The black sedan idled in the driveway for a full three minutes while Riku Maeda scrubbed at the blood dried into the creases of his knuckles. The disinfectant wipe came away pink, then red, then finally clean. He'd been careful—always was—but blood had a way of finding the small spaces. Under the nails. In the grooves where his fingers bent.

Through the kitchen window, warm yellow light spilled out into the darkening evening. He could see Daeyoung moving around inside, probably finishing up dinner. And there—a small shadow bounced past the window, too energetic to be anything but his four-year-old son doing... whatever chaotic thing Ryo was doing at any given moment.

Riku looked at himself in the rearview mirror. Sharp. Dangerous. The gel in his hair made it look severe, slicked back from his face. His eyes—cat-like, unsettling, the kind that made grown men nervous—stared back at him. The piercings glinted in the dim light. Three in his left ear, two in his right. The mole beneath his left eye stood out against his pale skin.

This was Kuroi Kiba. The Black Fang. This was the man who'd made someone scream this afternoon.

He sighed and reached up, working his fingers through the gel. It took a minute, but eventually his hair fell loose and soft around his face. The piercings came out one by one—small metallic pings as he dropped them in the center console. He unbuttoned his collar, loosening it just enough to show the cut on his collarbone. Barely healing. Perfect sympathy bait.

His fingers brushed against the faded bite mark on his neck—Daeyoung's claim, given ten years ago in their tiny apartment bedroom, teeth breaking skin while Riku had gasped his alpha's name. At work, he covered it with makeup and high collars. Here? Here it was everything.

He grabbed the plush penguin from the passenger seat—a strategic bribe purchased during lunch—and finally opened the car door.

He barely made it five steps up the walkway before the front door burst open.

"MAMA!"

And there was Ryo, his little face lit up like Riku had just returned from war instead of a Tuesday at the office. He didn't hesitate, didn't slow down, just launched himself off the genkan step with the kind of faith that made Riku's chest hurt.

Riku caught him—always caught him—and spun once before settling his son on his hip. Ryo's hands immediately came up to frame his face, small and warm and a little sticky.

"Mama! You're home!" Ryo's eyes—identical to Riku's, that same unusual cat-like shape—went wide and serious. "Wait. Wait wait wait. I gotta check for booboos first."

"Oh boy, here we go." That was Daeyoung, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed and a smile playing at his lips. He was wearing that ridiculous apron, the one with the cartoon bears that Riku had bought as a joke three years ago. There was flour on his cheek. "You taught him too well."

Riku looked at his son with all the gravity of a doctor delivering a terminal diagnosis. "Mama had such a hard day, Ryo-chan. I got hurt right here." He pointed to the cut on his collarbone. "And here." He held up his knuckles—scrubbed clean but slightly swollen. "And especially... here." He tapped his completely unmarked forehead.

"Oh NO!" Ryo's face crumpled. He looked at each injury with the seriousness of a surgeon, then began kissing them one by one. His little lips were gentle against Riku's skin. "There. And there. And... there! All better now?"

"So much better. You have magic kisses. The most magic kisses in the whole world."

"Riku." Daeyoung's voice held that particular blend of affection and exasperation that meant he was trying not to laugh. "You're terrible. Stop teaching our son manipulation tactics."

Riku looked up at his husband and let everything soft and unguarded rise to his face. It wasn't a dramatic transformation—just a subtle melting, a gentleness that appeared in the corners of his eyes and the way his mouth curved. The smile that, even after ten years, made Daeyoung's breath stutter.

"I would never," Riku said, his voice dropping into that lower register that made his alpha's ears turn red. He nuzzled into Ryo's dark hair, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and crayons. "I'm just telling my son about my day. My very hard, very painful day."

"You have a scratch."

"Emotional wounds take longer to heal, you know."

Daeyoung shook his head but walked over anyway, closing the distance between them. He kissed Riku properly—soft and slow, tasting like the honey tea he'd probably been drinking while cooking. "Welcome home, menace."

"Daddy!" Riku widened his eyes, channeling his best wounded expression. "I'm injured and you're being mean to me. You're supposed to take care of me. You're supposed to—"

Right on cue, Daeyoung's expression shifted to concern. His hands came up, hovering anxiously. "Wait, are you really hurt? Did something happen? Let me see—"

"Got you." Pure satisfaction curled warm in Riku's chest.

Daeyoung froze. Blinked. Then sighed. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't." Daeyoung reached for Ryo, lifting him from Riku's arms to his own hip. "But I'm not letting you corrupt our son any more than you already have. Ryo, listen. Mama is being dramatic. Mama is completely fine."

"But he said—"

"Mama says a lot of things. Mama is a big baby who wants extra attention."

Ryo looked between them, his little face scrunching up in thought—an expression that was pure Riku, all intense concentration. Then his face cleared, and he grinned, showing the gap where his first tooth had fallen out last week. "Mama's silly!"

"The silliest," Riku agreed easily, following them inside and toeing off his shoes. "Now what's for dinner? I'm starving."

"Kimchi jjigae. And before you ask, yes, I put extra meat in yours."

"This is why I married you."

"You married me because I saved your life," Daeyoung replied instantly, the teasing note clear in his voice. He then paused, his expression softening as he reached across the table, touching the old, raised scar on Riku's hand. "You rescued my life, sure, but I gave you a reason to live it softly. That's my part of the bargain."

Riku's intense cat-like eyes finally crinkled at the corners. "Okay, you win, Jagiya." His smile went all the way up to his eyes, a sight Daeyoung knew was reserved only for this kitchen.

Their dining room was small, cozy. The table was low and traditional, and Ryo was currently lying on his stomach next to it, arranging chopsticks with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. His soft curls fell over his forehead as he worked with intense concentration.

"Ryo-chan, sit up," Daeyoung called from the kitchen, carrying over the pot of stew.

"Can't 'cause I'm a fish and fish don't sit they just swim and—oh! Daddy, did you know that fish sleep with their eyes open? I learned that from the TV and it's SO weird because how do they even know they're sleeping and—"

"That's very interesting, baby," Daeyoung said patiently, setting down the pot. "But fish also don't eat kimchi jjigae at tables."

