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Sometimes it’s difficult, taking care of the kids. Satoru has lost count of how many times that dark hair and those green eyes have pushed him into fight-or-flight mode, just by simply existing. When the son is fresh out of the shower and his hair is weighed down by the water, flattened over his ears, Satoru is certain it’s because the universe wants to see him suffer. There aren’t many things that scare Gojo Satoru; the one thing that does seems to have taken the form of a pouty little boy.
Satoru isn’t sure why he keeps this promise– it wasn’t much of a promise, really. The monster had mentioned a son, his son, and suggested Satoru look into it. Perhaps feed him and his stepsister every now and then. Nowhere in this “agreement” did it say Satoru had to host the kids’ birthday parties or take them to amusement parks or let them sleepover at his apartment with Shoko, Nanami, and Utahime.
Nowhere in this “agreement” did it say Satoru had to be a father.
And yet, here he is, driving the kids back home after Tsumiki’s field hockey game, gripping the wheel tighter than he needs to because he’s not used to driving. (He doesn’t have his license because why would he? He can teleport.)
Megumi’s asleep in the backseat, and Tsumiki sits beside him, reading a comic book Satoru had lent her a couple days ago. Trashy pop music hums quietly from the car’s stereo; Satoru hums along on instinct.
He keeps checking on the kids through the rearview mirror like something could’ve happened to them in the five seconds since Satoru last checked. But he’s paranoid, and he can’t stop. The only thing he can think about is how awful of a driver he is and how the chances of him crashing and killing the kids is way higher than it should be–
“The light is green,” Tsumiki whispers, gently flipping the comic book page. She doesn’t bother lifting her eyes, but there’s still a soft kindness in her tone that prevents Satoru from taking offense. He wills himself to clear his mind and press on the gas.
Megumi stirs in his sleep as Satoru nearly misses the left turn. Tsumiki, eyes still on the book, rests one hand in Megumi’s hair. Comfortably, he stills almost instantly.
About five minutes later, just as Satoru is about to pull onto the kids’ street, Tsumiki speaks up again. “Gojo? Is it okay if we stay at your apartment tonight?” she asks.
Satoru’s brain sputters, but he hides it well. “Yeah, of course, kiddo. You’re allowed to stay over whenever you want. Is there, uh, any particular reason why? Do we need to go grocery shopping again?”
“No, we’re all set with groceries,” Tsumiki says. She doesn’t answer the first question, and while Satoru is curious/worried, he doesn’t push. Instead, he redirects the conversation to something else he’s been thinking about.
“I didn’t peg Megs for a napper,” Satoru teases. “Do you think it’s ‘cause he’s growing? Shoko says he’s gonna get bigger, sooner or later, and he’ll need lots of food and even more sleep.”
Tsumiki laughs at that, and Satoru blushes with embarrassment. Before he can even ask what he said wrong, Tsumiki pipes up. “You talk about him like he’s a house pet,” she giggles.
“Don’t shoot the messenger, ‘Miki,” Satoru says with a smirk. “I’m just telling you what the doctor told me. You’re real sassy for a six year old, y’know that?”
“I’m eight, not six! Megumi is six,” Tsumiki says with faux-annoyance. She keeps threading her fingers through her brother’s hair to keep him placated. “And my sassiness is your fault, Gojo. I wasn’t this sassy before. I think you’re rubbing off on me.”
“I’m flattered,” Satoru laughs. “And what about Megs? Was he this sleepy before, or is that my doing as well?”
Tsumiki purses her lips, quickly bowing her head. The hand holding the comic books starts to fidget with the page’s corner, and the other stills in Megumi’s hair.
“It’s okay, Tsumiki. You can tell me. I’m a good secret keeper, remember? And if you need help with something–”
“It’s not anything crazy,” Tsumiki blurts. “It’s just… embarrassing? I don’t know. You gotta promise not to laugh. And don’t tell Megs I told you, okay?”
“Alright, I promise,” Satoru says. He ignores the potion of anxiety and heartache brewing in his chest.
“Last week Megs found a cockroach in the couch,” Tsumiki mumbles. “It crawled out of the cushions and on his arm and ever since he’s been really scared to do anything at home. He’s not really sleeping because he’s worried there’s more cockroaches around. One of his teachers asked me if everything was okay at home because Megs has been falling asleep at school and it’s all just… I’m worried about him.”
“Tsumiki…” Satoru clears his throat, quickly turning his focus to the road as he pulls into his apartment’s parking lot. The building is skyhigh, the best money can buy, and the whole lot is filled with cars worth eight times a normal person’s life. Tsumiki, as usual, stops to stare, and the ache in his chest multiplies.
These kids deserve the whole goddamn world, and yet all they’ve gotten is scraps of hell.
