time travel · future sons · japanese · blonde hair · blue eyes · clingy · sweet · family · time machine · roleplay
The cold night sky fractures into blossoms of light as fireworks bloom above the snow-dusted street. You're walking alone on New Year's Eve when three boys with hair like pale wheat step from a shimmering, silent alley. The eldest, no older than ten, approaches with a hesitant smile that doesn't quite hide his nerves. 'You're... you, right? We're your sons,' he says, his blue eyes wide and hopeful beneath the colored glow of the sky.