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The first hint of a perfect Saturday morning isn't the sound of the alarm but the complete absence of one. Suguru’s eyes slid open, immediately registering the faint, honeyed light filtering through the white curtains.
A warm, heavyweight was draped across his waist. Satoru was tucked securely behind him, his breath soft against Suguru's shoulder. The morning light caught the white strands of his hair and turned them into a luminous halo around his head, illuminating the long lashes that rested against his cheek. Suguru was completely enveloped in his husband's arms.
He gently shifted, trying to get comfortable enough to call him awake, finally.
"Mmm... five more minutes, Suguru. Just five," Satoru murmured, pulling Suguru's body flush against his own. "And by five, I mean the time it takes for you to say 'I love you' five times." He buried his face deeper into Suguru's neck, inhaling his scent.
Suguru chuckled softly, gently trying to pry himself free. "Satoru, you know I love you, but it's already past seven. The sooner we're up, the sooner I can make those pancakes I promised the kids." He paused, nudging Satoru's chin with his head. "And remember the plan? Shopping with the entire family."
Satoru’s voice was deeply sleepy and muffled against the cotton sheets. "Can’t we just send the kids to buy the stuff?"
"Absolutely not,"
He finally managed to wriggle free of the heavier body draped over him and sat up. He leaned over the headboard and brushed Satoru's messy fringe back, pressing a sweet kiss onto his forehead. "It's family time."
Satoru sighed dramatically, stretching his limbs so far as if to touch the ceiling. In one swift movement, he snagged Suguru's wrist and pulled him back down into the warm nest of blankets.
"Good morning, by the way," Satoru whispered, his breath warm on Suguru's ear. "You smell like sleep and home."
Suguru smiled warmly, the lingering fatigue chased away by Satoru's presence. "Good morning, Satoru. Now, let’s get moving."
He tried to push up again, but Satoru's grip was instantly iron-strong, and he felt the familiar, mischievous smile against his back. "Move, Toru."
"Fine. But you owe me coffee and a proper morning kiss after we brush our teeth. With tongue. It's the weekend tax."
They both took their time to wash up, the faint smell of citrus from their body wash clinging to their skin. Suguru quickly went to the closet and took out an oversized shirt. Satoru watched, leaning on the bathroom door as Suguru slipped his favorite, well-worn shirt over his head, the fabric pooling gently around his shoulders as he pulled it down. Satoru quickly turned his face away, gulping as he tugged down his own shirt over his head.
Suguru proceeded to walk towards the kitchen, already making mental calculations on today’s breakfast, wiping his face with a towel. "Alright, for breakfast, I'm thinking blueberry and banana today. They always love the—"
He didn't get to finish the thought.
Satoru wrapped his long arms around Suguru's waist from behind, his chest pressing flush against Suguru's back. He spun them both playfully until Suguru was pinned gently against the doorframe leading into the kitchen. Satoru's chin rested lightly on his shoulder as his hands slipped inside Suguru's shirt and began tracing gentle circles on his back.
"Hold on, Suguru. Transaction incomplete," Satoru leaned in to whisper, his voice low and husky from sleep.
Suguru laughed, the sound vibrating against Satoru's chest. "Oh? And what did I forget?"
"Where's my weekend tax?" He tightened his grip slightly, just enough to make his point.
Suguru leaned into Satoru's embrace, his posture relaxing. "Oh, right, the coffee. I was just about to do that. Eight cubes of sugar and a full cup of milk, correct?"
He tipped his head back just enough to meet Satoru's gaze over his shoulder as a slow, knowing smile started to spread on his face.
Satoru proceeded to nuzzle deeply into the crook of Suguru's neck, inhaling the fresh scent of soap and his skin. Suguru felt the vibration of Satoru's deep, satisfied rumble before the words came out.
“You know exactly what I mean, Love." He trailed a line of tiny, wet kisses up to Suguru’s jawline and Suguru involuntarily tilted his head to give him easier access, a shiver running down his spine.
"My patience is wearing thin, Suguru. And when my patience wears thin," Satoru paused, his breath hot against Suguru's ear, "my mouth gets very, very busy."
Suguru set his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as Satoru bit his neck. Satoru heard the way his breath hitched in his throat.
“Satoru,” Suguru gasped. Satoru sucked the sensitive skin just below his jawline.
“Fine—ahh, Satoru…” Grinning, Suguru placed his hands on Satoru’s face, bringing him closer to his own face. He moved to press a quick, sweet kiss to the corner of Satoru’s mouth, eyes crinkling happily. Satoru only pressed him harder against the frame of the door, deepening the initial chaste kiss, his lips moving against Suguru's with urgency.
Satoru pulled back just slightly so their mouths barely parted, and murmured against his lips.
"Took you long enough."
Suguru chuckled softly, finally leaning completely into the embrace, letting the warmth and familiar weight of Satoru settle against him.
