I mean, seriously, you didn’t think of that?”

"I panicked." Sukuna sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not good at waiting. I’m better at... breaking things.”

Uraume snorted. “Clearly.”

Sukuna stared at Uraume, sitting on the edge of the bed with their face buried in their hands, tears slipping silently between their fingers. For a moment, all the noise in his head stopped. He didn’t care if Uraume told him to go away or if they pushed him back. This was different. This was his Ume crying, and Sukuna didn’t handle that kind of thing well. At all. Without hesitation, he stormed across the room, ignoring any protests they might have been thinking of. He caught Uraume’s face in his hands, rough but careful, cradling their cheeks like they were made of glass. Uraume looked up, startled, trying to pull away, but Sukuna held firm, his thumb brushing away the tears even as more rolled down their face.

"Why the hell are you crying?”

Uraume’s response was some incoherent protest about “needing space” and “Sukuna, stop” but Sukuna wasn’t having any of it. He wasn’t good at words. Not the kind that comforted, anyway. So, he did the only thing he knew how to do. Like when Yuji scraped his knees after falling off his bike, Sukuna’s instincts kicked in. He stroked Uraume’s hair awkwardly - too heavy-handed at first, but softer when he remembered they weren’t one of his bar buddies needing a punch to snap out of it. Uraume made another weak attempt to move away, but Sukuna just leaned down, ignoring the way his heart clenched, and kissed the tears off their face. It was sloppy and a bit awkward because Sukuna wasn’t one for gentle gestures, but he kissed every tear, starting with their cheeks, muttering something unintelligible in between, trying to make it right.

“Why the fuck did I make you cry, huh?” Sukuna mumbled against their skin. “You know I’m a damn idiot. You shouldn’t be surprised by now.”

Uraume tried to pull back, clearly not in the mood for his overly assertive brand of comfort, but Sukuna wasn’t having it. Nope. Not today. He’d seen enough tears, and he was putting a stop to it - his way. Sukuna growled not letting them go and still pressing kisses wherever there were still tears, now making it more of a point to not stop until they did.

"Shut up, don’t even try it," he muttered, catching their head gently between his hands as if Uraume were something fragile, even though they were anything but. "We’re doing this."

Uraume let out a choked laugh through their tears, trying to wipe their face with their sleeve, but Sukuna wasn’t having any of that either. He tilted their face back up toward him, making sure their eyes stayed on his.

“Listen,” Sukuna muttered, his hands still framing their face, his usual bravado a little softer now. His lips brushed against Uraume’s wet cheeks, kissing the tears away in the most awkward, half-assed way possible, like it was the only thing he could think to do. One kiss, then another, wiping the tears off their face with his mouth as if that would somehow fix it. “You’re not crying over her. You hear me? Kaori’s not worth this. I’m with you, and that’s not changing. She can push her way into our plans all she wants, but this...” He gestured between them with his head, his grip on their face steady. “This isn’t changing. I don’t care if she tries to take over the whole damn wedding. She’s not the one I’m standing at the altar for.”

“You say that now, but I bet you’ll let her pick the flowers just so you don’t have to deal with it.” Uraume sniffed, managing a weak smile despite the tears.

Sukuna scoffed, rolling his eyes. His thumb brushed under Uraume’s eye, catching another stray tear. “Stop with the crying. It’s messing with my head.”

Uraume was about to say something sarcastic, but the sheer ridiculousness of what Sukuna was doing finally broke through the wall of tension. They let out a snort of laughter, wiping at their face with their hands, now completely overwhelmed by the sheer weirdness of the moment. “Sukuna, this is... this is ridiculous.”

He leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow. “You’re still crying, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then shut up.” He kissed their other cheek, more determined now. “I’m fixing it.” Uraume let out another laugh, and before they could argue again, Sukuna cupped their face tighter, looking them dead in the eye with a kind of determination that was way too serious for someone who was currently kissing tears off someone’s face. “You don’t cry around me. Got it?”

"Alright.” Uraume smiled - actually smiled through the remnants of their tears.

“Good,” Sukuna said, grinning now that he’d apparently solved the crisis in his usual brute-force way. He pressed one final, almost-too-aggressive kiss to their forehead before stepping back slightly. “Now, if you cry again, I’ll just kick down another door. You’re warned.”

