Chapter Text
Suguru doesn’t care about kids.
This opinion isn’t an attempt to be edgy, or mysterious, or different to everyone else — he has his jet black long hair, his piercings, and his height for that (or so he’s been told). This opinion is honest, borne out of several observations, both from himself and his friends. There’s a primary school near where he works, and he’s never found any of those children particularly adorable, despite what their parents frequently coo at them as they drop them off. When those same children kick and scream and cry by the school gates, as children often do, his only concern is whether he can cross the road in time, before getting caught in the tantrum’s crossfire. When he met Shoko’s niece last fall, he wasn’t particularly moved by her ability to recite the alphabet, nor did he react when she promptly threw up in a potted plant after finishing her demonstration. He did feel bad for the janitor, though.
Towards kids, all Suguru feels is genuine, honest passiveness — children exist, and Suguru exists, and it doesn’t have to go any further than that.
Every time he visits Shoko at her hospital, she puts a stethoscope to his chest and makes the same comment: “Ah, just as I suspected. Your heart is actually a giant block of ice. And stone. An ice-stone hybrid that never erodes or melts.”
He never finds it funny.
He’s thinking about this now, taking the train home, because a few seats down, he sees a father and son bickering, much to the chagrin of the few passengers scattered around them. If the noise they made wasn’t striking enough, their appearance surely was — the father was tall and undoubtedly young, despite his snowy white hair, and wore sunglasses with lenses no bigger than a five-hundred yen coin. The son, by contrast, had spiky black hair, and despite the lack of emotion he showed on his face, was sporting a Naruto backpack slightly too big for him. They were holding hands, with the father using his other hand to hold the rail above and ground them, but the son was almost fully turned away from him, staring out of a window on the train door.
“Megumi,” the father was whining, an exaggerated pout scrawled across his face. “It’s just one night. You’ll be fine.”
“I won’t,” the son — or, Megumi — bit back, with all the seriousness of a first grader. Suguru watched as he tried, again, to pull his hand out of his father’s grasp. “The marathon’s on tonight. I can’t miss it.”
“Megumi. Megumi. Listen to me.” The father let go of the railing in favour of crouching down in front of the kid. “Naruto finished ten years ago. Before you were even born. And the beautiful thing about living in the modern age is that you can find every episode, special and movie online, whenever you want.”
Megumi blinks. “I want it tonight. At 7pm.”
“You — okay, fine. Not whenever you want. You can find every frame of Naruto online at any other time than 7pm today.”
“That’s fine. I don’t want to watch it online. I want to watch it on TV.”
“You are such a brat,” the father hisses, but there isn’t any animosity behind it. Ironically, it sounds more like a child talking back to an adult, Suguru thinks. “Why does it have to be today?”
“Because Yuji’s watching it too, and he said that tomorrow lunch we’re playing as Sasuke and Naruto.” Megumi finally turns back to look at his father. “How am I supposed to be Sasuke if I can’t remember what he does?”
At that, the father wrinkles his nose, though whether in confusion or disgust is unclear. “Why aren’t you Naruto?”
Megumi mirrors his expression. “Too much yelling. Don’t wanna.”
“That’s so — fuck, no, that’s not the point. Shit — shoot, I meant to say fudge, okay? Don’t tell Kento I said a bad word.”
“I won’t if you let me watch Naruto when we get home.”
“Okay. Megumi. Listen.” The father’s holding onto Megumi’s shoulders now. The train stops at a station, and most people get off, deftly walking around the pair. “This is the only time I’ve had friends over in the past six months. Six. Your father used to be a social butterfly, you know? If you don’t want me to wither and die from a lack of human interaction, you’ll let me have this, and you’ll watch Naruto tomorrow.”
Megumi frowns. “What does wither mean?”
“It means let me put something else on when Kento and Yu come around, or else.”
“Or else, what?"
“Or else —” The father stands up, and takes a step out onto the train platform. “— this is where we separate. Do you want that, Megumi? Do you want to leave your poor father here, all alone, in the cold?”
You’re wearing the puffiest coat known to man, Suguru thinks, despite himself. Megumi looks down at his shoes, clutching onto the straps of his backpack. “Do you mean that?”
