Toji 's not used to being right. And weirdly, he got used to that.

It was almost easier that way, living with zero expectations. Just a guy without a name or a purpose, a slate wiped with a half-hearted attempt to be clean that instead left him riddled with scuffs and smudges, in a mottled array of faded colors. He was fine with it, carrying out meaningless carnage with a mechanicality more appropriate for a puppet on a string than for a human being.

But the fact that his hunch about having a family was right? Now

that

scares him.

Even if that family wants nothing to do with him. Toji can 't even blame her. What kid would want a parent that disappeared on them then forgot they ever existed?

Because fuck. Does he even

want

a kid in his life? He has no idea how to make

himself

happy, let alone a

child.

It goes without saying that Toji would make a shitty parent, and every time he thinks of the way Maki had just

glared

at him, that reminder blares in his mind like a fire alarm, warning him that he 's nothing but a jumbled mess of red flags.

It 's not fair to her, but he can 't help it. Toji never claimed to be a good person anyways. He can 't bring himself to regret his offer, but there are so many uncertainties that it makes his world glitch and swaddles his brain in a blanket of cotton.

But fuck it. He made a promise. He gave her his word, and even though his word is fucking worthless, he 'll be damned if he doesn 't at least

try.

And so he goes to the old grey building three days later, because he freakin ' said so.

For the first time in as much of his life as he can remember, Toji isn 't just

not late

-- he 's

early.

He 's almost a whole hour early, and--

--Maki is already

here,

because of course she is.

She 's curled up outside the main door with her knees huddled to her chest, eyes glazed over and unseeing as if she 's staring

through

the pavement rather than

at

it. The faintest tinge of purple ' lies in half-moons beneath her eyes, the way they might look if she 'd hardly gotten any sleep the night before. It 's barely even noticeable, but Toji is nothing if not observant.

It might also help that he saw the same exact look on his own face when he 'd glanced in the mirror this morning.

Maybe she was nervous? Nah, probably not. Even after just one conversation, Toji 's pretty sure that emotion isn 't in her limited range.

He 's

nervous, though, not that he 'd admit it. It creeps up in the form of a chill that has nothing to do with the biting morning wind that nips at his face, the kind he couldn 't warm up no matter how many of his pathetically thin blankets he 'd piled on top of himself last night. It makes every hair on his body stand at attention and spreads his senses in a million and none directions, and he 's painfully hyper-aware that his actions today could have drastic and irreversible consequences. If he can 't live up to his lofty claims and flashy maneuvers from the day at the weapons shop, she might storm out and never look back. And that 'd be it.

He can 't fuck this up, not

again,

not like he does with everything else. He 's already lost her once. Toji can barely live with himself as is, and he 's not sure if he could manage it at all if he made the same mistake this time around.

Though Maki doesn 't move, he can tell she 's noticed him. She doesn 't bother looking up until he 's right at her feet, and when she does, it 's with a smirk entirely too soft than he was expecting, and it knocks the wind out of his chest just long enough for her to speak first.

'You 're early, ' she says flatly, but with an amused lilt to her voice that makes her seem like herself again.

Toji flaps a hand ungracefully. 'Yeah, yeah, don 't mention it. ' There 's no way she isn 't gonna hold this over his head. 'The hell are you waiting outside in the cold for? Ya need an invitation from the rat king to the royal ball he 's hosting in his abandoned palace? '

'Just making sure I was in the right place, ' she replies in a way that would almost sound defensive if Toji didn 't know better.

Okay, so maybe she

is

nervous. But she seems about as ready to admit to that as he is. Besides, it 's probably for entirely different reasons than he is.

Well, he sure as hell doesn 't know how to

comfort

nerves, but he does know how to

diffuse

them. When she still doesn 't get up, Toji strolls up to the door theatrically and holds it open with a bow. 'After you, princess, ' he taunts.

That

gets a reaction out of her. She marches past him and goes to stomp on his foot, but he flicks it away at the last second with an impish grin.

Toji kicks away a stray brick that falls from the ceiling when he slams the door behind them. There 's a cluster of low-grade curses scuttling around in the corner of the room, bouncing up and down like a slinky on a staircase. Maki 's eyes flick back and forth, as if she 's trying very hard not to look at something -- huh? Toji chucks a rock at them and they split apart like mice, darting off in a starburst of directions and Maki

gasps,

far too loud and far too honest for her to even have a chance to suppress her reaction, and her jaw drops to the floor. 'Wait, you could

see

those?! '

Toji 's eyebrows shoot straight to the ceiling, physics and biology be damned. 'Could

you?! '

Immediately, Maki 's hands fly to her glasses. She grips their red-wired rims in her tiny hands with an iron strength, almost as if she 's expecting him to wrench them off her face in the next two seconds. What the hell?

