'I'm going to kill him'. That was the single, unwavering thought in my mind as I fussed over Megumi's bruises. 'How could Gojo be so rough with a child? Infinity be damned, that man's days were numbered'.

"Might need to work on your reaction timing there, Megumi-chan," Satoru said with that trademark cocky grin, his tone as casual as if he were giving feedback on a middle school science project.

Megumi shot him a glare that could've melted steel, his small frame trembling as he caught his breath.

"Megumi!" I crouched down, my hands fluttering around his face like frantic birds. "Does it hurt? Are there any cuts? Bruises? Broken bones?!"

Megumi's glare softened for a moment, replaced with the exasperation only a sibling could inspire. He rolled his eyes, his voice flat but calm. "I'm fine," he said before pushing himself upright. "I can keep going."

I blinked at him in disbelief as he faced Gojo once more, hands already forming the familiar dog seal. Determination burned in his eyes, but just as his Shikigami began to take shape, they flickered, distorted, and melted away.

Megumi collapsed to his knees, panting heavily, sweat trickling down his temple.

"No good, huh?" Gojo mused, gazing down at his little student with eyes that seemed to see straight through him. "Looks like your stamina's the issue. You're hitting your limit too quickly." He squatted to Megumi's eye level, the knowing, smug expression on his face practically radiating sensei energy.

"Maybe it's because you're still a kid," he added lightly, as though the answer were obvious. But then his tone dropped, the air around him growing heavier. "But being a kid doesn't mean you won't be a target. You need to push past that."

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, I thought even Gojo might be serious for once.

Then, with an obnoxiously loud clap, his mood did a complete 180. "Alrighty! Your turn, Onee-chan!" he announced, spinning toward me with a gleeful smile that made my blood pressure spike.

"BE MORE SENSITIVE!" I roared, veins practically bulging from my forehead. How someone so infuriating could exist, I'd never know. But instead of even pretending to care, the idiot just doubled over in laughter.

"Alright, alright!" he said, waving a dismissive hand. Then, with a dramatic gesture toward Megumi, he added, "Why don't we start with healing your adorable little brother?"

I gave him a withering look. "I was going to do that whether you asked me to or not, you idiot," I muttered, kneeling down beside Megumi again.

Megumi looked up at me, his face stoic but his eyes betraying a flicker of appreciation. "You don't have to worry so much," he muttered softly, averting his gaze.

"I'm your sister! It's my job to worry!" I replied firmly, though my tone was tender.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly. As the tension drained from me, a faint chill coursed through my body—a soothing, refreshing sensation that felt like stepping into cool water on a scorching summer day. Beneath my palms, the dark bruise on Megumi's cheek began to fade, his skin gradually returning to its natural tone.

Satoru's usually carefree demeanor shifted as his expression grew contemplative, a rare seriousness settling over him. His sharp, crystalline blue eyes—the legendary Six Eyes—focused intently on Tsumiki's hands as her technique unfolded. It may have seemed simple to any other sorcerer: a young girl using her technique to heal her brother.

But to Gojo, who could see the world at an atomic level, it was anything but simple.

With his Six Eyes, he could perceive the flow of cursed energy down to its tiniest fluctuations. He could understand its currents, its structure, and its transformation as it fuels a sorcerer's inner techniques. But what he saw with Tsumiki was baffling. Her cursed energy, already minimal—barely a flicker compared to most sorcerers—reacted in a way he'd never encountered.

The moment she activated her technique, the cursed energy within her seemed to convulse, twisting and collapsing in on itself. It wasn't random; it was as though her energy was being compressed, stripped of its nature entirely, and converting into… something else.

It wasn't like Reverse Cursed Technique, which flipped cursed energy's negativity into its positive counterpart. No, this was different. This was neither positive nor negative—it was utterly foreign. A foreign energy without mass, a type of energy that defied categorization and visibility to all, even to his Six Eyes.

And that made Gojo's curiosity burn.

Megumi shifted slightly, testing his healed limbs with the smallest of movements, feeling all soreness and fatigue disappearing.

