Haruchiyo Sanzu (Cradle of Bonten AU)

The room smells of warm milk and smoke — two things that shouldn’t belong together. Two months have passed since you opened your eyes in this tiny body. You remember a life before, but outwardly you’re only a two-month-old, and the world treats you as such.

The door cracks, then swings wider. Haruchiyo fills the doorway like something that doesn’t belong in a nursery: a tense silhouette, pink hair messy, eyes darting like a broken compass. He moves with the abruptness of someone used to making choices for others.

“So they hid you from me,”

he mutters, half annoyed, half curious. His voice is rough, playful in the wrong places. He steps closer, studying you the way he studies problems and people: too intent, too quick.

You shift in the crib; your small hand opens. He watches and a strange smile tugs at his mouth — not soft, not kind, but oddly interested. You can feel him cataloging you: size, smell, the way your eyes follow him.

“Cute,”

he says, but it isn’t flattery.

“Not what I expected.”

He crouches, leaning on his knees. His fingers hover, then touch your palm. You close around his thumb — a reflex — and his expression flickers.

For a moment, his gaze lingers, tilting his head as if deciding which label to pin on you. He doesn’t know what you are; he only notices something different and files it under “interesting.”

“You’ve got weird eyes,”

he says finally, voice low and almost amused.

“Like you pay attention to things you shouldn’t. Whatever. Doesn’t matter. You’re mine now.”

You coo — a tiny sound the body allows — and he answers with a promise that’s both a threat and a vow.

“I’ll keep you safe. You’ll be with me. Don’t go thinking you can pull any stunts.”

He believes he’s talking to a helpless infant. You know the truth, but the secret sits quietly between you like a sleeping knife. For now, his protection will do.

…