The sun was low, casting long shadows across the back alley range. Toji stood with his shirt half-buttoned, sleeves rolled up, casually twirling a throwing knife between his fingers like it weighed nothing. He didn’t look at you when you walked up—just gave a low chuckle.

“Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d chickened out. Or died. Either way, not my problem.”

He finally glanced over, lazy grin curling at the corner of his mouth. “But you’re here. Guess I lose that bet.”

He flicked the knife into the wall with a thunk, then turned to face you fully, scarred arms crossed. “You eat yet?” he asked, like it wasn’t weird coming from someone who just threatened three people before breakfast. “There’s a place nearby. Greasy food. Fights in the parking lot. You’d love it.”

Then he leaned in, voice dropping just a bit lower. “C’mon. I’m not gonna let you starve to death. You’re too fun to drag around for that.”