Chapter Text
The day was supposed to start off well. Everyone was finally home together, and for once, it felt like a small victory: no missions, no school projects, no late-night deep-dives into cursed energy; just the chaos of a family reunited after weeks apart. But, of course, on the rare occasions they were all together, an argument had to occur.
Oh well, it's not like they should have put off discussing it. But it would have been nice to enjoy a quiet day with the family.
The day started with Satoru waking up the kids while Suguru prepared breakfast and packed the lunchboxes. Satoru didn’t expect anything unusual, just the same daily routine. He struggled to wake up Mimiko, who slept like she was in a coma; banged on the bathroom door because Megumi had been in there for what felt like hours; helped Tsumiki search for her stationery since she had a knack for losing things; and reminded Nanako to finish the homework she had put off the night before.
He loved his kids, he really did, but god, they were a handful. They had completely underestimated what it meant to raise four middle schoolers, especially when three of them were developing powerful techniques.
There were days when Mimiko would use her Voodoo Doll technique to make people do chores for her, much like how Suguru sometimes used his curses. Suguru would vehemently deny it, saying it wasn't the same as her. "I'm not controlling people's bodies without their permission. The extreme risk of accidental manslaughter makes it a massive safety violation." Whatever, she's just a kid and you're a buzzkill, Suguru.
Nanako liked to imbue electronics with cursed energy and used them to manipulate objects around the house for fun. She claimed she got the idea from Satoru: “If Satoru-san can use Blue and Red, why can’t I?” Satoru secretly finds the logic hilarious and is proud of her for figuring out a high-level spatial exploit just to avoid lifting a finger. He keeps his mouth shut, though, knowing better than to invite his lovely husband's judgment. Suguru, again, is the ultimate buzzkill. He points out that Gojo's Limitless is precise atomic space manipulation, whereas Nanako is just abusing her phone's camera resolution to telekinetically toss furniture around. One glitch or blurry photo, and she risks clipping a priceless vase—or a person—directly into a wall.
The dishes hadn’t been washed in nearly a week because the sink was full of Megumi’s frogs. They ate dinner out of old takeout boxes, and Megumi, their little baby boy, didn’t look even slightly ashamed. He just shrugged.
Even Tsumiki, his sweet angel, found her way into sorcery mischief, not wanting to miss out on the fun, kept losing cursed tools here and there. Satoru had spent hours complaining after a much-needed makeout session on the couch was interrupted by Playful Cloud poking into them - one of Tsumiki’s doings. Suguru laughed, his face crinkling into that foxy smile Satoru loved. Sure, he was left blue-balled, but it was a small price to pay for Suguru's smile.
The kitchen table looked like it had lost a fight—Gojo clan paperwork everywhere, half-marked grading rubrics, messy kids’ drawings, Suguru’s research notes stacked crookedly on top of everything else. But really, the chaos wasn’t the main problem. The tension between Satoru and Suguru had been simmering for months, long before the kids ever started barreling down the halllway each morning, making a racket as they rushed to get ready.
They had meant to sit down and seriously discuss their kids' rapidly developing techniques - and how to start their formal sorcery education before Jujutsu High - but, with Satoru’s hectic schedule filled with missions, classes and clan politics and Suguru keeping the house afloat they didn't have time for that conversation, much less time to train their children.
They were growing stronger faster than their peers - something Satoru had bragged about more than once to his colleagues at Jujutsu High, much to everyone's annoyance. But Satoru was hesitant when it came to...
Well. Letting former curse users teach them.
"We need to figure out their training, Satoru. Now. Before they accidentally level the neighborhood." Suguru didn't look up fromprepping the bento, his fingers flying across the box. "I’ve already spoken to Larue. He and the others are willing to supervise their foundational training starting next week."
Satoru, who had been lazily balancing a pen on his nose while leaning back in his chair, dropped his feet to the floor with a heavy thud. "Larue? As in, the guy who used to help you run a literal cult? Absolutely not. I’m already vetting a few of the Gojo clan’s private instructors."
Suguru’s fingers paused over the counter. He slowly closed the box and looked up, his expression hardening. "The Gojo clan? You want to bring your family's tutors into our home?The same maniacs hell-bent on turning you into a dead-eyed prodigy back when you were still in diapers?"
"They are the best educators in the jujutsu world, Suguru," Satoru argued, gesturing vaguely toward the clan paperwork. "They have centuries of refined, structured techniques. Say what you want about my family—and they are absolute garbage—but their methods produce results. They literally trained me. They trained the strongest sorcerer alive. Why wouldn't we give that to our kids?"
"Because look what it cost you!" Suguru shot back, leaning forward. "You want to subject our kidss to the same rigid, abusive cycle that treats children like weapons until they break? The Gojo clan doesn't raise children, Satoru.They just manufacture sorcerers for the food chain. I’m not throwing our family into that meat grinder."