"But what if they WANTED to? What if there was a fish who was like 'I'm tired of fish food I wanna try people food' and then—"

Riku settled beside his son, loosening his tie. The contrast between his tan hand and Ryo's paler skin—inherited from Daeyoung—was stark as he poked his son's side gently. "Little beast, sitting position."

"But Ma—" Ryo rolled over and deployed The Pout. Lower lip trembling, eyes wide and shimmering, looking for all the world like the saddest puppy ever abandoned. "I was doing important fish stuff and—"

"Nope." Riku poked him again, making him squeal. "That face works on Daddy, not me."

"That's 'cause you TAUGHT me the face so you're—wait, that's not fair! Mama, you can't be immune to something you invented that's like—like—" Ryo looked to Daeyoung for help.

"Cheating," Daeyoung supplied, hiding his smile.

"YEAH! Cheating!"

"Life's not fair, little beast. Sitting position, then you can tell us all about fish sleeping with their eyes open."

"Okay okay okay!" Ryo scrambled up. "So the fish sleep but they're awake but they're not awake they're sleeping but their eyes are open so how do OTHER fish know if they're sleeping or awake and what if someone tries to talk to them and—"

They ate to the soundtrack of Ryo's constant chatter. His thoughts tumbled over each other, jumping from fish to the park to his friend Hana-chan to whether clouds were actually solid and you could jump on them if you were high enough.

"—and THEN Takeshi said his dad could burp the WHOLE alphabet and I said no way that's impossible and he said yes way and I said prove it and he said he can't because his dad's at work but I still don't believe him because how do you even—Mama, can you burp the alphabet?"

Riku had just taken a bite of pork. He chewed slowly, swallowed, and said with complete seriousness, "I could, but I'm saving it for special occasions."

"REALLY?! Can you show me? Is this special enough? What's more special than dinner? Oh oh oh! What about my birthday? That's in—when's my birthday again?"

"Three months," Daeyoung said, serving Ryo more rice. "And no, Mama cannot burp the alphabet."

"But he just SAID—"

"Mama was teasing you."

Ryo's face scrunched up in thought, his curls bouncing. Then he looked at Riku with betrayal. "Mama! You LIED! That's—you're not s'posed to lie that's what you always tell ME and—"

"I didn't lie. I said I could, not that I would."

"That's BASICALLY lying! That's like—what's the word, Daddy? When you say something but you mean something else?"

"Manipulative," Daeyoung said dryly.

"YEAH! Mama's being man—mani—" Ryo struggled with the word.

"Manipulative," Riku repeated helpfully.

"I can't say that it's too hard but you're being it!"

After dinner, Ryo thrust a crumpled paper at Riku. "Mama mama LOOK! I made this today at school and it's us see that's you with the cool hair and that's Daddy who's really tall like super tall like giant tall and that's me and we're at the park and we're happy and—oh! I forgot to draw the swing! Mama, can I draw on it more? But it's already perfect maybe I shouldn't—what do you think?"

Something warm and tight lodged itself in Riku's chest—stick figures in crayon, his hair just black scribbles, Daeyoung's figure wearing what might be an apron. "This is going on the fridge. Place of honor."

"Really?! Right in front? Where everyone can see it? 'Cause last time you put it on the side and I thought maybe that meant you didn't like it as much and—"

"I loved that one too. This one goes front and center."

Ryo glowed. "Daddy, did you HEAR? Front and center! That means it's the best! That means—wait, do we have any more paper? I wanna make another one but this time with the swings and maybe a dog should we get a dog? Can we get a dog? I'd be SO responsible I'd feed it and walk it and—"

"We'll talk about the dog later," Daeyoung said, starting to gather dishes.

"Later means no," Ryo stage-whispered to Riku.

"I heard that," Daeyoung called from the kitchen.

"You were meant to!"

Riku had made it through exactly three dishes when small arms wrapped around his leg.

"Mama."

"Mm?"

"Can we play now?"

"After Mama finishes the dishes, okay?"

"But Mama." Ryo's voice took on that particular whine that meant he was winding up for the full guilt trip. "I missed you so much today. I had to wait and wait and it was forever and I thought maybe you weren't coming back and—"

"Ryo Maeda." Riku looked down at his son, trying for stern and landing somewhere closer to amused. "Are you guilt-tripping me right now?"

Ryo blinked up at him, all innocence. "...Maybe?"

"Is it working?"

A tiny pause. "...Is it?"

Riku snorted and turned off the water. "Completely. Dishes can wait. What do you want to play?"

"MONSTERS!"

Which was how Riku ended up on his hands and knees on the living room floor, his dress shirt still tucked in, growling and swiping at Ryo's feet while his son shrieked and ran circles around the couch. Daeyoung appeared in the kitchen doorway with two cups of tea, his expression so soft and fond it was almost painful to look at.

"I'm gonna getcha!" Riku made his voice gravelly and deep, his hands reaching like claws.

"No! Daddy, help! The monster's gonna eat me!"

Daeyoung set down the tea and swooped in, scooping Ryo up in one smooth motion. "I've got you. You're safe."

"Noooo." Riku collapsed on the floor with maximum drama, sprawling out like he'd been shot. "The hero has defeated me. My evil reign is over. I am vanquished."

"You could apologize to the people you scared," Daeyoung suggested, clearly fighting back a smile.

"Never! I am too evil! Too terrible! Too—" Riku cracked one eye open, peeking at Ryo. "—too sad. I'm a very sad monster now. Very lonely. If only someone would give me a hug..."

"Riku." Daeyoung's voice held a warning, but he was already laughing.

Too late. Ryo was already wiggling out of his arms, running over to pat Riku's head like he was a dog. "It's okay, Mama. You can be a nice monster. Nice monsters get hugs."

"Only for you," Riku said, pulling his son down into his arms. Then he reached out and snagged Daeyoung's hand, tugging hard enough that his alpha stumbled and fell into the pile with them.

"You're both impossible," Daeyoung declared, but he was grinning.

"Impossible and cute," Riku corrected, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"Ew! No mushy stuff!" Ryo squirmed between them. "That's gross!"

"Get used to it, little beast. We're very mushy parents."

"Bath time!" Daeyoung announced.

"NO! I'M NOT DIRTY!"

"You have marker on your face."

"That's not dirt, that's ART!"

It took twenty-three minutes of negotiation—including promises of extra bubbles, the penguin-shaped soap, and allowing him to bring three toy boats instead of the usual two—before Ryo was coaxed toward the bathroom.