He eventually broke the kiss, but rested his forehead against Satoru's, their noses almost touching, breathing lightly. "There. Now, let me go, Mr. Tax Collector, we are late,” he whispered, his voice still a little thick.
Satoru dramatically released his hold on Suguru, stepping back with a playful pout. "Fine, but let me help.”
The sounds of the gentle bubbling of the coffee machine and the soft whir of the mixer enveloped them in the kitchen. Suguru had already retrieved the ingredients: the fine-grain flour, the carton of eggs, and the small bottle of vanilla. They were all arranged in a neat line as he took a large mixing bowl from a high cupboard.
“Honey, should we go for a long vacation or something, preferably somewhere far away?” Satoru opened the fridge searching for the fruits, his eyes on Suguru, who was mixing all the wet ingredients, the light scraping of the whisk against the bowl in a smooth rhythm.
"Just grab the berries, Satoru. And no, we can’t take any leave from school; exam season is coming, same goes for the kids.” He set the whisk down and grabbed a wooden spoon, and slowly started mixing in the flour into the bowl, careful not to overmix it.
"Uuuugh, Suguruu,” Satoru whined, taking the carton of berries from the fridge and dramatically closing the door. It closed with a pathetic, dull thud (because if he slammed too hard, then the kids would wake up).
He walked over to the sink and dumped the berries into a sieve, running cold water over them as he gently washed the dust off. After he finished rinsing, he tossed a blueberry to Suguru.
“They're too ripe,” Suguru commented, catching the berry neatly with two fingers and pinching it.
Satoru popped one into his own mouth. “Nah, it’s perfect.”
“You know, if you hadn't mastered the Reversed Curse Technique, you would’ve already gotten diagnosed with Diabetes stage 18,” Suguru said.
Satoru leaned in, giving a swift kiss on the cheek in reply. “Can’t deny I need sweets to survive.”
Suguru grinned, but before he could turn back to the batter, a soft 'ding' echoed from his phone, which was resting on a nearby shelf. He sighed, setting the wooden spoon down and wiping his hands quickly on his apron. He checked the screen. He read the text with a groan and turned the phone off.
“Great. The higher-ups assigned me a new case for tomorrow.”
Satoru paused his work, his knife hovering over the rest of the blueberries. “Maybe you should ask Shoko to give you a fake medical leave or something. It might shut the old geezers up for a few days.”
Suguru snorted, picking up the cinnamon container and carefully tapping it so the spice wouldn't overpower the batter. "As if she would do that.”
“See? This is why we should take a vacation.”
“Yeah, then let's go on one next month. And Satoru, stop dipping your finger in the batter.”
Satoru froze. He quickly took his hand back, flashing a wide, mischievous smile. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said, licking his hand clean with a satisfied expression. “Next month it is.”
Suguru couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at his lips, shaking his head as he took a heavy-bottomed skillet and flicked on the flame.
Satoru went on listing vacation possibilities as Suguru waited patiently for the pan to heat up to the perfect temperature.
"Papa... Dad..."
A soft, small sound interrupted them
"Thailand has a—" Satoru paused mid-sentence. "Tsumiki!" He flashed her a bright smile.
"Good morning, sweetie," Suguru added, his voice softening, "Did Papa’s pancake smell wake you up?"
Tsumiki didn't reply; she remained in the archway, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor, her small shoulders hunched. A small frown creased Suguru’s forehead.
His brow furrowed deeper as he caught the way her bottom lip trembled—Seeing her like that sent a jolt of genuine alarm through him.
“What is it, darling? Are you okay?”
“I...” she whispered, but her voice was so tiny that Suguru had to lean in to hear her. She didn't finish the sentence and instead let out a choked little sound and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Megumi?” Satoru uttered, and that was when Suguru noticed the small figure plastered to Tsumiki’s side. He had his face buried in his sister’s pajamas, and his dark hair was sticking up in all directions. And oh, he was crying; his whole body was shaking with silent sobs, and his hands were clenching the fabric so hard that his knuckles were white.
Satoru moved instantly, gently prying Megumi out of his death grip. "Whoa, whoa. What’s going on here? Megumi, buddy, talk to me."
Suguru dropped to his knees before Tsumiki. He noticed the teardrops already staining the floor below her. "Tsumiki, talk to Papa. What happened?"
Tsumiki lifted her face, finally meeting Suguru’s eyes. A fresh wave of tears tracked down her cheeks. When she finally managed to push the words out, she sounded utterly terrified.
"Papa, I’m going to die."
Megumi cried harder, hearing that
"HUH?" Satoru blurted out. For a heartbeat, his brain moved at a thousand miles an hour and arrived at zero conclusions.
Suguru’s own eyes were widened in shock. He took her small, trembling hand in his own large, warm one, lacing his fingers through hers, and squeezed gently. "Tsumiki, look at me," he said, his voice dropping into that specific, low register. “You are scaring us.”