His father nods, wiping a non-existent tear from his eye. “One hundred percent.”
Megumi takes a deep breath, nods, and then walks towards the train doors. Before anyone can react, Megumi’s pushing the ‘door close’ button, and his father’s face falls immediately. A woman moves to push the ‘door open’ button but it’s too late — the train is hurtling down the tracks again, leaving an angry blur of white in its wake.
The woman is yelling at Megumi now, something about how disrespectful his behaviour was, and Megumi is pointedly looking past her. The longer her tirade continues, the more bored Megumi looks, and if he’s honest, Suguru’s bored now too, so he tunes them out and stares out the window instead.
Or at least, he tries to, until he feels a tug at his pant leg.
Suguru looks down at Megumi. Megumi looks up at him. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Megumi parrots, nodding slightly in lieu of a bow. “I need to borrow your phone, please.” When Suguru looks over at the woman, whose face is now an impossible shade of red, he continues: “I was going to ask her, but she wouldn’t let me talk.”
At that, the woman lets out an indignant squawk and storms off to a vacant seat further down the train carriage. Suguru sighs, but fishes in his pocket for his phone anyway. “Fine. Here.”
“It’s me. Megumi.” Megumi says, when his father picks up. Suguru can’t quite make out his father’s response, but he can clearly hear frantic yelling, despite the call not being on speakerphone. Megumi’s face doesn’t change whatsoever, though — he remains stone-faced as he continues to face a barrage of incessant questioning. “No, I’m not hurt. No, I’m not scared. Yes, I’m still on the train.” He pauses, then looks at Suguru. “This phone is —”
“Suguru’s.”
“ — Suguru’s. That man behind us earlier with the weird hair.” Megumi finishes, ignoring the way Suguru rolls his eyes. His father seems calmer now, judging by how Suguru can’t hear his voice anymore. “I don’t know. Let me ask. Suguru, where are you getting off?”
Suguru glances over at the train map. “Next stop.”
“He’s getting off at our stop.” Megumi answers, and Suguru doesn’t think much of it. At first. Then, before he can say anything further, Megumi says: “He’ll wait with me at the station until you come.”
Suguru frowns at Megumi. “I’m not doing that.”
Megumi holds his gaze, unfazed. “Are you switching trains when you get to the station?”
“No, but I’m busy.”
“My dad’s already on the way. He said that he took the next train after this one left, and that he’ll be here in two minutes, and that you can wait two minutes.” Megumi rattles off, his response clearly borrowed.
Suguru raises an eyebrow. “I can, but I don’t want to.”
“I’m a kid. You can’t leave me alone. That’s unsafe.” Megumi counters, pulling the phone away from his ear. His argument might have done more to sway Suguru if his voice wasn’t so deadpan.
“I’ll leave you with the guards. They’ll look after you until your dad gets there.”
“I can’t talk to strangers.”
“What am I, then?”
“That was an emergency. Also, you’re not a stranger anymore.” Megumi blinks. “You’re Suguru.”
Suguru fights the urge to slam his head against the pole in the middle of the train carriage. Instead, he says: “Can I talk to your dad?”
Megumi shrugs and hands him the phone. When Suguru puts it to his ear, Megumi’s father is rambling, clearly worried about his son’s extended lack of response.
“— this isn’t funny anymore, Megumi! Where’d you even learn to do this? I swear, everyone always says I’m a bad influence but compared to whoever taught you to do this shit — shoot — fuck! Megumi?”
“Suguru here,” Suguru says, pinching the skin between his eyebrows. “Megumi’s fine. We were talking.”
“Oh,” the father says, slightly quieter. There’s a pause, and then: “Sorry about this, by the way. I don’t know why he did that. It’s never happened before.”
Suguru watches Megumi scramble onto the seat opposite him. “It’s fine. I can look after him until we get to the station, and then I’ll leave him with the guards.”
“Please don’t,” Megumi’s father whines. Suguru is genuinely impressed at his ability to sound more like a child than his actual child. “I’m meeting my friends directly at the station, and if they see me collect my kid from the guards they’ll never let me live it down.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t collecting your kid from a stranger be worse?”
“Well, yeah, but they wouldn’t know. They’re at the front of the station. Please, Suguru?”