"Mama, Daddy, can we all take a bath together?" Ryo asked, already pulling off his shirt. "Like ducks? Or like... like penguins! Can we be a penguin family?"

Riku and Daeyoung exchanged glances. They'd been trying to phase out family baths as Ryo got older, but—

"Please? I didn't see Mama all day and Daddy was doing work stuff on his computer and I wanna be penguins with you."

"Sure," Daeyoung said, already turning on the water. "Penguin family bath it is."

The bathroom filled with steam, the mirror fogging up as the tub filled. Riku stripped off his work clothes—the expensive dress shirt, the tailored slacks, all the armor of the Black Fang. When he turned to hang his clothes on the hook, Ryo gasped so loud it echoed off the tiles.

"MAMA! YOU HAVE A DRAGON ON YOUR BACK!"

Riku had genuinely forgotten. He'd gotten so used to it over the years that he barely registered it anymore. But Ryo had never seen it before—Riku was always careful, always dressed when his son was around.

The irezumi covered his entire back. A massive dragon, rendered in black and gray ink, coiled from his left shoulder blade down to his lower back. Its scales were painstakingly detailed, each one individual and perfect. Its eyes glowed crimson, the only color in the entire piece. Cherry blossoms drifted around it, delicate and beautiful. Waves crashed beneath it, foam and spray rendered in negative space.

It had taken three years. The pain had been extraordinary. Worth every second.

"I do," Riku said, crouching down so Ryo could see better. "Do you like it?"

"It's so COOL!" Ryo reached out with one small finger, tracing the dragon's head with the kind of reverence usually reserved for something sacred. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore. It hurt when the artist did it, but now it's just part of me."

"Can I get a dragon?"

"When you're thirty," Daeyoung interjected quickly, lifting Ryo into the tub.

"That's so far away!" Ryo whined, but he was still staring at Riku's back with wide eyes.

They climbed into the large tub together—it was a tight fit, but they managed. Ryo immediately began narrating an elaborate story about penguin pirates while Daeyoung settled behind Riku, pulling him back against his chest.

The position exposed Riku's back fully. Daeyoung's hands found the dragon immediately, fingers tracing the familiar lines with a touch that was grounding, centering. He'd traced this tattoo a thousand times. On good days and bad days. On nights when Riku came home with blood on his clothes and mornings when he woke from nightmares.

"I forget sometimes," Daeyoung murmured against his ear, his voice quiet enough that Ryo couldn't hear over his own penguin pirate story. "How beautiful you are. How lucky I am."

"Stop," Riku said, but his voice was soft.

"Never." Daeyoung's fingers found the bite mark on Riku's neck, pressing gently against his claim. "Mine."

"Yours," Riku agreed.

"MAMA!" Ryo's voice broke through their moment. "Tell me about the dragon! What's his name? Does he breathe fire? Can he fly?"

Riku turned his attention back to his son, keeping it simple. "The dragon protects important things. See these cherry blossoms here?" He reached back awkwardly to point. "Those are for beautiful, precious things. The things worth protecting. And these waves down here—those are for storms. For hard times. The dragon keeps the blossoms safe even when everything else is falling apart."

Ryo was quiet for a moment, his little face serious with thought. "Like how you protect me and Daddy?"

Riku's throat went tight. "Yeah. Exactly like that."

"Cool." Ryo's face split into a huge grin. "Mama's a superhero!"

"Your Mama is pretty special," Daeyoung said, his arms tightening around Riku's waist. He kissed the claim mark on Riku's neck again, slow and deliberate.

"Okay, okay, no more mushy stuff!" Ryo splashed them both, and the serious moment dissolved into laughter and a water fight that left half the bathroom soaked.

Later, after Ryo was asleep—after three stories, four glasses of water, two trips to the bathroom, and approximately six "one more hug, Mama, just one more"—Riku found Daeyoung already in their bedroom, waiting.

The adrenaline was still there, humming under Riku's skin like a low electrical current. It was always there after bad days. The kind of tension that made his hands shake if he let them, made his jaw ache from clenching.

"Come here," Daeyoung said quietly. Not a command. An invitation.

Riku went. He climbed into bed and immediately Daeyoung was pulling him close, arranging him so his back was exposed. Then those hands—warm and strong and so fucking steady—found the dragon.

This was their ritual. Their way of bringing Riku home when the Black Fang didn't want to leave.

Daeyoung's fingers traced the dragon's spine, following the curve down to where it disappeared beneath the waistband of Riku's sleep pants. They mapped the cherry blossoms, counting them like rosary beads. They found the waves, following their crash and spray.

"You're home," Daeyoung murmured. His voice was low, almost hypnotic. "The Fang can rest now. You're just Riku. Just mine. Just safe."

"Just yours," Riku echoed, his voice muffled against the pillow.

"What happened today?"

"Later. Just... do this. Keep doing this."

So Daeyoung did. His hands never stopped moving, never stopped tracing the familiar patterns that pulled Riku gradually back from whatever edge he'd been walking. After a while, the tension began to leave Riku's body, his breathing evening out, his hands unclenching.

"There you are," Daeyoung said softly. "Welcome home, jagiya."

Riku made a sound that might have been agreement or might have just been exhaustion. He turned over so he was facing Daeyoung instead, pressing his face into his alpha's chest and breathing in his scent. Clean cotton and soap and something underneath that was just him, just Daeyoung.

"Love you," Riku mumbled.

"Love you too. Get some sleep."

"Mm. You're warm."

"I know."

"You're mine."

"I know that too."

"Good."

Saturday was one of those perfect spring days that felt like a gift. Clear blue sky, warm sun, a light breeze that smelled like flowers and fresh-cut grass. Riku had promised Ryo the park, and he'd kept his phone turned completely off all morning.

He was in full Mama Mode—worn-out t-shirt with a hole in the collar, comfortable pants that had seen better days, hair thrown up in a messy bun that Ryo had helped with (hence why it was more mess than bun). No piercings except his wedding band, which he never took off. The bite mark on his neck was on full display, faded but visible.

He was pushing Ryo on the swing, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed. His face was soft, open. He was laughing.

"Higher, Mama! Push me higher!"

"Any higher and you're gonna achieve orbit, little beast."