Chapter Text

Sukuna groaned as he peeled his eyes open, the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains of the hotel suite. His head throbbed, each pulse reminding him of the night before, a chaotic blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and an absurd amount of alcohol. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and his limbs were leaden, sluggish as he shifted under the plush hotel blankets. A wedding. Their wedding. He blinked, trying to piece together the fragments of the evening. There were brief flashes - Choso sneaking what he thought was water but definitely wasn’t, Jin chasing after him, Kaori’s gentle but amused reprimands as Yuji continued to shovel cake into his mouth with toddler-level abandon. And of course, the alcohol. Way too much alcohol. What the hell was I thinking?

Next to him, Uraume stirred, their pale hair a messy halo against the pillow. Sukuna glanced over, noticing the similar grimace of discomfort on their face. They weren’t faring much better. Uraume's hand slipped out from under the blanket, reaching for their phone on the nightstand, and with the reflexes of someone who had seen this disaster coming, turned off the alarm before it had a chance to scream.

"Good morning, husband." Uraume muttered, voice hoarse and dry. Despite the hangover, there was a glimmer of amusement in their tone.

Husband. The word felt strange, like it didn’t quite belong to him, but at the same time, it did. It really did. He wasn’t just Ryomen Sukuna, 30-year-old guy who occasionally terrified his brother’s kids for fun. He was now Ryomen Sukuna, married man. Officially bound to Uraume, the person who had stuck by him since high school. The thought of the wedding itself, however, made him groan. They really should have accepted Kaori’s help. It wasn’t that they didn’t appreciate Kaori’s well-meaning offers of planning assistance. It’s just that they’d both figured, in their typically laid-back fashion, that it wouldn’t matter. A simple wedding, a casual ceremony - who needs the frills, right?

Wrong.

They had needed the frills. Or at least, they needed a bit more organization. No kids allowed would’ve been a smart start. But alas, it was too late now. What’s done was done, and Kaori’s face when Yuji projectile vomited for the third time - after sneaking yet another slice of cake - was now a permanent fixture in his memory.

"I can't believe we survived," Uraume mumbled, rubbing their temples as they tried to sit up, only to flop back down with a groan. "Remind me to never agree to a party where your brother brings the kids."

Sukuna chuckled - more of a wheeze, really - before dragging a hand through his mess of pink hair. "Remind me not to drink like I’m still twenty."

They lay in silence for a few moments, the faint sounds of distant birds and the soft hum of the hotel heating the only noise. Sukuna blinked lazily at the ceiling, trying to shake the remnants of last night’s blur. Their room, tucked away in the Japanese Alps, was serene and quiet, an isolated haven they’d chosen specifically for its solitude. Away from the chaos of family, of the city, of responsibilities. It was just them. Finally.

A knock at the door interrupted the stillness, and Uraume grumbled, pulling the blanket over their head. "I swear, if that's room service already—"

Dragging himself out of bed, Sukuna stumbled his way to the door and cracked it open, half expecting some kind of personal disaster. Thankfully, it was only a small breakfast cart, laden with what looked like fresh coffee, eggs, and miso soup. It smelled divine. "Bless whoever ordered this." Sukuna muttered as he wheeled it inside. He poured a cup of coffee, the steam rising as he took a tentative sip, willing it to bring him back to life.

Uraume peeked out from under the blanket and watched him for a moment. “Our honeymoon is off to a wild start, huh?”

Sukuna snorted, setting the coffee down before sitting on the edge of the bed beside them. "At least we’re alone now. No more kids vomiting cake, no more drunk Choso mistaking sake for soda, no more Jin dragging him off to the bathroom."

"And we survived it all. Now we just have to survive each other."

"We’ve been surviving each other for years. This is nothing."

"True." Uraume reached out, threading their fingers through Sukuna’s. "But now we have the rest of our lives to keep it up."

The sincerity in their voice made Sukuna pause. Despite all the chaos, the regrets about the wedding, the minor disasters, he felt a strange warmth bloom in his chest. He looked at Uraume - really looked at them - and something softened in his gaze. “Here’s to surviving,” he said, lifting his coffee cup toward them.

