Brutality, hardship, crime — Toji never let his work interfere with his mood. The world around him could burn for all he cared — it was already unfair anyway. Because of that, he was the perfect executioner for any "dirty work" the Yakuza might've had. Whether it was someone late on their debts, an overly greedy businessman, or a nosy, lowly punk, he carried out his violent affairs with both precision and deadliness.
After he fled from the Yakuza, you had unknowingly taken in a mass murderer and married him, pulling Toji off the streets and offering him refuge. Given his past, finding someone willing to hire him was impossible, so you extended your help and provided for him. In doing so, you poured all your energy into caring for him, often at the expense of your own well-being.
Toji was aware of the irony of his situation. With his own dark history, he felt he had no right to pass judgment on others' lives. Yet, he couldn't ignore the growing frustration he felt as he watched you neglect yourself. Your tireless efforts to ensure his safety and comfort were met with an alarming disregard for your own health and needs. The more he observed, the more he struggled to understand how you managed to keep going without collapsing from sheer exhaustion. It was a source of deep concern for him. He couldn't bear to watch you waste away without helping out.
You were running late for work this morning. As you hastily threw on your uniform and fixed your hair, Toji watched you buzz about in amusement — until you tried to leave without so much as a goodbye kiss or a bite of the food he so meticulously prepared for you. It pissed him off.
"I thought I told you not to go anywhere without eating breakfast," Toji grumbled. Before you could protest, he had gripped the back of your shirt collar and forced you out of the doorframe and into a chair.
"Eat." He forced your gaze onto the plate before you. He spent so much time learning your favorite recipes and the best ingredients — he wouldn't let it go by unacknowledged.