'My--my glasses help me, ' she explains. She narrows her eyes into panther-like slits, but Toji doesn 't miss the flash of panic that streaks across them. 'Wait, are you a sorcerer? '

'Pffft. ' Toji can barely dignify that question with a response. 'Do I

look

like a sorcerer, kid? '

'I don 't know, ' she replies. Her face isn 't changing. 'I know sorcerers with way worse attitudes than you. '

'Christ, this again? You don 't even know me. '

She gives him the same response as she did the first time. 'Yeah, exactly. '

Uh, this isn 't going well. Not that Toji 's a big fan of sorcerers, either. He 's only had to work with a few -- and beat up a couple others -- in the past year and a half, but they 'd had him so brain-dead after interacting with them for more than five minutes that he 'd almost wanted to forget who he was.

Again.

And all that is

before

taking that white-haired brat into account. Toji barely knows a thing about him, but he 's pretty sure he hates his guts.

At least Yuki is tolerable.

'Nah, I ain 't a sorcerer, ' Toji clarifies. 'Why, you trainin ' to be one or something? '

'Yes, ' she replies, with resolution strong enough to shove mountains and dent steel. 'I am. '

'Huh, ' is all he can think of to respond to that. Man, he 's really wishing Yuki told him more about the jujutsu world right about now. 'That who your family is? Bunch of hot-shot sorcerers? What 's your-- '

what 's that term again?

'--uh, inherent technique? '

'Innate

technique, ' she corrects with the tiniest hints of a grin. Oh come

on,

that was close enough. 'And I-- ' Her eyes plummet to the floor, and her lips press together so tightly they start to tremble. 'I don 't have one. '

Blinking, 'Huh? Ya don 't? '

Maki scowls. 'Yeah, I don 't. Got a problem with that? ' She folds her arms across her chest, gaze still glued to the ground. 'So if you 're gonna try to teach me how to channel my cursed energy, it 's not gonna work. I barely even have any. '

'Barely

have any? ' Toji smirks. 'I don 't have any at

all. '

Maki whips her head back towards him so abruptly that her own hair smacks her in the face, expression flashing with something almost like hope. Well shit, maybe this

is

going well. 'You--you don 't? ' she stammers. 'None at all? And you can still-- '

'Still

what,

make short work of those sorcerers ' sorry asses so fast it makes their empty heads spin? ' Toji snorts. 'Yup. '

For a single brief moment, he could almost swear her eyes twinkle with awe, the same way a child might stare at a superhero. Toji 's voice snags in his throat, so he loudly clears it and rustles her hair since he 's sure it 'll piss her off -- because uh, he can 't really handle the way she 's looking at him right now. Like he might actually

be

something, be some

one.

He doesn 't have nearly enough self-worth to be able to process that, especially coming from--well.

His own kid.

Damn, that 's kinda sad.

Fortunately, Toji 's distraction works, and Maki indignantly tries to de-rustle her hair as Toji strolls to the center of the room, stretching out the muscles in his back. The mirror has gotten smudged again, from when he 'd half-assedly wiped it down the last time he came here to train. Which was--a while ago, he thinks. He 's not exactly great at timekeeping. Or keeping track of what day of the week it is.

Thursday, maybe? Whatever.

Maki pads after him. From the pocket on her skirt, she withdraws the knife he recommended to her --

oh hey, she actually kept it

-- and presents it to him like an offering. 'I brought this, ' she announces.

'Ooh, for me? How pretty, ' he teases. 'Now go put it in the corner, cuz we 're not touchin ' that thing today. '

Maki looks positively

incensed.

'What?! I thought you said you were gonna teach me how to use it! '

'I

am, '

Toji confirms. 'But you got a hell of a lot of groundwork to do before you 're ready to pick that up again. A house built on weak foundations is doomed to topple over in an earthquake, ya know? '

Maki rolls her eyes, but she listens anyway, plunking down the knife with a dull clink. 'That analogy was stupid, ' she deadpans.

'You 're

stupid, ' he finds himself shooting back before he can stop himself. Holy shit, is he fucking

five?!

