Chapter Text
“...and Gojo-san, we painted in art today, and I made a field of blue flowers! Kinda blue like your eyes even though I’ve never seen a flower so blue before, but I figured you might like it! It’s still at the school, though. I’ll have to finish it tomorrow. Oo! And in science, we learned about whales! Did you know they’re mammals? You probably did cause you’re old, but I didn’t and I really thought-”
Gojo was beginning to realize that kids were a handful. That wasn’t to say they were an undelightful or irritating handful, but a handful nonetheless. Their need for attention and care was constant, no matter how many times his two munchkins claimed they didn’t need Gojo at all times. To an extent, they were right, having learned basic survival skills due to the absence of their parents, but still. It didn’t seem right to leave two young kids alone. So Gojo did his best not to, which he wasn’t always successful at, but he was doing better than their original parents, so he assumed that was something he could show for.
While Tsumiki, who stood at his left, continued to babble on and on about her day, Gojo took the scarf surrounding his neck and buried his chin a little deeper into it. It was cold that December day, a steady snowfall building up and accumulating a freezing blanket across the sidewalks and streets. A snowplow would have to come through soon to clear the roads, Gojo noted. He’d just picked the children up from primary school and was walking them back to their apartment that stood not too far from the educational building. Gojo was beyond grateful that it wasn’t too far because the cold of the winter months was really starting to rattle at his bones and freeze his muscles to the calcium frame.
“That’s all really neat, Miki!” Gojo eventually cooed when it registered in his mind that the young girl had fallen silent. “I’m glad to see that you’re paying attention in class! You’re growing to be exceptionally smart!”
“Well, of course, I’m paying attention!” Tsumiki huffed, her small hand searching Gojo’s out and locking onto it tightly once she found it. “That’s the only way I’ll learn! And I don’t wanna be a stupid kid! My teachers say if I keep up the great work, I might even be able to skip a grade! My friends are so jealous, and I-”
She could go on forever, that kid.
It was slightly odd the more Gojo thought it over. He hadn’t been their legal guardian for long, several months at best, yet, Tsumiki acclimated to him as though she’d known him her entire life. He couldn’t say he wasn’t thankful because he was. It meant less trying to break the ice between them and more just ice skating over it with ease. Even so, he found it peculiar how she was able to cling to him with such simplicity.
It certainly wasn’t like that with her brother.
Megumi, who stood to his right, was much more intricate than Tsumiki. He yearned to be more independent, to always keep Gojo at arm’s length—or not at all—and insisted that the twenty-year-old was simply wasting his time by trying to befriend him. The only thing Megumi needed was his sister and that was it.
Gojo respected the kid’s moxie, he really did, but sadly the world didn’t work like little Megumi wanted it to. He still needed assistance reaching things off of high shelves, and utilizing stoves or oven tops was too hazardous of a chore for the six-year-old, even if he didn’t think so. He was mature in areas he shouldn’t be yet, and that fact made Gojo’s stomach churn uneasily. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, though, sadly, aside from pushing Megumi to be the kid that he was.
Which that, in and of itself, was incredibly taxing. While Gojo would be willing to give just about anything just so he could be a kid again, Megumi seemed to despise the idea altogether.
The fact that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t blood siblings was all too noticeable. Tusmiki was sweet, talkative, open-minded, patient (to an extent, after all, she was still a child), and allowed herself to be dependent, the way they both should be. On the opposite side of the coin, Megumi defied all that Tsumiki did and took on his own persona of being a stubborn bullhead. But oh well, kids were kids, and not all could be as easy to raise as Tsumiki.
Or, at least, Megumi wasn’t.
“What do you think, Megs?” Gojo zoned out, only vaguely remembering the beginning of Tsumiki’s long tangent, but he knew Megumi was listening the entire time. Whenever it came to Tsumiki, Megumi changed demeanor completely, suddenly all ears and compliant, if not grudgingly. Gojo knew from the moment he first met the kids that Megumi would do anything for Tsumiki. The kid practically told on himself by choosing to terminate his sale to the Zen’in clan and damn his childhood to being under the care of one teenage Gojo Satoru who barely knew how to take care of himself, all because Tsumiki would’ve been miserable within the clan’s misogynistic hierarchy.
Then again, even with his lack of experience, Gojo figured that the kids were better off with him than in the clan.
“It’s fine,” the young boy mumbled, eyes still downcast to the snowy sidewalk and hands gripping at his backpack straps to avoid Gojo attempting to hold his hand.
Seriously, Gojo had never met a kid who was so dead set on being independent until he met Megumi.
“It’s fantastic, Miki!” Gojo followed up without having any genuine context of the conversation, breath frosting up with his words.