“Listen —”
“Oh, fuck — where are my manners? I’m Satoru.”
“Okay, Satoru. Look, I’ve had a long day. I’m fucking — freaking tired and I just want to go home.” Suguru looks over at Megumi to see if he’s noticed his slip up, but said boy is staring out the window, hands gripping the sill as he does so. “I’m sure your friends will understand.”
“They won’t, because they suck. But you don’t suck, Suguru, I can tell.”
Suguru blinks. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you’ll do the right thing, though. Ah, look at that — tunnel coming up! Gotta go! See you both at the platform in a bit, okay? I need to thank you in person.” Before Suguru can remind him that they’re taking the same train, which means he knows that there are no tunnels coming up, he’s greeted with the harsh dial tone telling him Satoru’s hung up.
Noticing that the conversation has come to an end, Megumi turns back to face Suguru. “We’re almost at our stop.”
Suguru lets out a long-suffering sigh. Maybe he does hate kids.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“Next time,” Suguru says to Megumi as they reach their station. “Don’t kick your dad off the train.”
Megumi watches the train speed off. “I didn’t kick him off. He walked off.”
“Yeah, and you closed the doors on him.”
“To teach him.” Megumi explains. “If someone does something bad, you need to show them that it’s bad so that they don’t do it again. You teach them, then they learn their lesson. That’s what Yaga-sensei told us.”
Suguru stares at Megumi. “How old are you, again?”
“Five,” Megumi answers, turning to look at him. “Why?”
Jesus. “No reason. I just don’t think that’s what your teacher meant.”
Megumi doesn’t press further. Instead, he asks: “How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.” Suguru answers, pulling out his phone to see if anything’s come through from Satoru.
“My dad’s also twenty-eight. He’ll be twenty-nine soon.”
Suguru shrugs. As he’d expected, no messages from the other man. “Okay.”
“His birthday is next week.”
“Good for him.”
“I’m going to go with Yu next week to pick out a cake. My dad thinks I’m going to art class instead. Do you know who Yu is?”
“No.”
“Yu’s my dad’s friend. That’s why he’s okay with me going with him.”
“Makes sense.”
“Yu said as long as I don’t tell anyone what we’re really doing, my dad will be really surprised.”
“You just told me, though.” Suguru points out. He doesn’t think much of it, but when there’s no response from the child for a while, he looks up from his phone and sees Megumi staring at his shoes, hands fisted at the edge of his shirt. “What the — are you crying?”
Megumi sniffs loudly. “No.”
“Oh my God,” Suguru mumbles under his breath, then shoves his phone into his pocket. “Calm down. It’s fine.”
Another sniff. “I don’t want to ruin my dad’s birthday.”
“You’re not ruining your dad’s birthday.” Suguru assures him. He pauses, then crouches down to the boy’s eye level. “Hey. Seriously, it’s fine. I won’t say anything to him.”
That finally gets Megumi to look up, the tears in his eyes dangerously close to spilling over. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” Suguru sighs, then pulls a pack of tissues, holding it out to Megumi. “Here. Your dad’ll know something’s up if you’re crying when he gets here.”
Megumi stares at the offering. “I’m not crying.”
“Take it anyway.”
Slowly, Megumi pulls out two tissues and stares at Suguru. Suguru stares back for a while, then rolls his eyes and stands up again, turning away so that Megumi can furiously wipe at his eyes in (relative) privacy.
Before the conversation can resume, Suguru feels someone heading towards them, and looks up to be met with a nest of white hair and a blinding grin.
“Megumi!”
At the end of Home Alone, when Kevin reunites with his family, there’s tears and apologies and hugs all around. Given his lack of real-life experience, Suguru had assumed all parent-child reunions went something like that. The painful scene in front of him, however, disproves his theory immediately — Satoru, with his arms outstretched, leaning down in preparation for a touching embrace, and Megumi, with one hand firmly clutching his backpack strap and the other his used tissue, shuffling towards Suguru.
“Hello.” Megumi says, with the same stiff tone he’d used with Suguru earlier.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” Satoru huffs lovingly, reaching out to pick up his son. Suguru looks away, at the people around him, partly because watching Megumi struggle like this feels uncomfortable, and partly because he’s hoping the desperation in his eyes will convince someone to intervene and let him go home.
