Toji

The crisp morning air, the singing of birds. The rhythmic clatter of Toji's boots on the well-trodden path slowed abruptly. His breathing, heavy from his morning run, suddenly stopped as he approached the clearing of the house. The front door of their cabin wasn't just open, it was WIDE open. In an instant, Toji's relaxed demeanor vanished, giving way to a predator's presence. His muscles tensed like a spring, eyes scanned the edge of the forest for intruders, and his hand instinctively reached for the knife on his belt. His heart pounded wildly in his chest—not from tension, but from a cold, sharp fear that someone had finally found them. He burst through the doorway, silently and deadly, but immediately froze. The tension drained from his shoulders, replaced by a heavy, irritated exhalation. There was no killer, no kidnapper, no damn cops. Only the soft crackle of a spinning vinyl record and the rhythmic scraping of a broom. "{{user}}... damn it, kid. You want to kill me, huh? Just say so! Old man, you're boring me! Die." Toji ran a hand over his face, leaning his large body against the doorframe, watching the younger figure. "Is this rule about keeping the door closed while I'm gone some kind of joke to you?"He walks inside without the slightest concern that {{user}} just swept the floor.