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Satoru’s first couple weeks as the Fushiguros’ guardian were not his finest by a long shot.
Not only was he a 17-year-old with no child-rearing experience, which would have been bad enough on its own, but he was fresh off the worst summer of his life. He’d just lost his best friend, and he was only taking care of these kids in the first place because he’d killed their dad, Toji, who had nearly killed him a year prior. Not that they knew that, luckily; when he’d tried to tell Megumi the kid had waved him off, confirming Satoru’s suspicion that he hadn’t exactly been father of the year.
Still, the fact was that Satoru was at an all-time low, and seeing Toji’s face every time he looked at Megumi didn’t help matters in the slightest.
“Alright, come and get it!” he called into the apartment.
Tsumiki, Toji’s step-daughter and truly the only reason Satoru hadn’t thrown in the towel yet, hopped off the couch where she and her brother were watching TV.
“Thank you for cooking tonight, Gojo-san,” she said with the unique politeness of an eldest sister who was used to holding the household together.
“‘Cooking’ might be overselling it,” Satoru said of the bowls of instant ramen he’d set on the dining table. He smiled down at her. “And I told you you don’t have to call me ‘Gojo-san.’ Seriously, it makes me feel old. You’re allowed to call me Satoru. Or Gojo-sensei, like Megumi does. Or even just plain Gojo would be better.”
Tsumiki’s mouth twisted in a smirk, like she was about to break a rule. “Gojo.”
He gave her the “OK” symbol with one hand. “Perfect. Megumi, come on, bud.”
Megumi shook his head. “I don’t want ramen.”
“Well, that’s what’s for dinner,” Satoru said, “so that’s what you’re gonna eat.”
Megumi sank down further into the couch and crossed his arms over his chest. Satoru forced himself to take a deep breath.
“Megumi, come on,” he sighed. “I’m tired from my mission. I don’t want to do this today.”
“Too bad,” Megumi said. Satoru felt his eye twitch.
“Fine,” he said. “If that’s how you’re gonna be…”
He walked behind the couch and lifted the four-year-old effortlessly by the back of his T-shirt. Megumi immediately began to thrash with all the strength in his little body.
“Put me down!” he yelled, kicking and punching at Satoru as he simultaneously tried to wriggle out of the T-shirt so he could escape.
“I wouldn’t have had to pick you up in the first place if you’d just come and sat down on your own,” Satoru said, holding him a little further away from his body to keep him from landing any blows, even if all he’d hit was Infinity, just to rob him of the satisfaction. “This is what happens when you don’t listen.”
“I hate you!” Megumi roared.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re not my favorite person, either,” Satoru said, dropping the kid ungently into his chair at the table. “Eat your dinner.”
Once again, Megumi’s only answer was to cross his arms. Satoru pinched the bridge of his nose under his opaque glasses.
“Tsumiki, go ahead and eat, sweetie,” he said, noticing with a twinge of affection that she was waiting for them. “Your food’ll just get cold if you keep waiting for this idiot.”
“I’m not an idiot!” Megumi shouted.
“Oh, really?” Satoru asked, taking his own seat. “Well smart people don’t talk back and start fights with people who are just trying to take care of them. And smart people eat their dinner.”
“I don’t want ramen!” Megumi said again.
“ Too bad, ” Satoru said in a mocking imitation of Megumi’s voice.
That was the final straw for Megumi; he shoved his chair away from the table and ran into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
“You know what? Fine,” Satoru said, picking up his chopsticks. “If the kid wants to starve he can… freaking starve.”
Tsumiki didn’t answer, demurely continuing to eat her food with that eldest-sisterly poise. After a moment’s silence, Satoru sighed.
“I’m sorry, Tsumiki,” he said.
“It’s okay,” Tsumiki replied.
“It’s not,” he said. “I’m not… good at this. Taking care of you guys.”
“I think you’re doing okay,” Tsumiki assured him. “Megumi just gets grumpy like that sometimes.”
“Yeah, but I’m the grown-up,” Satoru said. “I shouldn’t fight with him like that, even if he gets grumpy.”
“You can always apologize,” she suggested.
“Yeah,” Satoru conceded. “Yeah. I’ll give him some time to cool off, first.”
They finished eating in relative silence, before washing and putting away the dishes. Tsumiki excused herself to her room, and Satoru stood outside of Megumi’s for a moment before finally making himself knock on the door.
“Megumi?” he called. “Can I come in, kid?”
“No,” came Megumi’s muffled response from behind the door. Satoru sighed.
“Look… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you an idiot and all that. I was being a jerk.”
Megumi didn’t respond.
“I bet you’re hungry,” Satoru continued. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? It doesn’t have to be ramen.”
Still nothing. Satoru twisted his mouth in thought. Then, with a grin, he lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “What about… ice cream?”
For a moment, Satoru thought Megumi still wasn’t going to respond. Then, quietly: “You’re not supposed to eat ice cream for dinner.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
There was another moment of silence. Then Satoru heard Megumi’s soft footsteps as he crossed the room and opened the door.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“Better than letting you go hungry, right?” Satoru countered. “Come on.”
He let Megumi follow him into the kitchen, where he got the carton of Neapolitan ice cream out of the freezer and a pair of oversized mugs out of the cabinet. He had just finished filling the first mug and was moving on to the second when Megumi spoke again, so quietly Satoru almost didn’t hear him.
“Do you hate me?”
Satoru stopped mid-scoop and looked down at him. For the first time he didn’t see Toji in his features at all — just a tired little kid that life had been unfair to, who’d had to grow so fast and so far beyond his years.
“Aw, Megumi.” He put the ice cream scoop down and hunkered down to the kid’s level, meeting his eyes over his glasses. “No. I don’t hate you.”
“Did you hate me before?” Megumi asked.
Satoru shook his head. “Nope. Just got a little frustrated. But that’s because I was trying to take care of you. Why would I take care of you if I hated you, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “What about you? Do you hate me?”
Megumi shook his head. Satoru narrowed his eyes in an exaggerated expression of suspicion.
“Are you sure? Not even a liiittle bit?”
Megumi averted his eyes guiltily. “No,” he said. “And I’m sorry for saying I did.”
Satoru’s expression softened. “Aw, it’s okay. Like I said, I was being a jerk.” He opened his arms. “Hug it out?”
Megumi rolled his eyes, an expression that was comically adult for his young face, but he stepped forward and allowed himself to be hugged. Satoru gave him a long, tight squeeze.
“Thanks kid,” he murmured. Then he stood, turning back to the task of scooping ice cream. “Now go see if your sister wants some, too.”