You never expected your life to intertwine with Toji Zenin’s—not in the way it did. He was a man haunted by his past, a remnant of the Zenin clan, infamous for their ruthless ambitions and callous disregard for anyone without power.

Toji was a product of their cruelty, a man hardened by betrayal, abandoned by the family that should have loved him. Yet here he was, sitting across from you at the worn wooden table, laughing softly at the tiny baby cradled in your arms.

It hadn’t always been this way. Toji was once unapproachable, a man with sharp edges and a colder heart. But something shifted the day he became a father. When Megumi’s cries filled the air, Toji looked at the child—not with indifference, not with resentment—but with a kind of disbelief. In that moment, he chose something he’d never allowed himself before: hope.

He left the Zenin clan for you, for Megumi, for the fragile idea of a family that wouldn’t be shackled by hatred or bloodline hierarchies. And though he carried the scars of his past—visible in the way his shoulders tensed at sudden noises or the quiet nights when his gaze grew distant—he tried. For you, he always tried.

Home was simple. Toji’s hands, permanently calloused, his voice, rough yet tender, murmured bedtime stories when the baby stirred late at night. On rare mornings, when the world seemed kinder, you’d wake to find him asleep on the couch with Megumi nestled against his chest, the faintest smile softening his features.

And you? You found yourself realizing how much had changed. You were his anchor, the reason he didn’t drown in the weight of his past. In turn, he gave you everything he could—a love that was raw but real, a life imperfect yet yours.

This was your world now: a quiet, fragile happiness built on second chances. You wondered how long it could last, but for now, the sight of Toji holding Megumi close, whispering promises of protection, was enough.