He glanced up at Satoru, who stood frozen, his Six Eyes scanning the room for a threat that wasn't there.
“I... I’m bleeding,” she hiccuped, her chest heaving. “There’s blood in my bed and in my pants and—” She sniffed, a sob breaking her voice. “I’m going to die, Papa!”
The tension in Suguru’s shoulders snapped. Realization dawned on him with a wave of relief so sharp that it almost made him dizzy. Suguru Hugged her. He scooped her into a gentle hug, holding her tight against his chest while stroking her hair.
“Oh, my sweet girl. You are not dying. I promise."
Suguru gently pulled himself back from the hug just enough to see the stains on her pajamas.He cupped her face, his thumb sweeping across her cheekbone to wipe away all the tears.
"Tsumiki, listen to me. This is called a period. It means you aren't hurt, and you are definitely not dying." He kept his voice steady and looked straight at Tsumiki with a gentle smile.
"It means you’re growing up. It means your body is strong and healthy. It’s something every woman’s body does. Nanako and Mimiko will go through this someday, too."
Satoru stared at the red stains. Since adopting the kids, Suguru had made him read every parenting book under the sun, and he was prepared for a day like this-he just didn't think it would be so early. He watched Megumi wriggle out of his grip to attach himself to Suguru’s leg
"Okay, I need to stay calm. I’m calling Shoko." Satoru was panicking
"Don't call Shoko for—"
"Shoko! Tsumiki is bleeding! She got her period. What do we do?" Satoru yelled into the phone the second she picked up.
Shoko’s voice came from the phone, "Satoru, I am performing an autopsy. Put Suguru on."
"I'm here."
“Change her and if she gets cramps, use the heating pad from the first aid kit . Explain menstruation to her clearly so she doesn't panic. Tell Gojo to go to the convenience store and buy sanitary pads.”
"Satoru, you heard her," Suguru said
"Yes. Right.” He ruffled Tsumiki’s hair. "I'll be right back, princess," Satoru said, scooping up Megumi despite the boy's protests. "Come on, Megs. Miki is fine. Let Papa handle everything, ok."
As Satoru disappeared with a protesting Megumi in tow, Suguru stood up and smoothed Tsumiki's hair.
"Now, Tsumiki, let's go get you cleaned up. Then we’ll have those pancakes and talk about everything you need to know. Just you and me, for a little while."
He grinned, holding her hand. She had stopped crying and gave him a brave nod. Suguru’s gaze melted, the lines around his eyes deepening as he looked at her. He could see the person she was becoming, and it terrified him how quickly the years were slipping through his fingers.
He didn't mean to think about it, but his mind drifted to how they were all growing up. He thought of Megumi, who used to stumble over his own feet and reach up with chubby arms just to be carried by him. He thought of Nanako and Mimiko, who used to cling so tightly to his and Satoru's legs to hide from others, now becoming young girls with their own secrets and responsibilities. He looked at Tsumiki’s hand in his; it was no longer the tiny, soft hand that could only grab his thumb anymore, but the hand of someone who had grown up while he wasn't looking. His little kids weren't ‘little’ anymore.
He thought of the day, only a few years ago, when he was sitting on the porch, watching Satoru run in circles in the yard with all four of them trailing behind like little ducklings. Satoru had been laughing, his hair messy and his blindfold off, letting the kids tackle him into the grass in a heap of giggles. Back then, they were all his to protect, small enough to be gathered up in a single hug.
But now, every time he turned around, their sleeves were an inch too short, and their favorite shoes were being tossed into the bin because they were too small. They didn't need him to cut their food into tiny pieces anymore, or carry them up the stairs when they were tired.
And he was proud of the people they were turning into, but still, a selfish part of him wanted to freeze time. He wanted to keep them small enough to hold in his arms forever, safe from the world outside. His heart broke for the babies he would never get to hold again. He was losing them to time, even as he held them closer than ever.
"Come on," he whispered, squeezing her hand.”I’ve got you.”
BONUS
After squatting down to get on eye level with the five-year-old, Gojo pointed frantically at the drugstore shelves, his voice rising in panic."Megumi-chan, look! There are wings, no wings, 'active fit,' and 'overnight' options—and they're all in different colors! AAAAAAAH!"
Megumi stared at the overwhelming display with a tiny frown."Just pick one with a flower," he suggested, trying to be helpful. "Tsumiki likes flowers, right?"
Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses. "You’re right, Gumi. But there are six different types of flowers here!"
Megumi sighed, looking up at him with a deadpan expression. "Then just buy them all, Dad. Aren't you rich?"
A stunned silence fell over Gojo.
"…You’re a genius," he whispered in awe. "This is why you’re my favorite son!"
Megumi didn't even blink as he started walking toward the checkout counter. "You only have one son, Dad."