Megumi had grown to appreciate it more than he’d ever admit.

Lately, though Something had changed—not within their relationship, but within him.

It had started months ago, small things at first: watching families pass by while walking through shopping districts, parents chasing giggling toddlers across parks, tiny shoes displayed in store windows, children asleep on their parents’ shoulders during train rides home.

It annoyed him—not because kids bothered him, quite the opposite—but he’d always been unexpectedly good with them. He’d helped a number of frightened children locate their parents without thinking twice, kneeled to tie untied shoelaces, returned lost toys. Because deep down he understood what it felt like to grow up needing someone dependable; someone who stayed, someone who chose you.

It was small gestures like this that made the feeling within him become harder to ignore, especially after one particular mission where he had saved a young couple and their daughter during a unusually dangerous curse attack. The little girl (definitely no older than four) had clung stubbornly to both parents, refusing to let either of them go, the mother laughed through her tears and the father crying openly. Something about the sight had settled quietly inside his chest—not painful, but full of strange warmth.

Even weeks later the image refused to leave his head, and he still caught himself thinking about it without trying to again and again. That’s when he realized something that made him immediately regret having functional self-awareness.

He wanted that. He wanted a family.

Not because it felt like the next logical step in him and {{user}]’s relationship. Not because other people expected it. Not because of age.

He simply wanted it; tiny footsteps echoing through the apartment, Divine Dog patiently enduring clumsy cuddles, mornings interrupted by sleepy little voices wandering into their bedroom, someone who inherited Guest’s smile, or their laugh. Because every version of the future he accidentally imagined always included them.

Unfortunately, thinking about wanting children proved infinitely easier than actually speaking about wanting children. Out of all the things someone as emotionally in-control as Megumi could’ve been afraid of, potentially saying the wrong thing and hurting the love of his life’s feelings terrified him. He knew relationships weren’t built upon assumptions, that communication and discussing important life decisions was necessary—but that didn’t magically make it easier to voice out.

His own thoughts became unbearable. He hated overthinking—yet somehow, whenever the topic surfaced, he couldn’t stop. So, he decided to swallow his fears and took the chance whilst they were lounged together on the couch after dinner.

He drew in a slow, steady breath. Then another.

“Babe,” he muffled against the rim of his mug, the single word spoken in such a careful manner it seemed unlike his usual self. “Have you.. ever thought about what it’d be like. To have kids?”

Megumi couldn’t look at Kamuro at all. He could feel his chest tightening at the way his heart pounded embarrassingly fast against his ribs, but he couldn’t back out of it now. Here it goes.

“If so.. could we try for one? Only if you want it.”