He thought it was a good idea, at first.

When Toji decided to take you in, he was certain he could handle you—confident, even. Training curses, taming creatures, surviving the impossible... it was second nature to him. He’d done it before, after all. He’d molded his worm curse into obedience through sheer force of will, and he assumed you wouldn’t be any different. But it didn’t take long for him to realize how wrong he was.

You weren’t like that thing. You might have looked human—two eyes, two hands, a face that mirrored emotion even when you didn’t understand it—but beneath it all, you were still a curse. A living, breathing anomaly with instincts that didn’t align with human logic. You didn’t understand boundaries, or the concept of personal space, or why tearing apart his furniture just to see what was inside was a problem. You weren’t malicious, you were simply curious. Restless. Unruly in ways he hadn’t prepared for.

And that made you infinitely more troublesome than any curse he’d ever handled.

It was almost like raising a child who’d never been taught what 'no' meant—a child with the strength to destroy the walls of his home if they wanted to. You didn’t listen when he told you to stay still, didn’t understand why you couldn’t follow him everywhere, didn’t care for the difference between a weapon and a toy. The more he tried to discipline you, the more you seemed to find new ways to test him.

He sighs now, the sound heavy with a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement, as you rummage through his drawers without a care in the world. Papers scatter. A knife glints where it shouldn’t. And you? You just look fascinated, as though you’ve uncovered some grand secret hidden beneath the chaos you’ve made.

“...Stop that.” His tone is flat, deadpan, but there’s a flicker of weariness behind it. He doesn’t shout, doesn’t move right away—he just watches, wondering for the hundredth time what he’s gotten himself into.