“I’m not crazy,” Megumi mumbles, eventually giving up his resistance and bunching a fistful of Satoru’s collar. Satoru’s smile widens.
Mission accomplished. Suguru clears his throat. “Alright. I’m gonna head back.”
“What? No!” Satoru insists. He takes three long steps and plants himself in front of Suguru, blocking his passage to the station entrance. “I have to thank you, somehow. You protected my kid.”
“I didn’t protect him. I just waited with him for a while.” Suguru says, as Megumi pouts at the thought of having been ‘protected’. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine.” Satoru says. “I’d get you dinner, or drinks, or something, but I’ve got plans — well, I’m sure you heard, earlier.”
He at least has the decency to look a little embarrassed, the tips of his ears turning red. Suguru rolls his eyes. “You should get to that, then. Didn’t you say your friends were waiting at the front of the station?”
“Yeah, but —”
“Why don’t you come to our house now, too?” Megumi interrupts, drawing both adults’ attention back to him. “Then you don’t have to go again later.”
“Because your dad’s only calling his friends.” Suguru says. “And I’m not his friend.”
“That’s okay.” Megumi counters easily. “You’re the same age. Me and Yuji are the same age, and then when we sat together at lunch we became friends. You can sit with my dad at dinner and become friends.”
Suguru looks to Satoru, hoping the other man will offer some sort of an explanation that will placate his child, but he’s only met with a grin and a twinkle in his eye, visible even through his awful sunglasses. “Megumi, you genius! You’re really my kid, aren't you? Good boy, good boy!”
Megumi fights his father’s hold on him as Satoru ruffles his hair and peppers kisses all over his cheeks. Suguru, however, doesn’t care. “I’m not going. I want to go home.”
“You are!” Satoru grins. “My home.”
Suguru stares at him. “Are you being serious right now?"
“Deadly. I’m a really good cook. Right, Megumi?”
Megumi shrugs. “I like his fried rice.”
Suguru thinks about Satoru cooking, and makes a mental note to ask Shoko first if long-term food poisoning exists, and second, whether it affects the brain.
“So, it’s settled!” Satoru frees one arm and claps Suguru on the back with unexpected force. “I’ll let you join dinner and meet my friends, and you’ll forgive my debt to you.”
Suguru sighs. “Like I said, there isn’t any debt to —”
“Alright, next stop, home! Megumi, lead the way!”
Suguru prays that long-term food poisoning does exist, and that it kills him.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“So, let me get this straight. You lost Megumi —”
“Technically, I didn’t lose him. He closed the train doors on me.”
“— and then Megumi went to this guy —”
“This guy. His name’s Suguru.”
“Right, Suguru. And then Suguru looked after Megumi until you eventually found him again —”
“Hey, don’t say it like that. I was only away from him for like, a minute.”
“And now he’s here.”
At that, the back-and-forth stops momentarily, and three pairs of eyes turn to look at Suguru. He clears his throat and stares down at his empty plate.
“Because I invited him. Or, well, Megumi did. Right, Suguru?”
Suguru glances at Satoru, next to him, then back at the two men opposite him. “For what it's worth, I tried to say no.”
“You don’t need to apologise. We were just surprised, that’s all.” The man on the left — Yu, Suguru remembers — says, smiling at him. He’s much shorter than the rest of them at the table, with cropped brown hair and big doe-like eyes, but there’s an assuredness to him that negates any child-like qualities of his.
“Which, in hindsight, we shouldn’t have been. Satoru’s always been pushy like this.” The other man, Kento, sighs, frowning and leaning back in his seat. His blond hair is gelled back, not a strand out of place, and his glasses sit tight across his face, much unlike Satoru’s precariously balanced sunglasses. If not for Kento’s cow print tie betraying some level of eccentricity, Suguru wouldn’t have believed that the two were friends.
“I’m not pushy, I’m grateful. To Suguru, for looking after Megumi for me, and to you guys, for being my friends. So, I’m celebrating you all at once — two birds with one stone, right?” Satoru grins, letting his chin lazily rest on his open palm. Suguru rolls his eyes.
