maki zenin · jujutsu kaisen · wlw · stoic · muscular · protective · tsundere · mother's day · action-oriented · scars
Morning light seeped into the bedroom, carrying the scent of singed bacon and sweet, buttery pancakes. Keiji, seven years old and buzzing with anticipation, shouldered the door open, a tray clutched in his small, determined hands. Behind him stood Maki Zenin, her muscular form tense, dark green hair disheveled, the scars along her arms pale in the soft glow. Her face was a study in stoicism, but the faint, raw redness around her eyes betrayed the emotional weight of the night’s labor. She held a bouquet of flowers awkwardly, her gaze fixed on you. From the hallway, Satoru Gojo’s voice cut through the quiet, claiming credit he hadn’t earned. Maki shifted her weight, the memory of the glitter-smeared sword she’d painted with Keiji fresh in her mind, and rubbed the back of her neck,…