#sukunadaddy

Sukuna x Reader

༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺

Two Faces, One bad boy prt. 15

One early morning, the pain came.

Sharp. Deep. Real.

Your knees buckled in the tatami room, breath shallow and cold sweat running down your back.

The women came running.

Elders, midwives, that one female elder who saw your true potential. Madam Cho.

They lit incense. Closed the shoji. Heated towels. Whispered prayers in old dialects.

You gripped the blanket and screamed only once—then forced yourself to focus.

“You need to push.”

One said.

“He’s crowning.”

Another added.

You screamed again. This time louder. A roar that cracked your throat raw.

Time slowed to a crawl. Your legs shook. You weren’t sure you’d make it.

But then— A cry. Loud and furious.

A baby boy.

The elder gently wrapped him in red cloth, already prepared from the shrine but as she cleaned his face, she paused.

A gasp broke through the room.

There—marked faintly across his forehead and cheek—was a jagged, reddish line.

Not a wound. Not a scar. A birthmark.

“The mark of the Sukuna blood.”

Madam Cho whispered.

“A child born of chaos.”

You blinked in a haze of sweat and exhaustion.

Your son wailed as they placed him beside you, but before you could look at him more pain struck.

“She’s not done…”

Madam Cho urgently lifted the cover between your legs.

“A foot!”

You were stunned, breathless, still bleeding, still shaking. You screamed as they coached you through again—push, breathe, scream, push.

The second came out fast.

Another boy.

He looked identical to the first. Pink hair. Crying, red-faced. But his tiny fist was clutched, holding tightly to something soft.

“Another…”

Madam Cho shook her head in disbelief.

“Another one’s coming…”

The room froze. Triplets.

You sobbed—out of shock, out of exhaustion, out of pain so heavy you couldn’t keep your vision steady. Your body was giving in but your spirit refused.

Final push.

The third child slipped free into the midwife’s arms. Smaller. Delicate.

But crying—loud and fierce, like he refused to be forgotten.

The midwife pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered a word only you caught.

“Shinpō.”

A divine treasure.

One by one, they laid the boys onto your chest, still slick and swaddled in crimson.

Three cries. Three identical faces. Three boys born with Sukuna’s fire.

You stared at them, numb, shaking, teary.

They looked nothing like you. Not even a little. But you knew them.

Your sons. They were yours. All three.

Born in a place where you came to hide. Now the very reason you could no longer run.

Too tired to speak, you closed your eyes and kissed the crown of the eldest’s head.

You didn’t need to say a word. You future had arrived.

And it looked like fire.

You gave birth in the dead of night.

The walls of the compound echoed with your screams, and the scent of wood smoke and rain clung to the tatami as the elders gathered, hands ready, hearts racing.

It wasn't long before the gossips spread.

“Triplets?”

One of your female neighbor gasped, her voice cracking with awe and amusement.

“Well, damn,”

Another neighbor muttered.

“No wonder she was glowing like a goddess. She was carrying a damn army.”

“I heard their all boys! It's a blessing from the ancestors!”

But Motherhood wasn't gentle. It was a war.

One baby screamed while the second needed feeding and the third tried to crawl off the futon.

Sleep was a myth.

Your back ached. Your mind pulsed. You bled. You laughed. You cried but Madam Cho and the midwife Christa helped you through it all.

They rocked your babies when your arms gave out. They taught you which herbs helped with swelling, which lullabies calmed the loudest twin—Kyoshi, the second baby you pushed out was usually the loudest to cry and which baby needed more rice mash than milk—Kaishi, the third one was always hungry.

They no longer looked at you like a runaway girl from the city. They looked at you like an heir.

Like a Queen and called you Onesama.

☁️🌥️☁️

When your body healed, you didn’t just stop at being a mother. You stood back up and led. Your mindset just shifted into motherhood that you applied in through the village.

While holding a baby on your hip, another strapped to your chest and the third was held by Christa as you as you spoke with farmers from nearby villages, creating bartering systems that ensured fresh produce for both sides.

You organized a cottage business handmade soaps, fermented sauces, pickled vegetables, all sold through quiet, rotating trucks that never asked questions. Money poured into the compound.

Clean money. Honest.

You did what none of the Yakuza men before you had the brains or nerve to do. You built income without shedding blood. All while changing diapers.

“That one’s not just a mother...”

One of the elders whispered over tea, watching you walk through the courtyard in your yukata, babies following you like ducklings.

“She’s a Sigma.”

Madam Cho replied.

“Sweet face. But she’s got steel underneath.”

One of the male elders offered you self defense lessons. Taught you how to wield a knife.

How to disarm with a stick. How to read a man’s intention just from the way he stepped on the dirt.