"Huh…" Satoru mused aloud, placing a hand on his chin as his lips quirked upward in a small, intrigued smile.

Tsumiki raised an eyebrow at him. "What now?"

"Just thinking…" Satoru said, tapping his temple with a finger, though the mischievous curve of his grin betrayed the storm of questions swirling in his mind. His crystalline eyes, sharp and focused, studied Tsumiki with an intensity that felt almost tangible. Finally, he asked, "How far can your healing go?"

Tsumiki blinked, her expression shifting into one of thoughtfulness before she answered. "I've healed a bird's broken wing before," she said softly, her voice modest. "And once, while I was out grocery shopping, I found a stray cat with a missing limb." She paused, her gaze flickering to Megumi, now quietly stretching his newly-healed arm. "I… brought its leg back."

The room fell into a brief, charged silence.

Gojo's brows shot up, his usual playful demeanor replaced by genuine astonishment. "Oh?" His voice was light, but his gaze was anything but. His mind raced as he processed her words, the pieces clicking together like a puzzle. A missing limb?

'Reverse Cursed Technique can heal even severe injuries, but this…' Gojo mused internally, his grin growing wider with each passing second. 'This isn't healing in the traditional sense. She's not fixing what's broken—she's erasing the injury's existence entirely, rejecting that it ever happened.'

His eyes sparkled, his fascination bubbling over. 'The power to reject phenomena... She's not just manipulating cursed energy—she's rewriting the very rules of the world. What a terrifying kid.'

Gojo's smirk deepened, a glimmer of mischief and admiration dancing in his expression. "You're scary, you know that?" he said, his tone teasing but laced with sincerity.

Tsumiki narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed. "Scary? You've been throwing Megumi into walls for hours, and I'm the scary one?"

Megumi snorted faintly from where he sat, folding his arms and glaring at Gojo. "For once, I agree with her."

Gojo laughed, the sound light and carefree, though the gears in his mind never stopped turning. Whatever Tsumiki's technique was, it wasn't just unique—it was extraordinary. And if he had his way, he'd make sure she learned to use it to its fullest potential. For now, though, he'd keep his revelations to himself. No need to scare the kids just yet.

But beneath the surface, he was already plotting—not in a malicious way, but in that Satoru Gojo fashion of scheming for a future only he could see.

"Alright, that's enough!" I roared, planting my hands on my hips, my hair sticking out in all directions like I'd just survived a tornado. A few fresh scrapes and bruises on my skin—courtesy of one certain reckless, overpowered, and totally unqualified teenage teacher—only fueled my rage.

"Pooh!" Satoru pouted like a child caught sneaking snacks before dinner. Meanwhile, he was casually holding Megumi upside down by one leg, like a fish on a hook.

Megumi looked like he was two seconds away from either vomiting or plotting murder—possibly both.

"It's almost 10 o'clock!" I growled, jabbing a finger at Satoru like I was scolding a delinquent. "Just because it's Saturday doesn't mean we don't have things to do, you lunatic!"

"Brats like you don't have important social lives," Satoru said dismissively, spinning Megumi lazily like a human fidget spinner. "So why's it matter?"

"Put me down, you lunatic!" Megumi croaked, his face turning a worrying shade of green.

Satoru finally obliged—by letting go completely.

"Oof!" Megumi hit the floor face-first with an audible thud.

I really am going to kill this man.

"At least I can say we have social lives!" I snapped, a tick mark throbbing on my forehead. "Unlike you, who clearly doesn't. I bet you don't even have a girlfriend."

Satoru snorted. "Oh, that's rich. Snark at me about that when you get a boyfriend."

"I'M SIX!" I screeched, throwing my arms up in frustration. "I HAVE AN EXCUSE! WHAT'S YOURS!?"

Satoru ignored me entirely, slumping dramatically as he began to shuffle away. "Ah, would you look at the time," he sighed, checking a completely nonexistent watch on his wrist. "I'm late for a super important meeting. Gotta run!"

"What meeting?!" I yelled.

He waved me off, casually sauntering toward the door. "Oh, don't worry about it. But someone from Jujutsu High will stop by later."

