Chapter Text
Having two dogs in the house is…slightly terrible? The place had already felt a little crowded, but the dogs are big and as Megumi gets better at keeping them around, the more they are, as to be expected, around. They chew on everything , which isn’t fair because they aren’t real dogs? But Satoru has lost a pair of shoes–expensive and his favorite–and one of his new jackets that he picked up when he was in Russia. They also chew on Tsumiki’s stuff which had caused Satoru to snap at Megumi for the first time over the animals. He's still figuring out how to navigate Tsumiki’s insecurities and having animals she can’t see eating her stuff is like rubbing salt in the wound. Satoru isn’t a rule person but after he comes home and finds the white one–still nameless, like Megumi is waiting for them to go away, Satoru’s fault of course–smeared in a thin sheen of Satoru’s treasured lip gloss; it was time for rules. The dogs are not allowed in the bathroom for one; no Megumi they do not need to understand where we shit, they don’t shit. The dogs are only allowed in the kitchen when Satoru is home; no Megumi you cannot use them to get into snacks, ask and ye shall receive. The dogs are not ever, ever allowed out into the hall; Megumi, please , we’re going to get evicted. And last, though arguably most important, the dogs are not allowed into the loft if Tsumiki is not there and if she is Megumi has to figure out how to involve her with the dogs. This has been done so far with a collection of drawings depicting the dogs and their mischief.
The animals make it hard though because they like Satoru and he likes them too. He enjoys coming home when Megumi has them out and flopping down against the black one while the white one comes and lays in his lap, staring up at him with forlorn eyes until Satoru scratches her behind the ears. Megumi gets huffy if they pay too much attention to Satoru and once demanded what Satoru had done to make the animals like him. Nothing, he’s just Satoru Gojo, everyone likes him. In all honesty, Satoru thinks it might be his cursed energy that makes the dogs so clingy with him. Or maybe the fact that he loves how they lay on him with no expectations but his company and as such he opens his arms willingly to them.
So, again, Satoru’s life grows and changes and this time he’s brushing white fur off his dark uniform as he walks the halls of the tech conversing with his fellow sorcerers or clan reps. He’s been called in a few weeks into August to evaluate a few potential students from the Inumaki’s. They turn out a few powerful kids every couple of years and the tech tries to get them before Kyoto can. Satoru reads through the files, two files in total. Two girls, sixteen and seventeen. Their techniques are interesting, useful, a bit boring, but any technique is useful at this point.
“Alright,” Satoru says as he slides the files into the middle of the conference room table. “I think they’ll be a fine addition to the school.”
“Okay,” Yaga says. “I’ll put together a team to go and collect them. Satoru ca–”
“Probably not,” Satoru cuts him off. He puts his hands in his pockets. “I’m heading out to Osaka for a few days. They’re having some flare ups with a band of curse users that are infighting. I have no idea how long it will take. And after that I’m due down in Mexico, exciting right?”
That’s mostly a lie. Mexico is a maybe, depending on if the curses springing up get to be too much. But Satoru will absolutely wield that maybe to the best of his advantage. If questions are asked, Satoru's story will fall apart.
Yaga, sighs, nods and the other gathered sorcerers make faces at the table. Mei Mei is actually present, sitting at the end of the table next to some guy that Satoru doesn’t know well. The attention at the table turns to her. She smiles lazily from behind her hair.
“Of course I’d be willing to go, but–”
“Yes,” Yaga says, “you will be compensated.”
“The Inumaki are pretty sensitive,” Satoru says, “you’re going to need to handle this with a little bit of grace.”
“Well thank goodness you’re not going then,” Mei Mei drawls. She pulls the files over.
Satoru nearly got into a duel with the head of the Inumaki clan when he was like…twelve. Satoru had touched a pot and bam in a courtyard about to smear a balding man in his thirties across the ground. He’d learned how to approach them after that. And it was all cordial meetings and respect from there. Actually. Maybe the Gojo’s had threatened them if they so much as suggested they wanted to hurt Satoru again. Anyways, the point is, the Inumaki don’t like to be bothered and they are almost as secretive as the Gojo.
