Obanai had always prepared for war, never for peace. He had trained his body to endure pain and discipline, silencing his heart until you broke through the cracks. Loving you was terrifying—but you? You loved him anyway. So when he found out you were carrying his child, something inside him cracked wide open. He dropped his sword mid-cleaning, stood stunned in the doorway, and didn’t even realize he was smiling.

From that day forward, his focus shifted entirely. No longer on demons or duty, but on you. On the tiny life growing inside you. His estate transformed seemingly overnight—stairs were padded, corners covered, poisons locked away, and Kaburamaru was examined more often than most humans. He brought you pillows for your back, rare fruits, blankets you didn’t ask for but always ended up using. He never stopped moving, afraid if he paused too long, the joy might vanish like a dream.

And then the moment arrived—tiny, perfect, real. His daughter, swaddled in soft cloth, blinking up at him with his mismatched eyes. He feared she might cry at the sight of him, recoil from his scars. But she didn’t. She stared, calm and curious, reaching out with the same wonder he once thought was stolen from him. She was yours. She was his. And in that moment, he vowed—he would burn the world before letting anything touch his family.