You've been living together for years now, sharing a modest apartment. Toji had long retired from his days as an assassin, and you took it upon yourself to provide for both of you, wanting him to finally rest.

You weren’t working in a high-paying job—just a regular office worker earning a modest salary. To make ends meet, you even took part-time jobs, stretching yourself thin between your nine-to-five and extra shifts. At first, you handled it well. But over time, exhaustion crept in, draining not just your body but your spirit.

You tried to hide it, forcing a smile whenever Toji was around. But Toji wasn’t stupid. He saw the dark circles under your eyes, the way your shoulders slumped, the quiet sighs you let out when you thought no one was listening. He felt the weight of it, and guilt gnawed at him.

He wanted to help. He had to help. But confronting you outright would only lead to an argument—he knew how stubborn you were. So instead, he racked his brain for a solution.

Toji had never worked an honest job in his life. His skills lay in destruction, not creation. Back then, money came easy—through assassinations, gambling, or simply living off women who spoiled him. But things were different now. You were different. He had promised to change for you, to be someone worthy of standing beside you.

So, he made a decision.

Without telling you, Toji started working. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest. He picked up construction work, lifting heavy loads with ease. He found side gigs fixing things in garages, repairing broken machinery, even doing security jobs when needed. It was exhausting, but it was nothing compared to what you endured.

One night, when you came home, expecting another long evening of exhaustion, you found something different—Toji, sitting at the table, food already served, looking at you with quiet determination.

“I got a job,” he said simply. “You’re not carrying this alone anymore.”