Satoru stands up. “Can we start an email chain? This didn’t need to be a meeting.”
“I actually agree,” Mei Mei says. She’s stood as well, stretching.
A vein jumps in Yaga’s forehead. “I’m trying to assimilate you into attending these meetings in an official capacity. They’re different from getting briefs when you were students.”
“I can figure out how to attend a meeting,” Satoru says, brushing a wad of white fur off his sleeve.
The action draws the attention of everyone in the room. Seven pairs of eyes on his sleeve and the hand he’s slowly dropping. Satoru smiles tightly at them, feeling a little flayed open.
“Sorry,” Satoru says. “Dogs.”
“Dogs?” Mei Mei scoffs. “Since when do you have dogs?”
Satoru flicks a hand at her in dismissal. “I’ve always liked dogs, it was bound to happen eventually.”
Does he trust Mei Mei? Eh, maybe. But there are people in this room he absolutely does not, they don’t need to know that Megumi has his dogs and is on a fast track to gaining more of his shikigami.
“You have such feline temperaments,” Mei Mei purrs. “I have to admit that I’m surprised.”
Satoru shrugs. “I live to surprise. Yaga, anything else you need me for?”
“No,” Yaga grunts, “you can go. Mei Mei I need you so we can go over the paperwork.”
Satoru leaves then, he is needed in Osaka, but not as eminently as he made it appear, nor for as long. The kids are with Aimee for the day and Satoru took his secret free time to run some errands in the city. And by errands he means that it is long past time for Satoru to have a bit of a self care day. He needs a haircut. Badly. Satoru hops down the steps to the morgue to find Shoko. She’d sworn to keep her mouth shut when he asked her if she wanted to come with him for a day on the town.
“Shokoo–oh, sorry.”
Shoko glares up at him from the body she’s carving up.
“Step back, it's sterile in here,” Shoko snaps.
“I have Infinity up,” Satoru says, but still, he stays in the door, rocking back on his heels, watching her place organs into stainless steel containers. “How long is that going to take?”
“I’m almost done,” Shoko says. “Just organ removal for now. I have an embalmer coming to reconstruct the face tomorrow.”
“Fun,” Satoru says. “Did you know them?”
Shoko shakes her head silently. “There’s a reason I stay in the morgue, Satoru.”
“Heh, fair enough.”
He slouches against the doorframe. Satoru had brought his duffle with him so he could change before his haircut. He considers running to the cramped bathroom down the hall now and changing while he waits for Shoko to finish. But it doesn’t take long before she’s taking her gloves and coat off. A long handwashing session and she changes from one pair of pale pink high heels into a different pair. Just like Satoru who walks around in a different uniform and with bandages on his eyes, Shoko had grown up overnight. She dresses in sharp, clean fashions, heels that elevate her a little bit and makeup that she wasn’t so careful about when they were students.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Shoko asks as she elbows past Satoru into the hall.
“You can’t tell how I’m looking at you,” Satoru says. He points to his bandages. “I am as good as expressionless."
“You’re not making obnoxious faces at me,” Shoko says. “That’s enough.”
Satoru catches up with her, grinning to make up for the lack of expression on his face. He hands her a crumpled piece of gum from his pocket when he sees her fidgeting for a cigarette. She takes it with a hum of thanks. It’s peppermint and harsh to chew, something that Satoru had picked up specifically for Shoko after she told him she wanted to quit smoking. Satoru felt a probably inappropriate amount of fuck yes after she admitted it, but he’s spent years dramatically trying to get her to stop smoking.
“You still dead set on a haircut?” Shoko asks as they take a side door out the building.
There’s a path that cuts through the trees to a parking lot at the edge of campus where Shoko parks her personal vehicle. A Toyota Prius, brand spanking new, and bought with Shoko’s first big paycheck after graduation.
“Yeah,” Satoru chirps as he swings into the passenger seat. “I gotta figure out how to wear these bandages without feeling like I want to rip my skin off.”
“And a haircut will help?” Shoko cracks each finger before she buckles in and starts the car.
