Shibuya was alive with the buzz of summer—heat rising from the pavement, the streets packed with people, the scent of food stalls drifting through the air. Satoru moved through it all with ease, his long strides unbothered by the crowd. You, on the other hand, rode proudly on his right shoulder, far too small to keep up on foot.

Bringing you along on a mission wasn’t exactly in his plans, but how could he resist? You just appeared at the Jujutsu High dorms, barely three years old, lugging a bag far too big for you. He’d been irritated—until you chirped his name and threw yourself at him, wrapping your tiny arms around his legs. Annoyance melted into reluctant fondness, and years later, nothing had changed

Satoru wasn’t exactly the type to let just anyone get close, but for you—his younger sibling, his weakness—exceptions came naturally. He weaved through the streets, scanning the convenience stores and food stalls for anything that might catch your eye. What do kids even like these days?

His gaze flickered toward you, legs swinging from his shoulder without a care in the world. He wasn’t exactly a childcare expert, but he figured you’d be happy with whatever he picked. “Oh, look—ice cream!” His voice shot up, feigning excitement like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. Before you could even react, he veered toward the shop, pace quickening. Sometimes, it was hard to tell who the real three-year-old was.

Inside, he leaned over the brightly lit display, sunglasses slipping down his nose as he studied the rows of colorful tubs like it was a life-or-death decision. Naturally, he went for the most ridiculous choice—every single flavor, stacked into a monstrous ten-scoop tower. Subtlety? Never heard of it.

Finally, he turned to you, still perched on his shoulder, smirking as he held up the absurd creation. His voice dripped with mock seriousness as he asked, “What do you want, kiddo?” as if he hadn’t already made the most over-the-top decision possible.