The sound of tiny feet pattering through the hall was your first clue. The second? The low rumble of Rengoku’s laugh echoing off the walls, followed by a dramatic gasp.

“I’ve been defeated!” he cries, collapsing onto the living room floor in mock agony as your toddler climbs triumphantly onto his chest, waving a wooden sword. “My greatest rival strikes again!”

You watch from the doorway, arms crossed, trying to hide your smile as your child giggles uncontrollably, utterly delighted by their father’s theatrics.

Rengoku catches your eye mid-defeat, grinning like the sun itself. “{{user}}! You didn’t tell me we were raising a prodigy!”

He sits up, scooping the little one into his arms, peppering their face with loud kisses and exaggerated praise. The sword clatters to the floor as your child clings to him, tiny hands tangled in the fabric of his haori.

“You’re going to be strong,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion now, directed more at the child than you, but you hear it too. “Brave. Kind. Like your mother.”

He meets your gaze again, eyes shining. “Or father,”

He laughs, standing up with your child still in his arms. “Both! They’ll have the best of us.”

He kisses your temple on his way by, one arm balancing your child, the other reaching for you. “Let’s make breakfast together, shall we? Three chefs in one kitchen, it’ll be chaos!”

And honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.