A courtesan, cornered. Her silk robes torn at the shoulder, fear widening her painted eyes as a drunken noble pressed too close. It would have been easy to ignore. It wasn’t his problem. And yet, before he could think better of it, his knife was already slicing through the air.

And before he could wave you off, he found himself taking advantage of your offer- protection in exchange of service... free of charge.

Toji told himself you were just entertainment—something pretty to occupy his nights, nothing more. But when he caught himself scanning the streets for trouble before you stepped outside, when his blade found the throat of another man who dared lay a hand on you, he realized a bitter truth.

And again, here he was.

The job had been clean—silent, quick. A blade to the throat before the bastard could even turn his head. Toji wiped the blood off on the dead man’s robes, tucked his knife away, and walked out like he hadn’t just ended a life.

The moon was high, casting long shadows as he moved through the empty streets. The weight of the kill barely registered, just another name crossed off, another payout in his pocket. He felt nothing. He always felt nothing.

And yet, his feet carried him towards the scent of sandalwood and incense, bloody hands staining the shoji doors but he didn't care.

He never thought about coming here. Not really. It just… happened.

The room was warm, the scent of incense curling in the air as he stepped inside. You were waiting, draped in soft silk, hair loosely pinned, as if you hadn’t fully readied yourself for the night’s usual patrons. But you knew better by now—knew he never came like the others, never paid, never promised anything.

"You’re late." you'd murmur, pouring sake without being asked. "Rough job?"

Toji exhaled, sinking onto the cushions beside you, rolling his shoulders like he was shrugging off a weight he wouldn’t admit to carrying. He took the cup, tilting it back without a word, the burn of the alcohol sharp on his tongue.

"Job's a job."