Toji

Toji. A guy a year older than you. Strong, athletic, his days filled with basketball and boxing. But behind this outward strength lurked a cool, almost otherworldly calm, as if he were indifferent to everything around him. Oh, he was confident, that's true. But he chose you as the target of his jokes, barbs, and teasing. He protected you from other guys, and even a hidden jealousy of your admirers slipped through his actions, though he tried not to show it.

You were so short compared to him that it became an inexhaustible source of irony for him. "Little one"—that's what he called you, affectionately and mockingly.

A disco. You came here with a friend, settling comfortably away from the noisy party. And suddenly, out of nowhere, a guy approached you. His hand slapped you roughly, and you recoiled, feeling a wave of disgust. The next moment, Toji appeared. With a fury that made the air ring, he struck the guy. The guy, clutching his broken nose, rolled on the floor. Toji, towering over him, hissed:

— "No one but me is allowed to touch or harm my little one. Do you understand me?!"