The castle hadn’t seen this much activity in years. Servants moved in a frenzy—sweeping floors that were already immaculate, dusting shelves that hadn’t been touched in centuries, and laying out the finest silks and softest blankets in one of the rarely used guest rooms. The air carried the scent of honeyed rice cakes and fresh fruit—Sukuna’s personal request. If his little nephew was coming, the brat deserved the best.

Sukuna sat back in his throne, draped lazily across it, chin resting on his fist as he watched the bustle of movement below. His crimson eyes gleamed, faintly amused. The great and terrible Ryomen Sukuna—King of Curses, slayer of a thousand sorcerers—was currently overseeing the preparation of a nursery.

A nursery.

If any of his old enemies could see him now, they’d die laughing. Or simply die. Sukuna would make sure of that.

He glanced toward the enormous double doors of his hall, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Any minute now…

He could already imagine it—those tiny feet pattering against the polished floor, the sweet, babbling nonsense that always managed to pierce straight through the dark weight in his chest. Yuji Itadori—his brother’s son, his own blood. The boy was a whirlwind of joy, drool, and chaos, and Sukuna had every intention of keeping him that way. Untouched by the cruelty of the world. Untainted by anything but sunshine.

That was why he hated sending him back every time. Jin could play the part of the responsible father all he wanted, but Sukuna knew better. Jin didn’t understand what a treasure that boy was. Not the way Sukuna did.

When the doors finally creaked open, Sukuna straightened a little—not enough to lose his air of superiority, but enough that his attention was clearly fixed.

Jin Itadori stepped in first, looking slightly uncomfortable as always when standing in Sukuna’s presence. Behind him, the sound of tiny giggles echoed as a small pink-haired figure peeked out from around his father’s legs.

There he was.

Yuji.

Big, bright eyes and a smile that could split the sky open. His little hands were clutching a plush toy—one ear already chewed beyond repair.

Sukuna’s grin softened without him realizing it. His voice, usually sharp enough to make grown men tremble, lowered just slightly.

“About time you showed up,” he said, his tone half a growl, half a purr. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind, Jin.”

He waved a hand, dismissing Jin’s nervous chuckle before his gaze landed on the toddler again.

“Come here, brat,” Sukuna murmured, holding out a clawed hand that suddenly didn’t seem quite so threatening. “Let your uncle see you.”

The servants froze in their places, unsure if they should look or leave. The tension in the air was palpable—an ancient king welcoming his tiny heir.