The same way they trained Toji when he was a teenager.

So far people loved you. They brought offerings for your babies—tiny sandals, handmade toys, strings of bells.

But they also feared you.

You never yelled. You never needed to. All it took was a quiet look, a pause in your soft voice, and the air would change.

No one dared challenge your rules. No one disturbed the peace you created.

Even the young troublemakers called you “Onesama” with both reverence and caution.

You had become something like legend. One of the succeeding female Yakuza rulers.

But despite all the power, all the balance and glory…

Every night, after feeding the babies and rocking them to sleep—you stared out the window.

Hand resting on your belly where they once grew.

Did he stop looking?

And sometimes you wondered how far you’d come.

Only to still ache for the one man.

☁️☁️☁️

The plan is ready for execution. Shinji handled the reports. Renji led the wild goose chase.

The case of your disappearance wasn’t closed—but it might as well have been.

They leaked false leads to the right people. Burned evidence that no longer needed to exist.

Planted rumors in the right places.

“She might’ve drowned.”

“She ran away to Thailand.”

“She had debts. Maybe someone got to her first.”

Every lie laid down like silk. All for him.

Sukuna didn’t scream when the first announcement came through. Didn’t flip tables. Didn’t punch walls.

He just sat there in the hallway, cigarette hanging from his mouth, eyes staring past the floor.

Empty.

“Don’t give him hope.”

Hiroshi whispered through the phone to Shinji.

But the lies had a cost. And Sukuna began to pay them in pieces.

He stopped eating. The house chef reported untouched trays and spoiling bowls of rice.

His favorite sake stayed corked on the shelf.

When he wasn’t locked in his room, he was in the basement gym, sweating until his hands bled. And when he wasn’t working out, he was high.

Smoke. Pills. Needles. Whiskey.

He mixed everything like someone who didn’t care which drug killed him first.

One night, he collapsed in the hallway.

Convulsing. Pale. Unconscious.

Kaoru screamed like a woman who had lost everything.

Hiroshi held his son’s cold body, sobbing into the boy’s shoulder while Shinji silently called the family doctor, barely able to hold the phone.

That night, Kaoru didn't speak. She just watched her son hooked up to IVs in their private hospital room, a bruise forming under his eye from a fall no one saw.

And for the first time in a long time. Kaoru feared for her son’s life.

Feared that you had become the only thing tethering him to this world.

And now that you were gone...He was starting to let go too.

“He’s killing himself.”

She said to Hiroshi that night, tears in her eyes, voice low as the wind swirled outside the balcony of their penthouse.

“He’s mourning,”

Hiroshi replied as he comforted his wife.

“He’s heartbroken.”

The next morning, Kaoru made the call.

“Pack him up. New Zealand. Isolate him from the city. No alcohol. No women. No phone. Just sun, sea, and time.”

She called it a recovery trip. But really, it was damage control.

Sukuna had made enemies. Big ones. Dangerous ones after recklessly looking for you.

And with him spiraling, the estate’s power was bleeding.

Old allies were turning their backs. The compound was weakening.

And she needed time. To clean up the mess he left. To fix the cracks in the empire they built.

Sukuna didn’t argue when they dragged him to the car. Didn’t speak as the gates of the estate closed behind him.

He didn’t fight when Hiroshi kissed his forehead and whispered.

“Live, son. Please just live.”

He just sat in the backseat of the blacked-out SUV, staring blankly at the city he once ruled.

Your name never left his lips.

But your ghost…clung to him like smoke.

☁️🌥️☁️

Time was a strange bastard.

It heals and it changes people.

But it never gave anything back the same way.

The air was cooler now—cleaner, even. The sun sat like gold above the city skyline as the convoy of blacked-out cars returned to the heart of the Yakuza compound.

Sukuna stepped out first. Gone was the unhinged, fast-living demon in red now stood a man with less weight in his fists, but more in his eyes.

Hair slightly longer, tied back. Face still sharp, but calmer. Shoulders relaxed.

Two years of therapy. Detox. Recovery. Blood spilled in private, not in the streets.

Sukuna Ryomen, the heir was home.

Renji was the first to break the silence.

"Two years in the wild, and you come back with clean fingernails and a neck scarf?”

To which Sukuna smirked and replied with a deadpan,

“I’ll kill you.”

Everyone around them froze.

Renji blinked then bursted out laughing, clapping his back.

“Yep. He’s back.”

Toshi doubled over with laughter.

Kaoru smiled faintly from the balcony above. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her kimono.

She’d already made her move. Gojo Satoru had been returned to Italy. A second, bloodless deal made with Giovanni.

“Take back your son. And never come for mine again.”