“Do you want me to drive?” Satoru asks.
Shoko barks a laugh and puts the car in reverse. “Since when do you know how to drive?”
“I can drive! Probably. It can’t be that hard.”
A scoff. “It’s not exactly easy. There’s a reason we have tests before we can get licenses.”
“One day I’ll buy a car,” Satoru says, “and I’ll drive that car.”
“What? A Honda Fit? A minivan?” Shoko snickers. “I’d actually pay to see you driving around a mom car, taking out fire hydrants and pedestrians.”
“Wha–not even! I’d be a careful driver.” Satoru crosses his arms over his chest. “And no. It’d be a sick car. Or. A motorcycle.”
“You’re too tall for a motorcycle.”
They turn onto the road leading down from the campus. Satoru leans forward to fiddle with the radio, only to get his hand smacked.
“Driver’s choice for the radio.”
“Why?” Satoru whines.
“Car laws,” Shoko shrugs.
“That’s not a thing.”
“It is. It’s the third question on every license exam.”
Satoru rolls his eyes. “I’m not incompetent.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to prepare you for when you go get your license like you definitely are.”
“Fuck off,” Satoru laughs.
She turns the radio to a pop station, something that comes clear and bouncy through the speakers. Satoru leans against the window, watches Shoko taps a rhythm on the steering wheel, flicks on the windshield wipers when they pass under a little burst of rain. That’s all it is today, bursts of rain that pocket a blue-gold sky.
“Hey, what do you mean I’m too tall for a motorcycle?”
Shoko lifts a hand off the wheel, turns it one way and then the other. “You’d overbalance it.”
“You’re such an ass.”
She smiles at him.
Satoru gets his hair done at the same place he’s been getting it done since he was small. Which is saying a lot, because he doesn’t frequent many haunts from when he was a child. But he remembered this place when he came to live in Tokyo, because it was as far away from the clan house that he was taken. The barber is a sorcerer though, a man named Qi with a bitter temper that Satoru likes to ignite for the fun of it. He greets Satoru–dressed down in a t-shirt, brown jacket and faded jeans–with a grunt and a heavy look over.
“What is on your head, boy?” Qi snaps at him as he shepherds him towards the singular chair in his shop.
“Hair,” Satoru says with glee, “and a lot of it.”
“I should shave you bald,” Qi threatens. “Your hair is so fine and beautiful and you let it run rampant. I mourn that it belongs to you.”
“Comes with the territory of my job,” Satoru says. “Teach me some of your tricks old man and I can do it myself.”
“Old? Old? You think I’m old?! ”
Satoru kicks up his feet, leans back into the basin. “You’ve been old since I was knee high, and you definitely aren’t getting younger. Are those wrinkles? I know they aren’t crow's feet.”
“The mouth on you,” Qi says. “Someone will tame it one of these days.”
“Not like you’d live to see it.”
Qi sprays him with hot water. Satoru sputters, and laughs. He lays back fully, lets the man work shampoo into his hair. Satoru shivers at the feeling, leans back into it and cringes internally at his own neediness. It feels so good though to have someone’s hands in his hair, scratching at his roots, being careful with his head. The shampoo smells nice too, not like Satoru’s preferred scent but crisply pear and refreshing. It eases some of the constant pressure in Satoru's head when Qi combs back his bangs, scratches lightly at his temples and behind his ears. A hand cupping above his eyes to keep the water out or his eyes. The briefest of touch along the scar, there and gone before Satoru can flinch or feel any pain. He hears Qi make a soft sound, but then his fingers are back at Satoru's nape and his thoughts stray away from pain. Qi doesn’t talk much to Satoru. He lets Satoru talk for a bit when he switches to conditioner and becomes another level of gentleness that makes Satoru feel like he's something glass, but something loved, something taken care of. He lets the man touch his head freely, leans into it like something sick, needy, and only feels a shadow of shame for his own indulgence. To distract himself from becoming putty in the barber's hands, Satoru talks about things that don’t really matter, nothing about the kids even as he wants to, even when most of his days begin and end with them, so most of his recent stories do too.
