Chapter Text
Toji wakes expecting pain.
Instead, there is quiet.
Not the brittle, waiting quiet of a place abandoned, but something settled—thick curtains holding back the morning, the steady hum of a building that knows how to protect itself. The bed beneath him is too soft. The sheets smell clean, faintly herbal. For a moment, his body doesn’t know what to do with that information.
He lies still, staring at the ceiling, cataloguing himself out of habit. No immediate injuries. Muscles sore in the way they get after a fight, not the sharp pull of something torn. His hands flex. His jaw tightens.
The kids.
The thought snaps him fully awake. He sits up too fast, breath hitching before he can stop it. For a second, he’s back in the warehouse—blood on concrete, the way Megumi’s body had gone slack in his arms, Yuji’s weight disappearing as Sukuna took him and ran.
But this isn’t that.
This is a guest room. Sukuna’s estate. He's safe, for now.
Toji scrubs a hand down his face and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He checks his phone. No new messages. That doesn’t mean anything—Megumi wouldn’t text if he was asleep, and Yuji would forget he owned a phone if food wasn’t involved.
He exhales slowly and stands.
The hallway outside is quiet, polished wood cool beneath his bare feet. He moves through the estate without thinking too hard about it, following the pull of open space until shoji doors lead him outside.
The backyard opens up like a held breath.
Stone paths curve gently around small ponds, water clear enough to see koi drifting lazily beneath the surface. Everything here feels intentional—placed with care, maintained with patience. Even the air feels different, crisp and faintly sweet with the smell of greenery.
Toji walks without a destination in mind. His shoulders loosen by degrees he doesn’t notice until he stops, standing before one of the ponds. The koi ripple beneath the water, flashes of white and gold and deep red.
They look unbothered. Unafraid.
His reflection stares back at him, warped by the movement of the water. He looks older than he feels. Or maybe he feels older than he looks. Either way, exhaustion creeps in around the edges of his thoughts now that the adrenaline is gone.
This isn’t over, his mind reminds him, unkind but honest.
He hears footsteps behind him—unhurried, familiar.
“I didn’t think you’d be up this early,” Sukuna says.
Toji doesn’t turn right away. “Didn’t think I’d sleep,” he replies. “Guess we were both wrong.”
Sukuna joins him at the pond, standing close but not crowding. He watches the koi for a moment before speaking again. “Everything’s so quiet,” he says. “They’re still asleep.”
Toji nods. He didn’t realize how tightly he’d been holding that until the tension eases from his chest. “Good.”
They stand there in companionable silence, water lapping softly against stone. The estate feels insulated from the rest of the world, like it exists on its own rules.
“You never told me about your past with this,” Sukuna says eventually. Not probing. Just offering.
Toji huffs out a humorless breath. “Wasn’t exactly something I liked bringing up.”
Sukuna inclines his head slightly. “You don’t have to.”
Toji finally turns to look at him. Their eyes meet—sharp red and tired green. “Honestly?” he says. “I don’t want to. But if I want things to be better… I think I have to.”
Sukuna doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t fill the silence. He just waits.
“When I was fourteen,” Toji begins, voice low, steady only because he forces it to be, “I got pulled into clan work. Not officially. Just… errands. Things they didn’t want traced back to anyone important.”
He swallows. The pond ripples, koi scattering as something disturbs the surface.
“I saw things I shouldn’t have at that age,” he continues. “Did things I shouldn’t have. I killed people. They weren’t innocent—at least, that’s what I tell myself—but it doesn’t change what it was. I did it for money. For survival.”
He lets out a slow breath. “When I was nineteen, Megumi was born. And suddenly… none of it felt worth it anymore.”
Sukuna’s gaze sharpens, something unreadable flickering across his expression.
“You know how clans are,” Toji says quietly. “You don’t just quit. Not without paying for it.”
He doesn’t say her name. He doesn’t need to. The loss sits heavy between them anyway.
“That’s how I lost her,” he finishes. “And after that… there was no going back. Just forward. For the kid.”
Sukuna nods once. “You chose differently.”
Toji laughs, short and rough. “Doesn’t feel like a choice when you’re running.”
“It still counts,” Sukuna says.
They lapse into silence again. The koi return, circling lazily as if nothing had disturbed them at all.
The moment breaks when Toji’s phone vibrates in his hand.
He looks down.
‘Gumi: where r u me and yuji are hungry’
A smile tugs at his mouth before he can stop it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Sounds about right.”
Sukuna glances at the screen. “Kitchen’s this way.”
⚙️
The estate feels different with the sound of life in it. Yuji’s voice carries down the hall before they even reach the kitchen, loud and animated as he complains about being “literally starving.” Megumi stands near the counter, arms crossed, staring at the pink haired boy.
Toji’s chest tightens at the sight of them upright. Alive.
“You look like hell,” Yuji says cheerfully when he spots him.
“Good morning to you too,” Toji replies.
They decide on something simple but grounding—ichijū-sansai. Rice set to steam. Yakitori sizzling as Toji works with practiced ease. Miso soup warming slowly, soft-poached eggs prepared with care.
Sukuna moves through the kitchen like he owns the space—because he does—but he stays out of the way, watching more than helping. At one point, he slips past Toji to reach the counter, fingers brushing deliberately along his waist.
Toji snorts. “I’m not your bitch,” he mutters, swatting at him half-heartedly.
Sukuna laughs under his breath. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Toji looks up just in time to catch Megumi staring at them from across the counter, expression flat.
“What?” Toji asks.
“You guys disgust me,” Megumi says.
Yuji snickers into his sleeve.
They eat together at the long table, the food disappearing faster than Toji expects. Yuji eats like he hasn’t in days, enthusiasm barely contained. Megumi eats slower, methodical, normally.
Toji watches them without staring. Commits the moment to memory. This—this quiet domesticity—feels fragile, precious.
⚙️
Afterward, Sukuna gestures for Toji to follow him into a quieter part of the estate. The mood shifts, subtle but unmistakable.
“The men you killed,” Sukuna says, voice even, “weren’t leadership.”
Toji stiffens. “I figured.”
“They were sent to test,” Sukuna continues. “To provoke. Retaliation won’t be loud. It’ll be calculated.”
Toji clenches his jaw. “So this isn’t done.”
“No,” Sukuna agrees. “It’s paused.”
He meets Toji’s gaze squarely. “You and your kids stay here. For now. My protection isn’t optional.”
Toji bristles instinctively. “I can protect my own—”
Megumi’s voice cuts in from behind them. “Dad.”
Toji turns. Megumi stands there, eyes steady despite everything. “We should stay,” he says quietly. “At least until this is actually over.”
The words hit harder than any argument could.
Toji exhales slowly. “Fine,” he says at last. “For them.”
Sukuna nods once, satisfied.
That night, as Toji walks the quiet halls toward his room, the estate feels less like a refuge and more like a stronghold. He pauses outside the door Megumi and Yuji share, listening to their steady breathing.
This isn’t finished, he thinks.
It’s only paused.
And when it starts again—he’ll be ready