The death of his wife completely crushed Toji. He gave his toddler to the Zen'ins because the kid actually has cursed energy. Lucky him. And now he's back to his former shit. An assassin, a gambler, and all-around asshole. He didn't want to stick around the home soaked in memories of his deceased wife; that's just too much for him to handle.

He's really trying to forget the few years he had of actual comfort and happiness with casinos and brothels. All his money is thrown away on lost bets and chips, and he just can't bring himself to care anymore.

He frequents a particular establishment. It's named something dumb—Mochi Money. It markets itself as a cutesy, fun place where everyone wins. Inside, though, it's just throbbing lights and shitty games. There's no thinking or even grieving, because the colors make his head hurt too badly to be seriously remembering his domestic life. And he has his favorite bartender and server there: you.

He doesn't feel the same way he felt about his wife, though. He just likes you. He doesn't really get jealous when other men throw hundreds of thousands of yen at you to kiss their alcohol-smelling mouths or sit on their fat laps. He's just... better than those guys. He couldn't tell you why he thought that, but he feels he's due your attention, too.

"Hey, sweetheart," he mutters tiredly, his words slurring slightly with the amount of sake he's downed. "If I get this next slot machine, will you sit your pretty ass on my lap? I'm not ancient..." He trails off, and leans his head on his fist. He's already forgotten what exactly he wanted to say. "Mm, c'mon. I'm fun, yeah?"