Wash done and Satoru’s hair dried a bit, Qi levers the chair back up and looks at Satoru through the mirror. He considers Satoru’s hair, frowns at how long his bangs have gotten.
“A trim?”
“Actually,” Satoru says, “I wear bandages most days now and my hair is hindering my ability to wear them well.”
“Bandages?”
“Its all the new rage,” Satoru says. “Do you have anything that you think could help?”
Qi steps back, reexamining Satoru’s hair. He parts it, scrapes his nails down from the top of Satoru’s hair to the nape of his neck. Then back up against the grain.
“A shave,” Qi says.
“I’d like to keep as much of my hair as I can,” Satoru laughs. “I’m not looking to be bald.”
“Not a complete shave, just under your hair here.” Qi lifts the back of Satoru’s hair. “An undercut. It gives the bandages something to cling to and will allow your hair to be pushed up with less resistance.”
“Sounds great!”
Clippers are brought out, Qi demonstrates to Satoru what he plans to do, and gets busy when Satoru approves it. It feels bizarre to get an undercut. Satoru stares at himself in the mirror as the man works, picks at a hole in his jeans until it's a larger hole and Qi pauses to smack at his hand. Satoru’s hair is trimmed before Qi hands him a mirror so he can see the back of his head. Satoru pets at the new buzz, lingers over where his hair hues a bit differently upwards.
“It looks good,” Satoru says. “Thanks.”
“You’re being honest?”
“Yeah, man,” Satoru grins, “it looks really good. Different, but good.”
Qi nods jerkily. Reaches out to touch up some hair that looked fine to Satoru.
“How much do I owe you?” Satoru says when he’s allowed out of the chair. He digs his wallet out of his pocket.
“Nothing.”
“No, I want to pay you. I can pay you.”
Qi scowls at Satoru, bustling past him to the front of the shop. There’s a large fishtank by his unused reception desk. A couple of fat goldfish bobble about, blinking bulbous eyes. Satoru follows him trying to remember how much the man charged him on his last hair cut. But Satoru had been a few years younger the last time he was here. Suguru normally trimmed Satoru’s hair for him when it became too much of an annoyance. Suguru did his own hair, treated it with rice water, trimmed off split ends or full on haircuts in the summer times. Suguru’s hair grew really fast. Pooled on pillows and pulled up into ponytails or clips and little wonky buns.
“I don’t want your money,” Qi says. He sits on a creaking chair, watching Satoru with an impassive face.
“Well I want to give it to you, so I suppose we’re at a crossroads. There’s no reason for you to give me this service for free.”
“Do I need a reason?”
“Not if it was anyone else,” Satoru says. “But I’m not struggling. I didn’t come in looking for a hand out.”
Satoru takes a thin stack of bills out of the fold in his wallet and holds them out. The man in a sudden move that Satoru isn’t expecting grabs not at the money but for Satoru’s wrist. Qi’s fingers hit Infinity and Satoru yanks his hand back.
“What are you doing?” Satoru asks, breathless and betrayed.
Qi sits back, folds his hands on the top of his desk.
“I don’t need your money,” Qi says, "I received something much more…precious today.”
Satoru stares at him. Unsure he can form words as his heart pounds in his throat. For a moment he can’t fathom how much that startled him. His body in flight because fight would mean the destruction of Roppongi.
“Go about your day, Satoru, and when you need a touch up, you come back.”
Swallowing, Satoru nods, trying not to look anymore rattled as he puts the money back into his wallet.
“Well. Thanks. I appreciate it.”
He leaves the building and steps into a neighboring bakery to text Shoko that he’s done. Satoru had left her at a different store after she told him she had no desire to watch him get a trim. Satoru orders something chocolatey and a tea and sits at a little table by the front window. His hand eventually finds itself back along the buzz, scratching at the bristles, then smoothing down. Over and over again until he sees Shoko in the window and gets up to greet her.
“Oh, wow,” Shoko mumbles when Satoru displays his hair to her. She reaches up before stopping, her fingers curling into her palms. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I look pretty badass,” Satoru says.
