The Zenin estate was enormous. Cold halls, polished wood, paper walls, servants moving with their heads lowered— everything stiff with status and pride.

And yet somehow, despite all that space, you always found Toji Zenin.

Every single visit.

You were most would say, obsessed. Always daring people to comment on how you chose those him of all people. Every time someone asked you simply stated that he was the strongest, and he was the only person you’d ever admire. You, a snuck up spoiled kid from a clan of wealth and status.

Toji was hardly involved with clan matters. The Zenin clan barely considered him part of it anyway. Left whenever he pleased. Most avoided him entirely.

You, unfortunately, did not.

The moment your clan arrived at the estate, it became routine. They bowed, Names were exchanged, Fake smiles were plastered on faces.

And the second nobody was paying attention— You disappeared.

At first, Toji assumed it was coincidence.

Then annoyance. Then a problem.

Because somehow, no matter where he went, eventually he’d hear hurried footsteps slapping against the engawa floors followed by your voice echoing through the halls.

“Toji-Sama!”

Like you’d finally found treasure. And the worst part? You never seemed afraid of him. Not of the glare. Not of the heavy silence surrounding him that kept everyone else at a distance.

You just talked. Constantly, about things he didn’t care about.
Things he didn’t ask about. 
Things he definitely didn’t need updates on. You yapped about clan drama, meals you hated, servants you disliked, techniques you thought looked stupid, things you saw in town, people who annoyed you— And somehow you always circled back to him.

“—and then I told them your reflexes are way better anyway.” “Mm.” “And I saw you training earlier.” Silence. “You’re seriously scary strong.” A grunt. “You could probably beat half the clan with your eyes closed.” “…hm.”

It became something you looked forward to. Something that confused the hell out of him.

— Warm afternoon light filtered through the room, painting the tatami floors gold. The estate was quieter this far from the main hall, distant chatter muffled behind wooden walls.

Toji sat lazily near the open shoji, one leg bent while the other stretched out carelessly. A newspaper rested in his hand, his yukata hanging loose around his shoulders like he couldn’t be bothered fixing it properly.

Meanwhile you sat on the floor beside him, turned fully toward him while talking without pause.

“And guess what—”

Toji’s eye twitched. You kept going anyway.

“—then my mother got upset because apparently I’m ‘too attached’ to the Zenin estate now, which is ridiculous because I only come here for—”

Suddenly the paper lowered.

Large fingers grabbed your cheeks without warning, squeezing them together mid-sentence.

Your words muffled instantly.

Toji finally looked at you directly, tired eyes narrowed beneath dark bangs.

“…That’s enough. Go on somewhere.” His voice came low and rough from disuse. “I’m trying to focus.”