"What's orbit?"

"It's space. Very high up."

"I wanna go to space! Push me to space!"

"Okay, okay, but if you float away I'm telling Daddy it's your fault."

Ryo shrieked with laughter, his legs kicking out as the swing went higher. Other parents were scattered around the playground—a mother pushing a stroller, a father helping his daughter on the monkey bars, a grandfather watching his grandson in the sandbox.

It was perfect. Ordinary. Normal.

Riku was so lost in the moment—in the simple joy of his son's laughter, in the sunshine warm on his face—that he didn't notice the man approaching until he was right beside him.

"A-Aniki?"

The voice was strangled, disbelieving, and wrong. So completely wrong for this place, this moment.

Everything soft vanished from Riku's face in an instant. It was like watching someone flip a switch. One second he was Mama, smiling and gentle. The next he was something else entirely. His eyes went cold and flat. His expression smoothed into something blank and dangerous.

He turned his head slowly.

Tokuno. One of his lieutenants. Standing there in jeans and a t-shirt, holding the hand of a little girl—his niece, Riku remembered vaguely. Tokuno looked like he'd just seen a ghost. His face was pale, his eyes wide with shock.

Tokuno had only ever seen the Black Fang. The man who'd once stared down a room full of armed yakuza without blinking. The man whose reputation preceded him into every room, every meeting, every negotiation. The man that even the old guard spoke about in hushed, respectful tones.

This person—this soft-faced man in a messy bun pushing a child on a swing in a neighborhood park—did not compute.

"Mama!" Ryo's voice cut through the tension. His swing was slowing down. "Mama, push!"

Riku held up one finger to his son without breaking eye contact with Tokuno. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but it cut through the playground noise like a blade through silk.

"Tokuno. You are not here."

Tokuno's eyes went even wider. Understanding dawned on his face, followed quickly by something that looked like fear. "Aniki. I— My apologies. I didn't— I saw nothing."

"Good." Riku's gaze was iron, pinning Tokuno in place. "Enjoy your day off with your niece."

It was a dismissal. Tokuno bowed stiffly—instinct taking over even in civilian clothes—and quickly steered his niece away, not looking back. The little girl was asking him something, her voice high and curious, but Tokuno was walking too fast for her to keep up comfortably.

The entire encounter lasted maybe ten seconds.

Riku turned back to the swing. The coldness melted away like ice in summer sun. The gentle smile returned, seamless and complete, like the Black Fang had never been there at all.

"Sorry about that, little beast! Ready to go to space?"

"YES! Space space space!"

Riku pushed the swing, laughing at Ryo's excited shrieking, and if his hands were slightly tighter on the swing's chains than they needed to be, well. Ryo didn't notice.

That evening, after Ryo was in bed, Riku's phone buzzed.

Tokuno: Aniki. I apologize for this afternoon. I did not know. I will not speak of it. Your secret is safe.

Riku stared at the message for a long moment, then typed back: It's not a secret. It's just none of your business. We're clear?

Tokuno: Crystal clear, Aniki.

Riku deleted the conversation and set his phone down. Daeyoung was watching him from the doorway, two cups of tea in his hands.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah." Riku took one of the cups, breathing in the steam. "Just... keeping things separate."

"The worlds collided a little?"

"A little."

Daeyoung sat beside him on the couch, close enough that their thighs pressed together. "What do you need?"

"This." Riku leaned into him, letting Daeyoung's solid warmth ground him. "Just this."

They sat in comfortable silence, drinking their tea, while the house settled into nighttime sounds around them. Somewhere down the hall, Ryo made a small sound in his sleep—not quite a cry, just a mumble—and they both tensed, listening. But he settled again, probably rolling over, probably hugging that giant penguin they'd bought him.

"We're okay," Daeyoung said quietly. "We're all okay."

"Yeah," Riku agreed. "We are."

The following weekend, they piled into the car for the aquarium. Riku wore his sunglasses even though they were inside the parking garage, still slightly paranoid after running into Tokuno. But Ryo was vibrating with excitement in his car seat, and that was enough to make everything else fade into background noise.

"Penguins! We're gonna see penguins!"

"We're going to see lots of things," Daeyoung corrected, helping Ryo out of his seat.

"But ESPECIALLY penguins!"

"Yes, especially penguins."

The aquarium was crowded—weekend families everywhere, kids pressing their faces against glass tanks, parents trying to wrangle strollers through tight spaces. Ryo's hand was small and warm in Riku's as they made their way through the entrance.

They saw jellyfish first, their translucent bodies pulsing gently under blue lights. Ryo was entranced, standing on his tiptoes to get a better look. "They look like ghosts," he whispered, like speaking too loud might scare them away.

Then the tropical fish—bright oranges and electric blues and yellows so vivid they almost hurt to look at. Ryo pressed his nose against the glass, his breath fogging it up, and giggled when a particularly large fish swam past his face.

But the penguins. Oh, the penguins.

They rounded the corner into the penguin exhibit and Ryo literally screamed with joy.

"PENGUINS! MAMA! DADDY! LOOK! THEY'RE WADDLING! THEY'RE ACTUALLY WADDLING!"

A keeper was doing a feeding demonstration. Ryo dragged them closer, practically bouncing on his toes.

"Excuse me!" Ryo's hand shot up like he was in school. "Excuse me, can I feed them?"

The keeper smiled. "Sorry, buddy, this is just for the staff. But you can watch!"

Ryo's face fell so dramatically that Riku felt it like a physical wound. His son's eyes went wide and sad, his lower lip trembling.

"Riku," Daeyoung said quietly, warning in his voice. "Don't—"

But Riku was already moving toward the keeper, pulling out his wallet. Two minutes of quiet conversation later—and a donation substantially larger than the aquarium's suggested amount—Ryo was being fitted with rubber gloves and instructed on proper fish-throwing technique.

"Gently! They're slippery!" the keeper was saying, but Ryo was too busy glowing with joy to hear the instructions properly.

He threw the fish. It landed at a penguin's feet. The penguin looked at it, looked at Ryo, then gobbled it down.

"DID YOU SEE THAT?! DADDY, DID YOU SEE?! MAMA, IT ATE THE FISH I THROWED!"

"Threw," Daeyoung corrected absently, but he was smiling, taking pictures on his phone.

