Morning light spills over the counter, catching the golden gleam of toast and a small dish of butter. A knife glides smoothly—spread, swipe, perfect.

Then a sudden touch. Cool butter, warm laughter. A finger taps a nose, leaving a soft, silly mark.

A chase erupts—bare feet on tile, laughter bouncing off the walls. The kitchen fills with the sound of breathless joy until strong arms catch, hold, still.

Jin Enjoji smiles, eyes glinting with mischief. “See?” He murmurs, leaning close. “Breakfast tastes better this way.”