But Maki barks out a single laugh, and without missing a beat, she quips, 'I know you are, but what am I? '

Toji chuckles in response. Christ, they 're entirely too alike. Which is--good, he supposes, but she 's also a literal child, so what does that say about his maturity level? Eh, whatever. He never claimed to be a functional adult anyways.

'Listen, ' Toji starts. 'You don 't swing a knife, or a sword, or anythin ' else for that matter, with your arms. You swing with your

legs

and with your

wrists. '

In response, Maki pulls a face. 'What the heck? '

'Oi, let me explain before you gimme that look. Your lower body is way stronger than your upper body. I 'm sure you 've realized how much stronger kicks are than punches, right? Think of it this way. You wouldn 't try to see clearly with the wrong pair of glasses, so why would you try to direct an attack with the weaker half of your body? It 's all about the momentum. You can put a lot more force into a punch if you can drive your whole weight behind it, and you can pivot on your ankles far quicker than you can swing your entire torso. ' He outstretches his arms. 'And your wrists allow for more precision in your movements, for a quicker reaction time than trying to move your elbow to parry a blow that 'll come before you can even move your shoulder to face it. ' Toji taps his bicep for emphasis. 'Now, that doesn't mean you can skip arm day. You still need to have the strength to throw solid punches and hold back a weapon someone swings at your face, even if the right technique can get you there in time. '

To demonstrate, Toji bends smoothly into a ready stance, drawing a line with his finger from his shoulders, his hips, his knees, then to his ankles. 'You gotta always be thinking about your center of weight, ' he continues.

'That

is where the core of your strength and stability comes from. That doesn 't necessarily mean you gotta try to stay upright all along, but rather that your line of action is balanced between your upper and lower body movements such that if you were to freeze any position you were in during a fight, you 'd be able to stay there all day without tippin ' over. '

Maki furrows her brows at him, but Toji can tell she 's soaking it up like a sponge. 'That...makes sense, ' she says slowly, almost as if she 's surprised that something he said actually

does.

'Yeah, 'course it does. Fighting is a lot more about thinking than you might believe. Then it 's practice, then it 's thinking about practice, and then finally all that thinking and all that practice becomes instincts. ' She blinks back at him and nods, and he can 't help but pull a self-satisfied smirk.

Nailed it.

Hey, maybe he actually has a shot at this whole dad-advice thing. 'Now c 'mon. Show me your ready stance. '

So Maki does. It 's not

entirely

bad, he supposes, to the ' untrained eye; but to him, it 's...kind of a trainwreck. First off, her elbows are locked -- is she trying to get her arms snapped like a toothpick? Second, her ankles are both pointing in the same direction, which is just -- no. Zero range of motion or stability. Her shoulders are rigid like concrete while her knees are bent like jelly, and she 's holding her neck so stiff that she looks like a scarecrow.

He gets the feeling that a soft touch wouldn 't bode well with her, which is good for him, because he has no clue how to even do that. Tough love it is. He can pull that off just fine.

So he reaches over in a swift motion and shoves her off-balance with a single finger. She topples like a house of cards. 'See? You fell over. '

Maki scowls and pushes back to her feet, brushing off the dust bunnies and other dubious substances from the concrete off her skirt. 'What was I doing wrong? ' she huffs -- not with a voice as if she 's trying to defend herself, but rather like she genuinely wants to learn.

And that 's what gets him. She

does

want to learn, but it doesn 't seem like anyone 's bothered to

teach

her. Everything she knows, she probably had to teach herself, had to respond to words of advice that were given to someone else. Is that why she 'd seemed so bitter about the family she grew up with during their first conversation? Because they hadn 't bothered to give any time to a kid without cursed energy, or maybe they 'd thought she was worthless without an innate technique, or told her it was impossible for her to be strong without any jujutsu?

Man, what kind of assholes would cast someone aside for something like

that?

And so he does his best to right their wrongs. He has her resume her stance, and he carefully points out every area of improvement in a tone he hopes sounds encouraging without being patronizing. He strikes his own stance again and tries to lead by example, tries his best to explain what to him has become second nature, and even though he stumbles over his words, she keeps her snarky comments to a relative minimum.

He 's not gonna win any

'teacher of the year '

awards, but he 's not...

totally

terrible at this. Maybe it 's because they 're so alike that she already speaks his weird language. In fact, this is actually going fairly well -- but since Toji is who he is, he has to open his big fat mouth and mess everything up.