"This is the best day of my ENTIRE LIFE!" Ryo declared.

"You said that last week at the park," Riku pointed out.

"That was last week's best day! This is THIS week's best day!"

After the feeding, they wandered through the rest of the exhibits—sea turtles and sharks and a massive tank where you could walk through a tunnel with fish swimming overhead. But Ryo kept circling back to the penguins, watching them waddle around their habitat with devoted attention.

"Mama," he said seriously, tugging on Riku's hand. "I think I need a penguin."

"A real one?"

"No, a toy one. A big one. The biggest one they have."

The gift shop was predictably chaos. Ryo made a beeline for the stuffed animals and zeroed in on the largest penguin plushie they had—it was nearly as tall as he was, black and white and ridiculously soft-looking.

"Absolutely not," Daeyoung said immediately. "We don't have room for that."

"Please?" Ryo wrapped his arms around the penguin, his face pressed into its plush belly. "I'll take good care of him. I'll never ask for anything ever again."

"You asked for three things this morning before breakfast."

"That was before I met the penguins, Daddy. Now I understand life."

Riku was already pulling out his wallet again. "He needs it."

"Riku—"

"Look at his face."

Daeyoung looked. Ryo had deployed the full power of his four-year-old manipulation skills—eyes wide and hopeful, small arms wrapped around the penguin like it was already his, that expression of pure longing that could break a heart at fifty paces.

Daeyoung sighed the sigh of a man who knew he'd already lost. "Fine. But YOU explain to your mother why our living room looks like Antarctica invaded."

"Deal."

In the parking lot, Ryo was already asleep in his car seat, the giant penguin wedged in beside him, his small hand clutching its wing. Riku was loading their jackets into the trunk when his phone buzzed.

Work. Of course.

Tokuno: Aniki. Problem at the warehouse. Inagawa-kai pushing boundaries again. Request permission to respond.

Riku felt his jaw tighten, felt the Black Fang starting to surface. His fingers hovered over the phone, already composing a response, already thinking through contingencies—

"Riku." Daeyoung's voice was quiet, but it stopped him cold. "Not today. Please. Just five more minutes of this."

Riku looked at his husband. Looked at Ryo asleep with his penguin. Looked at the aquarium bag with the stickers they'd bought and the overpriced keychain Ryo had insisted on.

He typed back quickly: Handle it. Use your judgment. Don't contact me again unless the building is actually on fire.

Then he turned off his phone completely and slid into the driver's seat.

"Thank you," Daeyoung said quietly.

"Five more minutes," Riku agreed.

But five minutes turned into the whole drive home, turned into making dinner together while Ryo told them penguin facts he'd learned (some accurate, most completely made up), turned into bath time and story time and tucking their son into bed with his new penguin clutched tight.

Five minutes turned into an entire evening of peace, and when Riku finally turned his phone back on at midnight, Tokuno had sent a single message: Handled. No casualties. All clear.

Good enough.

Sunday morning arrived with the sound of something crashing in the kitchen, followed by Ryo's voice floating down the hallway.

"It's okay! I didn't break anything important!"

Riku opened one eye, then the other. Beside him, Daeyoung was already awake, staring at the ceiling with the resigned expression of a man who knew his kitchen was currently being destroyed by a four-year-old.

"Should we—" Daeyoung started.

Another crash.

"Yeah, we should."

They found Ryo standing on a chair at the counter, surrounded by what appeared to be every ingredient in their kitchen. Flour dusted his hair. There was an egg on the floor. The giant penguin sat propped against the table leg, a silent witness to the chaos.

"I'm making pancakes!" Ryo announced proudly. "Surprise breakfast!"

"Oh boy," Riku said.

"It's... very sweet, baby," Daeyoung managed, already assessing the damage. "But maybe next time wait for Mama or Daddy to help?"

"But then it's not a surprise."

"Fair point."

An hour later—after cleanup and a second attempt at pancakes, this time with adult supervision—they were sitting at the table eating slightly lumpy but edible breakfast. Ryo was chattering away about a dream he'd had where the penguins learned to fly, which had caused problems for airplanes.

"And then the pilot said, 'Hey, that's a penguin!' and the penguin said, 'I know!' and then they were friends."

"That's a good dream," Riku said, pouring more syrup on Ryo's plate.

"Mama?" Ryo looked up at him, suddenly serious. "Why is Mama so pretty?"

Riku nearly choked on his coffee. "What?"

"Kenji's mama doesn't look like you. But you're the prettiest mama."

"Oh, well—"

"Your Mama is very handsome," Daeyoung interjected smoothly, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Beautiful eyes, nice smile. But you know what makes Mama really special?"

"The dragon?"

"Well, yes, the dragon is very cool. But also how much he loves us. How he protects us and takes care of us. How he's gentle with us even though other people think he's scary."

"Mama's not scary. Mama's just Mama."

"Exactly right, little beast," Riku said, ruffling Ryo's hair. "Just Mama."

The rest of the morning was lazy, perfect. Ryo played with his penguin army (the new one had joined forces with three smaller ones he already owned). Daeyoung did laundry. Riku caught up on emails, carefully screening out anything that didn't require immediate attention.

That evening, after Ryo was in bed, Daeyoung found Riku in the living room and sat down beside him with unusual formality.

"I need to tell you something."

Riku's stomach dropped. Those words were never good. "Okay."

"I took the job."

"What job?"

Daeyoung's words came out in a rush. "The consulting position. Remember I told you I was looking at that structural engineering problem for that firm? Just as a mental exercise? Well, I solved it. The lead architect had been stuck on it for three months and I solved it in one night and they called me and they want to offer me a full-time senior design consultant position."

Riku stared at him. Watched the nervousness and excitement war on his husband's face, watched his hands fidget with the hem of his shirt.

"Daeyoung," Riku said slowly. "That's incredible."

"They said my solution was revolutionary. They want me to start in two weeks. I'd be working on major projects, actual buildings that will stand for decades, and I—" He stopped, his expression flickering. "Is it okay? I should have asked you first. I should have—"

"Stop." Riku cupped his face with both hands, forcing Daeyoung to look at him. "Listen to me. I am so fucking proud of you I could burst. This is amazing. You're brilliant and you deserve this and we will make it work."

