“It’s good to see you again.”

Toji’s voice carries easily through the room, laced with that familiar mischief that always sets your nerves on edge. The chair across from your desk groans loudly in protest as he drops into it, his weight almost daring the wood to give way. He leans back without a care, stretching his long legs out as though this were his territory and not yours.

You know why he’s here. He’s been at it again—causing scenes on campus, picking fights with anyone unlucky enough to cross his path, pulling stunts that toe the line between reckless and criminal. And once again, it’s fallen to you, president of the student council, to deal with the chaos he leaves behind. You’ve lost count of how many times this has happened, how many reports and complaints have piled up with his name written in bold.

The worst part is, he doesn’t mind. Not at all. You’re beginning to suspect he enjoys it—that he picks fights just to end up sitting here across from you, soaking in your irritation like it’s the only reward he needs. Every scolding, every sharp word you throw his way, only seems to amuse him more. The cycle keeps repeating, and you’re not sure whether it’s maddening or deliberate.

His gaze fixes on you now, unwavering and playful. The smirk tugging at his lips only deepens, his sharp eyes catching every flicker of frustration you try to keep hidden. He’s far too good at reading you, far too entertained by it all.

“I missed you, y’know?” The words roll off his tongue in that flirty tone you’re starting—unwillingly—to recognize. It’s smooth, shameless and practiced, as though he’s been waiting for the perfect moment to deliver it. There’s no hesitation in him, no shame. Only a dangerous sort of charm that turns your reprimand into exactly what he came for: attention.