Before he can stop himself, he asks out of the blue, 'Hey, do you remember me at all? '

'Uh, from when we met three days ago? ' she says, not peeling her eyes away from her disjointed reflection in the fractals of the cracked mirror. ' 'Duh. '

'No, ya little pest. I 'm talking about--y 'know. ' Toji swallows thickly. 'From when you were younger. '

'Why would I? ' she replies, but there 's something almost sad about the way she says it. He supposes she wouldn't remember him if he 'd left her life when she was still a baby, but the answer still stings in a way he can 't quite put into words. 'You 're not even right about what you think I am, so I don 't think you remember me, either. '

Man, she won 't even say it? Now that

really

stings. It 's not like he was expecting the child he left behind to leap into his open arms, but

still.

'No, I--I do, ' he says hesitantly, as if it 's a question -- then he conjures up the memory, the only one he has. He thinks of the rain on the window, the ambient sounds of the hospital. He thinks of cradling his precious baby in his arms, how that child was the most divine blessing the heavens, in all their immortal glory, could possibly weave together. Then he repeats with resolution, 'I do. '

Maki doesn 't reply to that, but she scans his face like she 's looking for something Toji 's not sure if she finds. 'Let 's just 'continue from where we left off. '

Toji sighs, but complies with her request. She gets the ready stance down surprisingly quick, so they move on to some of the basics: proper form for powerful kicks and punches, how to shift your weight in an instant and keep your motions fluid, how to use your body language to deceptively lead your opponent right where you want them and into your next attack.

It 's far more information than she can process in a day, but she 's eager, and Toji knows she can handle a bit of homework. She hangs onto his every word as if she truly believes that each one is important, which is equal parts wonderful and terrifying; because holy shit, his daughter is actually

listening

to him, but he 's also talking out his ass half the time.

Finally, she wears him down and convinces him to quick spar, just so she can practice what she 's learning against an actual person and not just her own reflection. He lets her lead, lets her watch how he responds to each of her attacks. Her movements steadily get sharper, more confident. He can almost see the gears churning behind her eyes as the two of them fight, analyzing even the tiniest of muscle movements so that no action is wasted and every motion is with full intent. She 's able to mirror some of his actions he hadn 't even put into words and make them her own.

There 's only one way to put it. She 's incredible. Pride swells in his chest, because

fuck,

she 's

just like him,

and for the first time, he kind of doesn 't hate himself.

He tries to throw in a word of advice here and there, when it seems like she needs a push in the right direction beyond just physically. He tries to remember some of the shit he said earlier, how he 'd told her that every line of action needed absolute stability, so he shouts, 'Stop! ' right when she 's about to punch him -- and so she freezes.

Maki is

so close;

she 's

almost

got it, but Toji doesn 't miss how her hip is just barely misaligned with her ankle from the way she 's bending her knees, so before she 's able to realize it and correct herself, he tips her right over.

She shoves back to her feet, visibly annoyed; but not at

him,

and more at

herself.

'Again, ' she demands, and Toji grins like a coyote.

'You got it, kid. '

When Maki finally tires herself out, it 's long past sundown, but the dim light of dusk hasn 't quite yet succumbed to the velvety blackness of nighttime. Toji offers to walk her home, but she insists against it. They agree to train together again in another three days, and it 's a sweeter victory than any other he 's won in his life, and he can 't even

remember

most of it. He trudges back to his own apartment and flops onto his couch face-first, without even bothering to take off his shoes.

He 's sore,

stupidly

sore, but not the type that tugs at his muscles -- this one settles into his

bones,

digs deep into his marrow, courses through his blood. It 's a good kind of sore, though, the one he recognizes because this type of pain is always the worst right before he gets a whole lot stronger.

One thing is for sure: yeah, he wants a kid in his life.

This

kid, specifically. He doesn 't have a goddamn clue how to be a father, but this feeling is enough to eclipse each of his three previous certainties a dozen times over.

Alright. So if he 's gonna do this whole '

dad '

thing, he figures he 's gotta learn some of the basics before he sees Maki again. He goes to an internet cafe to do some background reading -- yeah, so what if he doesn 't have his own computer? Those things are for kids. He 's pretty sure the old lady next to him is glaring through his skull when he types 'how to parent, ' into the search engine, but whatever. He presses

'enter '

and--fucking hell, over a

billion

results? Yeah, he 's not reading that. He clicks through a few of the top articles, but they 're peppered with empty platitudes like

'don 't clip your child 's wings '

and

'catch your kids being good. '

What the hell is

that

supposed to mean?

'Pick your battles, '

one article read. Uh, all of them? He 's literally teaching her how to fight.

