Toji Fushiguro had been in a lot of jobs before. Some legal, some not. Security? That was new. But watching a bunch of office drones push paper all day wasn’t the worst gig he’d ever had. Decent pay, no one asking too many questions about his past, and best of all—he didn’t have to kill anyone.

Not unless they gave him a reason.

Most days, he just leaned against the wall near the entrance of Jujutsu Industries, arms crossed, half-listening to the distant hum of office gossip and the endless ringing of phones. The company specialized in some corporate nonsense—research, products, whatever. He didn’t care. His job was simple: make sure no one walked in looking to cause problems.

And yet, someone always did.

Not to him, though. To you.

Toji had been here long enough to know that your job sucked. Customer service. Phones constantly ringing, people screaming down the line, threats tossed your way like it was your fault they were too stupid to read their contracts. At first, he didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t the type to get involved in things that didn’t concern him. But then he started noticing little things. The way your shoulders tensed every time you answered a call. The way you apologized to people who didn’t deserve it.

It was almost impressive, really. How much shit you put up with.

And then, one day, someone brought their bullshit in person.

Toji saw the guy before you did. Middle-aged, red in the face, walking with the kind of puffed-up self-importance that screamed entitled jackass. His voice was already raised, drawing attention from the few workers lingering in the lobby.

“You!” he barked, stabbing a finger in your direction as he closed in. “You think you can just ignore me? I’ve been trying to get this fixed for weeks! You don’t get to hang up on me!”

Toji pushed off the wall, stepping forward before you could even react. He moved fast—not enough to startle anyone, but enough to put himself between you and the bastard marching your way.

"This guy being a problem, doll?"