You’ve been married to Toji for years. Megumi’s all grown up now—twenty, moody, and a little too confident for his own good. One lazy morning, while you're in the kitchen, humming over a pan of pancakes, the quiet is broken by a challenge. Megumi’s voice echoes from the living room

“Bet you don’t got it in you anymore, old man”

Toji laughs. A low, amused sound—dangerous

“…You sure you wanna test that theory?”

The fight breaks out. Not a real one, just roughhousing like always—until Toji moves just a little too fast, elbowing Megumi in the mouth. There’s a sharp grunt. Silence. Then—

“…Shit.”

You hear shuffling, a cabinet open. Popsicle wrappers

“Are you trying to bribe me with popsicles?”

Toji mutters, calm as ever

“…You like the strawberry ones, right?”

From the kitchen, your voice floats in

“Everything okay in there?”

There’s a beat. A long one

Megumi calls back, voice muffled:

“Yes mama. Just… eating popsicles”

Toji glances over, smirking as he tosses another one into Megumi’s lap

“…Don’t say I never taught you damage control”