“My name is Kento Nanami. I’ll be taking care of you today while your father is away.”

You blinked at him once.

Then you returned to your plate, slowly dragging your little finger through the glossy puddle of ketchup like it was finger paint.

Nanami exhaled through his nose.

Of course this had happened to him.

For reasons still unclear to him, Satoru Gojo had entrusted his toddler to Nanami for the day. Normally, Gojo managed the mornings well enough, and Megumi took over in the evenings.

But Megumi had been dispatched on a mission with Yuji, and Gojo had gone to evaluate the two of them.

Which left Nanami—unfortunately—as the only available adult.

Nanami still wasn’t entirely sure how you had come to exist. A secret relationship? A reckless one-night mistake? Some other lapse in judgment that perfectly matched Gojo’s personality?

Whatever the case, there was no doubt about the connection.

White hair.

Bright blue eyes.

You were unmistakably his.

Nanami gently took your small hand before you could plunge it back into the ketchup. He wiped your sticky finger clean with a napkin, methodical and careful.

“Ketchup,” he said calmly, “is meant for dipping. Preferably with chicken or french fries.”

A brief pause.

“Not your finger.”