I blinked, my anger momentarily replaced by confusion. "Wait, what? Why?"

"To discuss your new living arrangements," he said casually, waving a hand as though this wasn't a massive bombshell he'd just dropped.

I froze mid-step, my brain buffering. Megumi appeared at my side, looking equally bewildered. "... Huh?" we chorused, both of us staring at him like he'd just declared he was moving to Mars

"Kay, gotta run," Satoru chirped, already turning away. "See ya later, kiddos!"

"Anyway, I'll be back later!" Satoru said cheerily, throwing us a lazy wave as his smirk grew even more insufferable.

"WAIT!" I shouted, lunging forward.

But nope. Before I could blink, he was gone—poof. Teleportation.

Megumi groaned, rubbing his forehead. "Can we go back to bed now?"

I sighed, my rage simmering. "Only if you promise to help me plot his demise later."

Megumi gave a weak thumbs-up. "Deal."

Satoru stretched lazily as he materialized outside the Gojo estate. Teleportation had its perks, and oh, what fun those siblings were. Brats though they might be, they certainly kept life interesting. A soft breeze ruffled his stark white hair, and he let out a contented sigh, gazing up at the grand traditional-style house before him.

"Ah, what a day," he muttered, still basking in the chaotic fun he'd had with the Fushiguro siblings. "Those brats…" A sly grin crept across his face. "Never a dull moment."

With a dramatic yawn, he started up the stairs, hands in his pockets, his pace unhurried. "Time to deal with the boring stuff," he said, his tone tinged with mock reluctance.

"Satoru Gojo," Naobito Zen'in snarled, his fox-like eyes narrowing to slits. His voice was low and venomous, but Satoru only smiled in that infuriating, smug way that made people want to throw something at him.

"Woah!" Satoru exclaimed, leaning back with a mocking grin. "What's with the face? Oh, wait—never mind. That's just how all you Zen'ins look, huh?"

Naobito's glare intensified, but Satoru ignored it, tapping a finger to his chin like he was deep in thought. "Although… now that I think about it, Megumi-chan doesn't look like that at all," he mused aloud, looking genuinely puzzled for a moment. "Maybe it's 'cause he's still a kid? Or maybe he just dodged the ugly gene lottery?"

Naobito's composure finally snapped. "How dare you interfere in Zen'in affairs!" he roared, his face red with rage. "This is a direct violation of the respect and courtesy expected among the three great clans!"

Satoru groaned, dragging a hand down his face theatrically. "Ugh, why should I care about any of that clan nonsense?" he said, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't fall out of his head.

Naobito growled, his voice dropping into a dangerous rumble. "Custody over Megumi Zen'in was voluntarily handed over by a parental figure—"

"Yeah, sure," Satoru interrupted with a wide, shark-like grin. "And I'm sure the zeros on that check didn't have anything to do with it."

The comment hit its mark. Naobito's face darkened with barely restrained fury. "Matters of the Zen'in clan have nothing to do with the Gojo family," he said through clenched teeth. "You had no right to interfere!"

Satoru tilted his head, his grin turning razor-sharp as he adjusted his sunglasses. "Megumi isn't a thing that belongs to you Zen'ins. He's not a tool. He's a kid." His voice dropped to a deadly calm. "And you have no right to him."

Naobito bristled but pressed on, his tone laced with venom. "I've already requested an official meeting to address your interference. The elders won't tolerate this overreach—"

"Great idea," Satoru interrupted, casually inspecting his nails.

Naobito blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I was going to call a meeting myself," Satoru said nonchalantly, already walking past Naobito like he wasn't worth the energy it took to glare. "Now I don't have to go door-to-door. Thanks for saving me the trouble."

Naobito's shock turned to outrage as he whirled to face Satoru's back. But before he could retort, Satoru paused, glancing over his shoulder. His kaleidoscopic eyes gleamed like a storm contained in glass, cutting through the air like a blade.

"But since you're already here, let me make one thing clear," Satoru said, his voice soft yet dangerous enough to send a chill down Naobito's spine. "Go anywhere near the Fushiguro kids…" His smile turned razor-thin, devoid of its usual cheer. "And I'll kill you."

