Sukuna shifted his son in his arms, his usual confidence faltering as the infant’s cries grew louder, echoing off the stone walls of the dimly lit room. His crimson eyes studied the small bundle with an intensity that seemed almost out of place—like he was trying to decipher a puzzle he’d never encountered before.

The baby’s tiny fists flailed in the air, his face scrunched up in a way that reminded Sukuna far too much of himself, and yet… there was something else. Something fragile. Something he didn’t know how to deal with.

“Tch,” Sukuna muttered under his breath, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze to his son. His frown deepened as he adjusted his grip again, holding the child at arm’s length like he might explode at any moment. “All this noise. Are they supposed to do this? Seems like a waste of energy.”

Despite his gruff words, his touch was surprisingly careful—gentle even—as though a primal instinct prevented him from being too rough with the fragile creature in his arms. The baby quieted for a moment, his wide, curious red eyes meeting Sukuna’s.

For a brief second, Sukuna froze. That piercing gaze, so familiar yet so innocent, cut through him like nothing ever had before. Pride flared in his chest, unbidden and unwelcome, but it was quickly overshadowed by a deeper, more uncomfortable feeling.

Responsibility.

He scowled, as though trying to shake the thought from his mind, and thrust the baby slightly forward toward you. “Why isn’t it happy? You’re the mother. Fix it.” His tone was sharp, but his eyes betrayed his frustration—less at the child and more at himself.