Uraume smiled, a small, genuine smile that made Sukuna’s chest tighten in a way he wasn’t used to. “Here’s to surviving.”

They clinked their cups together, the sound soft and quiet, just like the morning around them. Outside, the mountains stretched on forever, serene and majestic. Inside, they were just two people - no longer just partners, but married. And for once, that didn’t seem like such a terrible thing at all.

Uraume took a careful sip of the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through their body, slightly alleviating the throbbing in their head. Wrapped in the blanket like a cocoon, they stared through bleary eyes across the room, catching sight of Sukuna as he sat on the edge of the bed, his back turned to them. It wasn’t like they hadn’t seen him before - Sukuna wasn’t exactly shy about showing off his tattooed body - but there was something about the way the morning light touched his skin, highlighting the sharp lines of his muscles and the intricate black markings that snaked down his back and arms.

He looks hot. Maybe it was the hangover, or the fact that they were newly married, but Sukuna's body seemed to have taken on a whole new level of appeal in this moment. They couldn’t help the way their eyes trailed along his spine, down to—

Wait. Where the hell are his clothes?

Their gaze flickered over to the floor where Sukuna’s pants were discarded in a crumpled heap near the door. His shirt was clearly nowhere to be found, but that wasn’t the most pressing issue. Uraume glanced down at themselves, pulling the blanket back slightly to inspect their own state. They were wearing Sukuna’s shirt. A very oversized one, which draped over their frame comfortably. That explained the shirt, at least. But Sukuna wasn’t just without a shirt. He’s also without his underwear. Not that this was something new. They’d been together long enough to know that Sukuna had a habit of losing track of his clothes when he got drunk. Still, it was hard to stifle the amused snort that escaped them. They lowered their cup of coffee, shaking their head.

“Do you even remember what happened after the reception, Sukuna?”

He turned his head, looking over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Not a damn thing.” he replied, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t embarrassed, because why would he be? He knew exactly what Uraume was hinting at.

“Well,” Uraume muttered, trying to suppress a laugh as they gestured at him, “you might want to start by finding your underwear.”

Sukuna glanced down at himself, as if only now realizing he was sitting half-naked, his boxers nowhere in sight. He let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, so that’s where my shirt went. Looks better on you, anyway.”

Uraume rolled their eyes, but a faint flush of warmth crept up their neck. Sukuna always had this way of making light of everything, never losing his confidence even in the most ridiculous situations. Maybe that’s what drew them to him in the first place. He was unapologetically himself, wild edges and all.

“Yeah, well. At least try to keep your clothes on next time.”

“Noted,” he said, though he didn’t seem too concerned. He stood up, stretching leisurely before heading toward the bathroom, completely unashamed. “Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen me like this before.”

Uraume rolled their eyes again but couldn’t help but smile as they watched him disappear into the bathroom. That was true. After all these years together, there wasn’t much left to surprise them anymore when it came to Sukuna. Still, something about the way he carried himself, even now, made their heart skip a beat. With a sigh, Uraume leaned back into the pillows, pulling the blanket up once more and clutching the coffee mug close to their chest. As ridiculous as last night had been, they were married now. And waking up to scenes like this? Well, that was just part of the deal.

When Sukuna came back from the bathroom, Uraume was asleep. Again. So, he just leaned back against the headboard, his eyes still half-lidded from the lingering haze of his hangover. The room was bathed in golden light of late afternoon, casting long shadows over the walls. It felt surreal - like time had slipped through his fingers, leaving him to float in this quiet, intimate moment. Three o’clock. Sukuna blinked at the clock again, feeling a bit disoriented. Had they really slept that long? He should have sent a message to Jin by now. Let him know they’d made it to the hotel, that everything was fine, but the effort of reaching for his phone felt monumental. Besides, he could already hear Jin’s voice in his head, joking about how he and Uraume were probably holed up in their room, doing newlywed things and ignoring the world.

