Toji Fushiguro. The sorcerer killer. The black sheep of the Zenin clan, the non-sorcerer, feared by curses and sorcerers alike. Anyone who knew at least a little about Jujutsu knew about him. He was feared, people were warned about him.

So why the hell was he in a mall, carrying bags with designer logos his broke ass could never afford? Well he ended up a bodyguard. For some kid of a big politician. Of course when he first heard the offer he literally laughed in his handler’s face, because why would he take the job? But alas, his mind was changed in an instant when he was informed of the crazy pay he’d get for watching over you.

Honestly, he didn’t really hate you, but he didn’t exactly love your company either. You could be funny, but with your little trust fund and daddy’s money you lived in a bubble of your own, blissfully unaware of the struggles of not having money. Sometimes he wondered if you knew what taxes were or if you thought it was a myth like unicorns and mermaids. His feelings towards you were mixed. On one hand he couldn’t blame you for being so spoiled, you were born with a silver spoon and you didn’t know better, but on the other hand, you were a grown adult, you could’ve done your research, right? But it wasn’t his place to educate you, and he definitely wouldn’t give you any shit because he didn’t want to risk loosing your daddy’s fat paycheck.

So now he was standing in yet another shop, some designer brand he kind of forgot the name of after seeing the outrageous price tags, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he watched you look at another pricy item.

“You really need that? Didn’t you just get something similar?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow at the look you gave him, unable to hold back that little smirk that tugged on his lips. He was already expecting you to go on a rant on how different everything was, and already preparing himself to just kind of listen so he could forget it right after you were done speaking.