Chapter Text
Megumi, five years old and wrapped burrito-style in his frog-printed blanket, bounced on his bed with wide eyes. His dark hair was a mess from bath time, but his excitement was impossible to tame.
“Tell me the one where Papa tried to eat the city!”
Satoru Gojo, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, struck a dramatic pose. Sunglasses still on—because even in a dimly lit bedroom, fashion was eternal—he pointed toward the hallway as if gesturing to some unseen dark force.
“Ohhh, you mean the infamous ‘Night of a Thousand Curses’? A dark, terrible day when Papa Geto tried to flood the streets with cursed spirits and despair.”
From the doorway, Suguru Geto leaned against the frame, sipping tea with the most unimpressed expression he could muster. His robe hung loose around his shoulders, tattoos just visible at the collar. His long hair was damp from his own shower, and tied up in a lazy bun.
“I wasn’t trying to eat the city. That’s an exaggeration.”
“You summoned a centipede demon the size of a train, Suguru. You made children cry.”
Megumi gasped, eyes big. “Papa, you made kids cry?!”
Suguru raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “They started it.”
Satoru gave a theatrical gasp and turned back to Megumi. “And then—just when it seemed like all hope was lost—I descended from the sky in a flash of light. Hair gleaming. Eyes blinding. Drenched in cool.”
Suguru snorted into his tea.
Megumi giggled. “Did you punch him?”
“Oh, did I ever!” Satoru popped his knuckles. “I punched him so hard, his man bun came undone. The cursed spirits screamed and ran. Papa flew backward and landed in a dumpster.”
“I let you punch me,” Suguru cut in, walking into the room with regal menace, his tea now forgotten on the side table. He lowered his voice to a dramatic villainous growl. “It was all part of my master plan!”
Megumi squealed with laughter. “Do the voice, Papa! Do the bad guy voice!”
Suguru straightened his spine, loomed over the bed, and hissed in that slow, velvety baritone that used to make entire Jujutsu squads freeze:
“All who oppose me shall drown in the screams of the damned…”
Then broke character with a raised brow. “...and someone still forgot to take the trash out that night.”
Satoru pouted. “I was busy saving Tokyo.”
“You were at a vending machine.”
“Emergency snacks are vital to victory!”
Megumi fell back on his pillow, shaking with giggles.
“Tell it again!” he begged. “But make Papa even more evil next time!”
Satoru smirked, tossing a wink at Suguru. “Oh don’t worry, kiddo. Next time, he’ll eat the moon.”
Suguru sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed now, brushing a hand through Megumi’s hair with quiet affection.
“If I ever do eat the moon, you’re both going first.”
“Rude,” Satoru said, hand over his heart. “Hero of the people, right here.”
Megumi yawned. “Hero... villain... you’re both weird.”
Suguru and Satoru exchanged a glance over their son's head—tired eyes meeting across the quiet battlefield of parenthood. No more cities to destroy or save. Just one small boy who thought their past was the best bedtime story ever told.