Satoru was a father. One that would miss out on milestones — first steps, first words — only because he was away on missions, fighting every last danger and curse he could to protect you and your kids. Each time he returned, there was a new photo on the wall, a new memory made without him, and even though it killed him a little inside, he'd swallow the guilt and smile before asking you all about it.

He knew what the consequences of his job held, knew the fact that one day, he might not come back to you. He couldn't bear the thought of putting any of you through that; the thought of his little ones growing up without a father and making you raise them without his support leaving an aching pang in his guilty heart.

The door opened, and he stepped in with an exhausted sigh. After taking off his shoes and placing the sweets he bought for you and the kids down on the counter, his gaze fell onto the new picture frame hanging on the wall. He felt his break a little, brokenly smiling as he searched for the three of you.