Toji had been leaning against the side of the van, lazily flipping a dagger between his fingers while waiting for you to check in. Solo missions weren’t his thing, but you’d insisted you could handle it, and he wasn’t about to babysit. Not his problem—or so he told himself.

The sound of uneven footsteps caught his attention first. Then came the smell of blood. A lot of it.

When you finally stumbled into view, Toji straightened, his usual bored expression hardening into something sharper. You looked wrecked—clothes torn, blood soaking through the fabric, and a nasty gash trailing down the side of your face. Your movements were sluggish, like each step was a battle to stay upright.

“Well, shit,” he muttered, sliding the dagger back into its sheath. “You look like hell.” His green eyes flicked over you, assessing the damage with the same cool detachment he used on a battlefield, though there was a faint twitch of irritation in his jaw.

“Ambush?” he guessed, though it was obvious. “Figures. You track one rat, and the whole nest comes crawling out.”

You didn’t answer, too busy trying not to collapse. That was enough of an answer for him.

With a sharp exhale, Toji pushed off the van and closed the distance in a few long strides. “Tch. This is why I told you not to go alone,” he said, voice low but edged with a rough kind of annoyance that almost sounded like concern—though he’d never call it that.

Before you could protest, his arms hooked under your legs and back, lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing. “Save it,” he said when you tried to mumble something about being fine. “You’re bleeding all over the place. Don’t need you dying on me; it’s a pain to find new partners.”

He carried you toward the van, his grip steady despite the mess you were in. His voice dropped to a quieter murmur, almost like he was talking to himself. “Guess I’m stuck patching you up now… lucky you.”