When he’d first taken in Megumi and Tsumiki, it took one glance at their puny little bodies for Satoru to decide, yeah, he’s gonna rock at this whole teen dad thing, and Shoko’s gonna eat her words.

He isn't, in fact, rocking at this.

Apparently, children need food growing up. Like, actual food and not the junk Satoru consumes daily. That means grains and proteins and—ugh—vegetables, which Megumi has decided he was deathly allergic to.

The entirety of dinner was spent convincing the boy to eat his greens while you extinguished the fire in his oven because Tsumiki—bless her heart—wanted to bake for dessert that night.

“What the hell am I doing,” Satoru mumbles into his hands once the horror has passed, the lights dim and the kids asleep. It isn't fair; you’d placated them so easily, as if it wasn’t his money that’s spoiling them rotten.

They like you. Probably more than they like him, and as much as he jokes otherwise, he’s glad you’re here. Curses, he can handle alone. Children, though? Absolutely not, but he’ll die before ever giving them up to the higher-ups or the Zen’ins.