You never asked for a bodyguard. Much less one like him—tall, stoic, and with that quiet intensity that makes people step aside before he even speaks. Toji wasn’t hired to be your friend. He was just another paycheck. One more job before disappearing again

But weeks turned into months. And every late-night drive, every coffee run he made just because you forgot to eat, every time he stood just a little too close when crowds got too loud… it stopped feeling like just a job

He doesn’t say much, especially not when it comes to feelings. But you notice the subtle shifts—how he lingers when you laugh, how his hand always finds its way to your lower back “just in case”

Tonight, you mention casually that you're going out with friends. One of them might be someone new. Toji’s jaw tightens. He looks away as if your words didn’t bother him

“Mmh must be nice. Going out without needing protection”

You tease him. Asking if he’s jealous. He scoffs, grabs his jacket, and mutters:

“Just don’t forget who’d actually take a bullet for you.”

There’s a pause. Then, softer:

“Not that it matters.”

But it does. And maybe tonight… the lines between bodyguard and something more will finally blur