As he thought, the internet is useless; but that leaves him at a total loss for where to go next. The only person he interacts with on a semi-regular basis is Yuki, and she 'd likely be just as clueless as him.

Damn.

He 's just gonna have to do this the same way he does everything else in his life: with zero context, and by the skin of his teeth.

...but that doesn 't go terribly well either, because before he knows it, two days have already passed and he 's seeing Maki again

tomorrow,

with no more insight on how to be a father than the last time they met. He actually has a job today, and he doubts beating up a bunch of lowlife smugglers in a shitty warehouse is going to offer any enlightenment. He mulls it over between one mundane punch to the next, as ribs crunch like porcelain against his knuckles and limbs crack like glass against his knees. A bullet sizzles in his hand when he seizes it midair, and the split-second dumbfounded shock that stamps across his attacker 's face holds just long enough for Toji to get a real stupid idea.

Yeah, he 's gonna have to jot this one down in his top-ten list of terrible decisions. He feels like he 's constantly out-doing himself with that one.

He blasts off the concrete and it pulverizes into black glitter, choking the air with asphalt dust. He jerks the pistol out of the smuggler 's grasp and crunches the barrel as if it were nothing more than paper, with only his bare hands. He grabs a fistful of the man 's grimy shirt and yanks him by the collar, close enough to see the whites of his eyes pixilate into little bloodshot wires of red.

'Hey, ' Toji says casually. 'You got any kids? '

The man heaves out a labored breath, wheezing as his bruised and feeble hands struggle against Toji 's iron grasp. Toji rolls his eyes histrionically, hoping the exaggerated motion makes him look as bored as he feels. Eventually, the smuggler surrenders and stops struggling --

smart man

-- and his grip slackens against Toji 's forearm, before his hands fall limply to his sides.

'Yes. One, ' the man croaks. 'A daughter. She 's thirteen. '

Toji pauses. 'Oh hey, I 've got a girl too. She 's six though. ' He squints in contemplation. 'I think. '

'You

think? '

'Oi, watch yourself. Are you in any position to be judgin ' me right now? ' Toji shakes the man half-heartedly, earning him a pathetic half-aborted whimper that chokes off into a groan. 'Anyways, that 's perfect, cuz I got a question for ya. You got any idea what to do to connect with your kid? '

The man 's jaw drops as much as his skull will allow -- which is to say, not very. There 's a thin line of saliva trickling down his chin that 's tinged a faint shade of pink from the blood in his mouth. 'Are you going to kill me? '

Nah, but he doesn 't need to know that yet. 'Depends. You wanna answer my question? '

'You don 't have anyone better to ask?! '

'Quit testin ' me! '

The man sputters as his oxygen-deprived brain wracks to form a response. 'I--I don 't know, just-- ' He wriggles again, but Toji glares at him, and that 's the end of that. 'Find out her hobbies, learn what she likes? Take interest in what makes her happy, to show her that you care? '

Toji blinks. 'That 's actually pretty good advice, ' he replies, and he gives the man a sugary-sweet toothy grin that doesn 't quite reach his eyes. 'Thanks. ' And then he knocks his lights out.

He drops the man 's fainted form into a crumpled heap at his feet. He begins to scuffle out of the old warehouse to treat himself to a drink for a job well done -- until the voice of a smuggler Toji fought earlier, who seems to have so

rudely

decided to regain consciousness, stops him in his tracks.

'Not gonna finish the job? ' the man mocks, with a disturbingly wet laugh that reminds Toji he yanked out at least four of this guy 's teeth.

'Nah, ' Toji replies as he saunters over to him, before stomping on his face with the heel of his steel-toed boot. 'He 's got a kid to go home to. '

It may have come from a comedically dubious source, but Toji tries to take the advice to heart when he sees Maki the next morning. During their water break between kicking practice and their first spar of the day, Toji asks, 'Oi, Maki. What are your hobbies? '

'Hobbies? ' Maki repeats with a sour face. Come

on,

it wasn 't

that

weird of a question. 'Fighting. Proving myself. And getting stronger. '

Toji can 't help but smirk at that. Fuck, she 's so goddamn precious. Although, he hopes her extracurricular activities aren 't anything like his, which are gambling and--well. He can 't exactly talk about that in polite company. 'No, seriously. You got any kid hobbies? Y 'know, normal ones for a six-year-old? '

'I 'm not six, ' she nips, straightening out her back to make her look taller than she really is. Cute. 'I turn seven next Sunday. '

'News flash kiddo, that means you 're still six. ' And then the weight of her words drops onto his chest like an anvil. His daughter 's

birthday.

