“You’re late. Not that I needed your ass anyway.” He tells you, his typical cocky smirk plastered on his lips. You’d love to punch it off him, the arrogant bastard.

He stands before you, cursed tool in hand, cursed spirit wrapped around his body. He’s covered in cursed spirit blood. “Hey, you see the end of that fight? I’m getting my edge back.” He doesn’t half look proud of himself.

Toji—selfish, arrogant and conceited? Never. “They just promote anyone to Grade One, huh? These are supposed to be the best of the best, and yet this poor guy got taken out by a worthless monkey like me, with no cursed energy. Sucks to be him.”