Naobito stood frozen as the Gojo heir disappeared into the estate, his cursed energy fading like a breeze after a storm. Left alone on the steps, Naobito clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, fury boiling under his skin.

"That arrogant punk!" he hissed, his words trembling with rage.

As Naobito descended the steps of the Gojo estate, his thoughts churned, replaying Gojo's casual yet chilling threat and the dangerous gleam in his kaleidoscopic eyes. Rumors of Satoru Gojo's unruly nature had circulated for years, but they often painted him as a chaotic force contained within the Gojo family—disruptive, yes, but rarely crossing the unspoken boundaries between the great clans.

This, however, was different.

Naobito's face darkened, his usual calculating expression giving way to grim determination. Satoru had outright defied the Zen'in clan's claim, a move that threatened more than just their pride. Since the emergence of the Six Eyes and Limitless wielder, the Gojo family's influence had skyrocketed, leaving the Zen'ins scrambling in their shadow.

That was until he was born.

Toji Fushiguro's son—Megumi Zen'in.

A Ten Shadows Technique user, the Zen'in clan's most treasured legacy. Legends whispered that one who mastered the Ten Shadows could rival even the wielder of Six Eyes and Limitless. Megumi wasn't just a boy; he was the Zen'ins' last hope of reclaiming their dominance in the jujutsu world.

And Naobito wasn't about to let him slip through their fingers.

He halted mid-step, the echo of Satoru's words ringing in his ears.

"Go anywhere near the Fushiguro kids, and I'll kill you."

His brows furrowed as realization dawned. Kids?

"Megumi has a sibling?" he muttered to himself, his sharp mind already racing through possibilities.

"Megumi! Did you brush your teeth?" I called out, doing my best to rearrange the cushions on the couch to hide the evidence of Satoru's chaos—the shredded edges and the faint dog scratches.

Megumi shuffled into the room, his perpetual scowl firmly in place. "Why are you trying so hard?"

"Because it's rude to welcome a guest into a messy house!" I declared, hands on my hips, projecting the air of a responsible elder sibling. "We're not animals, Megumi. We have standards."

He raised a skeptical brow. "You're making a big deal over another weirdo showing up."

"Megumi!" I gasped, offended by his tone. "We can't judge an entire group of people just because we've met… one… odd… example", my tone faltered as I went on.

Even I couldn't find the proper words to dissuade my brother. I knew there were sorcerers like Nanami and Yuta… but the majority of them were… not good examples I'd like my brother to interact with.

Megumi raised a skeptical brow at me as I fluffed yet another cushion, trying (and failing) to hide the evidence of Satoru's hurricane-level antics. I huffed and turned to him. "Can you at least comb your hair?"

"I did," he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"No, you didn't," I shot back.

"Yes, I did."

"Megumi, your hair looks like a bird mistook it for a nest and abandoned its eggs. Try again."

He groaned like I'd asked him to bench press a truck. "Fine," he muttered, dragging his feet toward his room.

Victory. I smiled smugly and adjusted the last cushion, giving myself a mental pat on the back—until the doorbell rang. My confidence evaporated.

"Uh, coming!" I called, rushing to the door and flinging it open.

And there she stood. In all her smoky, effortless glory. The woman I'd go gay for in a heartbeat.

Shoko Ieiri.

"Hi there," she greeted casually with a little wave, and standing awkwardly behind her was Ijichi, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. But honestly, who cared? My eyes were locked on Shoko, as if the mere act of looking away would somehow insult her perfection.

'Say something!' my brain screamed. 'Don't just stand here like a starstruck idiot! Greet her! Be cool!'

"YOU'RE SO COOL!" I blurted out instead, loudly and with the enthusiasm of a rabid fan meeting their idol.

Silence. Deafening, soul-crushing silence. Shoko blinked. Ijichi blinked. Somewhere in the universe, a cricket chirped. My face ignited like a cherry-red fireball. Why, oh why, did the earth not have a quick-sand option?

