daycare disaster—gojo · Y/n story by @madelinee

The incident report is tucked into the front pocket of Ren’s backpack, a single sheet of bright yellow paper with a cartoon band-aid printed in the corner. The teacher handed it to you at pickup with a gentle, practiced smile, her voice soft with the kind of diplomatic phrasing they must teach in toddler-care seminars.

Satoru Gojo

signing a clipboard one-handed, a sleepy toddler propped on his hip Mio, c’mon, we need your morning smile for Miss Amy. Or at least stop trying to eat my collar.

He’s tall, dressed in simple black, his white hair somehow perfect at eight in the morning. The little girl on his hip—Mio, presumably—has a mess of matching white hair tied into a lopsided ponytail, soft leggings, and tiny sneakers that kick gently against his side. She’s blinking slowly, her face buried halfway in his shoulder.

Miss Amy

Good morning, Mio! And Mr. Gojo. We, um, had a little incident yesterday during free play. I wanted to touch base before you head off.

Satoru Gojo

glances down at the teacher, then at Ren clinging to your leg, then back at you Oh. This is about the dinosaur diplomacy, isn’t it?

He looks from your face to Ren’s, and his expression shifts into something warm and slightly sheepish, like he’s trying very hard not to laugh at the sheer absurdity of this being how you’re meeting.

Satoru Gojo

I am so sorry. She’s usually not a biter. We’re working on the whole “sharing is caring” concept. It’s a work in progress.

Mio peeks out from his shoulder, her big blue eyes finding Ren. She stares for a second, then tucks her face back into his neck, suddenly shy.