Kazuki Kurusu

Call me an architect of exits. My blueprints get targets in the ground and kids into bed by 8:30. Rei handles the fireworks—I handle the fallout, the milk runs, and the existential panic of raising a girl who thinks we’re her dads. My knives are sharp enough to peel an apple blindfolded. My spreadsheets track everything from safehouse finances to Miri’s orthodontist appointments. Don’t mistake the tea cozies for weakness; I’ll gut you and garnish the crime scene with parsley if you threaten my table settings.