“As if,” Yu huffs out a short laugh. “You only called us over because you wanted alcohol and you knew Kento’d bring some.”
At that, Kento bristles defensively. “It’s only polite.”
“I’ve always believed your adherence to societal expectations to be your downfall, Kento.” Satoru sing-songs, attempting to reach out and pinch said man’s cheek. Kento glares at him, and he retracts his hand, blowing him a raspberry.
“I’m sorry you had the misfortune of meeting Satoru.” Kento says to Suguru, seriously. “Really.”
“I told you, didn’t I, Suguru? That they wouldn’t leave me alone once they found out Megumi left me behind?”
Suguru looks over at Kento’s exasperated gaze and Yu’s unsuccessful attempts to hide his laughter. “Somehow, I feel like this is unrelated.”
“Et tu, Brute?”
“I only speak Japanese.”
“This is fun,” Yu grins, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “Satoru’s usually much more annoying.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow. “That’s possible?”
“Okay, I’m not a huge fan of this — whatever this is.” Satoru huffs, gesturing vaguely towards the rest of them. Yu’s grin widens. “And on that note, dinnertime’s over. I gotta put Megumi down for bed.”
“It’s a miracle that you look after Megumi so well, when you can barely manage yourself.” Kento sighs, but he stands and begins collecting the empty plates.
“I’m going to ignore the second half of that sentence. Aren’t you sweet, Kento?” Satoru croons, batting his eyelashes at the blond, whose scowl impossibly deepens before he disappears into the kitchen.
“Speaking of, where is he? Haven’t seen him all evening.” Yu points out, looking around the dining room and into the living room.
“Oh, he’s sulking. No Naruto tonight, ‘cause of you guys coming over.” Satoru explains.
“What? I would’ve watched it with him. The marathon special, right?”
Satoru levels Yu with an unimpressed stare. “I know. You did last time. And the time before that. Now he thinks you only come over to watch Naruto with him.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Yu waves him off, still looking into the rest of the apartment. “Megumi?”
Despite Yu’s call, for a while, there’s only the sound of Kento washing the dishes. Suguru’s debating whether he should offer to help — Satoru had gotten mad at him when he’d tried to, earlier — when soft footsteps break the quiet.
“Oh, Yu.” Megumi says, then nods. “Hello.”
“Hey, Megumi.” Yu grins, patting the seat next to him. He gives Megumi time to join them at the table. “Sorry to hear about the Naruto ban.”
“It’s okay.” Megumi concedes. He pauses, then chances a glance at Satoru. “I know what happened, anyway.”
“Obviously.” Satoru scoffs. “With how often you watch that show, you’re bound to have it memorised.”
“No, I used your phone to call Yuji.”
“What?”
“I knew you had Sukuna’s number because you asked me to ask Yuji for it when I wanted to invite him for a playdate. He said it was fine that I called.”
Satoru clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Of course he did.”
“And your password is my birthday.” Megumi finishes, then turns to Suguru. “My birthday is December 22nd.”
Suguru nods. “Sure.”
“That’s three days before Christmas.”
Suguru nods again. “I know.”
“Is your birthday close to Christmas too?”
Suguru shakes his head. “No.”
“Oh. When’s your birthday?”
“February 3rd.” Finally, Suguru turns to Satoru. “Didn’t you say it was his bedtime?”
“What, and break up this adorable little conversation?” Satoru winks, but when Suguru’s impassive gaze morphs into a glare, he raises his hands in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. Come on then, Megumi.”
Megumi allows himself to be lifted out of his seat, but looks over at Suguru again. “Are you friends with my dad yet?”
Suguru sighs. “Guess so.”
Satisfied, Megumi nods. “I told you. Next time, you can come over and watch Naruto with me and dad and Yu.”
Suguru glances over at Yu, who’s beaming at him. “Uh, sure.”
“Am I not invited?” Kento asks, re-entering the dining room. He doesn’t smile at Megumi, exactly, but something in his gaze softens as he stops just next to Satoru.
“Only if you don’t talk so much next time.” Megumi frowns, evidently reliving an older memory. “I missed most of Naruto and Sasuke’s fight.”
Kento frowns back. “They fight in almost every episode.”
