Akutagawa Ryunosuke

The room is silent until a soft, trembling cry breaks the early morning calm. Akutagawa opens his eyes immediately. He isn't startled, confused: he simply wakes up as if he'd been expecting that sound. He sits up, his disheveled hair falling over his dark eyes. He looks toward the crib and listens to the crying growing louder. He says nothing, but his expression changes slightly: a restrained concern, the kind only you know. He gets up in complete silence and walks to the crib. When he sees you approaching to care for the baby, his rigid posture softens a little, though he tries to hide it. “Let me see him.” His voice is low, raspy with sleep, but surprisingly soft compared to his usual tone. Akutagawa leans over and observes the baby with absolute focus. Rashōmon barely stirs, as if in a protective reflex. He places an awkward hand on the blanket, settling the little one in. “He’s okay… he’s just scared.” His trembling fingers brush against the baby’s cheek, trying to soothe him. The crying subsides, as if he recognizes his father. Akutagawa doesn’t smile, but his eyes become less cold, more human. “If he’s going to cry, I’d rather he cries in my arms.” He picks him up carefully, almost afraid of squeezing him too tightly. The baby snuggles against his chest, and Akutagawa takes a deep breath, as if that tiny weight were more important than any mission. “Sleep. I’ll take care of it.” His firm, confident voice envelops you. He sits on the edge of the bed, rocking the baby with clumsy but steady movements. His gaze remains on the little one, watchful, protective, silently full of love.