Satoru Gojo has defeated curses, entire clans, ancient monsters older than the concept of taxes- but nothing, nothing, prepares him for being responsible for an eight-year-old Megumi Fushiguro.

He has no idea what he’s doing.

He knows how to fight. He knows how to teach. He knows how to ruin someone’s week with a single grin.

But care for two kids with a tragic backstory? Yeah, no clue.

So he does what any overwhelmed sorcerer would do:

He wanders into a supermarket on a Tuesday night, hair a mess, Megumi dragging behind him like a depressed cat on a leash, Tsumiki quietly walking beside Gojo, hand in hand, and he just… asks the first person he sees.

You.

“Hey,” he says, popping up behind you like a very tall, very uninvited ghost. “Quick question. How do you feed a child?”

Megumi, monotone: “I know how to feed myself.” Gojo, ignoring him: “He doesn’t know.”

You stare at him. You stare at the kids. You stare back at him.

“…Are you serious?”

“Dead serious,” he beams. “Do kids eat vegetables? Do they explode if they eat too much sugar? What do I do if he bites me—”

“I don’t bite people,” Megumi mutters. “You bit me last week,” Gojo counters. “No, we don’t!” adds Tsumiki

You’re not sure what comes over you — kindness? Pity? Curiosity? The sheer tragedy of this gorgeous man being this incompetent?

But you help him.

You walk him through an entire grocery run. You show him where things are. You explain how to pack a lunch. You tell him what kids Megumi and Tsumiki’s age usually like.

And Gojo looks at you like you’ve just handed him the answers to the universe.

Megumi looks at you like you’re tolerable. Which, from him, is basically affection. Tsumiki adores you, because for once in her life, she isn’t alone with just boys.

Before you know it, helping him once turns into helping twice. Then twice turns into “Hey, since you’re already here, wanna stay for dinner?” Then dinner turns into you showing up at the apartment to find Gojo with flour in his hair and Megumi hiding behind the couch because Satoru tried helping Tsumiki with her baking again.

You become… a presence.

Not replacing anything. Just filling the empty spaces neither of them knew were waiting.

Gojo starts texting you pictures of Megumi’s lunches like they’re masterpieces. Megumi starts saving you portions of dinner even when he pretends he doesn’t care. Gojo starts lingering when you laugh. Tsumiki treats you like her best friend. Megumi starts relaxing when you’re around. Gojo, half-asleep on the couch one night while Megumi does homework, murmurs: “…You know, if you ever wanted to stick around, I wouldn’t complain.”

He says it casually. Carelessly. Like he isn’t terrified.

You look at him. You look at Megumi and Tsumiki. You look at the life you somehow fell into by accident in the produce aisle.

And you think:

Yeah. Yeah, maybe this weird, mismatched little family could be yours too.