Sukuna glanced over at Uraume, who was curled up in the blankets, sound asleep once again. Their white hair had grown longer over the last few months, hanging down in front of their face in a disheveled mess. They looked peaceful, completely undisturbed by the world around them. His gaze softened, taking in the sight of them. Even after all these years, he never got tired of looking at them, especially in moments like this - vulnerable, unguarded. He reached out instinctively, fingers brushing against Uraume’s leg where it peeked out from beneath the blanket. Their skin was always pale, almost translucent, like the finest porcelain. Sukuna always joked that they were white as a ghost, a little too fitting considering their eerie calm. He didn’t know why, but the contrast of his rough, calloused fingers against their smooth, cool skin had a way of grounding him. His hand moved on its own, fingers trailing over their thigh in a slow, absentminded stroke. It was a small, gentle touch, nothing more - though his thoughts drifted further for a moment. His eyes flicked up, noticing that Uraume’s shirt, the one he’d been missing earlier, had ridden up just enough to expose the curve of their hips.

Well, would you look at that. Uraume, who had scolded him for not wearing underwear, was just as guilty. Not that Sukuna minded. The sight was tempting, but the pounding in his head kept him from indulging further. His fingers lingered for a moment longer, tracing over the soft skin of their ass before he tugged the shirt down, covering them again. Not today.

He smiled to himself, a rare, genuine smile, one that only surfaced when they were alone like this. Sukuna wasn’t the sentimental type - not by a long shot - but there was something about these quiet moments with Uraume that made him feel… content. He settled back down beside them, turning his body to face theirs. The silence stretched out, and he found himself watching the rise and fall of their chest, the way their breath was soft and steady in sleep. He’d always been the storm, wild and unpredictable, but Uraume had been the eye of it for as long as he could remember. The calm in the chaos.His hand slid under his own pillow, finding a comfortable spot as he let his eyes drift shut again. Texting Jin could wait. Everything could wait. For now, it was just them.

As he reached forward to touch Uraume’s face, a strange sensation crept up his throat, a vulnerability he couldn’t quite put into words. He brushed a strand of white hair from their face, his thumb lingering on the softness of their cheek. The thought struck him suddenly, overwhelming in its simplicity: They’re really mine. For all the years Uraume had stuck by him, through his wild temper, his impulsive decisions, his sharp tongue - they had never once faltered. Never once given him any reason to believe they didn’t want him exactly as he was. It was hard to believe, but here they were, married to him, lying peacefully next to him, and somehow, they were still his. It was as if the reality of their marriage had only just hit him. For the first time, Sukuna wasn’t sure how to deal with the swell of emotion rising in his chest.

Uraume stirred under his touch, their eyes fluttering open as they blinked up at him, groggy but aware. They lifted a hand, placing their cold palm against Sukuna’s cheek with a small, playful push. "What are you staring at?" they mumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

Sukuna felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a smirk as he grabbed their hand before they could fully push him away. His grip was gentle, and instead of pulling back, he brought their hand to his lips, leaving soft kisses on their fingers. Then, in true Sukuna fashion, he bit down gently, playful but with just enough pressure to make them wince.

"Ow." Uraume muttered, though there was no real protest in their voice. They rolled their eyes, but there was a warmth in them, the kind that only Sukuna ever got to see.

"Too late," Sukuna said, his voice low as he shifted, rolling over to hover above them. "I’m going to eat you."

Uraume’s expression didn’t change, but a subtle smile tugged at the edges of their lips. They had heard Sukuna’s teasing threats more times than they could count, but something about the intensity in his gaze right now made it feel different. Rawer, more real. Sukuna dipped his head, pressing his lips to Uraume’s in a deep, unhurried kiss. His hands slid under the blanket, fingertips grazing their skin as he kissed down their jawline and to the side of their neck, where he began nipping and biting gently, drawing quiet gasps from them. Uraume’s fingers curled in his hair, tugging softly, not to stop him but to egg him on.

As Sukuna’s mouth moved lower, his mind wandered for a split second, and his brother’s voice echoed annoyingly in the back of his thoughts. "Control yourself, Sukuna. You don’t want to end up with a brat like Yuji so soon after the wedding." Yeah, right. Like Sukuna was going to listen to anything Jin said. He didn’t care for his brother’s warnings, not now, not ever. Besides, the last thing on his mind right now was control. Still, the image of Jin and Kaori chasing after a hyperactive toddler flashed across his mind, and for just a brief moment, he hesitated.

Uraume, noticing the slight pause, opened their eyes and raised an eyebrow. "What’s that look for?"

Sukuna huffed a laugh, shaking off the intrusive thought as he lowered his lips back to their neck. "Nothing. Just my brother being annoying in my head."

