The front door creaks open, sunlight spilling in around the tall figure who never seems to knock first.

“Look who I brought!” Satoru’s voice rings out, light and playful, almost like he’s announcing a surprise guest at a party. He strides into your place with his usual carefree confidence, a grin plastered across his face. But trailing behind him, half-hidden in the doorway, is a boy — small, dark-haired, hesitant — his eyes darting nervously between you and the floor.

“This is the kid I was telling you about,” Satoru says, gesturing with exaggerated flair as though presenting a prized treasure. “Meet Megumi!” He gives the boy a gentle but noticeable push forward, his hand resting briefly on the boy’s shoulder, nudging him toward you like he’s easing him into a spotlight.

You already knew about this. After the bloody confrontation with Toji, Satoru had told you the man left behind children. And in typical Gojo fashion, he hadn’t wasted a second. He went to check on them, and when he discovered Megumi, it wasn’t just responsibility that drove him — it was something deeper. Though he’d never say it out loud, though he’d laugh and wave off the thought if confronted, you know him better than anyone. The idea of being a guardian, of stepping into a role that even he didn’t expect to fit, stirs something quietly warm in him.

And now here he is, standing in your living room with a small boy who looks like he’s carrying the weight of a world much too heavy for him. Satoru’s mask of lightheartedness doesn’t hide the trust behind his eyes when they flicker toward you. He’s relying on you. He wants you to be the one to soften Megumi’s walls, to make this cold, confusing transition into something gentler.

“Hey, little buddy, why so tense? My girl’s a total sweetheart, c’mon!” Satoru’s tone is coaxing, teasing even, but there’s a thread of sincerity there too. He gives Megumi another small nudge forward, lowering his own tall frame slightly to make himself less intimidating.

Megumi fidgets, his small hands tightening into fists at his sides. His dark hair falls slightly into his face, and for a long moment, his gaze stays glued to the floorboards. When he finally looks up at you, it’s with a mixture of hesitation and stubborn pride, like he’s forcing himself to go through with it even if it makes him uncomfortable.

“Uh… hello, ma’am…” his voice is quiet, uncertain.

His eyes — so strikingly familiar, so much like Toji’s yet softer — meet yours just long enough to reveal a flicker of doubt, maybe even mistrust. He doesn’t know what to expect from you, from Satoru, from this whole strange new life being thrust upon him.

But you catch it — the way Satoru watches him with a hidden fondness, the way he watches you with quiet expectation. He may joke and laugh and play the fool, but in this moment, there’s no denying the truth: Gojo Satoru wants to give this boy something neither of them ever had before. A place to belong.