In exchange for peace, she gave up an enemy who had become too much of a storm. The family was once again untouchable.

And Sukuna celebrated that in the most way he knew how. Threw the biggest party the compound had seen in over a decade.

Lights filled the courtyard. Every minka lit up. Fountains ran with sake.

Old friends, retired Yakuza, international allies, and even the newer generation danced and drank together.

Sukuna stood at the center, swirling a lowball glass between his fingers, watching time move through people’s faces. Renji looked older. Toshi looked like he has three kids. Even the waitstaff were new. Younger. Greener.

He scoffed.

“Time’s a son of a bitch.”

He muttered into his drink.

And that’s when he saw her. She moved through the crowd like she owned the floor—long black hair curled, dress sharp, face glowing with age and confidence. Slightly snobbish. Aware of her power. But graceful.

When she turned sideways, he recognized her.

“Yorozu?”

She smirked at the sound of her name. Not surprised that she was noticed.

“Oh hey, boss. Welcome back.”

She said all chill and coolly.

“I thought you were in Dubai.”

“I was but I got bored. Heard the King of Chaos was back, figured I’d see if he still bites.”

She winked, sipping her champagne clearly confident about this new image of hers.

Their banter was effortless. Familiar. A little flirtatious, but not serious. Like two wolves who’ve known each other’s scars.

From across the room, his mother stood watching.

Her lips pursed in disapproval, but…she didn’t intervene.

Maybe, finally, she understood that Yorozu had always been here. Even when you weren’t.

Meanwhile, in Jeju…

The Japanese compound had grown. It wasn't just a safe house anymore. It was a village.

A breathing city made of second-story minkas, clean roads, flowing irrigation. And at the top of a hill, a mink with wide verandas and a sports yard for the kids.

Your home.

You were cooking and the warm scent of grilled miso fish and soup filled the air as pans sizzled and broth simmered. Sweat lined your brow, tied hair sticking to your neck.

Then a soft knock echoed from the door.

“One second!”

You called, stirring the pot.

Whoever it was didn’t speak but they did stay.

When the door creaked open, the guest smiled holding a fresh bouquet of flowers in nervous hands.

But no one greeted him. Until he looked down.

Eyes fierce, narrowed, blood-born eyes. A child stood at the entrance with a warning on his face. Arms crossed.

Ryoichi. Your firstborn. His aura was suffocating. Silent. Lethal. He was an exact copy of Sukuna, pasted into a smaller body.

The man, Choso trembled.

“Uhh—h-hi Ryoichi right? W-where's your mom?”

Ryoichi said nothing. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

Just stared like he was measuring how far the fall would be if he pushed this man down the hill.

You heard the door sliding open and glanced behind you to see your son standing at the door probably doing the face that all the villagers talked about.

“Ryoichi!”

You called softly from the kitchen like a warning.

His head slowly turned to you like a puppy caught stealing cookies. A change of aura. His eyes wide like he was completely innocent.

You shook your head, chuckling as you wiped your hands and approached them at the door.

“We talked about this.”

He just continued to look up knowing the power of his eyes.

“Mommy no...”

Ryoichi whined stood in front of your legs like a personal bodyguard as you opened the door widely.

He was terrifying to everyone else. But to you? He was your clingy, silent shadow.

“Goodmorning Choso…sorry again for the kids.”

“No, no—it’s totally fine! I mean it’s…great that your son is so protective…”

You smiled at him patting Ryoichi's head. Tbos lips of yours instantly melted his knees and remembered the flowers in his hand.

Choso shakingly handed the flowers to you and you were about to accept them when two more heads popped out from behind the door completely pushing you back.

Kyoshi and Kaishi.

Out of the three this two look very alike. They both have your eyes.

They rushed forward and flanked you like foot soldiers.

“We told you no!”

Kyoshi placed his hands on his hips. Kaishi copies him.

“Go away. Mommy doesn’t want flowers. She only wants chocolates.”

They growled literally growled.

Choso feeling awkward and scared by the fact that Ryoichi was still starring at him backed up slowly.

You couldn't help but feel embarrassed and grabbed Kyo and Kai on their arm with one hand pulling them aside.

“Okay, okay. Enough. Let the man leave in peace. I'm so sorry, I'll see you at the meeting later, okay?”

Choso nodded nervously.

“Y-yeah, see you there!”

You slid the door closed before leaning your back behind it rubbing your temples.

Behind you, the twins whispered something to Ryoichi.

He nodded like he was a leader of some kind, expression unchanging.

You watched them, heart full, lips pressing into a soft smile.

“Come on, food is ready.”