Not exactly surprising that he wouldn 't remember when it was, but it still makes him feel like he 's been drenched in slime. 'Damn, your birthday, huh? You gonna do anything to celebrate? '

'Of course not, ' she snaps. 'That sort of thing is meaningless. ' But her voice is far too bitter to sound at all sincere.

Frowning, 'Well, that 's a little sad. Every kid should get to enjoy their birthday. '

'Not in

my

family I can 't. '

The words smack him like a slap in the face, and he can barely blink away the white-hot anger that shorts out his vision. Fucking hell, what are they

doing

to his girl? 'Uh, ' is all he can manage, because he 's pretty sure any arguing with that would cause her to storm out, and he

can 't

let that happen; especially not

now,

knowing

this.

'Next Sunday. So...in four days? '

Maki gives him a weird look. 'I said

next

Sunday, so it 's in eight days, genius. What day do you even think it is? '

Shit. Toji knits his brows. 'Uh...Wednesday? '

Maki just snorts in response. Welp, whatever day it actually is, that was clearly the wrong answer. Eh, this is fine. Her opinion of him probably can 't get any lower than it already is. 'Anyways, you gonna answer my earlier question, or do I have to be a pest about it again? '

'You 're always a pest. '

'Yeah, right back at ya. '

Maki looks away, gaze downcast. 'My family wants me to be prim and proper, and practice fancy things like traditional dance and calligraphy, ' she spits. 'But I hate that stuff. I like bad action movies and playing in the mud. And climbing trees. ' Her face falls even further, until all that 's left is a blank, awful nothing. 'Or at least...I

think

I like climbing trees. I never get to do it for very long. My cousin likes to kick the branches until my parents find out and yell at me. '

He can almost picture it: his little girl stuck in a tree with some faceless monster kicking at the bark as he cackles like a hyena, and Toji can barely gulp down the acrid tang of bile that claws up his windpipe. For the first time since he can remember, Toji feels real,

genuine

rage, and the only thing he can even compare it to is the feeling of a chunk of his torso being blasted off by the boy with white hair. How

dare

those fucking demons call themselves her parents? And whoever the hell that cousin is, Toji 's gonna kill him, and he honestly doesn 't think he 's kidding himself with that one.

Still, this is the most she 's ever shared about her life with him, and he can 't risk her not trusting him enough to do it again. 'Those are cool hobbies, ' Toji replies, even if his voice is a little hoarse when he finally finds it. 'I like that stuff too. '

But he knows just agreeing with her isn 't going to cut it, and he doesn 't need any parenting article or --

fuck, illegal smuggler, really?

-- to tell him that much. So four days later, under a pastel-painted dawn as the sun wakes from its evening slumber, Toji empties his pockets at a convenience store to buy supplies for the day; and he gets to the building a full

two hours

early, just to rub it in her face when she arrives with only an hour and a half to spare.

She seems to sense immediately that something is off, because her tiny features are etched into a scowl well before she reaches the door. 'What 's with you? ' she blurts out. Nice, real subtle. 'Why are you here so early? And why aren 't you inside? ' She points towards the item in his hands. 'And what the heck is that? '

'Curious today, aren 't ya? ' he snorts. He reaches out a hand to ruffle her hair, but she darts away before he can. Damn, when did her reflexes get so sharp? 'Is it not enough just to annoy you? '

It 's only a half-lie, but Maki sees through the part of it that is. She points again at what he 's holding. 'Is that a freaking picnic basket? '

'No, ' Toji scoffs. That

is

what the tag on it said when he bought it, but whatever. 'This was just the most practical method of carrying food, ya little brat. We 're going on a field trip. '

'A field trip? ' she parrots, but now she looks more befuddled than bothered. 'Where? '

'Patience, kid. You 'll see. '

And there 's another thing they have in common: not a single shred of goddamn patience. 'Where are we going? ' she pesters as she pads after him. He increases the speed of his gait until her tiny legs can barely keep up --

barely.

He 's pretty amused by it, until she reaches out and tugs on one of his pant legs to slow him down, and Toji 's heart nearly explodes right then and there.

Alright, fuck it. Dad-mode engaged. Toji plops down the -- the

food-carrying case

-- and lifts her up onto his shoulders, much to her initial disdain. As soon as she 's somewhat settled, she kicks insistently at his chest. 'Hey, put me down! ' she demands, but there 's no heat behind it. Her fingers clutch his sweater a little more tightly than she probably needs to in order to hang on, but Toji 's too giddy to care.