“It doesn’t look bad,” Shoko agrees. “It makes you look older. Not so much like a starving teenager.”
“Uh. Thanks,” Satoru mutters.
“Was that just on a whim?”
“Eh, sorta. I needed some kind of fix with my hair and I figured Qi could figure something out. I think this’ll work.”
“Makes sense.” She turns away from him to look down the street. “Any other plans?”
“Of course! I need a replacement for my lipgloss. The white dog ate it a few weeks ago.”
Shoko laughs until her eyes sparkle. “You’ve been running around without any gloss? Who even are you?”
“I haven’t had time to replace it,” Satoru pouts, “nothing hits like my brand.”
Shoko points down the street towards the luxury department stores. “We can check those stores. I need to pick up a few things for Utahime anyways.”
“Works for me,” Satoru says.
They meander through some stores. Satoru paws through clothing racks, while Shoko disappears with an attendant in a sparkly and sleekly modern department store. There’s a rack of summer clothing for kids and Satoru makes a note to come back here to get Megumi and Tsumiki some more clothing. They’re still building back their wardrobes and Megumi tends to prefer wearing a few choice outfits and ignore the rest of his clothing. There are shirts hanging in his closet that have never been worn. Satoru hopes that’ll change now that they’re off school and can wear more than school uniforms. He finds a cute bucket hat that has a frog mouth embroidered on it. He can imagine Megumi wearing it. Frowny faced, brow shadowed by the hat pulled low. Yeah he has to get that. He finds clips for Tsumiki too. A couple sets of beach themed designs and then one that’s more ornate, a sturdy rose gold metal, twisted vines and flowers and trees.
“For the kids?” Shoko asks, stepping up to Satoru’s elbow, she has two bags in her hand and smells like a perfume Satoru knows she doesn’t wear.
“Yeah,” Satoru says. “I’m learning how to do more than a ponytail or braid for Tsumiki. But I also might see if the kids want summer hair cuts.”
“A bucket hat?” Shoko asks dryly as she watches Satoru hand the items over to the cashier.
“Megs is gonna look so cute in it. Can’t you just see his grouchy little face looking up from under it?”
“Sure.”
Nobody thinks what he thinks.
They stop at a makeup store, not the one Satoru usually shops at, but one that carries his brand. He goes straight for the lip section and starts to categorically look through the shades. He wears a clear gloss that tastes like candy and has the slightest of shimmer. They sell for a stomach dropping price, probably not worth it if Satoru cared enough. He bought his first tube when he was fourteen, wore it openly and watched his uncle die inside. And then he just never stopped wearing it.
There it is. Satoru picks out one of the glass tubes, holding it up to the light to watch the microscopic glitter do its thing.
Once they step out of the store, Satoru cracks the seal and applies a thin coat. He smacks his mouth obnoxiously at Shoko.
“Lunch?”
“You better feed me,” Shoko says and leads the way back towards a high end restaurant they passed on the way in.
Over lunch, Satoru listens to Shoko complain about her workload. She stirs her soda, an addition to the meal that Shoko was displeased by, with her straw and debates the merits of taking on some kind of apprentice.
“I don’t see why not,” Satoru says around a mouthful. “We need more trained medics anyways.”
“Yeah, but I have no idea how to convince them to let me train a kid before they send them out to get murdered.”
“You have to make it sound like they thought of it first,” Satoru says. He points his chopsticks at her. “What you do is go in to talk to the uppies, act super humble, but also bitch a little bit and soon their egos will be inflated all while they’re getting annoyed that you’re bitching. And then–” Satoru lowers his voice and makes it raspy, “oh Ieiri, what if we gave you an apprentice? Wha?? An apprentice, for me? How kind of you, impersonal screen three.”
Shoko rolls her eyes. “Not everyone can walk all over their authority and get out unscathed, Satoru.”
“If they hurt you I’d kill them,” Satoru says. He takes another bite of his food. “And they’d be actual criminals if they did. Hurting a doctor? That’s against like every moral out there.”
