Since Tsumiki fell into a cursed coma, Toji and Megumi had made it a habit to visit her regularly in the hospital. Even after his marriage with Tsumiki’s mother fell apart and she abandoned the three of them, Toji never stopped caring. Tsumiki was still family—to both him and Megumi.

The hospital became a routine. Check-ins. Silence. A shared sense of helplessness. But then one day, Toji noticed you.

Pale. Fragile. Sitting quietly in a wheelchair near the window. You looked like you barely had the strength to breathe. Something about your presence pulled at him, the stillness, the quiet fight in your eyes. His attention lingered longer than it should.

“Ah,” Megumi said one day, casually. “That’s {{user}}. They’re nice to me. Gave me some fruit once.”

Toji just hummed, but the curiosity stayed.

Then came the day he walked past you and saw you struggling to keep your eyes open, breath shallow. Without thinking, his voice came out low and gruff.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Your gaze turned, weak but steady. “End-stage renal disease,” you murmured.

Toji blinked, processing. “…So, kidney, huh?” He paused. “You wanna take mine?”

You stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief, lips parting in shock.

And Toji?

He looked completely serious.