( He's never quite liked the tales of Gojo's upbringing. Back when they were young it used to baffle him. He'd never really been envious about the wealth, it hadn't exactly impressed him, but in the beginning he'd always thought there'd be more in it, more kindness because cost didn't mean anything, more experience. When he'd learnt how narrow it was, how cold, he'd been sad about it. He'd tried to add things to it, fun, care, warmth. He hopes it made a difference. )

You don't consider yourself their parent? Megumi, I mean. His sister.

( The question comes unbidden, food halfway to his mouth before he remembers he's meant to be eating. After he's swallowed -. )

It was terrifying, actually. They were -. ( A pause. ) - It wasn't very good to start. They weren't scared of me, but they thought anything they did might change my mind on them. We shared a single room apartment. It was noisy. But it was better than where they were, so.

( He tried.

He tried very hard. If anything he probably tried too hard. Seventeen and cutting matted hair in a McDonald's bathroom. Wiping tears at night. )