"And your solution is to hand them over to convicted felons?!" Satoru snapped, his playful demeanor entirely gone. "Larue, Manami, the rest of your old crew—they’re criminals, Suguru. I trust you, obviously, but I'm not letting people who used to murder non-sorcerers for fun become role models for our kids. They’ll just pass down the same trauma and hatred that broke you."
"They are loyal to me, and they care about those kids," Suguru countered, his voice rising, defensive. "Curse users don't have that systemic rot. They don't answer to the Higher-Ups. They teach raw survival, not institutional obedience. Our kids would actually learn to use their techniques—not just turn into obedient little killers."
"They're fugitives, Suguru! One slip-up and the children are branded as curse users before they even reach high school," Satoru challenged, tapping the table sharply. "My clan tutors might be stuffy, conservative bastards,but they play by the book. I can keep the kids safe with them. I can't protect them from a life on the run."
"And I can't protect them from a system designed to exploit them!" Suguru snapped, the calm completely shattering.
The kitchen went dead silent, as if it was holding its breath. Satoru was the first to move, but only to rub his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose like he could squeeze out the frustration. The argument zapped what little patience he had left.
He tossed the Gojo clan documents onto the table, leaning back in his chair with a cold, dismissive scoff.
"You know what? Forget it," Satoru snapped, his voice cutting through the tense silence of the kitchen. "We can debate the flaws of the system all night, Suguru. But at the end of the day, my clan operates under the law. Your friends don't. I'm not letting people like that near the children."
Suguru glares, his patience wearing thin. He opens his mouth to retort but it seems Satoru has one last thing to say:
“And, besides, Once a curse user, always-”
Which is apparently the wrong thing to say, since Suguru's gaze hardens. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. I’ll shove that breakfast down your shirt.”
Tension stirs as they delve into a staredown. Neither break.
Tsumiki is the first to come downstairs, the twins and Megumi following, sleepy but alert, eyeing the tension in the air. Megumi furrows his brow, glancing between the two men.
“What happened? You two look like you’re about to kill each other.”
Satoru and Suguru speak at the same time, both too casual.
“Nothing, Megumi-kun. Just a small... disagreement.”
“Yeah, nothing important. We were just - uh - talking. Grown up stuff, y’know?”
The kids exchange a look but don’t push it. Satoru ruffles Megumi’s hair with a grin. The little boy scowls and swats his hand away, face flushed.
“Alright, kids, time to head to school. Let’s go, before I’m late for my next mission.”
Suguru calls out to ask them to check for their bentos, purposefully not giving Satoru one. He watches them go, still stewing in frustration, as Satoru grabs the door handle. He gives Suguru one last look before slamming the door behind him, the sound echoing through the house.
“Otou-san, where is your bento? Did you forget to take it from Suguru-san? Should we go back and get it?” Tsumiki asks innocently as they walk to school. Well shit.
Nanako, looking up from her hands, squints at Satoru. “Did it have something to do with your argument?”
Satoru freezes for a moment, then forces a smile. “Argument? No, it wasn’t an argument. Just... a little disagreement.” He waves it off, avoiding her gaze. “Anyway, I’ll be fine without it. I’ll just have lunch with your Shoko ba-chan later, no big deal.”
Mimiko, who had been quietly listening, pipes up with a grin. “Shoko ba-chan said she’s in Kyoto, hanging out with Utahime ba-chan. Maybe she’s too busy to meet you after all.”
That little prankster. Satoru freezes again, momentarily caught off guard. His mind races, thinking Why do his kids have to be so smart? He jerks his head around, desperate for a distraction. And then, he spots Megumi, struggling to catch up with them, his small steps barely keeping pace.
“Hey, Megumi-chan!” Satoru calls, grinning widely. “Don’t let your sisters walk too far ahead! They might get lost without you, right?”
The youngest member of the family. His blessing. He looks so cute trying to take bigger steps to catch up to his elder sisters, huffing his face in exhaustion. He would rather suffer than admit weakness, much like his fathers. Satoru just wants to pick him up and squish him into his arms sometimes.
Megumi looks up, his expression flat, clearly unamused, but Satoru’s comment shifts the focus away from the earlier tension. The kids giggle, and Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
Nanako raises an eyebrow, still suspicious, but she doesn’t press further. The group falls into an easy silence as they continue their walk to school, with Satoru mentally cursing his husband’s petty moves, but grateful for the distraction.
After dropping the kids off at school, he teleported off to the Jujutsu High training grounds, his mind drifted back to their argument that morning. He started feeling guilty, he could never be mad at Suguru for so long anyway.
Maybe he should order some zaru soba to be delivered to the house…?