"But Ryo—"

"I'll adjust my schedule. I'll delegate more. Whatever it takes." Riku kissed him softly. "You gave up everything for me. Your country, your language, your whole life. If you want this, we make it happen. No question."

Daeyoung's eyes were shining. "You mean that?"

"Every word. You're not my pet, Daeyoung. You never were. You're my partner. My alpha. My equal." Riku's thumb brushed over his cheekbone. "And you are so fucking brilliant and I love you and I am so proud and you need to take this job."

"It was never a sacrifice," Daeyoung whispered. "You gave me Ryo. You gave me a home. You gave me a life when I didn't think I'd have one."

"And now you get to have more. You get to be brilliant and build things and use that incredible brain of yours." Riku smiled. "Go. Be amazing. Show them what my alpha can do."

They kissed, slow and sweet, and when they pulled apart Daeyoung was smiling so wide it looked like it hurt.

"I love you," Daeyoung said.

"Love you too. Now tell me everything. What's the project? What's the problem you solved? I want details."

So Daeyoung did, his whole face lighting up as he explained load-bearing issues and structural integrity and solutions involving geometry that Riku didn't fully understand but loved listening to anyway. He loved watching Daeyoung come alive like this, loved seeing him excited about something that was his own.

"You're going to be incredible," Riku said when Daeyoung finally wound down. "They have no idea how lucky they are."

"I'm nervous," Daeyoung admitted.

"Good. That means you care. But you've got this. I know you do."

That night, wrapped up in each other, Daeyoung's fingers found the dragon on Riku's back again, tracing it in the dark.

"Thank you," he murmured. "For believing in me."

"Always," Riku said. "Always, jagiya."

Three weeks into Daeyoung's new job, everything was settling into a new rhythm. Mornings were more hectic—they'd become a carefully choreographed dance of getting everyone ready and out the door on time. But they were managing.

Until Ryo woke up at 2 AM crying.

"Mama... I don't feel good..."

Riku was out of bed in seconds, pressing his hand to Ryo's forehead. His son was burning up.

"Okay, little beast. Mama's here. Let me get you some medicine."

The fever was high—too high for comfort. Riku got children's fever reducer, cold water, a damp cloth. Ryo whimpered and clung to him, his small body radiating heat.

By morning, the fever had come down slightly but Ryo was still miserable. Daeyoung had an important meeting he couldn't miss. Riku had a critical negotiation scheduled.

"I can cancel," Daeyoung said, already reaching for his phone.

"No. This is your first major presentation. You're not missing it." Riku was already texting, rescheduling what he could. "I've got him."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Go. Be brilliant. I'll handle things from here."

Daeyoung left reluctantly, kissing both of them goodbye. Riku settled on the couch with Ryo sprawled across his lap, phone in hand.

The problem was, some things couldn't be rescheduled.

At 10 AM, his phone rang. Tokuno.

"Aniki, I'm sorry to bother you, but the payment from the Yamamoto group is late. Shiro wants to know if we should—"

"Tell Shiro I don't care what the excuse is. He had his deadline. Seize the asset today."

"But Aniki, he's claiming his bank made an error—"

"Not my problem. He knew the terms. Handle it."

"Mama..." Ryo's small voice interrupted. "My tummy hurts..."

Riku's voice immediately shifted, going soft and gentle. "I know, baby. I know it hurts. Is it a sick tummy or a hungry tummy?"

"Sick..."

"Okay. Want to try some apple juice? Cold might feel good."

Ryo nodded weakly against his chest. Riku stood carefully, carrying his son to the kitchen with one arm while holding his phone with the other.

"Tokuno, you still there?"

"Yes, Aniki."

"One hour. I want confirmation in one hour or I'm coming down there myself." His voice went flat and cold. "And you know you don't want me to come down there while I'm in a bad mood."

"Understood, Aniki."

Riku hung up and poured apple juice into Ryo's favorite cup—the one with the penguins on it. He helped his son take small sips, wiping his mouth gently when he was done.

"Good job, little beast. You're being so brave."

"Mama?" Ryo's eyes were droopy with fever and exhaustion. "Can we watch the penguin show?"

"We can watch anything you want, baby."

Riku settled them back on the couch, queueing up a nature documentary about penguins. Ryo curled into his side, his small hand fisting in Riku's shirt.

For the next several hours, Riku existed in two worlds simultaneously. In one, he was Mama—patient and gentle, wiping his son's face with a cool cloth, singing soft songs, providing comfort. In the other, he was the Black Fang—cold and efficient, handling business via phone and text, making decisions that affected lives and livelihoods.

"Yes, Ryo-chan, look at the baby penguin. He's so fluffy..." mute "I said seize it. All of it. I don't care if he's begging. Should have thought of that before he missed the deadline." unmute "Oh no, did the baby penguin slip? Poor little guy..."

His phone buzzed with a text. Problem at warehouse three. Needs your attention.

Riku typed back one-handed: Delegate to Matsumoto. I'm unavailable today.

But Aniki—

DID I STUTTER?

No, Aniki. My apologies.

"Mama?" Ryo's voice was so small. "I'm thirsty again..."

"Okay, baby. Let's get you more juice."

Another call. Another problem. Another situation that apparently required the Black Fang's immediate attention.

"Fix it yourself or wait until tomorrow," Riku said flatly. "I'm with my son. Unless someone is actively dying, do not call me again."

By the time Daeyoung got home that evening—his first presentation apparently a huge success, his face glowing with pride and excitement—he found Riku on the couch, still in his pajamas, Ryo asleep across his lap, phone on the floor buzzing uselessly.

"How did it—" Daeyoung started, then took in the scene. His expression softened. "Rough day?"

"He's okay. Fever broke an hour ago. He's been sleeping since then." Riku's voice was hoarse from talking all day. "How was the presentation?"

"Good. Really good. But tell me later." Daeyoung carefully lifted Ryo from Riku's lap, cradling their son against his chest. "Let me put him to bed. You look exhausted."

"I'm fine."

"You're not, but we'll talk about it after." Daeyoung carried Ryo down the hall, and Riku could hear him murmuring softly to their son, probably singing the lullaby they'd been using since Ryo was a baby.

When Daeyoung came back, he sat beside Riku and pulled him close without a word. His hand found the dragon on Riku's back through his shirt, pressing firmly.

