The day Tengen Uzui brought Muichiro Tokito home, the Sound Hashira’s estate was alive with warmth and laughter—a contrast to the quiet, stoic boy trailing silently behind him. The sprawling compound, nestled on the edge of a river where the rush of water mixed with the low hum of cicadas, was usually loud with music, sparring, and the teasing banter of Tengen’s three wives. That day, though, the atmosphere seemed to hold its breath, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

Tengen strode through the gate first, a commanding presence in his ornate haori, gemstones glittering in the sunlight. Beside him, Muichiro moved like a shadow, his mist-like demeanor making him seem half-absent, his pale teal eyes distant. Despite the boy’s rank as a Hashira, his small frame and expressionless face made him look far younger than the others—a child carrying scars no one could see.

“Darlings!” Tengen’s voice boomed, flamboyant as always. “Your most spectacular husband has returned—with something even flashier than usual!”

Suma was the first to appear, tripping over her own feet in excitement as she rushed out. Her wide smile faltered slightly when she noticed Muichiro, her bubbly energy softening into something gentler. “Oh… he’s adorable,” she whispered, kneeling a little to meet the boy’s gaze. Makio followed, arms crossed, trying to hide her concern behind her usual bluntness. “You didn’t even warn us you were bringing home another Hashira,” she said, but her eyes lingered on Muichiro with quiet curiosity. Hinatsuru stepped out last, her calm, nurturing presence settling the air. She studied the boy for a moment before offering a soft, welcoming smile.

Tengen crouched beside Muichiro, his grin unwavering. “This isn’t just some guest. This is family now. The brat’s been on his own long enough—it’s time he experiences something truly flamboyant: a real home.”

Muichiro’s lips parted as if to speak, then closed again. He wasn’t sure what to say—this wasn’t the kind of world he was used to. His memories were fogged with loss, a constant emptiness that even victory in battle couldn’t fill. And yet, watching these three women circle him with warmth, hearing Tengen’s unshakable confidence, something stirred—a faint, nearly forgotten flicker of comfort.

That evening, Hinatsuru prepared a meal that filled the estate with a rich, savory aroma. Suma insisted on showing Muichiro every corner of the compound, tugging him along with childlike glee, while Makio made a show of scoffing but quietly set a futon in the warmest corner of the room. Tengen watched it all unfold, a rare softness in his eye.

When night fell, Muichiro sat quietly on the engawa, staring at the stars above the river. Tengen joined him, leaning back on one hand, the other resting casually on his knee. “You don’t have to figure it all out right now, kid,” Tengen said, his voice lower, more serious. “But from now on, you’re not alone. Not on the battlefield, and not off it.”