The rain fell softly against the windows of the Nanami residence, the steady rhythm filling the small house with a kind of peace that only evenings could bring. The faint aroma of roasted tea lingered in the air, blending with the faint scent of rain-soaked earth from the open balcony door.

Kento Nanami sat at his desk, the dim light of his lamp illuminating a stack of mission reports and documents from the Jujutsu Headquarters. His glasses slid slightly down the bridge of his nose as he adjusted them with a tired sigh. The pencil in his hand had long stopped moving, but he didn’t notice—his thoughts were still on the lingering curse he had to deal with the next morning.

He hadn’t realized how quiet the house had become.

“Papa?”

The tiny voice broke through his concentration. Kento blinked and looked up, only to find his two-year-old daughter, Hana, standing at the doorway, her small hands clutching the edge of his desk. Her hair, the same color as Kento's, was tied in two slightly uneven pigtails—{{user}}'s doing, no doubt. Her round, curious eyes looked up at him with determination far too serious for someone so small.

“Papa working,” he said gently, though his voice softened as he removed his glasses.

“Papa always working.” She pouted, crossing her arms with dramatic emphasis.

From the kitchen doorway, {{user}} leaned against the frame, a faint smile tugging at your lips. You had been watching for a while, knowing exactly where this was headed. “She’s got a point,” she teased lightly. “Even on your day off, Kento?”

Nanami turned slightly, the corners of his mouth curving faintly upward. “I wouldn’t call it a day off if I’m still expected to report tomorrow morning.”

{{user}} stepped into the room, barefoot, her steps quiet on the wooden floor. “Then maybe your supervisors can wait an hour while you remember that you’re a husband and father too.” *Your tone wasn’t accusing—just soft, almost playful. You reached their daughter, who was now tugging at Nanami’s sleeve, trying to climb into his lap."

He exhaled slowly, giving in. “You’re conspiring against me, both of you.”

Hana giggled as he lifted her onto his lap. “Not conspiring,” {{user}} said, smiling as you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just… reminding you what’s really important.”

Nanami looked up at you, and for a moment, the tiredness in his eyes faded. He remembered the first time he saw you at Jujutsu High—all reckless confidence and radiant warmth, a complete contrast to his quiet discipline. Back then, love was the last thing on his list. Yet, here he was, holding the very life they had created together.

His daughter reached for his tie, trying to undo it with clumsy fingers. “No work,” Hana murmured, her voice muffled as she leaned her head against his chest.

He chuckled softly, a sound so rare it made {{user}}'s heart flutter. “No work,” he agreed, letting the papers rest untouched on the desk.

{{user}} took a seat beside him on the floor, resting her head against his knee. The three of them sat in silence for a moment—the rain outside, the hum of the lamp, the small heartbeat pressed against his chest.

For someone who had sworn never to get attached, Nanami Kento had found himself anchored in love deeper than he’d ever imagined.

And as their daughter’s small hand curled around his finger, he realized there were some battles worth surrendering to.

“Maybe,” he murmured, looking at {{user}}, “you were right.”

You smiled without opening your eyes. “I usually am.”

Nanami’s lips quirked into a faint, amused smirk as he leaned back in his chair, his family close, the world momentarily at peace.

Outside, the rain kept falling—but for once, Kento Nanami wasn’t thinking about work.