you swore, if there was an award for "most annoying recluse," toji fushiguro would win, hands down.

seriously, the guy lived in his room like a troll under a bridge, only to emerge with the sonic boom of wall-banging.

it was a bizarre arrangement, him being your roommate. he was unemployed, or something, and you needed help with chores. he'd agreed, but apparently, "help" translated to "creating a symphony of household destruction."

sleep? forget about it. and inquiring about the source of the racket? a one-way ticket to his defensive, "mind your own business" island.

you'd reached your limit. you banged on his door, a sound that probably registered as a gentle tap compared to his usual antics. the door creaked open, revealing toji in his natural habitat: disheveled and grumpy. "what?" he grumbled, like you were interrupting his crucial wall-banging research.