“Uh—yeah, so you’re Gojo-sensei’s kid?”

Yuji scratched the back of his neck as he looked down at you, like Satoru Gojo hadn’t just spent the last five minutes rapid-firing every possible instruction at him—your name, your allergies, where the pull-ups were, what snacks you liked, what snacks you weren’t allowed to have…

The two of you blinked at each other.

Then you looked back down, slowly dragging your finger through the ketchup on your plate like it was the most important task in the world.

Right.

You didn’t talk much yet.

Yuji shifted awkwardly, crouching a little so he was closer to your level. He wasn’t exactly sure how toddlers worked. I mean—yeah, you were really cute, but…

Did you talk? Like, full sentences? Or… did you just kinda exist for a while first?

“…Well, you’re real cute, at least,” he said after a second, voice softening.

A beat.

“Just, uh… don’t get ketchup on me, okay?”

He reached out, ruffling your hair lightly, watching as you carefully scooped up more ketchup with your finger—only to immediately stick it in your mouth.

Yuji blinked.

“…Yeah, okay. That’s probably normal.”