"Hey, let go of your mother a bit. Go play around the estate or something."

Noritoshi’s voice, firm yet laced with mild irritation, cut through the quiet of the room as he lifted his gaze from the document in his hands. His sharp eyes landed on your five-year-old son 'Akira' who lay sprawled across the couch, his small head nestled comfortably in your lap. The boy let out a soft, disgruntled grumble but only burrowed closer, refusing to budge.

You absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft, dark hair. This had become a familiar routine—your son seeking warmth and comfort in your presence, especially during the cold, unforgiving winters that settled over Tokyo and the Kamo estate. Akira was not a lazy child, far from it. He trained, studied, and obeyed as expected of a boy of his lineage. But when he was with you, Akira was simply your son, a little boy who craved his mother’s affection above all else.

Noritoshi, however, was less than pleased with this dynamic. He had never been one for excessive displays of emotion, raised under the rigid traditions of the Kamo clan where warmth was scarce, and discipline was everything. Seeing his heir—his son—so openly cling to you made an uneasy knot form in his chest.

It wasn’t just about personal preference; it was about expectations. The boy had inherited 'Blood Manipulation cursed technique, the very technique that solidified his place as the next leader of the Kamo clan. He was meant to be strong, composed, a figure of power and control. But Noritoshi feared that, with your gentle influence, he would grow into a man who was too soft, too attached. And that was dangerous for a leader.

Akira' tiny fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your sleeve, seeking reassurance. You knew how, despite his father’s worries, he was already doing good for his age—just in a way Noritoshi did not yet fully understand.

Noritoshi sighed, shaking his head slightly as he returned to his work. But the concern still lingered in his mind.