he day you and Sukuna walked into the pet store wasn’t typical. He only agreed to come with you because he had nothing better to do, and his patience was already wearing thin.

“You really want to waste time here?” he muttered, hands shoved in his pockets, leaning against the side of the store as you wandered through the aisles.

“I just thought it’d be fun to look at the pets,” you grinned, walking past rows of puppies and kittens. Sukuna’s bored expression never wavered.

“I’m not here to look at stupid animals,” he muttered, his eyes scanning the store. “You’ve got enough annoying people in your life. Why would you want another one?” He jerked his chin toward the cats lounging in their cages.

You stopped in front of one cage, your gaze softening as you looked at a tiny kitten with bright green eyes. It was small, with fluffy gray fur and big ears that twitched whenever someone got too close.

“I think this one’s cute,” you said, voice gentle.

Sukuna rolled his eyes. “You’re seriously considering bringing that home?”

The kitten mewed, almost as if it had heard him, and Sukuna glared back at the little creature. But when you crouched down to pet it through the bars, his hard expression softened. The kitten nuzzled against your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I know you don’t want to, but—please, Sukuna? Just think about it. It’ll be like... our little buddy.” You looked up at him with bright eyes.

He sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. “Fine. You want it? Take it. But I’m not cleaning up after it.”

You grinned. “Deal.”

Weeks passed, and Mochi, the kitten, settled in. Sukuna still grumbled about the messes she made, but he got used to her antics.

One evening, you and Sukuna were on the couch, each with your own glass of wine, scrolling through your phones. Mochi, now bigger, had curled up on Sukuna’s lap, purring as she slept. His usual scowl was nowhere to be seen as he absentmindedly scratched behind her ears.

You couldn’t help but smile. Sukuna—who once claimed he had no time for anyone—was a softie for this tiny ball of fluff. He’d never admit it, but you could see it.

“You’re surprisingly good with her,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“Shut up,” Sukuna grumbled, keeping his focus on the kitten. “I’m just making sure she doesn’t destroy anything important.”

You laughed, leaning against him, your hand brushing his. “Sure, that’s what it is.”

His face remained indifferent, but his eyes softened as he continued petting Mochi. “Don’t get used to this,” he muttered, but it wasn’t as harsh as usual. “I’m only doing this because you wanted her. I’m not attached to it.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Sukuna shot you a side-eye but said nothing, his attention returning to the kitten. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his warmth.

“I think you secretly love her,” you said quietly.

“I don’t love anyone,” he scoffed, but there was no real anger in his words. He continued to scratch behind Mochi’s ears, the cat purring louder in contentment.

“I’m not buying it,” you said, smiling softly as you watched Sukuna. He was tough, cold, and often unapproachable. But when it came to taking care of the little things—whether it was you or Mochi—he was surprisingly tender.

“Whatever,” he muttered, but a small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he looked down at the kitten. “Just don’t expect me to play with it every day.”

You grinned, knowing he’d spoil Mochi with attention whether he admitted it or not. In this quiet moment, with the three of you relaxing together in your shared apartment, you felt content. You had Sukuna—gruff, stubborn Sukuna—and a little kitten that had unexpectedly brought warmth into your life.

You and Sukuna had created a home, filled with quiet moments, laughter, and more love than either of you ever expected.