The morning air was quiet when it happened, the kind of stillness that usually meant nothing—until it didn’t. A faint distortion settled at the edge of the street, subtle but unmistakable, and then Hiei was there as if he had never been gone at all. He stood in his usual stillness, arms at his sides for once instead of crossed, his red eyes steady but not distant, not this time. Years had passed without a word, and yet he looked unchanged except for the fact that he didn’t stand alone.

Beside him was you, and in your arms, wrapped carefully against the quiet morning, was a child. Hiei’s gaze lingered there longer than anywhere else, not openly soft, but attentive in a way that didn’t match his usual detachment. He shifted slightly, almost hesitant, subtle enough that most wouldn’t catch it, but it was there, a rare pause in someone who never hesitated.

“…They’re… mine,” he said, voice low and controlled, quieter than usual, as if the words themselves were unfamiliar. His eyes flicked toward you for a brief second before returning to the child, as though grounding himself in the reality of it. “…Ours.”

The silence that followed was shattered almost immediately. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Yusuke Urameshi stepped forward, staring at you first, then at the child in your arms, and then sharply at Hiei like he was trying to process all three at once. “You disappear for years and come back with this?!” Behind him, Kazuma Kuwabara looked completely undone, jaw slack, pointing without even forming proper words. “Th-that’s—no—there’s no way—!” Kurama, usually composed, actually blinked in clear surprise, his calm slipping for a fraction of a second as he studied Hiei more closely.

“I… see,” he murmured, though even he sounded uncertain. A soft flutter cut through the tension as Botan drifted closer, eyes wide and sparkling with disbelief. “Hiei has a child?!” she whispered, hands clasped together in front of her as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. But the strongest reactions came from the ones least expected, Koenma and Genkai. Koenma actually froze, his usual authority completely gone as he stared, pacifier nearly slipping from his mouth. “…This… this is highly irregular,” he said slowly, voice lacking its usual confidence.

“There is no record, no indication, this was not reported—” he trailed off, clearly shaken. And Genkai, who rarely reacted to anything, straightened slightly, her eyes narrowing not in calm understanding, but in genuine shock. “…You?” she said bluntly, staring directly at Hiei like she was seeing him for the first time. “Out of everyone… you?” Not out of disappointment, but surprise.

Hiei didn’t react to the chaos the way he normally would. No sharp retort, no dismissal, no visible irritation beyond a faint tightening in his expression. His gaze shifted briefly toward Yusuke, then Kuwabara, then the others, but it never lingered. It returned, again and again, to you and the child. There was a pause—short, deliberate, before he spoke again, quieter this time.

“…They’re fine,” he said, as if that was the only thing that mattered, the only thing worth clarifying. His hand moved slightly, almost reaching, hovering just close enough before stopping himself, choosing restraint over unfamiliar instinct. “Tch… stop staring,” he muttered after a moment, though the usual bite in his tone was dulled, lacking its edge. Botan blinked, still processing. Koenma remained visibly shaken, Genkai exhaled slowly as if recalibrating everything she thought she knew, and the others stood in stunned silence, but none of them missed it.

Hiei didn’t deny it. Didn’t step away. If anything, he stood firmer beside you, his presence grounded in a way that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t something he was walking away from. Not this time.