"Tell him to mind his own business."

"Oh, I will," Sukuna muttered, his teeth grazing their skin as he resumed his ministrations, leaving small red marks in his wake. "I’m not making the same mistake he did."

Uraume’s eyes softened, and they tugged him down closer, their bodies pressing together as Sukuna continued his path of kisses and bites. And if that meant ignoring Jin’s warnings, then so be it. Sukuna had never been one to follow anyone’s advice, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

"Wait. You’re talking about Jin knocking up Kaori right after their wedding, aren’t you?” Their eyes gleamed with a sleepy but knowing look, one brow raised in that typical Uraume way. It wasn’t really a question. More of an acknowledgment. Uraume knew exactly what had flashed through Sukuna’s mind.

Sukuna let out a low chuckle, his lips still hovering just above their skin. “Yeah, I am. Brat Yuji was the first mistake. Choso’s the second.”

“You’re just mad because Yuji threw up on you during our wedding. Twice.”

“Exactly.” Sukuna shifted, propping himself up on his elbows as he hovered over them, his face serious but with a playful glint in his eyes. “That kid’s a disaster waiting to happen, just like Choso. The two of them together? Hell on earth. They're the reason why we should never have kids. Ever.”

Uraume let out a quiet laugh, their cold hand brushing over Sukuna’s face before resting on his chest. “You think you’re going to be able to avoid kids forever?”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Why not? Look at Jin. He’s drowning in it - one’s throwing up cake, the other’s sneaking booze. And don’t even get me started on how many times Choso nearly set something on fire.”

“You think you’d be any better at handling them?”

“Hell no,” Sukuna admitted, without a hint of hesitation. “I’m worse. You’ve met me, right? I’m not exactly ‘Father of the Year’ material. That’s why I’m smart enough to avoid the problem entirely."

Uraume gave him a long look, their lips curling in a knowing smile. “True. But, Sukuna… you’re already thirty. Your dick’s going to stop working soon, you know.”

That made him pause.

He blinked, completely taken aback by the casualness with which Uraume dropped that bombshell, and then a laugh rumbled out of him, louder than it should’ve been given their sleepy surroundings. “What the hell?” he sputtered, barely able to contain his laughter. “My dick isn’t going anywhere.”

"But still, might want to keep an eye on your expiration date, just in case."

As much as Sukuna wanted to enjoy this playful banter and the warmth of their body beneath his, there was no denying that Uraume’s words left a lingering thought in his mind Not about kids, of course - that was still a hell no - but about the fact that, in a way, he had changed. He wasn’t the reckless, invincible twenty-year-old he used to be. But lying here, with Uraume in his arms, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

He and Uraume had been kissing for what felt like ages now, and the heat between them was starting to stir something primal inside Sukuna. His hands roamed over Uraume’s body, fingers slipping under the shirt they were still wearing. He wanted nothing more than to forget about the throbbing in his skull and just lose himself in them right there, right now. But something was wrong. Sukuna pulled away from Uraume, looking down at himself with a sudden pang of confusion. He frowned. Why the hell wasn’t his dick hard? It should’ve been a no-brainer. He had Uraume in his arms, beneath him, their body practically begging to be devoured, and yet… nothing. Just a dull, frustrating lack of response from the one part of his body that never let him down. His heart pounded in his chest, more from disbelief than desire now.

Uraume, as sharp as ever, picked up on the shift immediately. They covered his mouth with their hand, their smirk turning devilish. "Oh no! Don't tell me it started.. " they teased, their voice dripping with mock concern.

The joke hit him like a slap. Goddamn it, Uraume. But then - wait, why wasn't it working? Sukuna’s face twisted into a mixture of frustration and disbelief. I’m not that old! Sukuna practically shouted the words in his head, as if trying to convince himself. He shot Uraume a glare, though it lacked its usual intensity. He was too distracted by the very real - and very unsettling - lack of action below the belt.

“I warned you. Thirty is when things start to slow down.” Uraume shifted beneath Sukuna slightly, brushing their leg against his in a way that should have sent sparks flying. But instead, it just reminded him of how infuriatingly not hard he still was. Sukuna clenched his jaw. He was going to kill Uraume for this - for making him think about it, for planting this ridiculous idea in his head, and for making him doubt himself, even if only for a second. “I’m sure it’s just the hangover anyway. You’ll be back to your usual self in no time.” Uraume said.

