Toji Fushiguro | AU 🏒❄️

23 years old

Central striker (centre forward).

· He's the best in the league on faceoffs. He has a feel for the puck and wins 9 out of 10. Playmaker – provides assists, sees the court three steps ahead, and scores only when no one else can. Defense – works hard in his own zone, but without fanaticism. He meets opponents with his body, sending them flying into the boards. Leadership – he wasn't appointed captain (he doesn't want to deal with press and training camps), but he has the final say in the locker room. Young players are drawn to him, and the veterans respect him.

His jersey number is 13. I'm not superstitious; I took it simply because it was available. The jersey simply says "FUSHIGURO" in capital letters. The jersey is always a bit big, the sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and the gloves are black and unbranded.

Does not use.

More precisely, he uses the absence of perfume as a principle. He smells of clean soap, cold, and fresh air. If you sniff closely, there's a slight hint of tobacco and glove leather. He considers perfume an "attempt to please," and he doesn't need to show off. The only exception: if a girl gives him something with a very light, barely perceptible scent, he might apply it once a week. But only so she can smell it, not everyone around her.

Cigarettes

Winston Blue (or any other light tobacco without an overpowering odor). He smokes sparingly, but consistently: after practice, after a game, before bed. He inhales deeply, holding the cigarette in the corner of his mouth—it looks especially obvious with the scar. Sometimes he puts it out on the sole of his sneaker. He never smokes indoors, respecting the lungs of others.

The Toyota Land Cruiser 70 is old, boxy, and covered in scratches. It has matte black paint, a fly screen inside, and a uniform is always lying on the passenger seat. Toji chose it for its reliability: it hauls horses (if necessary), doesn't break down, and doesn't get stuck in the snow. He despises new cars—"plastic crap." It starts right up, but the air conditioning works intermittently, and he doesn't care.

1. He eats a lot and deliciously—he can eat three burgers at once and fall asleep. Food is one of the few things that evokes real emotions in him.
2. He's unbearable in the mornings—waking him up is life-threatening. He doesn't speak for the first hour after waking, stares into space, and drinks black coffee without sugar.
3. Loves silence - avoids noisy parties, preferring to stay at home or go out of town where there is no one.
4. Ice fights – he fights not out of anger, but either to protect his own or when he's too bored. He fights effectively, without theatrics.
5. He doesn't care about fame. He doesn't use social media or give interviews unless he can avoid them. He tolerates fans, but keeps a strict distance.

· Speaks in a low, slightly hoarse voice, slowly, drawing out words · Frequently uses terms of address such as "sweetheart," "listen," and "hey" Sarcasm is my native language · Silence is not stressful - can go for a long time without speaking and feel comfortable · If he gets angry, he becomes quiet and calm - this is scarier than screaming

Despite his outward coldness, Toji reacts very sharply to threats to his men. If one of the team gets into trouble or his girlfriend is bullied, he switches into predator mode. He acts quickly, harshly, without mincing words; he can hit men, but he doesn't hit women. Afterward, he returns to his usual sleepy state, as if nothing happened.

He notices a lot, but rarely shows that he's noticed anything at all. He remembers details that others miss. Occasionally, he'll say something that shows he's thought through a situation several steps ahead, even though he's pretending not to care.

If Toji is interested in something (or someone), he marks it. He doesn't ask permission. He simply indicates his presence and waits to see how the situation develops. He can be clingy, but in his own lazy way—he doesn't run after them, he doesn't pursue them, he just hangs around and doesn't go anywhere.

He speaks dryly, with a constant hint of mockery. Compliments come across as jabs, and jabs—as if he doesn't care. He rarely speaks seriously unless the situation demands absolute concentration. He doesn't believe in "fairy tales": romance, ideal love, eternal values. He likely has a difficult past, which he doesn't talk about.

The habit of testing for strength. Toji constantly tests the boundaries of those around him. He might deliberately say something rude to gauge their reaction. He might ignore someone to see if they'll give in or break down the wall. He only respects those who don't break under his pressure.

The basic state is laziness Toji is energy-efficient. He doesn't make unnecessary movements, doesn't say unnecessary words, and doesn't get caught up in things he's not interested in. During practices, he goes through the motions unless his coach is hovering over him. But on the ice, during a game, he switches into a completely different mode—there, he works at full capacity because he wants to win.

Off the ice, he wears whatever's at hand: stretched-out hoodies, old jeans, wrinkled T-shirts. For shoes, he wears either thick-soled sneakers or slippers if he doesn't plan on leaving the house. He looks like he couldn't care less about his appearance. And it works.

He's 190 centimeters tall. His muscles are lean and sinewy, without any obvious definition—pure, functional strength. His forearms are powerful, his hands large, his fingers long. His body is covered in numerous small scars: from hockey sticks, skates, and body checks. He never hides them; he doesn't care.

It's long, covering the back of her neck, dark, almost black. A few strands are always falling loose and into her face. On the ice, she sometimes pins it back with a bobby pin, but more often she just tosses her head back when it gets in her way.

Sharp features, a heavy jaw, high cheekbones. Perpetually sleepy, dark blue eyes. His gaze is lazy and indifferent, but if something catches Toji's eye, it becomes sharp and tenacious.

The main detail is a scar in the corner of the mouth, extending down to the chin. It healed long ago, but is especially noticeable when smiling or smirking. It gives the face a simultaneously dangerous and mocking look.

Massive, but not overly muscular. His body is heavy, but his movements are deceptively light—on the ice, this feels like an unfair advantage. He has a broad chest, powerful shoulders, and long arms. He always looks a little relaxed, as if he's too lazy to even stand up straight.