“Yes and our superiors are the pillars of moral standing.” Shoko leans back in her chair with a resigned shrug. “I don’t know. I really think if we could ensure there were more on the scene medics we could help prevent so much death. Imagine if I had been allowed to go with you and Suguru.”
Satoru doesn’t think it would have helped anything really. Sure he might have gotten medical attention sooner and when he was too incapacitated to fight it. But he also thinks that Toji was smart enough to kill Shoko as soon as he possibly could because she’s a doctor.
“Same with Haibara.”
“Shoko,” Satoru says. He puts down his chopsticks, wipes his mouth on a cloth napkin. “There was nothing you could have done for Haibara.”
“I know,” Shoko says. “I don’t blame myself or feel any guilt about it, I’m just saying that if there had been someone there to administer first aid, there might have been a chance.”
“Most injuries are fatal almost instantly,” Satoru murmurs. “A bite taken out of a skull. A torso severed from the legs. Flesh destroying symptoms. Being crushed. Fire.”
“So you think it's useless?” Shoko snaps.
“No, but there’s a reason we die in droves.”
“If only we all had Infinity,” Shoko snorts. She tilts her head at Satoru, squinting at him.
“What?”
“Nothing. I just–nothing.”
Shoko sits straight again, brushes her hair out of her eyes. She pokes at the remains of her plate. Satoru swallows heavily, his throat constricting in grief for a random moment over nothing.
“You should take some time off,” Satoru tells her. “You look tired, Shoko.”
“I am tired,” Shoko agrees. “Really tired.”
“Look into an apprentice, even if their technique is useless for a medic. You can teach them at least how to administer first aid.”
Shoko nods after a few moments. “Yeah. I think I will.”
“Good. Also did you hear that–”
Satoru gets home before the kids in a once in a lifetime event. Satoru eases out of his shoes, unwinds the bandages from around his eyes, stuffing them into the pocket of his uniform. The buzzcut worked, he wasn’t constantly feeling like he needed to pull them up mid battle. Satoru showers, takes his time under the hot spray working knots out of his back, and then sets to making dinner so it’s ready when the kids get home, which they do five minutes after Satoru has filled three plates with food and placed them around the table. He hears Megumi spot his shoes and then the dogs come barrelling into the kitchen to tackle Satoru and lick his face. Tsumiki calls a hello on her way past and Megumi goes to his seat at the table immediately.
“Hey,” Satoru says, pushing the white dog down, she digs her claws into his stomach as she goes. “Wait for us.”
Megumi puts down his utensils and crosses his arms over his chest. Satoru fights his way towards the table and his spot.
“You have any fun today, kiddo?”
“No,” Megumi says solemnly. “Aimee is loud .”
“Aw, sorry, kid.”
“It's fine,” Megumi sighs, “everyone I know is loud.”
“Maybe loud people know you’d make a really good friend so they’re drawn to you,” Satoru says. “You’re a loud person magnet.”
Megumi looks stricken by this possibility. He buries his head in his palms.
“Why me?”
“Sorry, buddy,” Satoru laughs. He ruffles Megumi’s hair. “You’re so funny.”
“This isn’t funny,” Megumi says, his voice grave. “My whole life is going to be loud.”
“Learn to tell people to shut up,” Satoru suggests. “...except maybe not Aimee. I don’t think she deserves that and your sister might beat your ass if you did.”
Megumi draws his face out of his palm and meets Satoru’s eyes.
“Shut up.”
Satoru blinks at him then howls with laughter. “Yes! Like that.”
Tiny hands cover tiny ears and Megumi glares daggers at Satoru, shrinking down in his chair. “You’re the opposite of shutting up right now!”
“What are we laugh—oh.”
Tsumiki lingers on the seam between living room and dining room, staring at Satoru. She raises a hand and points at Satoru’s head.
“What happened to your hair?”
Satoru scratches at his undercut, turns so she can see it better.
“Got a haircut! Isn’t it nice?”
Megumi clambers up onto Satoru's chair so he can see it too. Satoru feels his fingers poking at it, then an entire palm flattening over the base of his skull.