'Nah, no way. You 're too damn slow. ' He pats one of her knees and she kicks at his hand, so he grabs her foot and she yelps. He picks up the -- it 's not a picnic basket, he

swears

-- and starts moving again. 'We 're almost there, so cool it. '

When they finally arrive at the nearby park, Toji plops her down in front of the old oak that lies at its center. It 's tall enough that it can only be described as majestic, the kind of evergreen that makes Toji understand why people compare the ancient ones to a sage that is old and wise. Its leaves brush the skies from a tessellation of branches, crosshatching between one another in a maze of damp wood and chlorophyll. 'No fighting today, ' Toji tells her softly. 'Today, we 're climbin ' trees. '

'Climbing trees? ' Maki repeats. Her expression is unreadable, and Toji doesn 't try to decipher it. There 's something in it that 's both hopeful and pained, and it makes his insides twist like a wrung towel.

'Yeah, climbing trees. It 's a different kind of training. Y 'know, strength and dexterity, and shit like that. Don 't question your sensei. '

'Ew, don 't call yourself that. '

Toji 's got no comeback ready for that, so he reaches into his not-a-picnic-basket and bonks her head with an apple in response. She hucks it back at him only for him to snatch it out of the air with lightning-fast reflexes, taking a juicy bite when he does it.

'Thanks, kid. '

She huffs and turns away, but not quick enough to hide the reluctant smirk that tugs at her face.

He doesn 't need to ask twice. Maki stares at the oak for about another half-second before darting towards it, her eyes already mapping out the ideal path to reach the top. She hops onto the lowest branch with a peppy spring in her step, but Toji can tell she 's trying to suppress her excitement. Not much makes Toji sad, but

that

kind of guts him.

Toji follows soon after. He surveys the plant with a lot less glee than she did, but he 'll be damned if he 's not gonna try to create his first happy memory with his daughter. He tries to follow in her footsteps, gingerly examining each branch before he shoves onto the flaky bark. When he finally looks up at his kid, Maki 's eyes are gleaming with mischief.

'You kinda suck at this. '

Toji gasps in mock offense. 'Oi, I 'm tryin ' my best! '

'Your best totally sucks, ' she replies, the corners of her mouth lifting.

Jesus, this kid is gonna turn his hair gray. His looks are one of the only things he 's got going for him. He 's nowhere near humble enough to deny that.

She 's still staring at him like she 's about to crack up, and Toji puffs out his chest in something that isn 't quite annoyance. Fine, she 's asking for it. He can show off a bit. Just to

really

rub it in her face, he closes his eyes, swings onto the nearest branch to gather momentum, and flips up to her location in less than a fraction of a second. He sticks the landing, ten out of ten, and makes sure to dip into a particularly cocky bow once he hops up another meter above her.

'Hey! No fair! ' she cries out, but -- is that a

smile?

She scrambles to her feet and knits her brows towards the branch he 's standing on, swings back her arms, and jumps.

...and just

barely

misses. He 's only able to see the split-second flash of panic across her expression before she starts to fall from the tree.

So Toji dives after her, without a shred of hesitation behind it. All he can think of is that fear across her face, the shred of vulnerability, and he can barely process how much he never wants to see it again before she 's wrapped into his arms, he flips their positions, and he lands back-first onto the ground with a dull thud.

'Ow, kid, ' Toji huffs out breathlessly. He 's grateful now that what Yuki said was his --

what was that term again? Holy restriction?

-- makes him too tough to put a

real

dent in him. 'Be careful. I 'm not as young as I look. '

'You don 't look that young, ' she replies, but there 's hesitation in her voice. Damn, ouch. That one hits him right in the appearance complex. 'How old even are you? '

Uh. Toji contemplates for a moment before responding. 'I dunno. '

'You don 't

know? '

she repeats. 'Have I ever told you that you 're a real weirdo? '

Toji snorts. 'Yeah, once or twice. '

Maki squirms, so Toji releases her, and he reaches out a hand to pull them both to their feet --- and surprisingly, she actually takes it. 'I would have been fine, ' she breathes in a small voice. 'If you didn 't catch me. '

Casually, Toji cracks his back, and it sounds like a little kid popping bubble wrap. Christ, that can 't be good. He shrugs. 'Probably. '

'So why did you? '

Toji taps his chin in contemplation. He 's not quite sure what compelled him to do it, only that his body wouldn 't have let him do anything else. 'I dunno, ' he repeats.