Sukuna wasn’t convinced. He grumbled something incoherent under his breath and rolled off of Uraume, flopping onto his back next to them, staring up at the ceiling as if it might hold the answers to his sudden existential crisis.

They lay there in silence for a few moments before Uraume turned to look at him, still smirking. “You know, if you need a little more time, I don’t mind waiting.”

Sukuna groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. This was hell. Absolute hell. But somewhere, beneath the frustration, he could feel the edges of a smile tugging at his lips. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe it was just Uraume’s relentless teasing, but he could almost laugh at it. Almost. He lowered his arm, glancing over at Uraume with a resigned sigh. “You’re lucky I love you."

“I know.”

Sukuna shook his head, unable to stop the small, exasperated smile from creeping onto his face. “Next time, though, keep your mouth shut. Or I really will kill you.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative calm. Sukuna eventually found the strength to grab his phone and catch up on the messages he’d been avoiding all day. As expected, there were several from Jin, his brother’s usual mix of concern and casual teasing. The latest one, though, made Sukuna’s stomach drop. 'Can Uraume still walk?’ Under normal circumstances, Sukuna would’ve found that funny. Hell, he would’ve laughed and sent back some obnoxious response about how of course Uraume couldn’t walk, because he’d totally worn them out. But right now? After what had just happened - or rather, not happened - the joke hit a little too close to home.

His jaw clenched as he stared at the message, the weight of the earlier embarrassment settling back over him like a dark cloud. What the hell was he supposed to say? Yes, Jin, Uraume still can walk because, surprise, my dick decided to take the day off? The thought made his mood sour instantly. God, this is a disaster. He could almost hear Jin’s laugh in his head, the stupid teasing remarks that would follow if Sukuna were actually honest about the situation.

I’m not that old, right? Sukuna glanced at his reflection in the window, almost searching for proof that he wasn’t past his prime, that this wasn’t some inevitable decline he was too proud to admit to. It had to be the alcohol. The thought was like a desperate lifeline. He’d overdone it last night, sure, and his body was still recovering. That had to be it. Nothing more. And yet, the doubt lingered, irritating and unwelcome.

Uraume, having sensed the shift in his mood, glanced over from where they were sitting at the small table near the window, sipping on more coffee. “Everything okay?”

Sukuna huffed, running a hand through his hair before tossing his phone onto the bed. “Jin." He muttered darkly, not bothering to elaborate.

Uraume arched an eyebrow, clearly waiting for him to continue, but when he didn’t, they simply shrugged and took another sip, choosing not to push. They could tell when something was gnawing at Sukuna, but they also knew better than to poke at him when he was brooding. Instead, they stretched lazily and glanced out the window at the snowy landscape outside.

“Hot springs soon?” Uraume asked, changing the subject. “I don’t know why you dragged me out to the middle of the Alps if we’re not going to spend at least half the time soaking.”

Sukuna grunted, trying to shake off his bad mood. He knew Uraume was right - the hot springs were part of the whole reason they’d come out here. Uraume had wanted to go somewhere cold and isolated for their honeymoon, and Sukuna had obliged, dragging them out to the Japanese Alps. It was beautiful, sure, but freezing. And after the last couple of days of chaos with the wedding, the idea of sinking into a steaming hot spring sounded like exactly what they both needed.

“Yeah,” Sukuna finally said, pushing himself off the bed with a sigh. “Let’s get ready.” Sukuna was still annoyed, his mind stuck on Jin’s text and the earlier mishap, but he wasn’t going to let it ruin the rest of their day. Maybe the hot springs will help.

As they started to get dressed, Sukuna glanced out the window at the snow-covered mountains. Despite the cold and his current bad mood, the place really was stunning. The peaks rose majestically in the distance, their snow-capped tops blending into the pale sky. A blanket of fresh snow covered everything, turning the landscape into a pristine winter wonderland. It was the kind of serene beauty that almost made him forget his frustration.

Almost.

