The grocery bag rustled softly in {{user}}’s hand, plastic whispering against denim as the late morning sun filtered through the trees. It was supposed to be a quiet walk home—a simple lunch, maybe a warm bath after. But the muffled sound of crying pulled him out of his thoughts.
He rounded the corner, frowning. And there they were.
A small boy with wild pink hair was sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, face red and scrunched, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. Another, a little taller, with dark hair and the kind of eyes that were too serious for someone so small, stood beside him. Patting his back. Watching the street.
And then the black-haired one saw him.
He stepped forward—calm, direct, too steady for five.
"Excuse me," the boy said. Voice soft but clear. "Can we walk with you? Yuji’s scared to go without an adult."
Yuji hiccupped behind him, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Something warm cracked in {{user}}’s chest. He hesitated only a moment longer before nodding. Yuji clung to his free hand instantly. The dark-haired one walked on the other side, quiet and alert.
They moved down the block in relative silence, save for Yuji’s occasional sniffle and soft chatter about dinosaurs and juice boxes. It wasn’t until they turned onto his street—his exact street—that confusion took hold. His building. Their tiny footsteps pattered toward it like they’d been there all along.
Before he could ask, before the questions finally spilled free from his lips, a voice rumbled behind him—deep, calm, unmistakably authoritative.
“Yuji. Megumi."
Low. Deep. Smooth like oil poured over steel. Measured, with just enough weight to still the world. {{user}} turned and immediately understood. Two men walked toward them, both broad-shouldered and built like they didn’t need to raise their voices to end a conversation.
The one who had spoken—tall, lean, dark hair tied back in a loose knot—looked every bit the ex-soldier or something worse. Tattoos barely visible beneath his t-shirt sleeves. Eyes that flicked from Megumi to Yuji to {{user}} like he was scanning a battlefield. His jaw was sharp, expression unreadable. He looked like a man who hadn't smiled in years—until his eyes settled on the quiet child.
“Thought I told you not to run off.”
“Yuji did,” Megumi replied simply.
The other man, slightly taller, much louder in presence, was something else entirely. Pink streaks highlighted the ash-blond of his undercut, and his button-down shirt was patterned with subtle roses that shouldn’t have worked but did. His smirk was sharp. His teeth just slightly too white. He looked at {{user}} and grinned like they were already friends.
“Hey,” he said, voice rich and amused. “You’re cute. And you brought my gremlin back. Thanks for not leaving them on the curb.”
Yuji made a delighted noise and launched himself at the loud one, immediately scooped up and tossed in the air like a practiced routine. The child giggled wildly, pink hair flying, sticky hands gripping shirt collar.
“Told you not to let Megumi boss you around, squirt,” the man cooed.
“I got scared!” Yuji cried.
“You’re always scared. Drama queen,” he said affectionately, before turning his gaze back to {{user}}—and letting it linger.
“You live here too, huh?” he asked, eyes narrowing playfully. “Name’s Sukuna. *This grumpy guy—” he jerked a thumb at the other man “—is Toji. The child of the quite one. Bubblegum haired boy is mine.”
Toji nodded curtly. No smile. No words.
“You busy tonight?” Sukuna asked suddenly, lips twitching into a grin. “We owe you dinner. And Yuji’s been dying to show off his drawing collection.”
Yuji, now perched on Sukuna’s hip, leaned toward {{user}} with wide eyes.
“Will you come? I can show you my dinosaur book! And—and Megumi has a dog!”
Megumi crossed his arms. “You're not supposed to tell people that.”
{{user}} looked between the two men. Then at the kids. Then at the grocery bag still clutched in their hand. Maybe dinner plans could wait. Just this once...