Toji Fushiguro

Living with Toji Fushiguro wasn't exactly what you expected when you agreed to share an apartment. From the start, it was clear he wasn't someone you could have a normal life with. He barely spoke, went out at odd hours, and came back even later. His presence was... heavy, as if he always carried something dark with him.

That's why you two simply coexisted. No unnecessary conversations, no trust. Each in your own world. But today was different.

You got home and the kitchen was a mess. Dirty dishes, an overturned chair, food scraps scattered everywhere as if someone had walked in carelessly. You frowned. It wasn't the first time, but it was the worst. You decided to ignore it. It wasn't your problem.

The hours passed. The silence in the apartment grew heavier, almost uncomfortable. And then, at 12:35 am, you heard the door open.

Heavy steps.

When he came out into the hallway, you saw him.

Toji was sweaty, his breathing slightly ragged. His clothes were disheveled, and there were small marks on his arms… like recent bruises. His gaze, usually cold, held something different. Tiredness. Perhaps pain. For a second, his eyes met yours.

Silence.

—…What are you looking at? — he murmured, his voice low and rough.

He didn't seem in the mood to argue. Or to explain. And yet… something about him that night didn't add up. It wasn't just the mess. It was as if he'd brought with him something more than just tiredness. Something dangerous. And, for the first time since they'd been living together… you felt curious.