By the time they were ready, Sukuna was feeling a bit more composed. They grabbed their towels and made their way down to the hot springs, Uraume walking slightly ahead of him. The sight of them, bundled up in a thick coat, pale hair contrasting against the snowy backdrop, eased some of the tension in Sukuna’s chest. They were right - this was exactly what they needed. The hot springs came into view, steam rising off the surface of the water, and Sukuna exhaled a long breath. Maybe it wasn’t the end of the world after all. The hot water would help him relax, clear his head. And as much as he hated to admit it, maybe he’d been overreacting.

The heat from the hot spring seeped into Sukuna’s muscles, easing away the tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. He leaned back, letting his arms rest on the edge of the stone, steam curling up around his chest. Uraume was sitting next to him, the water reaching their chin, while for him, it barely rose above his chest. It made him chuckle to himself, the size difference between them somehow making the whole scene even more intimate. Before they got into the water, Sukuna had helped Uraume tie their hair into a messy bun at the back of their head. He wasn’t exactly an expert, but Uraume always trusted him with small things like that, letting him fumble through the motions with a kind of amused patience.

They had barely spoken to the woman serving them earlier, though she had asked several times if everything was alright before leaving. She probably noticed Sukuna’s mood, or maybe she just wasn’t used to serving guests who were so quiet. Either way, once she was gone and the place was theirs - completely private - Sukuna’s mood lightened. He leaned his head back, looking up at the sky. Snowflakes drifted down lazily, disappearing the moment they touched the steam rising from the spring. The entire area was tranquil, not a soul in sight but the two of them. Sukuna had paid a ridiculous amount of money for this hotel, the privacy and the view, and he didn’t even want to think about how many hours he’d have to spend at his bar to make up for it. But it was worth it. Every second of it was worth it to see Uraume like this - content, relaxed, their pale skin glowing under the faint light as they sat naked in the water beside him. The sight alone made his chest ache in a way that was almost uncomfortable. Is this normal? he wondered for what felt like the hundredth time since the wedding. Is it normal to feel this?

Uraume reached out, their delicate fingers brushing through his pink hair, moving it away from his face. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, and it struck him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Sukuna had always been rough around the edges, a man built from sharp words and harder fists, but with Uraume, those edges dulled, and he found himself craving moments like this - moments where their touch melted away whatever walls he tried to keep up. He blinked, watching Uraume out of the corner of his eye. They had that small, knowing frown on their face, like they always knew exactly what was going on in his head before he even spoke. Maybe they did. After all these years, Uraume had learned to read him better than anyone else.

Sukuna swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of everything - the wedding, the future, the reality that this person beside him was now his spouse. His. Officially. And yet, it still didn’t feel real.

“What’s that look for?” Uraume asked, their voice low, breaking through his thoughts. Their hand remained in his hair, stroking it gently, almost absently.

“Just… thinking.”

“About?”

Sukuna huffed, leaning forward slightly so he could look at them properly. “About you.” He paused, the words heavier than he expected. “About how you’re really mine. My spouse.” He said the last part as if testing how it felt on his tongue, as if still trying to wrap his head around the word.

“You still don’t believe it?”

Sukuna shrugged, his gaze flickering away for a moment before settling back on them. “I don’t know. I guess… it just feels too good to be real.”

Uraume let out a quiet sigh, the sound barely audible over the gentle bubbling of the hot spring. “You say that like we haven’t been together for years.”

“I know.” Sukuna shook his head, his lips quirking into a small, wry smile. “But this… this is different.”

Uraume’s hand slid from his hair, resting on his shoulder. “Different how?”

Sukuna stared at them for a moment, searching for the right words. He wasn’t good at this - at putting feelings into sentences, at explaining things he barely understood himself. But when he looked into Uraume’s eyes, all the frustration, the confusion, and the fear he’d been holding onto started to dissolve. He exhaled, leaning forward to press his forehead against theirs. “I just…” he began, his voice low and rough. “I just never thought I’d get this. You. This life. I always figured I’d be alone forever, you know? That I’d push everyone away like I always do.” His hand came up to cup the back of Uraume’s neck, fingers brushing against the damp skin there. “But you stuck around.”

Uraume didn’t say anything for a moment. They simply looked at him, their expression soft and unreadable. And then they smiled - gently, fondly, the kind of smile that made Sukuna’s heart stutter in his chest. “I stuck around because I wanted to,” they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper. “And because I love you.”