Shoko, an angel among mortals, chuckled softly. "Well, aren't you a cutie," she said with that trademark lazy smile, her voice practically dripping with coolness.

That was it. Game over. My knees gave out. I crumpled like a poorly made paper crane right there in the doorway.

"ONEE-CHAN!" Megumi's panicked voice cut through the haze, but it was too late. My spirit had ascended, leaving my mortal body behind. Somewhere, I imagined Shoko lighting a cigarette as she waved farewell to my departing soul.

I coughed into my fist, trying to regain some semblance of dignity as I sat in a formal seiza pose on the couch, my face still red as a tomato. "I apologize for the… embarrassing display," I said, my voice carefully measured with politeness. I placed a hand over my heart like I was about to swear allegiance. "My name is Tsumiki." Then, I gestured toward Megumi, who was glaring at nothing in particular. "And this is my brother, Megumi. And you are?"

Shoko Ieiri, effortlessly cool as ever, sat across from us like she owned the place, legs crossed and radiating nonchalance. "Shoko Ieiri," she said with a small smile, her eyes glinting with amusement. "And this is Ijichi Kiyotaka."

Ijichi gave a polite nod, looking exactly as uncomfortable as someone dragged into a situation well above his pay grade.

"You know," Shoko began, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees as she rested her chin on her hands. Somehow, she made it look like a royal decree. "You're nothing like what Satoru described."

I froze, petrified like a poorly drawn anime character.

SATORU. THAT. BLABBERMOUTH. WHAT DID HE SAY?!

I let out a nervous chuckle, my face heating up even more. "I—uh… what exactly did he say?" I asked, already bracing for disaster.

Shoko smirked. The kind of smirk that said she enjoyed this far more than she should. "He said, and I quote," she began, clearing her throat for dramatic effect, "'I need you to deliver the soft touch to a bossy brat and her grumpy brat brother.' Or something along those lines."

My blush deepened to a shade that could rival the sun.

I'M GOING TO MURDER THAT MAN IN HIS SLEEP.

"I… I see," I mumbled, my voice barely above a squeak.

Megumi, who was seated beside me, rolled his eyes as if this whole situation was beneath him. "Why are you here?" he asked flatly, cutting right to the chase.

"Megumi!" I gasped, scandalized.

But my brother ignored me entirely. "I don't know how," he continued dryly, "but you've somehow managed to love-strike Tsumiki—"

"LOVE-STRIKE?!" I shrieked, my hands flailing, "what's that even mean!"

"—so you're probably here to give her the delicate approach," Megumi continued without missing a beat, "but don't bother with me. I want answers."

Shoko raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Guess that idiot didn't bother telling you, huh?"

"You'd think he would," Megumi replied with a shrug. "But we've only just met the weirdo, so I'm not surprised."

Shoko chuckled softly, then gestured to Ijichi, who awkwardly stepped forward. Clearing his throat, he shuffled through a file and began speaking in his most professional tone. "Gojo-san had me pull up residences close to Jujutsu High. As he… more frequently resides at the dorms, he wanted to ensure you had a more private living arrangement."

Ijichi placed a stack of papers on the table. "Here are the options."

Curious, Megumi picked up the first one. His eyes widened. "This one comes with a beach house?!" He flipped to the price and promptly choked. "Ten million yen a month?"

My heart stopped. I grabbed the paper from his hands, only to feel my soul leave my body. Flipping through the other pages, it just got worse. Mansion after mansion. Villas. Estates. Places with names that sounded like wine brands.

"Is he INSANE?!" I cried, my voice cracking. "Who even lives like this?!"

Megumi leaned over my shoulder, equally appalled. "Apparently Gojo does. And he's clearly lost his mind."

"Rich, too," Shoko added casually, like we hadn't figured that out from the gold-plated property listings.

'She didn't deny the insane part,' everyone silently thought, even Ijichi.

"We can't afford places like this!" I declared, slamming the papers down on the table. "Not only is it too big for two kids, but there's no way we could maintain it!"

