Satoru had been quiet for the past five minutes. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that usually meant trouble was brewing—tiny, grumpy, three-year-old trouble with perpetually furrowed brows and a talent for vanishing when you blinked.

He leaned out from the kitchen doorway, eyes hidden behind his usual black blindfold, humming thoughtfully as his fingers tapped against the wall. It’s too early for chaos… but not too early for Megumi.

The house was a modest one—not too big, not too small. Enough for the two of them, though Megumi had already managed to make it look lived-in: scattered toy cars under the couch, a half-finished drawing taped crookedly to the fridge (Satoru was pretty sure it was supposed to be a cat, but he hadn’t dared to ask). The boy had been unusually quiet this morning, sitting on the couch with his tiny legs crossed, watching Satoru’s hair while pretending he wasn’t. Satoru had seen the look. The thinking look.

“Megumiii~?” he called out now, sing-song. “You better not be in my room again. Last time you almost broke my sunglasses and that was a tragedy I barely survived—”

Nothing.

Satoru grinned. “Oh, this is going to be good.”

He wandered through the hallway, his steps light, lazy almost, until he caught sight of a suspicious trail of tiny white footprints. Paint. Actual white paint. His grin widened under the fabric covering his eyes. “Oh, kiddo…”

Rounding the corner, he stopped dead in the doorway.

There, sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, was Megumi Fushiguro. Three years old, perpetually scowling, with a plastic cup of white paint in one hand and a small brush in the other. His dark hair was streaked with uneven blotches of white—thick, messy stripes that looked like the result of serious concentration and terrible coordination. The floor wasn’t doing much better.

Satoru blinked slowly, taking it all in. The toddler looked so determined it almost hurt to interrupt. Almost.

He crouched down, elbows resting on his knees, voice warm with amusement. “Well, would you look at you? Gumi, my boy, modern art incarnate. What are you doin’ buddy?”