The scent of hot barley tea drifted across the tatami mats as the elders gathered in the main minka hall—a room steeped in the scent of cedar and smoke. Scrolls lined the walls, old blades sat in their decorative sheaths, and incense burned slowly, casting spirals in the air. The room was quiet until you arrived, soft steps and the gentle rustle of your hakama the only sound as the doors opened for you.

"Onesama."

One of the elders greeted, bowing deeply. The others followed.

You returned the gesture, eyes scanning the circle. But there was a new face today—a woman, poised and elegant, with smoky eyeliner and shoulder-length hair styled too perfectly to be local. She wore a high-end blazer over traditional innerwear, her boots laced clean, sharp. Urban. City-bred. Her eyes were calculating but respectful as they landed on you.

"This is Min Jae-Hwa."

One of the elder women introduced.

“She came from Seoul this morning. Her family was once part of the Sendai branch before they relocated twenty years ago.”

You smiled politely, but your hand never strayed far from your side—just close enough to where the blade usually hung beneath your haori.

"Welcome to our grounds."

You said, voice gentle but steady.

"We don’t often receive guests from the city, much less those with…old roots."

Jae-Hwa bowed her head.

“Thank you for having me. Your reputation precedes you. In Seoul, we’ve heard stories of the Jeju compound…and your leadership, Onesama.”

Her Korean accent laced her Japanese, making every word feel like it took effort—but she spoke clearly.

“I represent a Yakuza offshoot—an old line from the Kitagawa family. We survived after our migration by adapting to Seoul's underworld. We're legal on paper. We run nightclubs, logistics, shipping. But…”

Her expression grew pointed.

“The rules there are changing. We're being squeezed. By the Chinese syndicates. The Russians. Even internal betrayal. We’ve come to seek ties with others who’ve maintained their roots.”

You studied her for a long beat, a silence that wrapped the room in thick tension. Outside, you could hear the crows in the trees and a soft wind pushing the bells of the courtyard shrine.

Jae-Hwa continued.

“We believe an alliance could be… mutually beneficial. The Jeju compound is self-sustained, fortified, independent. We, on the other hand, have the channels. And—”

She added with a light smirk.

“—we need more honorable allies. Not just savages who wave guns in the dark.”

One of the elder men chuckled, shaking his head.

“The young ones talk fancy these days.”

You finally spoke again, voice cool.

“We have peace here, Jae-Hwa-san. Bought with blood, kept with discipline. My children play in the gardens. Our elders walk at night without fear. So before I consider anything...I need to know something.”

Jae-Hwa blinked, awaiting your question.

You stepped forward, chin slightly raised.

“Do you bring loyalty... or just desperation?”

The room stilled.

Jae-Hwa held your gaze.

“Both.”

She said after a breath.

“But I know which one matters more.”

The hall emptied slowly after the formalities. Jae-Hwa stood beneath the noren curtains, flanked by two quiet escorts in tailored black. Her perfume lingered faintly in the air—cherry blossom and steel.

You walked her to the entrance of the compound, your bare feet silent against the wooden floor. The sun was beginning to tilt lower, casting long, dappled shadows through the trees.

Jae-Hwa adjusted her sleeves, her voice softening as she looked at you more personally this time.

“You’re not what I expected.”

She said.

You offered a small smile.

“Neither are you.”

She paused.

“You built this. With your own hands. You’ve kept order, protected your people and somehow made a garden bloom in a place built on ash.”

You gave a glanced toward the inner minka, where your sons laughter could still be heard faintly behind the walls.

“My grandmother did something similar.”

Jae-Hwa continued.

“Back when Seoul was fractured after the civil shifts. She was the first woman to claim territory in Gangbuk. I think…maybe it’s time the daughters of old men start building bridges.”

She handed you a dark velvet envelope—sealed with wax.

“Come visit. Our grounds. You’ll be safe. I’d like you to see what another woman in our position built. Maybe you’ll understand why I’m here. Why I chose you. ”

You looked down at the seal before nodding politely.

“I’ll think about it.”

That was the most you could give. She seemed to respect it.

With a final bow, Jae-Hwa turned and left with her guards, boots echoing down the stone path as cicadas hummed in the twilight.

Low discussions hummed like old bees.

“This could be a path to the city.”

Muttered Elder Oheb.

“They run ports. Warehouses. A hospital too. Quiet money. Clean on paper.”

“More importantly..”

Added the elder woman beside him.

“A female-built empire. We don’t get that kind of mirror often.”

“She carries herself with control.”

Another noted.

“Calculated. She could be useful.”

And yet, as they all murmured, hopeful and curious, you sat still—your eyes lowered to the steam rising from your untouched tea.

You weren’t listening. You were elsewhere.

Ryoichi’s face—so small but guarded sitting beside you in his own chair like he was part of the meeting. His small hands gripping the tip of your shirt.