"If that's the problem," Shoko said, barely holding back her amusement, "just have Gojo hire maids or something." She shrugged. "just have Gojo hire maids or something. Leech off the bastard as long as you need—he's officially your legal guardian now. Trust me, it's no trouble. And if it does become trouble…" Her smile turned downright diabolical. "…that's his problem to deal with."

"Miss Shoko," Ijichi muttered weakly, clearly unprepared to navigate this level of chaos.

"That's even worse!" I roared, my face burning with indignation. "Since when is that maniac our legal guardian? Who let that happen?"

"Approximately," Shoko said, glancing lazily at her watch, "43 minutes ago."

"There aren't many who can stop Gojo," Ijichi admitted, visibly sweating. "Especially not…uh…normal laws."

"There's NO WAY I'm indebting myself to that freak more than absolutely necessary!" I fumed, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger.

"Smart," Shoko said, nodding in approval like some kind of chaos mentor.

Even Ijichi nodded, though his expression clearly said, Please don't make me deal with any of this.

Shoko leaned forward, her smirk widening as she rested her chin on her hand. "Alright, then," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "If you're dead set on keeping your pride intact, why don't you…"

She paused dramatically.

"…make him suffer?"

I froze mid-pace. "What do you mean, 'make him suffer'?"

"Gojo's not exactly known for subtlety, right? He's always got to make a show of things," she explained, grinning like she'd just pulled the perfect hand in poker. "So let him! Pick the smallest, most boring apartment you can find. Make him live like a normal person. I promise, it'll be way worse for him than for you."

"Miss Shoko, I don't think—" Ijichi began, only to falter when Shoko gave him a look that said don't ruin this.

I blinked at her suggestion. "You're saying…we weaponize mediocrity?"

Shoko snapped her fingers. "Exactly. Nothing's more torturous to Gojo than being treated like a regular guy."

Megumi, who had been silent up until now, raised a skeptical eyebrow. "But I thought you said no one could force him to do anything. Also…" He paused, grimacing. "…I'm really not interested in living with that weirdo."

Shoko leaned back casually, with a smile. "Oh, you won't have much of a choice, kid. Like it or not, you're his shiny new toys now."

Megumi groaned loudly, rubbing his temples as though he were already feeling a Gojo-induced headache. "Great. Just great."

"You're not wrong, though," Shoko continued, her smirk sharpening. "There's not much that can stop Gojo… but…"

She leaned forward, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "There is someone who can reel him in."

I gasped, my brain finally catching on. Oh! Why didn't I think of that before?

Megumi looked at her with guarded curiosity. "Who?"

"SHOKO, HOW COULD YOU?!" Satoru bellowed, throwing his arms wide as if he were auditioning for a soap opera. His oversized sunglasses slid down his nose just enough to show the sheer betrayal in his eyes. "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!"

Across from him, Shoko barely spared him a glance, puffing on her cigarette like this nonsense was her daily entertainment. "No way," she said, blowing out a lazy cloud of smoke. "You're trash."

"That's… that's not even an argument!" Satoru whined, clutching his chest like she'd just stabbed him with her words. "I thought we were friends! Comrades! Partners in crime!"

"We're not," Shoko deadpanned, flicking ash into a nearby tray.

"SHOKO!" Satoru's voice cracked as he dropped to his knees dramatically. "Why are you like this?! I trusted you! I even let you borrow my limited-edition sunglasses!"

She raised an unimpressed brow. "You gave me a pair because you lost a bet. Don't rewrite history, drama queen."

Satoru groaned and fell onto his back, arms flung out like a starfish. "It's like you enjoy seeing me suffer," he muttered, glaring at the ceiling.

Shoko exhaled a slow puff, smirking down at him. "I do."

"SHOKO!"

"EH?!" Satoru squawked, staring down at the little girl in front of him. She had her arms crossed, her chin tilted up, and a determination in her eyes that said she wasn't here to play. Behind her, Yaga loomed like a stern mountain, arms crossed in a pose that dared Satoru to try something stupid. Megumi stood nearby, looking away with what Satoru could swear was the ghost of a smirk.

"You heard me," Tsumiki said, her voice steady and firm. "We'll be living in an apartment we choose. Yaga-san has agreed to assist us with any issues—most of which involve you." She muttered the last part under her breath, but Satoru caught it loud and clear.

