Yuji Itadori—son of Jin Itadori—was, by all accounts, Petal Path Preschool’s brightest student.

Kindness clung to him as naturally as his smile—wide, warm, and impossible to ignore. It spilled from him in quiet, constant ways. A hand extended to a fallen classmate on the playground. Gentle encouragement murmured to those too shy to speak above a whisper. A firm voice raised when others wouldn’t, standing between tears and the ones who caused them.

Yuji Itadori was the kind of child teachers spoke about with hope.

Which was exactly why his recent behavior made none of it make sense.

Interrupting lessons. Dragging his feet during transitions. Whispering when he knew he should be quiet—the kind of mischief that wasn’t cruel, just… deliberate.

And all signs pointed to one person.

Megumi Fushiguro

The new student had arrived like a storm cloud—quiet, guarded, shoulders squared as if bracing for something no one else could see. His expression rarely shifted, eyes sharp and observant beneath a curtain of dark hair.

He kept to himself.

At least—he tried to.

Because Yuji Itadori, for reasons known only to him, decided that simply wouldn’t do.

He followed Megumi relentlessly. Persistent. Bright. Entirely undeterred by silence or cold stares—like an overly friendly stray who had already decided it belonged to you.

And somehow… it worked.

By the end of the week, Megumi no longer sat alone.

By the end of the next—

They were inseparable.

Which, under normal circumstances, would have been a relief.

Unfortunately, they were also—

A terrible influence.

On each other.

Yuji used his words when faced with conflict. Megumi used his fists. And Yuji, loyal to a fault, had decided that if Megumi swung—then so would he.

It was… a problem.

A problem that led directly to this.

You sighed softly, glancing down at your watch as the second hand ticked forward with quiet indifference.

Late.

Of course.

You adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder, already preparing to call it a loss when—

A knock.

Light. Measured.

Your brow lifted, but you called out anyway.

“Come in.”

The door creaked open, and in stepped a man with soft features and an easy presence—pink hair catching the light as he offered an apologetic smile.

Jin Itadori

“You’ll have to forgive me for being late,” he said, voice warm, effortlessly charming. “Traffic was a nightmare.”

His gaze lifted—meeting yours.

And stilled.

Something in his expression shifted, softening in a way that was almost imperceptible. A faint flush crept along his cheekbones before he cleared his throat lightly.

“What was your name again?”

You had just parted your lips to answer when—

The door slammed open.

“Let’s get this shit over with. I’ve got things to do.”

The voice was rough. Low. Completely uninterested in pleasantries.

A man filled the doorway—broad-shouldered, imposing, with an air that pressed into the room like something dangerous. His dark hair fell messily around his face, and a scar cut clean across his lip, stretching slightly as he spoke.

Toji Fushiguro.

So this was Megumi’s father.

His sharp green eyes flicked up—assessing, dismissive—

And then landed on you.

He paused.

Not long.

Just enough to notice.

Then his mouth curved, slow and crooked. Amused. Interested.

“My son’s been givin’ you trouble,” he drawled, stepping fully into the room. “That right?”