While Kyoshi and Kaishi—were just below your feet playing with the toys the elders bought.

You couldn’t imagine leaving them. But if you brought them…and someone in Seoul recognized your eyes, Sukuna’s features in your sons’ faces—what would happen?

You snapped out of it when someone gently called your name.

“Onesama?”

Madam Cho's voice pierced the fog. You lifted your gaze slowly. Everyone was watching you now. The silence asked for your answer.

You swallowed once.

“I’ll think about it.”

You said quietly. And no one dared to press you further.

☁️🌙☁️

The room was dim, save for the soft golden light of the low lantern flickering in the corner. A single futon lay spread across the floor — patched over the years with worn fabrics and hand-sewn stars from bedtime stories long past.

Your sons curled into you like kittens. Kaishi clung to your left arm. Kyoshi hogged the blanket and kicked.

And Ryoichi — ever the cautious one — lay at your side, eyes still open, staring at the ceiling as though waiting for something.

“Where’s Seoul?”

Kaishi mumbled, breath hot on your shoulder.

You blinked slowly.

“Far away. Past mountains, water, maybe even forever from here.”

“We should go!”

Kyoshi said eagerly.

“You always say adventure makes the spirit strong.”

“I say that about books..”

You chuckled softly.

“It’s the same.”

He pouted but Ryoichi was silent. His brows furrowed as he muttered.

“It’s not safe.”

The two younger ones groaned dramatically in unison.

“You don’t know that.”

Kaishi whispered.

Ryoichi turned to face the wall.

“I just do.”

The room fell into quiet once again. And soon, their breathing steadied — tangled against you, like your body was their last anchor to this world.

And maybe it was.

You stared at the cracked ceiling above you, arms wrapped protectively around their tiny frames. The cool night air whispered through the shoji, brushing over your face like ghost fingers.

Three years. You hadn’t stepped out of Jeju for three years.

Was the world still burning out there? Or had peace crept in when no one was looking?

Did people still kill for sport in the cities? Was Gojo still hunting you?

Is Sukuna…

You swallowed the ache in your throat before it grew teeth.

Did he forget you?

Or worse — does he remember?

You blinked back the heat in your eyes. And just when sleep began to reach for you —

Tud. Tud. Tud.

A fist on the door, loud and frantic. The triplets stirred instantly — wide-eyed, sitting up in alarm.

“Stay here.”

You stood swiftly, grabbing the short blade under the mattress as you moved toward the door like muscle memory.

The knock came again, louder, more desperate.

You slid the door open slightly—met by Elder Koko weathered face, gasping for breath in the moonlight.

“Goodevening Y/N.”

"Elder Koko, please come in."

You were about to open the doors but she shook her head.

“No no, I just came to update you about Madam Cho... She passed away.”

You gripped the frame tighter.

“She didn’t get her medicine for the week. She didn't say anything knowing the current situation of the compound.”

She added with shame in his voice.

“She knew everything’s been slow since the floods.”

Your jaw tensed. Madam Cho was ninety-eight. The only elder who saw your potential. Who helped you gave birth to your boys and sang lullabies when you were too tired to hum.

She was the reason why you were in this position.

“We’ll prepare a proper burial.”

You said automatically, swallowing down the grief but Elder Koko didn’t move. Her voice dropped low, like a sister coaxing her sibling.

“She died in pain."

She said.

“Our people are strong but...we are not unbreakable.”

You looked away. She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

“Maybe the world has changed. Maybe it's not like before. We can’t stay buried in this place forever, Onesama. You have done wonders for our land and this is only a step further.”

“I have my children to think about.”

“And because of that...”

She said gently.

"You need to see the world they’ll grow up in. Not the one you’re hiding from.”

You didn’t respond. Behind you, you could hear Ryoichi call.

“Mommy?”

You turned your head back toward the bedroom, eyes heavy.

The world outside had moved on. You were still here.

But maybe… just maybe…

It was time to explore the world again.

☁️☁️☁️

The morning sun broke like a whisper, soft and colorless through the mist that blanketed the mountains.

You stepped out barefoot into the gravel path, your kimono sleeves rolled slightly as you followed the thin trail of incense floating from the village shrine. The ground was still damp from last night’s rain. The only sound was the cawing of distant crows — and the dragging shuffle of sandals from the elders already gathering by the red shrine gates.

In the shrine hall, Madam Cho lay beneath a hand-stitched quilt — the very same one she used to sew with trembling fingers, muttering about youth and how children today were too fast and too soft. Her hair, once silver and always pinned tight, now spilled freely over her shoulders like threads of the past unraveling at last.

Her eyes were closed. Peaceful.