"You're here," Daeyoung said quietly. "You're home. You kept him safe. You kept everything running. You did good."

Riku let out a breath he felt like he'd been holding all day. "I wanted to be there. For your presentation. I wanted—"

"I know. And it's okay. There will be other presentations. Ryo needed you today, and you were here. That's what matters."

"Tell me about it anyway. The presentation."

So Daeyoung did, his voice low and soothing, and Riku let the words wash over him while his alpha's steady presence pulled him gradually back from the edge of the Black Fang's coldness.

Monday started like any other Monday. Daeyoung left for work, nervous and excited about his second week. Riku dropped Ryo at preschool, watching him run inside with his penguin backpack, already chattering at his teacher about the fever he'd had.

Then Riku's phone rang before he'd even pulled out of the parking lot.

"Talk," he said, not bothering with greetings.

"Aniki." Tokuno's voice was tight, controlled. Wrong. "We have a problem. Inagawa-kai. They're not just pushing boundaries anymore."

Riku's blood went cold. "Explain."

"One of their scouts was spotted this morning. In your suburb."

Everything stopped. The world narrowed down to Tokuno's voice and the rushing sound of blood in Riku's ears.

"Where. Exactly."

"Two streets over from your house. He was taking photographs. Security cameras, patrol routes, residential layouts. We grabbed him before he could finish."

Riku's hands tightened on the steering wheel hard enough to hurt. "Where is he now?"

"Holding room three."

"Don't touch him. I'm on my way."

The drive to the office took twelve minutes. Riku didn't remember a single second of it. By the time he walked through the door, he'd already transformed completely—the Mama left behind in the preschool parking lot, the Black Fang fully emerged.

His subordinates took one look at his face and immediately bowed low, scattering out of his path. The aura rolling off him was suffocating, dangerous. Someone whispered "Aniki" and it sounded like a prayer.

Tokuno met him at the door to holding room three. "Aniki, he's ready for questioning. I can handle—"

"Out."

"Aniki—"

"Tokuno." Riku's voice was pleasant, which made it infinitely worse. "Get out. Guard the door. No one comes in. No one."

Tokuno's face went pale. "Yes, Aniki."

Riku entered the room. The man—young, stupid, low-level Inagawa-kai—was tied to a chair. His face was already bruised, which meant Tokuno had gotten in a few hits during the grab. Good.

"Please," the man gasped when he saw Riku. "Please, I was just following orders—"

"You were on my street." Riku's voice was calm, conversational. He circled the chair slowly, like a predator assessing prey. "You were photographing my neighborhood."

"I didn't know! I swear I didn't know it was—"

"You were taking pictures of where my son plays." Riku stopped in front of him, crouching down so they were eye level. His cat-like eyes were flat, emotionless. "Where my family lives. Where my four-year-old rides his bike."

"I didn't know, I swear, please—"

Riku smiled. It was worse than the coldness. "Let me explain something to you. Very clearly. So there's no confusion."

What happened next was methodical and educational. Riku didn't raise his voice once. He simply explained, in graphic and anatomical detail, exactly what would happen to this man, to everyone he knew, to everyone he'd ever loved, if anyone from any organization ever set foot in that suburb again.

He explained it slowly. Made sure it was understood.

Then he made certain the lesson would be remembered.

Twenty minutes later, Riku emerged from the room. The man was alive—barely—but he would never walk again. And he would wake up every day for the rest of his life remembering the Black Fang's face.

Tokuno was waiting outside, his face carefully blank.

"Clean it up," Riku said. "Then send a message to the Inagawa-kai. Tell them if they want war, I'll give them war. But make it very clear that if anyone comes near my family again, I won't stop at their soldiers. I'll go straight to the top and work my way down."

"Yes, Aniki."

"And Tokuno? Increase security around my neighborhood. I want eyes everywhere. I want to know if a stray cat crosses into that suburb."

"Understood, Aniki."

Riku went to the bathroom, washing his hands meticulously. He stared at himself in the mirror—at the cold, dangerous thing looking back at him. This was the Black Fang. This was the man who did terrible things to keep his family safe.

He checked his suit. Not a drop of blood. Good.

Then his phone alarm went off. 3:00 PM. The cheerful chime sounded obscene in the quiet bathroom.

Pick up Ryo - Penguin Park! 🐧

Riku stared at the screen. At the penguin emoji he'd added to make himself smile. At the reminder of the promise he'd made to take Ryo to the park after school.

Slowly, carefully, he took a deep breath. Then another.

He removed the piercings, dropping them in his pocket. Unbuttoned his collar. Ran his hands through his hair until it fell soft and messy. He looked at himself in the mirror again.

The Black Fang stared back.

Another breath. Another.

Gradually, the coldness receded. The flatness left his eyes. His expression softened.

There. Mama.

By the time he pulled up to the preschool, the transformation was complete. He was just another parent in the pickup line, smiling when Ryo burst through the door.

"MAMA!"

Riku caught him, lifting him up and burying his face in his son's hair. Ryo smelled like crayons and playground dirt and innocence. The last of the cold rage melted away, replaced by something fierce and protective and warm.

"Hey, little beast. How was your day?"

"Good! I painted a butterfly! Three butterflies! Want to see?"

"More than anything in the world."

They went to the park like he'd promised. Riku pushed Ryo on the swings and helped him across the monkey bars and chased him around the playground while his son shrieked with laughter. And if his phone buzzed constantly in his pocket with updates about the message being delivered to the Inagawa-kai, well. That was a different world. A different life.

Here, now, he was just Mama. And that was enough.

That evening, after Ryo was asleep, Riku was quiet. Too quiet. Daeyoung found him standing at the kitchen window, staring out at their backyard, his shoulders tight with tension.

"Hey," Daeyoung said softly. "Talk to me."

"They got close." Riku's voice was low, carefully controlled. "To home. To Ryo."

Daeyoung went still. "How close?"

"Two streets over. Taking pictures."

"Jesus."

"It's handled. It won't happen again." Riku's hands clenched into fists. "I made sure it won't happen again."

Daeyoung stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Riku's waist and pulling him back against his chest. "But it didn't happen. You stopped it. Ryo is safe. I'm safe. We're all here, and we're okay."

"This time."

"Every time." Daeyoung's voice was firm, steady. "You always keep us safe. Every single time. And right now, you're home. You're here with us. You're grounded." His hands found their way under Riku's shirt, pressing against the dragon on his back. "I've got you."