"This apartment's too small!" Satoru cried, flailing dramatically. "Where am I supposed to crash?!"

The real problem, of course, wasn't the size of the apartment. It was the fact that it was dangerously close to Yaga's place, which meant his very scary teacher could pop in unannounced at any moment. How was he supposed to pull off his usual nonsense under those conditions?

"Gojo," Yaga's voice cut through like a steel blade, and Satoru froze mid-flail.

"It was admirable," Yaga began, his tone almost fatherly. "What you did for these kids—it showed heart. I'm proud."

Satoru blinked. "...You're about to hit me, aren't you?"

BAM!

"OF COURSE I AM!" Yaga roared, shaking the room with his voice as Satoru hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Megumi's smirk became a full-blown smile, while Tsumiki clapped politely like Yaga had just performed some kind of public service.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Yaga boomed, towering over him like a vengeful god. "Signing yourself as their official guardian?! YOU'RE JUST A BRAT YOURSELF!"

Satoru, still recovering from the head bump of doom, gave a sheepish grin. "Well, it was the only way to keep them out of the Zen'in clan's hands!"

"You and I both know you could've handled this without becoming their official guardian!" Yaga bellowed, his arms crossed so tightly it looked like he was physically restraining himself from delivering another sensei special to Satoru's head. "You could've found a responsible adult—you know, someone qualified!"

"Do you even understand how hard it is to be responsible for children?"

Satoru dared a glance at the kids. Tsumiki was nodding in solemn agreement, like Yaga had just delivered a TED Talk titled 'Why Gojo Is the Worst Candidate for Guardian of the Year.' Meanwhile, Megumi wasn't even trying to hide his smirk.

These brats. These brats! They were enjoying this way too much.

"Pfft. It can't be that hard," Satoru muttered, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Satoru puffed out his chest, trying to salvage his pride. "Hey, it's not like I'm a total disaster! Tsumiki and Megumi were already pretty self-sufficient when I found them. I mean, I just have to keep them in a big house, give them a yard to run around in, throw some toys their way, and voilà—happy kids! Easy peasy. Then I can focus on the important stuff, like making them ridiculously strong."

He was pretty proud of his plan, to be honest. Simple. Efficient. Genius, even.

"Oh"

That one syllable from Yaga carried more danger than any cursed spirit Satoru had ever faced. He froze, slowly looking up to find Yaga looming over him like a final boss with infinite health.

"Is that so?"

The man's face was unreadable, but the vein twitching on his temple told a very different story.

Oh no.

Oh no no no.

Satoru's soul left his body.

"Shit," Satoru muttered under his breath. He'd said all that out loud, hadn't he?.

"Yes," Yaga replied, his tone sharp and final, like the crack of a judge's gavel. "You did."

Gojo gulped audibly, trying to laugh it off. "Well, uh, when you think about it, kids are like—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence with anything related to dogs, toys, or frolicking." Yaga's tone had the kind of authority that could make even curses reconsider their life choices.

Satoru immediately shut his mouth, looking more like a scolded puppy than the "strongest sorcerer alive."

"Let me get this straight," Yaga began, his voice deceptively calm. "Your grand plan for raising two children is to toss them into a mansion, hire someone else to deal with the actual responsibilities, and show up occasionally to teach them how to punch things harder?"

"Well… when you say it like that..." Satoru scratched the back of his head, smiling nervously.

"GOJO SATORU!" Yaga bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls like a thunderclap.

Satoru flinched so hard he nearly lost his sunglasses.

"They're not pets! They're not toys! And they are definitely not your personal punching bags for 'training purposes'!"

"Technically, they're more like stray wolves," Satoru muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Satoru snapped to attention, sweating bullets. "I'm just saying, they're resourceful! They don't need, like, that much oversight, right?"

"You think parenting's easy, huh?" Yaga's glasses glinted ominously, his voice dropping an octave. "That's probably because your brilliant plan is to dump them in a mansion, hire a bunch of staff to do all the actual work. Right?"

