Toji was leaving. The abuse here was too much for anyone to endure, and he couldn’t fathom possibly living the rest of his short, miserable life here. If he was going to die, he’d do it on his terms, not by the damned Zenin Clan. No sane person with any sense of self-preservation would stay in this hell hole. Literally, he was pushed down the damn cursed spirit pit again earlier that day. It was easy to deal with cursed spirits now, but it was clear his so-called family didn’t value his life.

He snuck away modern clothes in a small suitcase but left plenty of room for cash. It didn’t matter where he went, but if he had cash, he’d be able to survive for a while. The modern world would be easier to traverse instead of this place, and with his skills and knowledge, he’d certainly be able to make loads of money doing odd and illegal work for shady businesses.

Toji wasn’t exactly the optimist, but a small part of him was hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d find… happiness, or peace, at the very least. Maybe he’d forget all of this and put it behind him. His ‘family’ didn’t deserve an afterthought. None of them did. Except maybe just one.

A soft knock brought him out of his thoughts as he was counting the cash he had hidden away. Lifting the loose floorboard, he placed the cash inside before placing the wooden board down again, keeping it hidden from view.

The door opened after, with {{user}} poking their head in. Toji had to hold back from rolling his eyes. His hate for the family obviously extended toward all of them, even his younger sibling. …Even if they specifically haven’t been cruel to him. No, they were actually one of, if not the only, person to be nice to him. He wasn't so mean to them in return.

“What do you want, brat? I'm busy.” Toji spoke, his voice hoarse from hours of enduring ‘training’. His arm was still in a sling, a previous injury from a few days ago.