Chapter Text
06th April 2009
It’s a warm Spring day when the Fushiguro siblings move in with Satoru. The mid-sized and comfortable apartment is pretty close to their old one, a couple streets down in fact, so that they’re still close to Tsumiki’s and Megumi’s elementary school. Satoru rests his hands on his hips, blue shirt ruffling lightly in the breeze as he looks up at his new home. He could have let the kids move in with him at the Gojo clan home, but he thought it was too stuffy and traditional for a couple of kids. To be honest, he doesn’t even like staying there himself – he’s been staying in one of Jujutsu Tech’s rooms until now.
He takes a deep breath and there’s the faint scent of cherry blossoms in the air, springtime warmth lingering in the air and the promise of something new. He’s helped the kids carry all their stuff into their rooms, the boxes too scant and light for Satoru's liking. He’s been chatting their ears off all day, asking them questions and filling the slightly stilted silence. He thinks he’s won over Tsumiki – the girl is only nine but replies to his endless questions with a certain dignity and warmth that betrays her maturity is far beyond her age.
Megumi however… Well, the kid didn’t like him. Which is frankly absurd because everybody likes Satoru. Okay well everybody at least tolerates him. Maybe tolerate is too strong of a word. But he thinks Megumi just downright hates him. And fair enough they’d only been acquainted a couple months ago when Satoru was about to tell him that he killed his dad (now he recognises just going up to the kid on the street and saying it with a grin would have been slightly deranged of him) but still. He's spent a fair amount of time with the siblings, taking them out to ice cream and trying to get them to trust him, but Megumi won’t budge.
Even now as Megumi brushes past him with the last of his boxes, he aims a single, unimpressed glare at Satoru. He gives him a beaming smile in return that seems to make the little terror even more unyielding, mouth downturned in a frown, dare Satoru say a whole sneer.
He watches as Megumi goes inside, scowl still at his lips and Satoru sighs lightly, hands dropping from his hips a little defeated. Okay so the seven-year-old hated him. He could deal with that though. Give it some time and he’s sure one day Megumi’s going to be laughing with him and calling him dad and asking him to play catch—
Maybe he’s getting a little carried away. But the point is, this whole parenting thing? He’s got it in the bag. Buy them some games, teach them a couple curse words, maybe help with some math homework.
He’s got this.