But her mouth — slightly parted — looked like it had more to say before the end.

You stared. For too long, maybe.

The elders stepped back, letting you kneel beside her. You folded your hands over your lap, bowing deeply as a show of respect — and perhaps apology.

“She was asking for you last night..”

said Christa quietly.

“Kept repeating, Tell the girl—tell the mother—' but never finished.”

Your eyes stung, instantly your mouth gasped as the pain started to sink in.

She died because she didn’t get her medicine.

Not because she was old. Not because it was her time.

Because supplies were thin. Because the village was small. Because you hadn’t done enough.

You buried her with the other and when it was done, you stayed. Long after the incense burned out. Long after your sons were taken back by Christa to nap. Long after the village returned to silence.

You sat by the shrine steps, the afternoon cicadas loud in your ears, knees drawn to your chest.

This place had saved you. Hidden you.

But it was crumbling.

You could feel it in the soil, in the silence of the trees.

Your boys deserved a future that wasn’t sewn by fear.

That evening, you sat by the porch, watching the triplets run barefoot through the backyard. Kaishi shouted something about samurais. Kyoshi was flapping a broken fan like a sword. Ryoichi stood guard, serious and still, his eyes always scanning — always watching. Just like his father.

You were raising three different storms under one roof.

And the world wouldn’t know what hit it.

Christa walked by with a pail of water and grunted. She live next door.

“They’re louder every week.”

You smiled small.

“They’re growing.”

She raises an eyebrow as she paused on her tracks.

“You’re thinking too much again."

You didn’t answer and she stared at you for a moment, then said.

“It's Seoul huh? What's in there anyway?”

You hesitated.

“Maybe…opportunity. Maybe danger. I’m not sure yet.”

“You’ll never be sure. But sometimes we move because we must. Not because we know.”

You smiled bitterly.

“Since when did you get so wise?”

“I’ve been around noisy kids too long.”

She walked off without another word.

That night, you lay in bed again with your boys. They fell asleep faster this time, maybe tired from the chase. But you couldn’t.

Your thoughts stretched far past the compound walls, far past the forest, past the cities. Into places you hadn’t touched in years.

You saw your parents, blurry in memory now.

You saw Gojo, his cold smile and wolf eyes.

You saw Sukuna.

Does he hate you?

Did he think you ran?

Did he…even remember your name?

You rolled over, your arm draped over your boys, and whispered the truth into the dark for the first time in years.

“I miss you.”

You said to no one. And then louder, to yourself.

“But I won’t go back. Not for you.”

The next morning, the elders called another meeting.

You arrived last, sleeves rolled high, hair tied up — the face of a woman with decisions already made.

They all looked up.

You bowed lightly.

“I have decided. ”

You said, voice firm.

“I’ll meet them. I’ll see the ground this woman speaks of.”

The elders exchanged glances.

“I won’t bring the children.”

You added, sharper now.

“But I’ll leave them in your care with strict eyes. If something happens—if even a scratch touches them—this alliance ends before it starts.”

“Of course, Onesama.”

“And if I find even one reason not to trust them.”

You said.

“I’ll burn the offer down myself.”

The room fell still.

No one dared to challenge the tone of your voice.

You were sweet. You smiled. But now…they remembered. You were also someone's woman in the past. And like him, you could set fire to kingdoms— without raising your voice.

The shrine bell rang low that morning, the fog barely lifting as you crouched to buckle Kyoshi’s sandals.

“I’m not going!”

He declared for the fifth time, puffing out his tiny chest like a soldier.

“You said I protect!”

Kaishi clung to your waist, his face smushed into your side.

“I’ll only be gone for a few days.”

You whispered gently, brushing his hair away from his eyes.

“You’ll stay with Christa and the elders. It’ll be safe here.”

Ryoichi stood across the room, quiet, unreadable. But his eyes followed your every movement, and in them you saw it.

That same look Sukuna wore every time you hanged around Gojo. The look of betrayal.

That same silence before the storm.

You kissed their foreheads one by one. Then stood.

You couldn’t look back when you stepped outside the gates.

The car was waiting by the gravel path, engine humming low. Jae-hwa’s assistant opened the door.

You were halfway in the vehicle when it happened.

Kyoshi screamed. A piercing, guttural cry that didn’t belong to a child.

You turned sharply.

He had dropped to his knees, fists slamming the dirt, tears streaking down his face.

“You said always! You said always stay with us!”

Kaishi joined him, sobbing into Ryoichi’s shoulder now.

Even Ryoichi who never cried looked up, red-faced, blinking fast, lip trembling.

Your body stiffened, rooted at the edge of the car. Something cracked open in your chest.

You had trained yourself not to flinch when bullets flew or knives whispered past your neck.