Satoru's jaw dropped. "What?! That's not true!" he protested, throwing his hands up. "I'd totally… uh…"

"Totally what?" Yaga pressed, raising a single terrifying eyebrow.

"…make sure the staff's paid on time?" Satoru offered weakly.

Yaga's knuckles cracked loudly, like the thunder before a storm.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Satoru yelped, waving his hands defensively. "I'd be a little more involved!"

Tsumiki raised a skeptical brow. "By 'a little,' you mean showing up at dinnertime and teaching us how to dodge taxes, right?"

"HEY!" Satoru gasped, clutching his chest in mock betrayal. "Dodging taxes is a valuable life skill!"

"Let me explain this in a way you can understand," Yaga said, his tone far too calm now, which was infinitely worse. "Raising kids isn't about dropping them in a sandbox and hoping for the best. It's about discipline! Structure! Responsibility!"

Satoru's brain supplied an immediate response: Gross. No thanks. But judging by the vein pulsing on Yaga's forehead, saying that out loud was not an option.

"I-I can totally do that!" Satoru blurted, sweating bullets.

"Oh, really?" Yaga said, his tone dripping with skepticism. "Name one responsible thing you've done this week."

Satoru thought hard. And then harder.

"Uh… I didn't prank Nanami yesterday?"

"Because he wasn't in the country," Yaga deadpanned.

Gojo's silence said it all.

"I rest my case," Yaga declared, crossing his arms again.

Tsumiki raised a hand like she was in school. "Yaga-san, if Gojo messes this up, can we live with you instead?"

"Of course," Yaga said without hesitation.

"HEY!" Satoru yelled. "You can't just trade me in like that!"

Megumi shrugged. "Why not? He seems a hell of a better deal than you."

Satoru dramatically fell to his knees. "Et tu, Megumi?!"

Yaga continued, stepping closer until he was practically nose-to-nose with Gojo, "if you think you can just half-ass this while I'm around..."

"...You'll what?" Satoru asked, his cocky grin faltering under the intensity of Yaga's stare.

The older man smiled—a dark, foreboding smile that promised pain.

Satoru looked at Tsumiki and Megumi, who were staring at him expectantly. Then he looked at Yaga, whose terrifying aura was still in full effect.

"…Can I at least keep the mansion as a backup plan?"

"No."

"Fine," Satoru grumbled, sulking like a child denied candy.

Meanwhile, Tsumiki and Megumi watched the spectacle from the sidelines, sipping juice boxes Shoko had sneakily handed them.

"I like Yaga," Tsumiki said with a satisfied nod.

"Yeah," Megumi agreed, smirking. "We should keep him around."

Shoko's chuckle was soft but merciless as she leaned over him, cigarette perched perfectly between her fingers. "Face it, Gojo. This is karma for being… well, you."

"I'M A DELIGHT!" he protested, sitting up like a wronged cartoon character.

"You're something," Shoko quipped, her smirk widening.

Satoru groaned again, flopping dramatically to the floor. "I can't believe this. Betrayed by my own teammate."

"I was never on your team," she replied dryly, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her coat. "But thanks for the show. I needed the laugh."

As she walked away, Satoru sat up, narrowing his eyes. "I'll remember this, Shoko! One day, when you need me—when the chips are down and there's no one else—you'll regret this moment!"

Shoko paused, turning back to him with a mockingly thoughtful expression. "Yeah, no, I won't."

And with that, she strolled out, leaving Satoru to wallow in his "tragedy."

Tsumiki zipped the last of her suitcase shut with a satisfying thunk, the sound ringing through the room as she surveyed her work. The apartment was now neatly packed, and the overwhelming sense of finality settled into her bones.

They were finally moving.

She knew the way things had been left up to Gojo until now wasn't working. Not on her watch. She wasn't going to let him run wild in her household like some sort of circus act. Not if she had any say about it. If he was going to be involved in their lives, it was going to be on her terms. He'd either shape up and do his part—or she'd make sure someone else stepped in to keep him in check. She had already saved Yaga's number in her phone for a reason.

Time to start their new version of normal.