He must’ve been right in his word choice because Tsumiki’s eyes lit up like streetlamps after dark.
The snowfall grew to be harsher, the crystallized particles adding to the cold. It took a blink from Gojo before Tsumiki was looking at him with pleading eyes and gripped at his hand just a smidge tighter, no words exchanged, but a silent understanding passing between the both of them. Tsumiki ended up on Gojo’s back piggyback style while Megumi continued to trudge next to them, refusing to hold Gojo’s hand.
Gojo quirked an eyebrow. “Y’sure you don’t want me to carry you?” He offered gently. “They don’t call me the strongest for nothing.”
Megumi huffed, hands tightening around his backpack straps. “I’d rather walk,” he said with a tone that vaguely sounded as though he was telling the young adult that he’d ‘ rather die .’
“Geez, so grumpy,” Gojo mused, earning him a breathy chuckle from the girl on his back.
“He’s always grumpy, Gojo-san!”
“Fair observation! No wonder your teachers have thought about you skipping a grade.”
Tsumiki laughed loudly at that which earned them a low growl from the object of their teasing. “Whatever,” he grumbled out.
Gojo sighed, adjusting slightly so Tsumiki could grip onto his shoulders tighter. “What a shame. Here I was thinking you’d be less grouchy considering your birthday’s in a couple weeks.”
Gojo heard the crunching sound of snow under little boot-clad feet cease behind him briefly but didn’t turn around to see what the hold-up was; he already knew. Megumi would start walking with them again soon enough, and he did shortly after, if not running slightly to compensate for Gojo’s long-legged strides. A glance down to his right revealed a blush dusted Megumi—whether, from the cold or embarrassment, Gojo couldn’t tell (he guessed both)—whose mouth hung slightly from shock. His nails were digging into the rough fabric of his backpack, giving away his continued irritation. “I never told you my birthday,” Megumi murmured.
Gojo smirked down at the boy. “Files are a wonderful thing.”
Megumi looked at Gojo with a scowl, stomping ahead of the two slightly, muttering something under his breath about Gojo being insufferable, but the white haired man didn’t catch it all. “What a stick in the mud,” he mused to no one in particular.
He felt a tight clutch at his coat, tighter than it had been before, followed by a face leaning in close to his ear. “If I tell you a secret,” Tsumiki whispered, any traces of hilarity flown far from her voice, “do you promise to keep it?”
Gojo would be lying if he said that didn’t make his stomach churn slightly. The way she asked him to keep a secret, the way her tone dipped to ensure no one else within the vicinity could hear it, it all pointed to something way too serious that Gojo knew he was going to have to deal with. He feared that he wouldn’t have the capacity to.
“Sure, kid. Whatcha got?” He agreed anyway because saying no wasn’t exactly an option when it came to his kids.
He could see her lips purse, her eyebrows furrow down with indecision, and the wheels turning in her head as she processed just how to say what she wanted to. It wasn’t long, though, before she found her words. She looked at Megumi, who was still a few meters in front of them before looking back at Gojo. “Megumi doesn’t like his birthday.”
Gojo didn’t know how to process the confession at first, didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. He’d never intended on not doing anything for Megumi’s birthday. He’d never been certain of what he was going to do per se, but that was a given considering it was the munchkin’s first birthday under Gojo’s care. The newfound fact certainly complicated things now. Of course, the little sea urchin wouldn’t like his birthday because what did he like that normal kids liked? Not much.
A car passed in the lane closest to the sidewalk, so Gojo called for Megumi to slow down so he could be next to him. To his surprise, the ravenette obliged him, waiting all of the two seconds it took for Gojo to fully catch up to him. The rest of the walk home was in general silence, Tsumiki occasionally chiming in to talk about what homework she had for the night or asking about what would be for supper. More cars drove by, more snow fell, and more questions and frustrations fell upon Gojo’s mind as he tried to find another way to figure the young boy out that would probably end fruitlessly just like all of his other attempts.
They arrived home soon enough, the warmth of the central heating defrosting their cold, snow-kissed skin. They shed their winter coats and boots, settling for something much more leisurely as Gojo made a dinner plan, and the kids worked on their homework.
Gojo was good at most things. Most people knew that—the kids aside—considering he was “the strongest”. He could pick up on hobbies quickly, and learn arts that typically took years to master in just a month. However, parenting seemed to be some sort of outlier. The ins and outs of the practice eluded him in absolutely every infuriating way to the point where his patience often began to wear thin. He didn’t know how to approach Megumi most times, not when the kid seemed so detached from what being a kid meant.
But if there was anything Gojo did know how to do, it was how to go against what others said.