But this—

This sound of heartbreak from your own blood. It shattered something the gunfire never could.

The assistant was speaking. You didn’t hear. Your feet moved on their own.

You ran uncaring across the stones, across the garden, into the boys circle, falling to your knees in the dirt.

“I’m sorry.”

You said, voice broken.

“I’m sorry.”

They all clung to you like gravity. Your shirt soaked with tears.

You hugged all three so tightly, you thought your bones would burst.

Then…you looked up.

Christa hadn’t moved. But his eyes had softened.

Jae-hwa stepped out of the car.

“I understand if you can’t—”

“I am coming.”

You cut in, voice hoarse.

“But they come with me.”

She paused then slowly Considered. A small smile formed in her lips.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“If the world wants to test me—fine. But not at the cost of them. Never again.”

Jae-hwa stared at the children clinging to your sleeves.

“Then I’ll have three extra seats prepared.”

Later, the villagers watched in silence as you walked toward the waiting car again—but this time, with three little bodies at your side.

Kaishi held your hand. Kyoshi carried his toy knife tucked in his obi. Ryoichi held a stick like a katana, watching the trees like a guard dog.

You weren’t just a woman anymore. You weren’t just a mother. You were a force now—flanked by your future.

The car doors closed. The engine started.

And just like that, for the first time in three year.

You were leaving Jeju.

Glass walls stretched into the sky like a cathedral of light, and the polished floors reflected the midday sun, sending warm patches of gold beneath your shoes. The boys had never seen anything like it.

“Mommy, Woah!”

Kaishi whispered, eyes wide as saucers.

Kyoshi grabbed onto the sleeve of your coat, his tiny fingers wrinkling the fabric.

“Everything is big!”

You were too focused on wrangling than to notice the interior of the buikding.

“Hold hands.”

You scolded softly, guiding them all toward the immigration line.

“Like Ryoichi. See how good he’s being?”

Ryoichi didn’t even look at his brothers. His hand was already wrapped tightly in yours, his other holding the strap of your shoulder bag like a small bodyguard in training. His sharp eyes were wary, scanning every unfamiliar face with his father’s calmness…and your distrust.

Jae-Hwa stood just ahead, waving her phone in the air.

“Come, come! The driver’s arriving in fifteen minutes! I already ordered food for the kids, but first—”

She turned to one of the arriving figure behind her.

“I want you to meet someone.”

A man in a tan overcoat stepped beside her. He was tall, neat, and stern-faced with gentle tired eyes. His hands were gloved, his stance perfectly relaxed but alert. The triplets looked up at him in unison.

“This is Nanami.”

Jae-Hwa introduced with a smirk.

“A transfer from Tokyo. His been staying with us for a year now and he'll be helping us out during your stay!”

You narrowed your eyes instinctively. Another watchdog. But this one looked too professional to be casual.

Nanami gave a short bow toward you, but his gaze shifted to the children who immediately stepped back.

Kaishi whispered.

“He looks mean.”

Kyoshi frowned.

“He smells like paper.”

But Ryoichi didn’t say anything. He stood his ground, still holding your hand—challenging Nanami with a squint.

Nanami gave a soft chuckle.

“I suppose I deserve that. But I quite like children.”

He said with a small smile.

“They tend to say the things adults try to hide.”

You raised a brow. He didn’t flinch or take offense. That was rare.

“Don’t worry.”

He added, glancing down at the boys.

“I won’t replace your mother. Or your father.”

“We don't need a father, we got mommy.”

Said Kaishi in a tone that makes it seem as if the topic was natural.

Soon a cab arrived and inside smelled like sweet oranges and cologne. The three booster seats had been stuffed into the back ahead of time, courtesy of Jae-Hwa’s thoughtful planning. You climbed into the front seat, looking out as the city began to stretch beyond the tinted windows.

Seoul glimmered like a painting — tall towers, signs in Hangul, the bustle of people, and the buzz of a world that didn’t know your name.

The kids were practically pressed against the glass.

“That’s a television on the building!”

Kaishi gasped.

“That’s not a building—that’s a spaceship!”

Kyoshi pointed wildly.

“Stop yelling, you’ll break the windows.”

Ryoichi muttered, arms crossed. But his eyes drifted to you every time something new passed by. It was like he was watching your reactions, more than the view.

Jae-Hwa leaned in from the back, smiling.

“That’s the first Lotte Tower. There’s a legend that a ghost appears in the mirrors at midnight.”

Kaishi shivered with excitement. Kyoshi made a face like he wasn’t scared, but clearly was.

You smiled. You hadn’t smiled like this in a long time.

The cab slowed, and Jae-Hwa handed each boy a wrapped sandwich and milk carton.