Riku let out a shaky breath and leaned back into his alpha's strength. "I scared myself today. What I did—"

"Protected our family. That's what you did. And I know it's not easy. I know it costs you something every time. But you're not alone in this, Riku. You're not carrying it by yourself."

"I love you," Riku whispered.

"I love you too. So much." Daeyoung kissed the claim mark on his neck, slow and deliberate. "Mine. My omega. My dragon. My Riku."

"Yours," Riku agreed. "Always yours."

They stood there for a long time, wrapped around each other in the quiet kitchen, while the house settled into sleep around them.

A month later, they'd found their new normal.

Mornings were chaos, but managed chaos. Daeyoung left first, always with a kiss and a "be safe" and Riku touching the claim mark on his neck like a talisman. Then Riku would get Ryo ready, drive him to preschool, and watch him run inside with his penguin backpack.

Then the piercings went in. The hair got slicked back. Mama disappeared and the Black Fang emerged.

Evenings were the reverse. By 3 PM, Riku was always back to Mama, always there for pickup, always ready for "Mama guess what happened today!"

They were making it work.

One evening, they were all piled on the couch—some animated movie playing that Ryo had insisted on, though he'd fallen asleep within twenty minutes. He was sprawled across both their laps, one hand clutching his penguin, his face soft and peaceful in sleep.

"We make beautiful kids," Riku said quietly, stroking Ryo's hair.

"We made one beautiful kid," Daeyoung corrected, but he was smiling.

"We could make another."

Daeyoung looked at him in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Maybe." Riku kept his eyes on their son. "He's getting bigger. Soon he won't need us as much. And I liked having a baby. Liked being pregnant. Liked all of it."

"You liked middle-of-the-night feedings and diaper explosions?"

"I liked having a tiny person who needed us. Who we made together." Riku finally looked up at his alpha. "But only if you want to. No pressure."

Daeyoung was quiet for a long moment, his hand absently running through Ryo's hair. "Maybe," he said finally. "Someday. When things are more settled. When I'm more established at work and you're—"

"Less likely to terrify yakuza into wetting themselves?"

"I was going to say less stressed, but sure."

Riku huffed a laugh. "Fair enough. Someday, then."

"Someday," Daeyoung agreed.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the movie playing quietly in the background. Eventually, Daeyoung spoke again, his voice soft.

"Tell me something good."

It was their ritual. Their way of ending each day with gratitude instead of worry.

Riku thought about it. "Ryo's healthy. Your presentation last week went well. The house is quiet. We're safe." He reached up to touch the claim mark on his neck. "And I'm yours."

"You are," Daeyoung agreed, leaning down to kiss it. "Always mine. My dragon."

"Always."

Fifteen Years Earlier

The first time Riku saw Kim Daeyoung, he was thirteen years old and definitely not supposed to be in the warehouse rafters after midnight.

But Riku had always been curious, always wanted to know what his uncle really did. So he snuck out, climbed up into the shadows, and watched.

They dragged the boy in around 2 AM. Seventeen, maybe eighteen. Thin. Shaking hard enough that Riku could hear his teeth chattering. The scent hit Riku like a punch—alpha, but wrong. Terrified. Alphas weren't supposed to smell like that.

"Alpha?" His uncle's voice dripped with mockery as he flipped through papers. "Your father promised a prime alpha. Perfect for security. But this?" He gestured at the trembling boy. "Useless. What kind of alpha cries?"

The boy was crying. Silent tears, whole body shaking.

"Maybe we can find another use for such a pretty thing," his uncle said, and the way he laughed made thirteen-year-old Riku feel sick.

That night, Riku couldn't sleep. He kept seeing those tears, smelling that fear.

At 4 AM, he crept down to the holding cells with rice balls stolen from the kitchen and his own blanket. The boy was curled in the corner, face buried in his knees.

"Hey," Riku whispered through the bars.

The boy's head shot up, eyes wide with terror.

"I won't hurt you." Riku pushed the food and blanket through. "You must be hungry."

The boy stared at the rice balls like they might be poisoned. His Japanese was broken, heavily accented when he finally spoke. "Why?"

"Because nobody else will."

"I don't want to die." The boy's voice cracked. "Please. Don't let them—"

"I won't." Riku had no power to make that promise. He was just his uncle's omega nephew, barely tolerated. But he said it anyway. "I won't let them kill you."

His name was Kim Daeyoung. Studying engineering in Seoul when his parents sold him for their debts. Pulled out of class, put on a plane, handed over like property.

For two years, Riku protected him however he could. Extra food. Books. Small mercies that kept Daeyoung alive.

When Riku was fifteen, his uncle tried to rent Daeyoung out. Riku put three men in the hospital that night and stood in front of Daeyoung's cell door with a knife and murder in his eyes.

"Touch him and I'll fucking kill you," he'd snarled, his omega scent sharp with rage.

His uncle had actually backed down. "You want to keep the broken alpha? Fine. He's yours. Your responsibility."

At sixteen, Riku made it official. Claimed Daeyoung as his alpha, let Daeyoung mark his neck in return. They were bound.

"Why?" Daeyoung asked afterward, touching the fresh bite on Riku's neck with something like wonder. "Why do all this? You could have any alpha—"

"I don't want any alpha." Riku looked at him—this gentle person who loved math and smiled soft despite everything. "I want you. You're mine. And I protect what's mine."

They married at twenty. Quiet, simple, real.

At twenty-two, Riku got pregnant. It was terrifying and perfect and when Ryo came into the world screaming, Riku held his son and made a promise: This child would never know the fear Daeyoung had known. Would never be sold or used or treated as less than human.

Whatever it took.

Years later, Ryo would ask why people called his Mama the Black Fang. And Riku would tell him the truth—that he did bad things for good reasons, and someday Ryo would have to decide if that was the same as being good.

And Ryo would hug him tight and say, "You protect us, Mama. That makes you good to me."

Because family wasn't about being perfect. It was about showing up. About choosing each other every single day. About loving fiercely even when it was hard.

The Maeda-Kim family had that down to an art.

In the space between violence and tenderness, between the Black Fang and just Mama, Riku Maeda found something he never expected: home.

And he would burn down the world to keep it safe.