Chapter Text
Fushiguro Toji is facing a great crisis.
Recently, the rate of groceries and everything has skyrocketed, making it difficult to buy a secure amount of necessities. Just now, he just spent fifteen thousand yen on their groceries, and they weren't even past the second week of this month! Utilities for rent not added.
With Megumi being in the age where he’ll be starting kindergarten soon and growing out of baby food, he needed to explore A LOT of choices for his meals. If Toji had been by himself, he would have settled for just bread with sandwich spread and a mean cup of coffee for mornings, then a bowl of fried rice topped with egg for lunch and dinner.
But he couldn’t just do that with Megumi; he is not going to give him a bad childhood by being negligent and give him a bad diet. Giving him fried rice and instant noodles regularly was not going to be an option.
A few days into the quest, he finds that it was rather difficult to find meals that his son can and would actually eat. He's dabbled into a lot of cuisine for this great obstacle; from light meals to hearty dishes and so far, Megumi only likes a very few ones that Toji can't serve on a daily basis. Just where did the little shit learn to become a picky eater?
This could have been an easy feat, were he graced with wisdom that a housewife would have in feeding children. Rolled omelettes, octopus wieners, bunny eggs—even with the thousands of tutorials on Youtube, he just doesn’t know how to pull them off!
Toji, the hardworking and thoughtful father he is, puts the bags of groceries down on the kitchen island and takes a moment to think over their current financial crisis, sighing.
Just what should he do to remedy their financial situation...? He just quit his job recently due to the horrible pay and it would take long before he finds another one.
tu-du-du-duuum.
╭ ╮
a) beat up people and rob them for quick cash
b) bully kids and steal their lunch money
c) set up an ◯◯ account
╰ ╯
The correct answer was d: go out with Megumi to get some fresh air.
Megumi had just woken up from his nap and it was around 5:30pm. They needed to get to the bathhouse and leave just in time for dinner so that they could watch his favorite anime right after.
And there he went, his son on one hand and their shower basket on the other. He needed a breather from things anyway—he had a headache adding up the costs of their groceries in the supermarket.
Toji lets out a soft sigh as he sinks in the hot bath down to his shoulders; well, below his shoulders anyway since the hot bath isn’t big enough to soak him fully. Beside him was little Megumi who was almost tomato red, but he was enduring the heat quite well.
“You sure you’re not feeling too hot?” Toji chuckles as he guides Megumi towards a more lukewarm end of the bath. “You don’t have to force yourself to take a soak.”
“…” Megumi takes a while to respond, perhaps feeling a bit too shy to be honest? “Um, can we…”
“Yeah?” Toji leaned a tad bit closer to listen to his son’s request.
“Can we leave soon?” He quietly murmurs.
“Sure thing, kiddo.” Toji ruffles Megumi’s damp hair and takes a moment to leave the bath. “Wanna have chocolate milk once we get changed?"
Megumi bobs his head excitedly, like it was the part he looked forward the most this evening. His father chuckles and takes them back to the dressing room.
Feeling all rejuvenated and refreshed from the bath, Megumi takes a seat on the bench at the lobby, enjoying the chilled chocolate milk that Toji had just bought.
“Is it good?” Toji murmurs, patting Megumi softly on the head. The latter nods rather violently once again, a patch of chocolate milk coating on the groove just below his nose. “That good, huh.”
Megumi had been feeling drowsy so Toji had to carry him on the way back to their apartment.
The former assassin cradles this tiny body, and he remembers just how warm it felt to take someone else in your arms again.
Why did he ever forget so? Takara hugged him almost every night so that he wouldn't. And Megumi was the greatest reminder of her.
Perhaps he never forgot — he’s always avoided looking Megumi in the eyes. He fears how much they will resemble a pair of sapphire blues, like the ones she had. How he would have her long lashes and...and...
Before Toji knew it, a droplet of tear had cascaded down his cheek, but he quickly wipes it away, and leans close, pressing a small peck on his son's forehead.
Even if he has forgotten, he'll just have to retrace everything back with Megumi.
Interlude
“Do you want to hold him?” Toji listens to Takara’s soft voice ooze from the recorder.
Slowly, her face comes into view, and he falls all over again. The gentle lines of her face, the way her hair falls down to her skin… His heart aches like that of a teenage boy, fluttering and all wrapped in cellophane.
She was everything.
“Sure.” His gruffy voice makes itself known, and the recorder shifts, from Takara to his own.
He was flushed with embarrassment, but it quickly contorts into that of endearment as he gazes down at baby Megumi’s face.
“He has your lashes, don’t you think?” Takara chuckles and Toji raises an eyebrow in disbelief.
“No way. He’s totally got everything from you in the face factor.” Toji breathlessly laughs out. "I don't even have them long... right, Megumi?" As though to respond, the boy lets out a garbled giggle.
“Aw, he’s a papa’s boy…” She cooed.
“Nuh uh, he’s totally a mama’s boy…” Toji argues, holding Megumi up with a supporting hand behind his nape. “Look at this face. It totally screams so.”
“You don’t know that, he probably might be one if when he grows up,” Takara sasses.
And the recorder is left forgotten on the side, noises of their playful banter played out until the video comes to an eventual stop, most likely when the battery had reached low.
When Toji returns to the apartment with the sleeping Megumi, he finds a flyer tucked into the mail slot.
It read,
Itadori’s Arts ’n Crafts Class
Come and join us in making art!
Well.
He was not all that thrilled upon the sight of an advertisement for kids until he read it again.
Just where had he known that name again...
Itadori, Itadori... his brain racked for a memory of this four-syllable sound.
Wait.
Itadori??
Itadori Jin?!
From his high school class?
He recalls the name attached to a vague face with rectangular glasses and a mop of pink on top. A Kirby-looking nerd who had placed the occupation "teacher" on his photo at the school yearbook.
Flipping the flyer to the back, he finds more information written there. A small map indicating the location of the place, and a hidden offer…
We are also looking for part-timers to help us with teaching art! For more information, do call XX-XXX-XXXX.
Hopefully, even without connections, he can pull this job, right...?