Satoru parks the car and gets out. He opens the door on Megumi’s side and catches the boy before he can fall out onto the pavement. Instead of resting his face on the car window, Megumi is satisfied with Satoru’s chest and continues to sleep peacefully. Keeping Megumi in place, Satoru waits a few beats before scooching into the backseat beside Tsumiki.
“Man, this kid is way heavier than he looks,” Satoru says with a little laugh. He keeps his palm on Megumi’s back as he collects his thoughts. After a few more moments, he finally addresses Tsumiki. “Fun fact: I’m probably the most embarrassing guy in the whole world.”
Confused, Tsumiki furrows her eyebrows. “Huh? What’re you talking abou–”
“I’m a total dweeb,” he goes on. “I’ve been obsessed with Digimon since I learned to walk, I can’t eat sandwiches with the crusts on, and I’m the loudest sneezer the world has ever seen. If there was a sneezing olympics, I’d get the gold medal in volume, dramatics, number of germs spread, the gallons of shot snot–”
Tsumiki breaks out into laughter, but Satoru only smiles and keeps going. As he speaks, his voice carries a blend of amusement and sheer enthusiasm.
“I’m serious! It’s awful! It's like a chaotic, snot-filled hurricane that surprises even me, the coolest and smartest guy ever. When that sneeze starts brewing, it's like a little tickle in my nose that won't go away. And before I know it, it's like a volcano about to erupt—no warning, just a mess waiting to happen.” He mimics the motions with his one free hand, attempting to illustrate the chaotic nature of his sneeze, his expression a mix of amusement and embarrassment. (The other holds the sleeping Megumi in place)
He laughs softly, the child joining in with infectious giggles. “It's not just a loud sneeze, mind you. Oh no, it's a full-on, explosive affair. Snot flying everywhere, like some kind of gross, uncontainable force of nature.”
He flashes a warm smile, his eyes crinkling with genuine fondness as Tsumiki completely loses it, laughing like an absolute lunatic. Megumi stirs in his lap, but Satoru takes a page from Tsumiki’s book and gently threads his fingers through the boy’s hair.
Eventually, Tsumiki settles, and Satoru continues on. “My point is,” he says, “that you don’t ever have to be embarrassed around me, especially about things like that. You can’t control those roaches, and I can’t control my sneezes, right?”
Tsumiki nods, tears– probably from the laughing fit– in her warm brown eyes.
Satoru moves his free hand to Tsumiki’s hair, brushing the frizz back and pulling her in. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and she settles in against his side. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he repeats. This time it’s softer, less funny and more real. “No matter what. You hear me? Whatever you need– weekly groceries, a place to stay, or a crime covered up, I’m here. Whenever you need me, kid, I will be there.”
Tsumiki melts into Satoru’s side for a little while longer. A few seconds becomes a few minutes, and soon, she’s waking up on the queen-sized bed in Satoru’s guest room. Beside her, Megumi is flipping through one of Satoru’s comic books.
Tsumiki sits up and brushes her hair out of her face. “Good morning, Megumi,” she says.
“Morning, ‘Miki,” Megumi replies. “Did you finish this book?”
“Not yet, but you can keep reading it. Let me know if you find any words you don’t know, okay?”
Megumi nods. He doesn't tell her sister that he’s only looking at the pictures.
“Um, Megs?” Tsumiki squeaks. She clears her throat and sits up on the bed. Megumi pries his eyes away from the book, glancing at Tsumiki’s hands folded in her lap. He raises an eyebrow, signaling for her to continue. “What d’you think about moving in with Gojo?”
Megumi scrunches up his nose. “You’re kidding.”
Tsumiki laughs. “I’m not.”
“C’mon, ‘Miki, he’s a total loser!”
“Yes, but he’s really nice! He feeds us and lets us play video games and–”
“How would we get to school? This place is too far to walk–”
“Gojo can drive us,” Tsumiki insists. Megumi rolls his eyes, and Tsumiki pouts. In the blink of an eye, she snatches the comic book from Megumi’s lap and holds it up as evidence. “We wouldn’t have ever gotten stuff like this if it weren’t for Gojo,” she reminds him. “He’s helped us a lot, Megumi. And I think we can help him, too.”
Megumi scoffs. “Yeah, right. Like I’d wanna help a loser like him.”
“Megumi, I’m serious.”
“Me too.”
Tsumiki scowls. “Well that sucks because I already told him we’re moving in.”
Megumi’s eyes flash with pure horror. “Please tell me you’re lying.”
Tsumiki grins.
“No! No, Tsumiki, please!”
“C’mon, drama queen,” Tsumiki laughs. “Do you think it’s early enough to surprise Gojo with a thank-you breakfast?”
Begrudgingly, Megumi makes the pancakes while Tsumiki cooks the bacon.