His heavenly restriction may mean he can’t sense cursed energy but Toji knows you by the way your breaths escape your lungs, the way your heart beats under your ribs, the way your scent lingers in the spring air. So he knows it’s you who’s found him when he sits by the river near the Zenin compound. He watches the way the water ripples and flows under the sun, the sting of his latest punishments hidden under his navy haori.

“What was it this time?” you mutter as you approach him, every step closer to where he’s sat on the grass, a few feet away from the water. He stares at the river, the smell of cherry blossoms in the air, the sun lwarm. Almost idyllic. He knows better.

“Thrown into the pit,” Toji mutters as you sit next to him, not close enough to touch because you know better. He’s always more volatile after his punishments.

“Grade three?” you murmur and he feels your eyes rake over him and land on the cut by the corner of his lips, deep and likely to scar.

“Two,” Toji corrects and hears you wince. He almost laughs at that. He’s had worse.

“What’d you do to get thrown in with the grade two spirits?” you ask, and he can sense the way your fingers itch, likely wanting to activate your RCT and heal the cuts and bruises he’s earned himself.

“Nothing,” Toji scoffs as he stares sullenly at the water, his jaw muscle twitching. It’s not entirely true but he could do the smallest thing and his clan would throw him the worst punishments. It’s nothing new — he’s a stain on the Zenin name, born with no cursed energy, no cursed technique. Even with his enhanced strength and inept ability for cursed tools, they’re disgusted by him.

“Stop starin’,” Toji mutters as his eyes finally drag over to you, stormy and blue in contrast to the clear skies above. You don’t even flinch. He’s the black sheep, the one people avoid, yet you’re always seeking him out. He watches the way your eyes focus on the cut at the corner of his lips and he looks away.

“Hurry up and heal it. I know you wanna,” he mutters finally.