“Snack time. We’ve got at least 30 more minutes.”

You turned, making sure each boy had their food, and tucked a blanket behind Kyoshi’s back where he was getting sleepy. Ryoichi leaned into your side a little, resting his head on your arm.

“Are you alright?”

He asked.

You blinked down at him.

He looked so much like him. So much like Ryomen. The eyes were darker but the soul, the quiet intuition…it was there.

You brushed his hair back and kissed his temple.

“I’m fine, sweet boy.”

But your stomach churned with unspoken truths. This wasn’t a vacation. This was unfamiliar ground, and you were walking straight into a new storm.

Still, for the first time in years, the triplets were seeing more than green rice fields and wooden shoji doors. They were seeing the world.

And you…were beginning to wonder if the world still remembered you.

The streets of Seoul were alive with glinting headlights and quiet murmurs—an entirely different kind of pulse than the one you were used to. From the compound’s silence to this city’s soft chaos, it was like stepping into another life. You glanced out the cab window, heart heavy, eyes scanning unfamiliar signs and blinking billboards. Even with your sons beside you, there was a strange sense of dislocation.

Jae Hwa noticed the silence.

“You alright?”

She asked, voice low.

You offered a small nod.

“Just…different. Everything’s so different.”

Nanami, seated beside the sleeping triplets, gave a subtle glance.

“You haven’t been outside Jeju since you arrived?”

“Three years.”

You replied.

“This is the farthest I’ve ever gone.”

Jae Hwa folded her arms, her tone gentle but firm.

“You should let the city touch you. It’s not perfect, but it’s not all war and blood anymore either.”

You let out a soft breath.

“Maybe. But I have them now.”

She nodded, then hesitated.

“Can I ask…about their father?”

The silence stretched.

You smiled faintly, but your eyes stayed forward.

“He’s not around anymore.”

“Oh.”

Jae Hwa murmured.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s alright.”

You interrupted.

“You were bound to ask.”

Nanami’s gaze softened.

“He’d be proud, you know.”

You looked away quickly. You couldn’t answer that. You didn’t know if Sukuna would be proud, furious, or devastated. Maybe all three.

Just then, one of the boys stirred with a groan, then another—until three sets of voices echoed complaints.

Jae Hwa sighed

“They need a break.”

Nanami looked up directions.

“There’s a park nearby—Changmi Garden. We’ll stop there.”

The van doors slid open and the cool breeze hit their flushed cheeks. The triplets dashed out like lightning, their moods instantly lifted. Kyoshi and Kaishi ran straight toward the colorful spiral slide while Ryoichi clung to your hand with quiet intensity.

You chuckled under your breath.

“I said hold hands—not glue yourself to me.”

“I don’t like this place.”

Ryoichi mumbled, eyes wary.

“You’ll like the food later.”

You teased, brushing his hair back. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go either.

Jae Hwa handed you a warm bun.

“From the stall next door. Thought we could eat before getting back.”

“Thanks.”

You said, watching as Kyoshi and Kaishi began pretending they were ninjas, sliding down the jungle gym and rolling across the grassy mound.

Ryoichi still refused to join. That is, until Nanami crouched beside the swing set.

“Want to try?”

The boy stared him down, a pint-sized scowl painted across his features.

“Fine.”

Nanami sighed and sat on the swing himself.

“Guess I’ll try alone.”

Ryoichi huffed but approached slowly. Nanami gently guided the swing back and forth. It was awkward, surebut the corners of Ryoichi’s lips twitched slightly.

That was enough.

Your chest swelled with something raw. Jae Hwa turned just in time to catch your glistening eyes.

“Aww..”

She cooed.

“We got tears?”

“They’re just so… normal.”

You whispered, voice cracking.

“They’ve never been normal before.”

She wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Let them have this. You, too.”

A squeal interrupted the moment—Kyoshi had tripped and was now dramatically rolling on the grass.

You rushed over, only to be pulled into another chaos, Ryoichi threw himself out of Nanami’s hold and wrapped tightly around your waist.

“Mine.”

He whispered like a secret.

You laughed, lifting him up.

“You jealous little bear.”

Nanami blinked, confused, and Jae Hwa burst into a snort.

“Poor Nanami. You’ve been rejected.”

Kyoshi and Kaishi, in the meantime, were already chasing each other in circles, and Nanami had resigned himself to catching one of them for a headcount.

You sat down on the nearest bench, Ryoichi quietly following and crawling up beside you like a kitten. He rested his head on your lap, eyes sleepy but watching.

The sky above was shifting into soft pinks and oranges. A peacefulness settled—foreign, but welcome.

For now, Seoul didn’t feel so far from home.

༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺༻❁༺

End.