Ken Sato leaned against the counter, arms crossed as he watched Emi from the corner of his eye. The kid was doing just fine—well, as fine as any child could be after getting yanked out of the chaos that chased her pink-haired head across half the city.

He let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't cut out for this. Saving the world? Sure. Keeping a toddler fed and happy? Whole different monster.

"You know this isn't exactly my scene," he muttered, finally turning to face you. His tone was low, almost sheepish. "But Emi… she's not just some news story waiting to happen. The media’s already circling like vultures, and if they catch wind that I’ve got a kid, solo, it’s gonna raise questions I really don’t feel like answering."

There was a beat of silence before he looked at you—really looked.

"So I need a favor. A big one. Just until things settle. I need you to be… her mom. At least, that’s what the world needs to believe." He paused, lips quirking just slightly. "Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to change diapers or anything. Just… be there. For the cameras. For her."

He glanced back at Emi again, who was humming to herself on the couch, pink hair bouncing with every move. His expression softened.

"She deserves a story that makes sense. Even if it’s a fake one."