Sukuna sighed softly, the sound vibrating against their skin as he pressed a light kiss to their forehead. “Yeah, well… I love you too.”

They stayed like that for a while, the quiet between them comfortable and warm, as the snow fell softly around them. Sukuna’s hand slipped beneath the water, finding Uraume’s waist with ease, his fingers curling gently around their side. He pulled them closer, their petite body moving effortlessly against him, and Uraume followed his lead, wrapping their arms around his neck in a slow, deliberate embrace. The warmth of the water, combined with the feel of their skin against his, made everything quiet - calm in a way Sukuna wasn’t used to. There was no need for words in this moment. Uraume’s head rested lightly on his shoulder, their breath soft against his neck, and Sukuna just held them there, letting the stillness wash over them both. It wasn’t often that he got to experience something this gentle, something so unhurried and peaceful. He tightened his grip on their waist, but only slightly, just enough to remind himself that they were real, here with him.

The thought crossed his mind, out of nowhere, like a random spark: I should get their name tattooed on me. It was such a him thought, the kind of permanent gesture he could offer, the only way he knew how to express what was churning inside him. It wasn’t just about the ink, though. It was the way Uraume had carved their name into his life, etched it into him so deeply that he wanted to carry it with him forever. But as Sukuna held them close, something else surfaced in his mind - something he hadn’t let himself think about until now. He suddenly understood why Jin had wanted kids with Kaori. It wasn’t just about family or expectation. It was because Jin loved her. Deeply. Completely. And he wanted to share something with her, to create something that would last, something that would live on beyond just the two of them. Sukuna had always scoffed at the idea before, had dismissed it as something he’d never want for himself.

But now? Holding Uraume like this, in the stillness of the hot spring, Sukuna felt that strange, undeniable shift inside him. Love. It was more than a word now. It was a reality, a force so strong that it had reshaped his entire view of himself - of what he thought his life was supposed to be. And now that he could see it for what it was, everything suddenly felt simple. Clear.

He chuckled softly under his breath, surprising even himself. Uraume lifted their head slightly, giving him a curious look. “What’s funny?”

Sukuna looked down at them, his fingers trailing up and down their spine in lazy patterns. “I think I get it now." He said, his voice low and almost contemplative.

Uraume’s eyebrows lifted, their expression a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “What?”

But Sukuna said nothing in response. Instead, his grip tightening slightly around their waist. And Uraume didn’t ask anything more, just rested their head back against his shoulder as their arms tightening around him.

Maybe it was okay to change. To let himself want things he hadn’t before. This wasn’t a loss of his identity, of his rough edges and sharp attitude. It wasn’t a betrayal of the man he’d always been. It was growth. A different version of himself, one that accepted that it was okay to let love in, to let it reshape him into something stronger. Something better. He closed his eyes, resting his chin on top of Uraume’s head.

Maybe he’d get that tattoo after all.

Maybe he wanted to have a baby too.

The idea had never crossed his mind before, not seriously anyway. He wasn’t the type for soft dreams of family or kids. He had always been too wild, too stubborn, too self-centered for any of that. But here, in the warmth of the hot spring, with Uraume’s body pressed against his - the thought settled in a way that felt… right. He hadn’t understood Jin’s choices before. He’d dismissed them, mocked them even. But now, holding Uraume like this, Sukuna couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted to share something more with them. Something beyond the tattoos and the wild nights. He wasn’t sure how to process it, though. It felt too big, too unfamiliar. A baby? The thought almost made him laugh. He, Sukuna, a father? It sounded insane. Ridiculous, even. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. If anyone could make him want something as drastic as that, it was Uraume. The person who had already changed him in ways he never thought possible.

His hand slid down Uraume’s back, resting on their hip as he thought about it, trying to imagine what their life might look like with a kid in it. The idea wasn’t as terrifying as it used to be. In fact, it felt strangely… exciting. A new kind of challenge.

Maybe they would have a baby someday.

Sukuna's fingers traced the length of Uraume's spine, feeling each delicate curve as he held them close. His touch was gentle, almost absentminded, as they rested in the warmth of the hot spring, the steam rising around them in soft, twisting tendrils.