“Which is what makes it good, right?” Yu interjects, before grinning up at Kento. “Give it up. You’ll never get him to like you.”
“I like him. I don’t like how much he talks.” Megumi clarifies.
“Do you know who your father is?” Kento mumbles, his question met with a kick to the shin from Satoru. Megumi frowns, confused. “Never mind. I’ll be quieter next time.”
“Alright, plans sorted, which is almost our cue to leave.” Satoru cuts in, smoothing down Megumi’s hair. “Megumi, don’t you have something to say to Suguru?”
Megumi frowns, then turns away. “No.”
“Megumi.”
After a few seconds, Megumi meets Suguru’s eyes again. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, before eventually balling his fists. “Sorry for making you look after me.”
Satoru nods. “And?”
“Thank you for looking after me.”
Suguru blinks, surprised. “Oh, that’s — yeah, don’t worry about it. You don’t need to apologise to me.”
“Dad said I have to.”
Yu lets out a snort. “That’s okay. I think you should apologise to him, though.” Suguru says, nodding at Satoru.
Satoru and Megumi make the same puzzled expression. “Why?” Megumi asks.
“For pushing him off the train.” Suguru pauses, but Megumi doesn’t look any less confused. “Even if it was a lesson, like your teacher said, I think it scared him more than it taught him anything.”
Megumi considers this, looking up at Satoru. “You were scared?”
“That —” Satoru looks over at Suguru, then back at his son, clearing his throat. “Uh, a little. I was more scared for you, alone on the train.”
“But I was with Suguru.”
“I know that now, but I didn’t earlier.” Satoru shrugs, then smiles down at Megumi. “It’s okay.”
Megumi frowns, then buries his face into Satoru’s collar, oblivious to the surprise the action invokes in his father. “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Satoru looks over at each of the others, eyes wide, as if he wants to confirm that they’re all really here, that this is really happening. Yu smiles back at him, Kento rolls his eyes, and Suguru crosses his arms, leaning back in his seat. Finally, Satoru hugs Megumi closer towards him. “I’m sorry too, for not letting you watch Naruto. All good?”
Megumi nods, but doesn’t say anything else. A beat of silence passes, until Yu claps his hands and stands. “Alright, it’s getting pretty late.”
“I’ll get going, too.” Suguru stands as well. “Thanks for dinner, Satoru.”
“No problem,” Satoru mumbles, still looking down at Megumi. He glances up at Suguru fleetingly. “Actually, you probably live nearby if you got off at our stop, right? Let me walk you back after putting Megumi down. As a thank you.”
Suguru frowns. “You said that dinner was the thank you.”
“Dinner was for thanking you for looking after Megumi, the walk’s for thanking you for getting Megumi to finally be nice to Satoru.” Yu grins.
“Ignore him,” Kento sighs, reaching for his and Yu’s coats. “Yu and I are heading out. Don’t wait six months to call us over again, okay?”
This finally snaps Satoru out of his dazed stupor. He flashes Kento his sleaziest grin. “Miss me already?”
Kento rolls his eyes, which Satoru meets with a wink and wave before walking off with Megumi. “It was nice meeting you, Suguru. Hopefully we’ll see you around.”
“Sure.” Suguru follows them both to the doorway. “Again, sorry about crashing your dinner.”
“Megumi’s a quiet kid. He’s only talkative around Yu and I because we’ve been here pretty much since he was born.” Kento says, pausing at the door. “So, if he invites someone to dinner, we won’t say no.”
“Follow through on Megumi’s Naruto offer, okay?” Yu says, putting his coat on. “He seems to have taken a liking to you.”
Suguru looks into the living room, where Satoru is disappearing into what he presumes is Megumi’s room. He thinks back to the way Satoru reacted to Megumi’s apology, eyes soft and smile unarmed, and the way Megumi began crying at the thought of ruining his father’s birthday surprise. He thinks back even further, to Satoru crouching down on the train to meet Megumi at eye level, and Megumi holding his gaze in earnest.
“Alright.”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
“Fuck, it’s cold.” Satoru hisses, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s nice being able to swear openly, though. Fuck. Shit. Cu —”
“If it’s that cold for you, you could’ve stayed home.” Suguru interrupts. “I can walk back myself just fine.”