She sighs. 'Weirdo. ' But she says it with more vacillation than bite, less with sarcasm and more like she 's genuinely confused.

Toji exhales through his nostrils too.

I 'll always be there to catch you

is too cheesy, and something like that would be totally lost on her. So instead he says, 'Don 't ya worry, kiddo. I 'm gonna teach you never to fall again. '

Surprised, Maki 's breath hitches. 'Can we-- can we go back up? '

'You sure? '

'Of course! ' Maki responds. 'Why would I quit just because I mess something up on my first try? '

God, he 's so fucking proud of her. She zips back towards the tree and immediately pounces onto a branch higher than the one she 'd started out with last time, and Toji pads after her. She climbs back up with determination and eagerness, and Toji could almost swear that she 's having...

fun.

Although, he 's gotta wonder what the hell the appeal is in this; there are splinters in his hands and at least four ants have crawled up his shirt, pointy leaves keep poking at his cheeks and he 's pretty sure there 's dirt on his--uh. But Maki 's climbing up like a little monkey, and he calls this up to her; then she shoots back, 'And you look like a sloth! '

Oh, it is

so

on. 'Hey, get back here, ya little shit! ' So he climbs after her as she giggles while ascending higher. And that laugh -- it 's

real,

not filled with any deviousness or snark, ringing with honesty and innocence. When they finally reach the top, Maki 's eyes widen owlishly as they take in the birds '-eye view of the whole city.

Her face twinkles with childlike wonder, and for the first time since he found her at the weapons shop, she truly looks like a kid,

just

a kid, not a child soldier with something to prove. There 's always that determination to act older than her age; probably because she had to. But now the castle walls are crumbling before him as if they were only milk and cookies, as she kicks her little feet absentmindedly while gazing at the way the sunlight hits the leaves, casting transparent green shadows on her palms as she turns them over.

...okay, Toji can see the appeal in this.

Maki 's got a smudge of dirt on her face. Wiping it off might annoy her, so instead he smears more on. She scrapes some damp wood from the branch to smear it right back, but she can 't reach his cheeks with her tiny arms from where she 's sitting, so instead she wipes it on his sweater. They both crack up at that, then go back to staring off into the horizon.

Toji loses track of time up there. It could be hours, but he can 't bring himself to care. This is too damn perfect. 'Still don 't wanna do anything for your birthday? ' he finally says in a soft voice.

Shaking her head, 'No, ' Maki responds. 'The best thing would be to get out of the house, since no one will even remember. '

A swell of hope inflates in his chest so quickly that he almost chokes on it. 'Why don't we train together or something? ' he suggests. 'I 'll keep your mind off of it. '

Maki nods slowly. 'Okay. '

They sit in silence for the rest of their time in the treetop, watching the sherbert-colored dawn drag up the clouds from the far-off mountains like a layer of icing. Rays of light fan out from the sun as it claims its rightful place in the sky, illuminating the rooftops with a warm light that filters through the leaves of the tree in splotches of sunshine.

'Whoa, ' Maki breathes, her golden eyes glinting in the sunlight. 'Isn 't it awesome? '

'Yeah, ' Toji murmurs, but the view isn 't what makes him smile back. He glances at her out of the corners of his eyes. 'Super awesome. '

A few days later, it 's finally her birthday. Toji thought at first that he might honor her request of ignoring it entirely, but he just can 't bring himself to do that, so he decides against it maybe five minutes later. He gathers up the supplies he needs with his meager stack of remaining cash, then he crashes in the old building an entire night beforehand and attempts to sleep in the corner. He does, but poorly. Sleeping on concrete? Zero out of ten.

He just hopes it 'll be worth it.

When she arrives to their training session, Toji 's sitting in the middle of the floor with a slice of chocolate cake, a rollaway TV he found in a junkyard, and a pile of the cheesiest action movies he could find at the only DVD rental shop that 's somehow still in business-- Toji 's pretty sure it 's a front for something, but whatever. He had to make do with what he could find. And afford.

And Maki just--she

petrifies,

like she 's just stared at Medusa and turned into stone.

'Shit, ' Toji curses. 'Sorry, I know this is kinda pathetic, but-- '

Maki cuts him off before he can finish. Fuck, is she

shaking?

'No, this is--'' He can 't even describe that look on her face. Happy? Terrified? 'This is fine."

'Uh, alright, ' Toji replies. 'Happy birthday, kiddo. '

They share the cake in silence as they make their way through a couple of movies, and once they finish to resume their training, Maki doesn 't give him any snark all day.