“It's…different,” Tsumiki says quietly. She reaches up to pet Satoru too. “How come you shaved it off?”
“My bandages mostly,” Satoru says.
“Hm,” Tsumiki hums. “It–yeah. It's different.”
Satoru chuckles a little. He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen Tsumiki struggle so much with something. Her expressions are normally very open, even when she’s lying about insecurities. And now her face is flickering through a myriad of expressions before landing on a smidge constipated.
“Not a fan?” Satoru asks.
“No. I like it. I wasn’t expecting it though,” Tsumiki says. She steps back to her own seat, settling in to inspect the food Satoru prepared.
Megumi still has his hands on Satoru’s head.
“Cool…” Megumi whispers.
“Really?” Satoru asks, excited and a little stunned. “You think it’s cool?”
“Yeah,” Megumi breathes in reverence. “It's so cool.”
Satoru beams with more pride than he probably should.
“Thank you, Megumi,” Satoru says. “I think it looks pretty cool too.”
“It helps your bandages stay on?” Tsumiki asks.
She looks hungry enough that Satoru takes pity and peels Megumi off the back of his chair and deposits him back into his.
“Go ahead and eat, and yeah it does.”
Tsumiki nods. “I’ll get used to it.”
Satoru tells them about Osaka and the birds that had dared steal his lunch as Satoru sat in a park to eat it. Tsumiki giggles and exchanges a story about what she did that day. Satoru owes Aimee’s mother something nice. Something expensive for taking his kids to the park and feeding them lunch. He doesn’t speak to the woman very often despite how much she subtly helps Satoru out, but he has her number and he’s offered her thanks before.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Tsumiki asks when Satoru stands to get them dessert he picked up on the way home.
“I have a meeting and then work in Kyoto, but I should be back before the evening. You kids want to come with?”
Yaga had texted him before Satoru came back to Tokyo telling him that he had checked all outstanding missions and Mexico was a lie. He demanded that Satoru come to the annual budget meeting in the morning to make up for his lie. He’ll go as long as he doesn't have to accompany Mei Mei to the Inumaki’s.
Satoru returns from rummaging through the bags he left on the counter out of demon dog reach, and hands each kid a cookie from a fancy cookie place in the heart of Osaka. They’re bigger than Megumi’s hand, topped with chocolate curls.
“Yup!” Tsumiki cheers. “I really like Kyoto!”
“Fine,” Megumi says. He grimaces after he takes a bite. “This is nasty.”
Satoru takes a bite of his own cookie. It tastes like sugar. So fantastic. Satoru takes Megumi’s neglected cookie and eats both.
Later that evening Satoru is in bed, laptop on his knees catching up on reports that he’s put off for a few weeks, when his phone lights up with a text.
shokohno: hey, is your girl still feelin left out?
me: pobly, not something u get over overnite
shokohno: do you think she’d want 2 learn first aid?
me:...i dunno.
shokohno: you think she wouldn’t be into it?
me: no. but i dont kno if i want her in that shit
Shokohno: thats…fair. just thought maybe she could learn some from me while i work with a sorcerer kid
Satoru stares at the texts, rubbing his thumb up the side of the screen. It’s not a bad idea and he appreciates that Shoko is thinking about Tsumiki. But it’s strange and dangerous and Satoru still hasn’t really had a complete conversation with Megumi being a sorcerer, so he’s not sure putting Tsumiki close to the worst of it is any sort of smart. But…it’s not really up to Satoru if Tsumiki would or wouldn’t want to do that. It could give her something to do, and they’re skills that anyone needs.
me: you teach at the morgue?
shokohno: eh 4 some yea. But no autopsy for a 8 year old.
me: ok. ill thin bout it. Thx shoko
shokohno: sure
Satoru snaps his phone closed, he’ll ask Tsumiki tomorrow.
His phone lights up again.
shokohno: did the kids like your hair?
me: megs said it looks cool. he SAID that
shokohno: damn that is impressive. Tsumiki?
me: …shell get used to it
shokohno: lol