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“Hurry up, Tsumi, my arms are getting tired.”
“Shut up and help me then!”
Utahime stifled a laugh as she dunked another dish into the soapy water, small bubbles jumping out at her from the disturbance.
“C’mon Megumi, pull faster.”
“I am!”
Utahime’s cheeks began to hurt from the pressure of her smile. As a full-fledged sorcerer, most of her colleagues would question her decision to spend her free days with children who weren’t even her own. But Megumi and Tsumiki lived in the largest half of her heart, and she hoarded every day she spent with them. Childhood was fleeting, and she didn’t want to miss theirs.
A loud thump in the hallway broke through her thoughts. Shaking her head, she wiped her hands on a hand towel, rushing over to ensure the kids weren’t about to maim themselves.
“Megumi—“
“What!”
“Alright, alright, what’s going on you two?”
Rounding the corner and assuming the best impression she could of her mother, Utahime spotted the siblings dragging Megumi’s twin mattress down the hall and towards the living room. Immediately, each child dropped their end of the mattress. Tsumiki looked sheepish for a moment before she smiled brightly and clapped her hands while Megumi stared guiltily at his shoes, his cheeks burning red.
“For you!” Exclaimed Tsumiki, bouncing excitedly, fully expecting Utahime to understand the meaning of the bed.
Utahime laughed. She crouched, wishing to be eye level with her little gnomes, opening her arms wide for them to come closer.
“I’m not sure I know what I’m looking at, guys.”
Tsumiki reached her first. “It’s so you, me, and Gumi can watch that game you like tonight!”
“If you wanna,” supplied Megumi quietly, coming up beside his sister.
Utahime’s heart felt like it would burst. When Gojo had first told her of his two new wards, she had vehemently opposed the idea; Gojo was a child himself and all the money in the world wasn't enough to properly raise a child. They needed more than food and a roof. Gojo had rolled his eyes as she explained why it was such a bad plan, telling her to provide the nurture she was squawking about if it was so important. So she flipped him off and set off to do just that.
Fourteen months later, Utahime couldn’t imagine her life without them.
Before them, Utahime didn’t understand what it was to love unconditionally. Now, she was sure there was nothing those children could do to lessen her feelings for them. They could murder Gojo in his sleep and she wouldn’t love them any less.
To be honest, she might love them a tad bit more.
“That,” Utahime started, gravely looking each child in the eye, “is the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Tsumiki squealed—a loud, boisterous thing—and threw herself at Utahime, wrapping her little arms around her neck. Megumi grinned sweetly, and didn’t fight Utahime when she pulled him in for a hug, too.
“Okay, let’s get this thing to the living room,” Utahime said as she got to her feet and took hold of the mattress. The kids went to the other end and pushed as Utahime pulled, Utahime moving slowly so that they felt they were being a great help.
As she pulled the bed into the living room, she was suddenly grateful that Gojo insisted on buying the largest television possible. “They need it to be this big so they can watch me destroy them in Super Smash Bros. properly!” he’d said. Jokes on him, she was about to enjoy her favorite sport with her favorite people on his dumb TV. Setting the bed down right in front, Utahime sent the kids to grab as many blankets and pillows as they could.
Megumi and Tsumiki disappeared as Utahime set up the television, running back in a cloud of giggles with the supplies they gathered, throwing everything on the floor in a heap.
“Okay, brownies or popcorn?” Utahime asked after directing the kids on how to set up the pillows. She had the authority, she told them, she used to be a fort connesuire.
“Popcorn.”
“Brownies!”
“Both, then,” Utahime laughed before the kids could begin another fight, sighing in relief when said children stopped glaring at each other and went back to arranging their fort.
She made her way to the kitchen to prepare the snacks, her eyes lingering on the picture on the fridge held up by the octopus magnet that was meant to help teach the alphabet.
The photograph was taken a few months before, in spring. She asked Gojo for permission to take the children to Ueno Park for a picnic under the sakura trees. Gojo agreed, under the condition that she take him too. Desperate to see the kids, she had agreed.
It ended up being a great, perfectly normal day. Gojo was surprisingly pleasant and the children loved being outside and under the sun. In the picture, Utahime was holding Megumi on her hip, his face red and partially hidden by Utahime’s hair. Tsumiki was beaming proudly at the camera, her tiny hand held in Utahime’s free one. There was white fringe near a corner of the picture, a product of Gojo’s failed attempt to include himself in the memory. Utahime was smiling.
She wanted to give the kids something normal and safe, a foundation of happiness that would need to hold firm under the weight of what the world would throw on them sooner than she wished. She wasn’t given a happy childhood—no one in their world ever was—but she’d made it her mission in life to try and give it to others.
And these kids deserved it more than most. They’d already been through so much, it wasn’t fair to add on any more.
Megumi would become an immensely strong sorcerer—the few interactions she had with him using his technique made her hair stand on end—and Tsumiki’s proximity to her powerful brother would put a target on her beautiful face. They needed to be strong, self-assured, and loved to survive. And, if nothing else, Utahime would make sure that they would be.
Returning to the living room with the requested snacks, Utahime was met with Tsumiki sitting on her brother's chest, a string of spit dangling from her mouth and over Megumi’s face, his arms pinned at his sides and his legs kicking wildly on the mattress. He was screaming.
“Tsumiki, you're going to kill him with your germs,” she told the girl. She ducked under the blankets the kids set up and took a seat on the mattress, setting the brownies and popcorn on the console table.
Tsumiki rolled off her brother. “Good!”
Megumi sat up, face purple and contempt written on his little features. Utahime reached over and bopped his nose and ruffled his hair. Like magic, the nasty look was gone.
“Here, Gumi, this is the corner piece.” Tsumiki held out the slice of brownie between her hands, a bit of hope in her eyes. The boy stared at her for a bit before taking the dessert. His sister smiled, large and toothy, happy to be forgiven.
“Uta, can I?” Megumi asked as tugged on Utahime’s sleeve and gestured to her lap. Megumi rarely asked for physical touch, and when he did, Utahime felt like the most special person on earth.
“Of course, sweetheart. Come here.” She gathered him in her arms, tucking his head under her chin and setting him on her thighs.
“Me too!”
Tsumiki didn’t ask for an invitation, pushing Megumi enough to make room for her head on Utahime’s lap.
Sitting with them, enjoying their lives, watching them grow up…Utahime could forget about the ache of the world. She could focus on her kids and the love she built for them.
For them, there would be many springs to come.