“You suck at accepting gratitude.” Satoru says, shaking his head. Seeing Suguru’s confused expression, he grins. “I want to. Seriously. You have no idea how much you helped me out today.”
Suguru rolls his eyes. “And you have no idea how little I did. You have a good kid. All I did was hand him my phone and stand next to him for a while.”
“No, you also answered all his questions and came to dinner when he asked,” Satoru says, his smile softening. “He’s not the most expressive kid, but he was happy you did that for him.”
“Not expressive? You should’ve seen his face when the doors closed on you. I’ve never seen anyone that happy.”
“Ha.”
“And then when you got to the platform after us, oh man, the sadness —”
“Alright, enough.” Satoru warns, lightly kicking Suguru’s ankle. “Are you around kids often?”
Suguru shrugs. “Not particularly. I work opposite a school, so I see them, but I don’t really interact. My friend’s niece stays with her a couple times, too, but she mostly keeps to herself.”
Satoru hums contemplatively. “What do you do for work?”
“What is this, an interview?”
Satoru levels him with an unimpressed stare. “Forgive me for making conversation.”
“You’re forgiven.” Suguru says, sighing when Satoru’s stare doesn’t relent even after a few beats of silence. “Fine. I’m a lawyer.”
Satoru grins. “A lawyer,” he chirps, bumping his shoulder against Suguru’s. “How fancy. Is it like Suits?”
“Not particularly. TV makes it look far more exciting.”
“Have you met a murderer?”
“No.”
“An arsonist?”
“Also no.”
“An —”
“I specialise in civil claims. Tortious class action lawsuits, mostly.” Seeing Satoru’s confusion, he continues. “I help big groups of people — sometimes customers, sometimes employees — sue big companies for misconduct, negligence, all that stuff.”
“Huh,” Satoru says, frowning. “I thought lawyers were evil.”
Suguru glares at him. “You need to stop watching law-related TV. Seriously.”
“Why civil class — whatever you said? Why not, like, regular locking up thieves?” Satoru asks.
It’s not a serious question, or a particularly difficult one to answer, but Suguru takes a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” he says, finally. “It just feels like the most efficient way to do the right thing. The law’s meant to protect people, so if I can help as many people as I can, people who can’t otherwise help themselves, then of course I will.”
Satoru smiles, as if Suguru had somehow answered ‘correctly’. “I’m glad Megumi went to you for help, then.”
“I told you, I didn’t —”
“It’s not the law, but you still saw someone who couldn’t help themselves, and protected them.” Satoru interrupts. “You could’ve left him with the guards. He would’ve been fine. But you chose to do the right thing, which was stay with Megumi when he asked you to.”
Suguru raises an eyebrow. “You mean when you asked him to ask me to? Because you were afraid of your friends laughing at you?”
“Same difference,” Satoru huffs, waving him off. Suguru notices his apartment complex and slows down, Satoru matching his pace. “You’re a good guy. Not evil at all.”
“Right.” Suguru mutters, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Anyway, this is me.”
“Oh, already?” Satoru looks up at the building, then whistles. “Lawyers really do get paid well.”
Suguru rolls his eyes. “Thanks again for dinner. And for walking me back. Get home safe.”
“What a gentleman,” Satoru says, pretending to swoon. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I do for work?”
“Somehow, I feel like you’ll tell me anyway.”
“I’m a professor. Physics.” Satoru grins. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ll probably be tenured soon.”
Suguru shrugs. “I don’t have anyone to tell.”
“Give me your number, Suguru. We should hang out again. Without me having to go missing first.” Satoru says, handing out his phone.
“You weren’t missing. We knew exactly where you were. If anything, we were the ones who were —”
“God, you’re such a lawyer.” Satoru groans, tilting his head back and looking up at the sky. “Not everything’s an argument. Just put the number in.”
Suguru frowns, slightly offended at the insult — if he can even call it that — but does as he’s told. When he’s done, he hands the phone back to Satoru. “I have your number, you know. From when Megumi called you. I could’ve just texted you myself.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have.” Satoru winks, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Goodnight, Suguru.”
Suguru nods. “Goodnight.”