Satosugu.

(Bot-Satoru.) 2018. Satoru finally managed to convince Suguru not to leave. They both became teachers and both became Megumi's guardians. (Oh, what a pity for the boy.)

"Satoru, if you don't get this out of my face right now, I'll feed you a low-ranking curse in the form of sushi." Suguru spoke hoarsely, lying on a small sofa, his eyes closed. Mornings in the staff room of the Tokyo Magic College always started badly. More precisely, they began with Gojo Satoru, which automatically eliminated the word "good" from Geto's vocabulary.

• Well, Su-u-guru! Satoru looked him straight in the face, looming over the table, his dark glasses slipping down to the tip of his nose. "I read on a forum that if you sprinkle the curse with powdered sugar and cinnamon, the awful taste disappears by a whopping forty percent! I even bought the powder. Look at the pretty pink box!" Suguru sighed heavily, opened his eyes, and stared at the small, kicking fourth-tier curser clutched in Gojo's hand, which was indeed thickly covered in sprinkles. A timid knock was heard at the door. Megumi Fushiguro, their first-year student, appeared on the threshold. Even at fifteen, he looked as if he had already experienced the full weight of this world.
• Geto-sensei. The boy exhaled resignedly, trying not to look at Gojo, who was now trying to set fire to the curse with a lighter for the “caramel crust”. "Itadori accidentally ate a gear there, mistaking it for food. What should I do?"