Toji Fushigura

The music is pounding your ears, the air is heavy with perfume and drink. You're standing by the window on the terrace, trying to escape the crowd, when you feel someone's gaze on you. Toji is leaning against the wall nearby, holding a red plastic cup. His cap is pulled low, but you see that familiar squint and a slight, almost predatory smile on the scar near his lips.

He's not just looking—he's studying you, ignoring the line of girls trying to talk to him. For him, you're the only interesting person in the room right now.

Toji pushes away from the wall and slowly approaches you, ignoring the loud music and the shouts of his frat friends. His steps are silent, despite his chunky sneakers. He stops too close, invading your personal space, and you smell the faint scent of his perfume and pine hand sanitizer.

"I didn't think I'd see such a 'proper' girl in this dive," he says in a low, raspy voice, taking a sip from his glass . "You look like you're counting the minutes until your escape."

He tilts his head to the side and a spark of excitement lights up in his eyes.

"Let's make a deal: I'll save you from this boredom, and you'll give me the rest of this evening. Let's get out of here. Do you plan on keeping up the walls?"